The End of the Steep Part and Naked green Physicists

 

Reinhold Messner has said that the reason he walks up and down long scary hills is because it makes his bed feel cozier when he finally gets in. For me it is the pasta at the end of the rainbow; but to each his own. 

One day we had planned a familiar but very tiring slog and I woke to a distinct feeling of I don't want to do this. Luckily I hike with an Alpine angel - reminding me to take small steps, and leaving sugary drinks on the path when he thinks I may zing off into the wrong direction.  He is also very good at mentioning when the really steep part will end so one doesn't lose hope. In truth, there is no end to the steep part- in the mountains or in life; but I know what he means. 

So in Lech we were. Lots of people in town, lots of time walking around gazing at the astounding views and then congratulating ourselves in bathrobes by the pool. We are a slightly rogue group in that we have paid for half board (so dinner and breakfast included) but we seem to be out all the time. The owner of the hotel now approaches me in a slightly intense way to ask what the hell we are doing each night. This is a problem because we are accustomed to Frau S who exuded the vibe that everything we did- skied, got drunk and didn't ski, got sick, got well, went out, stayed in, divorced the first guy, married his brother, wore white after labor day...anything we did was an inspired plan.We came; we paid the bill; we came again. 

Peter and Will raised the collective IQ quite a bit at the dinner table or on any hike. Peter is going back to a high paid consulting job and he is definitely in the right profession. I caught him explaining astrophysics to Heather's 15 year old daughter, and then when we got to Zurich for a few days he came back with reports on the Swiss method of pricing ice cream. They charge four francs for one scoop, and -stay with me on this- 8 francs for two scoops, and yes 12 francs for three. He found this fascinating- they did not offer any incentive for buying more, but in Swiss fashion just did the math for you in case you were dim.

The three Exonians were in the main square in Zurich and a man approached offering to write a song about them at that moment. He asked them to each tell him how they were feeling. Will said tranquil, Peter said peaceful, and Frederick said happy. The guy looked at them with disgust and said "I can't write a song with that!" Apparently nothing rhymes with tranquil.

I am presently in the first class lounge of BA in dark glasses on very little caffeine, because I am doing this jet lag app that tells you when to drink coffee and get light in the eyes. Thomas forced me to drink some coffee because he is too afraid to let me fly sober. So I have probably screwed it up already.

It is amusing to me how I can spot my fellow San Franciscans easily at Heathrow: the women dress like I do- expensive with messy hair and a distinct liberal vibe. The men are more diverse - but they all look rich and tech like- some with great bodies in their sixties, some (presumably the really successful ones) in full wig and bad shoes. My people. How I wanted to kiss them.

A few of you asked what classes Frederick is taking: 

Quantum field theory 

Quantum electors dynamics

Particle symmetries

Differential geometry

Quantum information

Saying goodbye to him this time was a little hard. We spent a week hardly visiting a museum or new restaurant because we were at the home supply store or hardware store. We keep trying to fix toilets or clean the oven or buy things to feather his little nest; and our presence was getting perhaps a tad irritating. I even got the idea he needed a way to get out in case of fire and bought a ladder that hooks onto the window and can be used only once according to the instructions (LOL!!) When I told P and K at lunch what I was thinking..they finished my sentence: "you bought a fire ladder?" It is so refreshing to speak to them about safety as opposed to my team who find me ludicrous. I am now thinking that instead of the ladder (the window is too wide so it won't fit) that F should run down in a full neon green fireman's coat. I am trying to convince him no one is sexier than a fireman, especially because to avoid getting burned alive on his way three flights down, he would have to be naked because clothing can burn into his skin (free blog fire safety tip). So beware of the naked physicists in green, London.

