From The Best Women’s Travel Writing 2011 - an excerpt from “The Labyrinth,” a story about surviving Costa Rican heartbreak and whitewater by Bridget Crocker, Patagonia copy writer. Bridget and fellow BWTW11 contributors will be reading at Diesel, A Bookstore in Malibu on Sun., Dec. 4 at 3p.m. [Author and river guide, Bridget Crocker. Photo by Tony Demin.]“This upper section is called ‘The Labyrinth,’” Roland says, cinching down his frayed lifejacket. “It’s been run maybe three or four times before today. I’ve seen it a couple times and I’d say it’s pretty solid Class V. Lots of steep drops through tight chutes. There are a few slots we have to make—it’s not an option to miss them. I think I can remember them all, but we’ll have to scout as we go. There’s no way out of the gorge once we start.”Normally I would be anxious about taking a flaccid shredder down a little-run Class V boulder garden without the safety of other boaters along or even an evacuation route. Plus, Roland forgot his helmet and we have no throw bag. Oddly, I couldn’t care less. I feel no hint of the usual Class V jitters or concern for our lack of preparedness. It occurs to me that I may be spared a trip to Cathedral Point, as our little daytrip down the Labyrinth is suicidal enough.


[Chorro Rapid at stomping flow. Upper Naranjo River, Costa Rica. Photo by David Findley]We climb into the tiny craft and immediately drop into a sizeable chute cascading onto exposed rocks. It’s continuous maneuvering from there; the maze is relentless and we’re teetering and spinning off boulders, fighting each other’s rhythm. We catch a small eddy and Roland, who’s sitting on the left side of the shredder, shouts out, “Do you guide from the left or right?”“Left,” I say.“I guide from the right, let’s switch sides.” [Keeping the flame alive - the late, great Costa Rican river legend, Roland Cervilla. Photo by Arturo Oropeza.]We start to click after switching, powerfully stroking across current lines and straightening out for the drops. Paddling becomes like meditation; there’s only the hum of frenetic water and our focused concentration on the line.We park on a rock cluster above the first big rapid, “Stacy’s Lament.” Roland explains that the last time he ran down the Labyrinth, he escorted some kayakers from Colorado who were insistent that Costa Rican Class V was really like Class IV in Colorado. After spending a good portion of the upper section upside down, the group became disheartened while scouting the first “real” rapid. One of the more intrepid Colorado paddlers probed it first, hitting the narrow, eight-foot drop on the far left side next to the gorge wall. Just below the drop, he inexplicably veered and smashed headlong into the curving monolith. He swam out of his kayak and was pushed by the funneling current into the collection of sieve rocks stacked against the right wall of the gorge. Submerged for some time against the rocks, he surfaced in a pool of blood minutes later, his face badly lacerated from the impact. That’s when Stacy, the least experienced of the group, began to cry uncontrollably, realizing that there was no way to portage our line around the rapid. There was only one way out: through the guts.