He had drinks with Joe Moore's daughter who is at Oxford for the year- she grew up In Vermont but as you know is from old San Francico stock, and F said he found it so nice to speak with someone that loves his home town instead of listening to the usual wearisome diatribes on what is wrong with the place. In fact he has been feeling quite a bit of nostalgia: he asked for artsy photos of San francisco for his bedroom to remind him of fog and caffeine infused north beach (we ranked number one for coffee lovers!!) and that strange beautiful light that belongs only to us.

I always listen to a lot of Stones when in England and since Let it Bleed it note for note possibly the best rock and roll song of all time, that shall be the anthem for this entry. Despite the cocaine and hooker references I think it conveys an appropriate level of motherly love and concern when leaving one's kid far away on the top floor with lots of homework and no fire escape. But I am not worried: he has P and K and a decent facility with the vacuum cleaner. And of course he has all of you with your love and frequent flyer miles. 

So sing on beautiful San Francico; Sing on, all ye friends of budding quantum physicists; Sing on men in wigs and techies next to me in fancy seats; Sing on my tribe- thanks for supporting Chico as you do. Thanks thanks thanks

You will always have a place in my parking lot.... xxx

Fish market in Loulé

H and W with new friends

Peter and W in a physics lecture

Beauties cruising in Ida's new golf cart

Exonians on the Bahnhofstrasse over a petit breakfast

Small Portuguese beach lunch 

At the Portugal vs Luxembourg (we won 9-0)

Moving in to Elm Park Gardens

Postscript

Since I began this blog entry, he has been to his first days and is very excited. He said the group is next up in the nerdy level- the mathematicians at Imperial will not allow any non mathematicians into their lounge, which in case anyone is asking is worse than the one for physics. The physicists have a large deck that overlooks all of London and the math people are in the dungeon. But you know I will find a way into that group too. As I always say, I grow on people. 

He has joined the tennis club, the ski club the chess club, the yoga club (to meet women); and the gymnastics club because he wants to learn to do a back flip on dry land and not in the pool. They said they could teach hm. 

At the first lecture, the professor tried to intimidate them a bit with a warning that this might be a little hot for some -especially he said for those that didn't go to Imperial for undergraduate; and those people should prepare themselves to do a little more reading. But a heaping dose of Exeter and a double major at Chicago has toughened Chico up a bit. As he said "it pretty much seemed like the usual ride". 

London digs, Temperate climes, cold seas, USWNT, Rubik's Cubes

 

The Hallowed Halls of F's new school (looks rather frill-free) 

As most of you have heard, we came, we saw, we rented. Our first day we saw a tiny (418 square feet) apartment in South Kensington that would not fit much more than Chico's enormous desk. I was sort of open to it, but T said it "smelled like glue". Then after much research and graph making and deep deep analysis, he announced if we spent more money, the apartment would be better. Interesting. I think his point was actually the market was rather efficient and we would not pull a fast one over a landlord in London by getting something for nothing. So we took a rather charming, rather large place on the border of Chelsea and South Kensington, very near the wonderful King's Road. It is so fancy in fact, it comes with access to a garden and key. F is not the biggest fan of reposing on lawns, but we shall see. 

We will move him in beginning of September, Inshallah. So come visit if you dare (but be warned I am not paying for a cleaning lady), or at least drop in for a garden stroll. 

Our landing was rather exciting- there was, thank god not known by me, lots of wind across the runway. So after trudging across the Atlantic for 10 hours, we land on only one side of our wheels and the plane sort of leans weirdly to the side. Somehow we were in first class this time, and I looked at Chico with a sort of hopeful "Maybe this the way it feels at the very front of the plane...?" Anyway we went around again and just when I tried to curse the pilot, we read that another airline had tried three times and given up and landed in Scotland. So welcome to England I guess. 

Maybe it's my imagination, but England isn't the same without the Queen. I mean does anyone really get excited to see Charles and Camilla? 

Portugal seems to be, climate-wise, the place to be in Europe. It is burning up everywhere but here it is slightly cooler than usual. It's perfect for tennis, and the morning swim makes us gasp and congratulate ourselves (64 degrees). 

F and Henry T are living a pretty clean life in anticipation of the Barcelona portion coming up next week. They sampled various war museums and pubs in London and have been seen reading actual books made of paper. In the rest of his free time, F can be found by following the sound of his clicking his Rubik's cube around. We were two days in Porto which was hideously crowded with drunken tourists, but we were in the best hotel room of my life at the Hotel Monumental. I didn't want to leave.

So here we are back in Quinta do Lago with empty nightclubs, and backhands foremost in our minds. 
This women's world cup down under is killing me. Lord knows I love these girls, but I can't wake up at 2 am to see them. But get into it people! The characters are so incredible....one of them is Denis Rodman's daughter, and there is a selection of the baddest ass yet somehow also adorable women. One in particular is Rose Lavelle who as one podcaster said is the kind of person when the bar is about to close says...No problem, I know a place that's open for another two hours..." Always having a good time, and plays this joyful kind of soccer with brilliant little moves that bring energy and smiles when she comes on.

Simply google Rose Lavelle karaoke..lol. Then cheer cheer cheer! Apparently during the Holland game which we tied alas, the Dutch coach tried to smack talk our team (US! out of shape??) and then an egregious foul on their part got our fabulous Lindsay Horan so mad she went out and scored immediately. Do not make this woman angry. 

 Germany is also looking good so we Wehlens are pretty smug. But rear ends in front of the TVs my people. 

Boys on famous bridge in Porto

Love the British sense of the ridiculous

Boys at the fancy private club of P and K the first night

Living Room in my Porto room; below the dining room

wildly into the 70s emerald green marble vibe in my Porto digs

Double Stuffed Physicist

 

Biting the apple of knowledge

“The best thing for being sad,’ replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, ‘is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in you anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags in it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you. Look at what a lot of things there are to learn – pure science, the only purity there is. You can learn astronomy in a lifetime, natural history in three, literature in six. And then, after you have exhausted a milliard lifetimes in biology and medicine and theocriticism and geography and history and economics – why, you can start to make a cartwheel out of the appropriate wood, or spend fifty years learning to begin to learn to beat your adversary at fencing. After that you can start again on mathematics, until it is time to learn to plough.” 

T.H. White, The once and Future King

First of all God bless Burke's school and our brilliant, possibly alcoholic, never-would-be-hired today teacher Mr. Bell for having us read The Once and Future King. Never knew it would come in so handy for a quote for Chico's graduation. 

I always find graduation season melancholy. I don't like saying goodbye to a place that has embraced my kid while sprinkling fairy dust of knowledge on his head. I don't like saying goodbye to his friends, and ours, and in both cases (Exeter and Chicago),  to places that we will not see very often again. Sigh. And as excited and happy and proud as the parents are at these times, in my experience, the graduate tends to be exhausted and emotional and disorganized. 

But anyway, we came we clapped we packed. And young F, while very sad and slightly weepy to say goodbye, bounced back as usual. (Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. Do you remember that commercial from the 70s?). Frederick is a weeble. The summer ahead looks rather good and he gets to start studying in London in October, season pass to Lech in hand. So there is that consolation. 

Martha was in full Martha mode: dressed like the Queen mother on the days when she gardens- flowered dress, straw hat, sensible shoes- racing around like friendly paparazzi.  She was trying to brag about F, but at this sort of graduation, these attempts fall laughably short. She tried the whole astro physics thing to a guy whose daughter was getting her PHD in chemistry. For every cum laude she came up with, there was a magna to contend with.  No matter. Martha is nothing if not good at the pivot- we heard her telling people "her grandson double majored in Astrophysics and Astrophysics." In her eyes, he is more that just a budding Astrophysicist. 

He is a double stuffed one. 