“Don’t swim here,” Roland warns as we push off the rock island and head for the left side.We make it to the slot and straighten out for the drop, noticing too late that there’s a doinker rock poking out next to the wall. It grabs the left front tube of the shredder and spins it so that we smash full-on into the jutting left wall with the force of the waterfall folding the boat in half against the rock. As the angled boat floods with water, I spin around and slip two of my fingers through the back D-ring, and my feet flutter outside of the boat in the downstream current. From the corner of my eye, I see Roland flush out, propelling headfirst into the rock sieve below. He disappears underwater, exactly in the spot where the lacerated Colorado boater had been.Hanging from a keychain-sized metal ring by the inside crooks of my knuckles, I tuck my long legs up to my chest against the current and wrap them firmly around the pinned back tube. Legs secured, I use my hands to push the boat away from the rock wall, inching the plastered shredder along the wall slowly until it unwraps and pops free. Somehow, my paddle has survived inside the boat, and I use it to draw-stroke my way across the current until I’m downstream from where Roland has surfaced. I quickly yank him into the shredder, spy an eddy and draw us into it while Roland fishes his floating-away paddle out of the drink. [Scouting Stacy's Lament Rapid. Upper Naranjo River, Costa Rica. Photo by David Findley.]We sit in the eddy, breathing and looking up at Stacy’s Lament; Roland’s rubbing his head with an eerie, frozen grin on his face.“You hit your head?”He nods.“Did you see stars?”“I think so, yeah.”“Do me a favor and bring your helmet next time,” I scold. At least there are no bloody lacerations to deal with; we didn’t bring first aid supplies or even duct tape.With miles left to go, the sun slides below the canyon wall. We push on through the twilight, navigating the maze of downed logs, bus-sized rocks and steep chutes. We do our best to read-and-run from our low vantage point, not wanting to waste any of the dwindling gray light on scouting.            Near the bottom of the run, we come to a severe horizon line; white froth shoots skyward from the force of the drop.“This might be the rapid that has a big strainer blocking the entrance on the right,” Roland yells over the roar. We park on a flat rock at the top and climb around a house-sized boulder to get a full view. Roland’s remembered correctly—there’s an enormous, fallen ceiba tree braced across the only feasible entrance in the rock-riddled rapid. Everything looks distant and two-dimensional in the flat light. We scooch like crabs across a series of mostly submerged boulders over to the downed snag and try to kick it free without success. Standing next to the drop, we study the current, noting that there’s more clearance if we pass under the tree on the right side of the chute. If we hit the left side, we’ll be tangled in the scoured ceiba branches and either get pinned against the knotty obstacles or swept out of the boat. Below the chute, there’s a nearly river-wide death sieve of rocks that’s completely impassable; a swim here would be heinous at best. We simply have to clear under the tree on the right, then haul ass over to the left side of the river to drop down and out of the Labyrinth. I start to feel it then: adrenaline buzzing in tune to the thumping of whitewater, flooding my body until I want to thrash out of my skin, kicking and punching. Looking down at the water rushing under the tree, I realize that more than anything I want to live. My survival switch has been kicked, and I suddenly become the girl who highsides huge oar boats on strainer islands, who hand-walks shredders off rock walls to rescue friends. I am the creation of all the rivers I have known and the knowledge they’ve instilled: I am constant, adaptable, and strong-willed.I lean out and put my hand in the water as I always have, and ask the Naranjo River for safe passage. “My hands are your hands,” I say. “Use them.”Read more, and if you're in the area, don't miss Bridget's reading Sunday, December 4th at 3 p.m. 
 