I told Thomas F seemed to have come, somehow into full adulthood. It's like a border has been crossed, a certain shyness dissipated, a new confidence born. As proof, he came home and immediately cleaned out his closet of old clothes and then started work on two of the three jobs he has this summer. True, two of those are unpaid, but Frederick is a purist, and he seems to have mastered the art of working for little or nothing, then going seriously long in the stock market. 

I marvel at how lucky F was to have landed here of all places. A place that, according to a long research project analyzing "top" colleges, puts UChicago highest in the intellectual category. It's the place where the kids talk about what they are learning if they ever in fact go to a party. F told Andrew that is was not uncommon for him to study an extra 8 hours after a day of classes; and yet I wonder if he would say fun did come to die here. I don't know that he would. Interestingly, his closest people at the end were all women. Women with whom he cooked dinner and shared break up stories, and one time when I phoned him, with whom he had gone antiquing. (insert smiley face). His last semester was spinkled with all sorts of exotic things like parties and dates and sunrise swims in the lake. These things did not really happen in the early years on the road to his double stuffed major. 

He said he is more attached to Exeter than Chicago as much as he liked it. Part of that is Covid, part of that might just be that first love is first love. 

I realize this is meant to have more photos...and I will provide, just as soon as the Queen Mother returns from Canada with her camera. (She can't apparently download from abroad...) 

more in a jiffy xxx

Bestie and Roommate Angelina

Heavy Seas and Rainbows

White Rainbow

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude." 
William Shakespeare 

We have taken a very Northern route to avoid some weather, which is sort of disappointing to Thomas and me. The good news is it is December in the Atlantic so if you like wind you have come to the right place. It is blowing 50+ knots across the deck which made them close it officially, leaving just the intrepid and the lunch drinkers who took a wrong turn after lunch on deck. It was, as a man reported to us "Invigorating!!!"
I don't know what it is, but maybe there is extra oxygen in the air out here, or maybe one is just so happy not to be actually IN the scary turbulent lethal freezing sea below, that one has a spring in one's step. You want to quote Shakespeare and shake your fist and tell the Atlantic to BRING IT ON SISTER!!! you can't catch us!! But you don't because the ocean can indeed catch us and we know it. So we skip like children around the windy deck, avoiding the part close to the edge as the wind almost pushes us over. And we whisper :

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurour and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!”

Anyway, went in and had a pedicure, now soon dinner where handsome will bring caviar. Things are not exactly the same after the pandemic, and I hope it goes back to the way it was. There used to be, it seemed, more crew and there were four formal nights; now only two. Worst of all, the soft serve is only vanilla. We told this to our powerful friend who immediately got on the phone in front if us and demanded answers. It was hysterical. I told him if he managed to get chocolate back I would be duly impressed. 

We have been blessed with so many rainbows. One was the strangest sight- completely white, from presumably ice. 

Thomas admitted, much like an alcoholic, that when he takes the stairs two steps at a time, he regrets the loss of steps counted on his watch. 

The captain seems to be the most beloved we have ever had- all the crew says how kind he is. Every day at noon he makes the captain's announcement regarding weather and distance travelled etc. Then he gives a little anecdote usually about terms that came from mariners- chewing the fat for example came from the cheap beef mariners had to eat and gnaw at while at sea, and because it took so long, they did it while chatting. Today he told this story: 

The Japanese eat very little fat and have fewer heart attacks than the British

The French eat a lot of fat and have fewer heart attacks than the British

The Italians drink a lot of wine and have fewer heart attacks than the British

The Germans drink a lot of beer and have fewer heart attacks than the British.

Conclusion: Eat and drink what you like. The problem is speaking English.  

Ellie Selfie (Selliefie!) in her happy place

description of conditions

One of our two living rooms

Dining Room

Quick Log

 For those who are interested, we have just passed Cape Race of NewFoundland and heading out to the really deep blue. I am slightly obsessed with Newfoundland...is it Canada? Who lives there? 