One of the unique perks of working for Patagonia is the chance to leave, to participate in an environmental internship on work time. I chose to go to Guatemala to see how coffee is grown before it is exported for roasting.  I divided my time with two organizations involved with coffee farming in Latin America, Coffee Kids and the Smithsonian Migratory Bird Center. I documented their work through photography.My hope is that my work will serve as a tool to reinforce and foster positive change in the coffee industry.Smithsonian Migratory Bird Center (SMBC) To increase coffee production, coffee farms use synthetic fertilizers and convert from “shade grown” plantations, where shrubs are planted in the shade of trees, to “sun grown,” where coffee plants grow quickly, fully exposed to heat in fields.  [My work lead me to Finca Nueva Armenia, nestled in the Sierra Madre valley of Huehuetenango, one of only eight farms designated as bird friendly by the SMBC in Guatemala. All photos: Mark Shimahara]


To prime a sun grown farm, trees and natural forests are destroyed. Scientists believe that these practices lead to the sharp decline of bird migration in Latin America and a loss of habitat of other animals, insects and plants of the tropical forest. To preserve biodiversity in coffee farms and to encourage sustainable farming practices, the Smithsonian Migratory Bird Center established a Bird Friendly certification. To be certified as “Bird Friendly,” a farm must practice organic farming in a diverse and native forest—in other words, provide a bird friendly habitat.  After a dusty five hour drive from Guatemala City we arrived at their farm, which is a forest.  Birds tweeted, insects buzzed, and pollen floated in the air. [A flycatcher perched on a high shade tree, one of many birds found on the farm.]But the tranquility was broken by the violent buzzing of chainsaws from neighboring farms that were tearing down trees to make way for sun grown coffee.  The Recinos bothers, who own Finca Nueva Armenia, grow bird friendly coffee because they know they are investing in a habitat that will sustain itself in the long term. Their farm will be spared the long term consequences of monoculture which can lead to disease, land/soil overuse, and the destruction of animals and beneficial insect habitats. [One of the Recinos brothers hike up the plantation with coffee buyer Kim Bullock and roaster Jeff McArthur.]The US-based coffee buyers I met, from Counter Culture Coffee, buy from this farm because it's committed to sourcing from organic, sustainable land. This farm is also willing to take on special requests such as harvesting and drying their crops in micro-lots, or selective picking by micro climate or varietal.Coffee KidsCoffee Kids develops programs in education, health awareness, micro-credit loans and food security for coffee-farming communities.  I visited the hosts of two projects with Jose Louis Zarate, the program director at Coffee Kids. The first was Finca Santa Felica, in Acatenengo which is managed by the farm's owner Anabella Meneses, whose goal is to empower workers to become advocates of their own professional development. Coffee Kids’ sponsored ADESPA (Association for Sustainable Development of Paraxaj) achieves this though education and training in practical business skills. Two of her projects (textile and shoe workshops) focus on literacy in economic diversification. ADESPA also provides childcare so that parents do not have to arrange for it themselves. [I accompanied the kids from the ADESPA child care program on a parade to celebrate environmental awareness.]My trip made me keenly aware of the harsh socio-economic conditions that coffee farmers in this region face. Worker’s wages are used up in providing basic necessities—food, clothing, shelter for their families. As a result, there are few resources left to invest in projects that might eventually yield greater financially stability or environmental sustainability, in the long run.The second project I visited was in Chajul, a remote place seven hours north of Guatemala City—including two hours driving on unpaved roads—where Ixil, an indigenous Mayan language is spoken. The women uniformly dress in traditional cranberry-colored skirts signifying the Chajul region. [This community too is heavily reliant on coffee as an income. ] [After the last coffee crisis, women workers were the first to be dismissed.] To address gender inequities, the Coffee Kids program here offers microcredits to women and their families to start businesses. This provides them with alternative means to earn their living, besides coffee. [Loans are used to start local shops and textile manufacturing.]I was flattered my blog entry about milk in coffee got the attention of Coffee Common, a collaborative experiment at the TED conference to serve and educate the audience about this wonderful drink. Similarly, it's my hope this work will encourage more businesses in the industry to examine and improve the land and communities where coffee comes from.  If you are interested in trying Counter Culture's selection of fresh, seasonal coffees, Counter Culture is graciously offering free shipping in the continental US to Cleanest Line readers through May 27.  The new crop of Finca Nueva Armenia is scheduled to be released later this month (use Promo Code: THECLEANEST).

Our new online Surf Catalog is a rallying call on behalf of threatened surf breaks around the world. It's packed full of stunning images, compelling videos, the best surf gear available and action alerts from our friends at Save The Waves Coalition. Give it a look and share with your friends – it's time for all surfers to come together and protect our precious surf breaks.

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Our thanks go out to everyone who contributed to this issue. We hope you like it.

Most of our employees have interesting stories to tell, but few have spent 15 months in an East German jail after abandoning a plan to somersault the Berlin Wall from a trampoline before trying to escape the country on foot.
Holger Bismann, managing director of Patagonia Europe, was generous enough to share some of his experiences of what it was like to live under totalitarian rule in East Germany, keep alive a relationship with his future wife while in jail, then cross the border into freedom after the Wall came down.
1) What is your most vivid memory of living in East Germany before the Wall came down? The thing that reminds you of that time the most?
My most vivid memories were of saying "good bye" to the good things about the life I had there for 27 years, right before my friend Klaus and I escaped. We couldn't actually say good bye to anyone because it was too dangerous to tell anybody about our plans. We couldn't even say anything to our closest friends or parents, simply to protect them and ourselves from danger.
 . . . hit the jump to continue reading "One Man's Road to Patagonia"
[A photo from earlier, and easier, times - before the personal ordeal that would eventually lead to freedom from East Germany. Photo: Holger Bisman collection]

Anyway, for five years, as students at the University in Leipzig, we had been squatting in an old house. After we graduated in 1988 and right before we escaped, we had a secret farewell. We organized a huge party in the backyard of the house with all our friends. A rock band played and it was great to see everybody before the summer break - and not knowing when or if we would see our friends again. It was a very strange feeling, as you can imagine. And I haven't seen many of the people who came to the party since.2) You were an athlete even then, correct? What sports did you practice? Did you compete?
Correct. I'd done many sports from the time I was 6 years old. I grew up in a mountain region where we did lots of winter sports. I practiced luge for many years and was part of an elite program, but got kicked out when I was 13 years old because my uncle jumped the border and went to the West. I was penalized for my family not being "politically clean and reliable" anymore. That's how it was in East Germany. My dream of going to the Olympics was suddenly over.
Then I started to practice sports on my own and became an endurance athlete. I ran marathons and ultra races, did triathlons for many years and cross-country ski races. At the same time, I loved the mountains and did lots of trips through Eastern Europe, either biking, hiking or climbing. Later I studied sports science, became a coach and teacher and finally moved to France. I have always stayed connected with sport and my competitiveness is still alive. I am now hooked on cycling and when I see someone far ahead of me in a climb, there is no way I can slow down and I push myself until I am at his back wheel.
3) You met your wife, Christelle, while you were in East Germany, but she wasn't from there, right? How did you meet?
We met when I was at the University in Leipzig. I always had to make some money to finance my trips during summer break, so I worked as a lifeguard and sport animator in a kid's camp. That was always great fun. I met Christelle (she is French) there in 1986 when she came as chaperone for a wild group of French kids from poor families and 'sponsored' by the French unions. It was quite unusual for kids from Western Europe to come to the East and there were always people checking us out to make sure we didn't get too close.
Anyway, first Christelle and I became friends. We were falling in love and I promised her I'd learn French. She didn't believe me and thought I was just another guy promising something - but I did it. The day she left I jumped on my bike and went straight to the nearest book store and bought my first French book. Four weeks later I wrote my first letter in French to her - it was two pages and took a whole day to write. She was impressed and after a year my French became pretty solid.
4) I'm sure you've told the story of your escape from East Germany many times, but what was the trampoline plan? And how did you actually try to escape?
As a sport student in East Germany, we were asked every year to participate in a big sports show for the government to show the world how great and powerful communism was. There were hundreds of athletes doing a synchronized show in a stadium. It included lots of acrobatics, one of which was to jump over a three-meter-high ring from a mini trampoline doing a somersault in the air and landing on our feet. We did this thousands of times and my best friend Klaus and I got the idea that this could be a way to get over the wall. After the show we kept practicing this in the gym for many nights every week. We had great gym facilities at our university.
Ultimately, we didn't do it after Klaus's girlfriend asked him if she could come with us. We had planned our escape and practiced our jump for three years, but physically, she couldn't have done it, and hadn't practiced at all. So we instead decided to cross the East German border through the Czech Republic, and from there to Hungary and then into Yugoslavia.
We got caught by the Hungarian guards on a moonless night at 2:00 am while trying to cross the Hungarian/Yugoslavian border. That was it. The dream was over as we stood in front of a young 18-year-old kid pointing an AK-47 at us. He was as scared as we were since the communists were always telling them that anyone who tried to cross the border was a criminal and extremely dangerous. We didn't want to get killed so we didn't even try to run away. We always knew that we could end up in jail. But we knew that if we ended up in jail, we had a 95 percent chance that after our sentence, the communists would let us go and wouldn't want us back in their country. So this would mean that we bought our liberty with a couple of months sitting in prison.
5) I'm sure you'd thought about escaping many times. Was there one thing that finally pushed you to turn the idea into reality? Do you remember the night before your escape (or day if you tried to escape at night) and how you felt?
We were thinking about escaping for years. Many people in the eastern countries were constantly thinking about it and many are still doing it all over the world today, leaving behind dictatorial countries and other situations to get a bit more freedom and democracy. The idea develops in your head over the years and you eventually make the tough decision to leave your family and friends and the place where you grew up. You do this with not much hope of when or if you will see these people again or when or if you will return to the place where you grew up.
It's difficult to imagine, but this is how it was. To get liberty, we had to make a decision about where we wanted to live in the world. It had a huge impact on our lives. And the worst thing was that we were unable to share those thoughts with anyone. Not even with our friends and family since we could endanger them and they might also end up in jail if the communists were to discover our plans. All those years, I only shared my plans with Klaus. It was a huge process dealing with this over the years. It was kind of a relief to finally get on the road and to get it over with, but it was also very weird that there were many things, places and people that we wouldn't see for years - maybe forever.
The moment we got caught, the hope we had lived for was just gone. My first thought was about my parents and my sister - they didn't have a clue what we were up to. Then I wondered when I would see Christelle again and what would happen to our future. My brain was just spinning and that's what it continued to do for a couple of weeks while we realized how our lives were going to be for the next couple of months or years - being disconnected from the outside world and even further away from freedom in East Germany.
6) You spent 15 months in jail as a result. How did you get through it? Did you learn anything from the experience?
I have to say I took it well. I learned a lot there about living in a small space with many people - no privacy - not even on the toilet. I had to share everything. I got to know people (criminals) who never had a great life - no education, no security, not much family and love. I learned how those people got to where they were, how society and government puts people in jail for political or criminal reasons and they don't do much to reintegrate them and help them to live a normal life. If a young kid ends up in jail, they don't have much chance to go back to a regular life after leaving. They need strong support from family or friends and that's what most of them don't have. Or they need a strong mind to make it through. They can't count much on the government for any of this - who gives a job to someone who comes out of jail? Not many companies do. In the end, the guys coming out have no job, no family, no friends and to survive, they usually start stealing again. Then they return to jail where finally they feel at home and respected by the people sharing the same life.
In jail you learn to adjust your life and stop complaining about what you don't have. You have to show respect to people who are in difficult situations or have done terrible things - or who even annoy or disrespect you. In addition to all that, you have to keep your brain and body working and stay positive. If you don't you will die.
What did I learn from it? - Bad things can happen in life but there are always worse. If you hold onto hope, you will get through it. Just imagine all the people in jail in China, North Korea or Iran, probably for nothing and for years under hard conditions. Being in an East German jail was probably like being in a substandard hospital compared to what is happening in those countries. You learn to be more[…]