The swells are pretty big, so we loll around a lot....I keep thinking that maybe some of you would in fact be seasick. The seas though are calm, and the air is really cold. We saw the deck hands salting the deck against ice, and we have never seen that before. As always the sleeping is incomparable. It is like sleeping in a giant baby rocker. 

Today we went to a 'behind the headlines' panel with British journalists who riffed on both the netlfix series on Harry and Megan, as well as Boris Becker being let out of jail early as well as funding for private schools. Of course the world cup is taking up a lot of our time. Osman says Brazil is going to win it. 

Sea is now a chilly 43 degrees (the day before yesterday, a balmy 57). Birds are sill near the boat, but not I suspect for long. 

I love my room so much; It is a source of constant delight. 

Pictures soon I promise. xx

Crossing

 

Hello from the North Atlantic where we will soon pass (south of us actually) the final resting place of the Titanic! I will keep this sort of brief today, because I am worried that the QM2 blogs will repeat themselves. But it is the first time we are back in three years, so some things have changed. The big news is that we some how landed what is likely the best suite on board. It is a long story, but Thomas found it at a discounted rate on some German travel agents website. We could throw a cocktail party for 50 in it...and if we had that many friends on board, you know I would. We have more televisions than we do at home, and a private elevator into our room. It is not just any elevator however, but our beloved glass elevator - the one that alert bloggers will recognize from old posts. Our status has reached people are gossiping about you status because we are under 70 and are positioned at the very front of the ship at the end of a mysterious little hallway. Of course, a table of Texans couldn't take it and had to introduce themselves to us, with the drunken words "YOU ARE THE ONLY ATTRACTIVE POEPLE ON THE SHIP" and then because they travel often and are not used to being in not the best suite, wanted to know just who the Fuck we were. The single man who is their friend and travels everywhere with them is particularly salty because he is always in the presidential suite and is having a hard time with his reduced status. If we are thrown overboard, tell the police about him. 

The view from our room is just insane..which is kind of the bad news, because we don't need to leave. Also maybe bad news is the manicurist from Jamaica told me about the very last trip which was "so bad geril. She be terrible" (direct quote.) By 'bad' she means four days of hellish seas and her having to stuff ginger in her mouth to keep from barfing. I asked her if the front of the ship was really worse, and since she works in the spa which is in the bow, she laughed. YES! GIRL!! 

So I decided to take action and introduced myself to the acupuncturist on board who told me if a storm came, to call her before it got bad. If I was already throwing up, there wasn't much she could do. Thomas keeps reminding me that I don't get seasick, but we are literally in the most forward cabin and it is December. Kind of hoping it will get bad, just for the blog. 

So far it is just rather cold, so we don't step for as long...the food isn't the best I have ever had, and the staff seems somewhat shrunken. I think this is all the covid hangover. Speaking of which, there is almost no talk of it here. Very few people wear masks, we are stuffed in together, and oh well. 

Handsome Osman is still here and just as funny as ever. I think he is making us pasta by the table...and the man can cook. 

The theme of the trip is a literary one, so all the lectures are a talk with an author or book signing. The Brits are champion readers and we see all kinds of strange apparitions of people reading actual books. Adorable. 

Ok will post photos asap. 

Over and out.  

Thus You Shall Go to The Stars…

 

Our rocket man. (Also very best song to accompany this blog.)

If the Wehlen family had a motto, it might be: "Travel often with large groups to see this beautiful earth" (Iter saepe cum magnis coetibus hanc pulchram videre terram hanc pulchram...) or maybe just simply: sic itur ad astra: "thus you shall go to the stars."

Indeed, there is nothing like a big group trip: you bond in a way you don't at a dinner party or a night at the opera; and when you add in daily feelings of awe towards sky and space and sand, followed by a hot tub and an open bar; you have a pretty good week. 