Team Rios Libres is back with an update from the Neff Glacier, at the headwaters of the Río Baker. The team's first two reports can be found here (1, 2). With the Neff at their backs, the team followed the river to the sea, doing their best to document the diversity, beauty, and wildness of the region. Before completing their journey, the team will be checking in on a region of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field last believed to be last visited and documented by explorer Eric Shipton during 1960-61 expedition.

Reports from the Rios Libres team are that their travels are proceeding smoothly, but the impacts of the quakes continue to be felt and much support is still needed (information about how to help is here).

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The Voice of Ice (a report from Craig Childs)

At night I lay in my tent listening to the thunder of collapsing seracs, multi-ton columns of ice breaking free and falling a thousand feet. Smack, crack, rumble, groan. In these deeply-cut canyons, echoes build and fade. The ice-bound head of the Rio Baker is not a stable or quiet place.

[Top, Timmy O'Neill walks the line on the Neff Glacier. Above, left - Craig Childs watches as a huge chunk of ice falls 20 stories down the
Neff Glacier. Photos: James Q Martin]

In the morning we walk along an exposed wall of the Neff Glacier. A thirteen-story slab breaks away, tilts in slow motion, bursts into powder and bergs. How do you not feel fragile in this landscape?

On the ice, crampons crunch across a surface darkened by wind blown dust. The sound of meltwater emerges from deep below us, mumblings in the belly of the glacier. I peer down a hole where shadows within shadows lead into a blue Jules Verne landscape, journeying into the source of the Baker. Oxygen-rich ice near the surface is white. Below it, baby blue falls into a saturated indigo so deep and rich it seems perilous. Becoming aware of the depths, I feel dizzy.

Every hole and crack emits a sound. Some places are whispers, and some rumble like a ship engine below deck. Unseen rivers roar and hiss as one of the largest ice caps in the world melts under our feet.

Jonathan Leidich, a local glacier expert whose knowledge comes from 15 years on the ice, takes us to a measurement station that he maintains in conjunction with CECS, Centro de Estudios Cientificos de Valdivia here in Chile. A PVC pipe sticks up from a hole. Leidich runs a tape measure, says that a month ago the surface of the glacier was six feet over our heads. That much has melted in 30 days across this entire expanse.

Hearing this, I take in the scope around us, daggers and ridges of ice, holes shaped like giant's navels. Ice stretches as far as I can see, rising up through the teeth of mountains where the Patagonia Ice Cap spills through from the other side. I can feel it all melting. This is how the river starts.

[Above, right - Craig Childs gets an up-close view of the Neff Glacier. Above, left - Taking a handful of perfect glacier water - some of the cleanest in the world. Photos: James Q Martin]

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Check out the video below for a better view of how much ice has been lost from the Neff Glacier in the past year. Facebook readers can find this video here.

["Yvon Chouinard Q&A on Matilija Dam - American Express Member's Project" via YouTube. Video: Robert Richardson and Scott Hicks]


Today we're following up on Yvon Chouinard's recent commercial for the American Express Members Project. The grad student Yvon mentions in the above video was Mark Capelli who, through his group Friends of the Ventura River, helped lay the foundation for all the work being done today to remove the Matilija Dam and restore the Ventura River ecosystem.


For a report on the current state of the Matilija Dam's removal we contacted Paul Jenkin, founder of the Matilija Coalition and Environmental Director for the Ventura County Chapter of the Surfrider Foundation.


Patagonia is a founding member and primary sponsor of the Matilija Coalition, an alliance of community groups, businesses, and individuals committed to the environmental restoration of the Ventura River watershed. Starting with the removal of Matilija Dam, the coalition is working for the recovery of the Southern Steelhead trout and the natural sediment supply to the beaches of Ventura.




Patagonia was a major sponsor of the October 12, 2000 Demolition Demonstration Project in which Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt removed a ceremonial block of concrete from the 200-foot high Matilija Dam. This event marked a major step toward the eventual removal of Matilija Dam.


[Logo art designed and donated by Jeff Hebner]
In 2004, a federal Feasibility Study was completed which outlines a plan for dam removal based upon ‘temporary sediment stabilization.’ This approach is intended to protect downstream interests, including the community water supply, while allowing for controlled releases of sediment and restoration of the ecosystem. This plan was developed through a multi-year, multi-agency planning process with consensus of all stakeholders. The Feasibility Plan underwent extensive review, and ultimately gained Congressional approval through the passage of the Water Resources and Development Act of 2007 (WRDA07).Since then, the project has been delayed by lack of funding and difficulties associated with the management of approximately two million cubic yards of fine sediment (approximately one third of the total sediment) that has accumulated behind the dam since its construction in 1948. Originally slated for removal using a dredge and slurry pipeline, a recent proposal calls for permanent storage of the fine sediment upstream of the dam. Disagreements on how this fine sediment should be handled threaten to stall the project. The Matilija Coalition is working with project sponsors to try to steer this complex project back on track.
Because a dam of this size has not yet been removed, this is a project of international significance. All of the large dam removals currently being planned have experienced similar difficulties, largely based upon managing huge quantities of sediment and the downstream effects on property and water supply infrastructure.
--Paul Jenkin


 
[Recent photo of the Matilija Dam courtesy of Paul Jenkin] Paul has been documenting the dam's removal on his blog since October 2007. For a detailed look into the challenging process of restoring a free-flowing river check out the posts tagged Matilija Dam at Ventura River Ecosystem.


If you want to hear stories about what the Ventura River was like before the Matilija Dam was built, check out "Tales of the Ventura" and the video Paul produced with some longtime Ventura residents.