 

The photos probably tell the story best...so I will not write much. But in short, we had a collection of the smartest, loveliest people for almost a week "and"...as it says in the bible: "it was good".  Thomas and I started an award while we were in Africa years ago for the best vacation-er. The person that joins everything, never complains even if bitten to death by mosquitos, the one who finds the gin and pours it for you first, the one who laughs in the face of danger and cold and heat, the one who makes you laugh on the earliest, coldest cruelest Wehlen morning excursions. On this person we bestow the sacred "Sundowner Award" for service to the noble cause of goofing off. This year the award went to F's brilliant friend from Exeter Peter T, who climbed mountains and introduced himself to strangers and never threw up in the hot tub...Mister perfect. Andrew, Thomas, Frederick and I debated the winner in our room the night before. We knew it probably had to be Peter, but Andrew made some strong arguments for one John B from Bielefeld, Germany. He maintained that we have never had a guest described as "unresponsive" and felt this level of joie de vivre deserved commendation. "Unresponsive"  was the word Luis used with me after he went to check on John.  I suggested to Luis that he needed to explore this further, and bring me a full report before I called his lovely mother (my friend) and explain we had, in essence, killed her son. Luis came back with the good news that John was alive, and "would be at dinner shortly".  Andrew argued that the minuscule length of time between "perhaps dead" to dinner in a pressed shirt was impressive. I couldn't argue, ..also this was the same kid who had been seen sniffling and Thomas told him to go to the pharmacy and take a Covid test. The test was negative, which of course means nothing, but he raced back on his bicycle being chased by stray dogs and drugged out men in ponchos, to make the bus that morning. Keep in mind another kid spoke perfect Spanish, acted as our translator, and had a 33 resting heart rate; and he didn't win....so you see how stiff the competition was this year. 

"Great time; Great Llamas; Great stars"- Quote by Will, K. Ca. USA

Thomas was quite nearly ecstatic with the level of conversation one could casually drop in on. These were actual examples: What is language exactly? Why can you see the stars better with your peripheral vision? What constitutes a descendent of Ghengis Kahn? What is art if an AI can make it? Should AI have rights? Why do college pre-med classes use inflated brains instead of the wrinkly ones....? or perhaps, in the lull before cocktails, why not dive into a chat about the Cyclone Zyklon, the pesticide that was used to gas the Jews!? The choices were endless. 

Our diversity was particularly splendid: we had Schneider siblings who have literally grown up in a five star hotel and claim friends from around the globe; and we had a kid from Exeter who had barely ever left his home state. But in the great margarita blender that is my kind of party, it all came together- better than the sum of its parts. If these kids are in charge of the world someday, we will be ok.  

I thought the main draw would be the night sky, but the day was filled with sights so strange and amazing, that it was effectively a tie. The night routine with the astronomy guide (not an astronomer, but well informed nonetheless) meant we would go up to a platform near the hotel and lie down on cushioned sun loungers under blankets. Then they turned off the lights, and what appeared to be a children's drawing of a night sky would materialize: endless little white blinking dots smiling down on us. It was sublime; silent and beautiful beyond description. No one wanted very much to jump up when the time came to look through the telescope, but when we did, we saw stars living together in pairs like large, lovely lesbians, (our sun is of course a single gal) and Saturn and huge comets, and dot after beautiful white dot. F was up (he tells me now) almost every night until 3 am because he couldn't tear himself away. 

Some of the highlights were lunch barbecues by the pool; walking as a group after dinner into the national park and simply looking up as one, at the heavens above;  Amy teaching me finally the trick to hanging out in a cold plunge for many minutes; taking an outdoor shower while looking at the Milky Way; and the simple pleasure of seeing people you like very much at dinner, and knowing you will see them again the next day. 

We only had one mishap on the day we woke up really early to see the geysers (the locals pronounced it geezers which we loved). We had a high altitude breakfast cooked for us and then started back to the blessed hotel and hot tub. I was sort of frazzled that day due to a very long bumpy ride out to the geezers. Then we hear an ominous sound and are told one of the vans was broken and a new one needed to be called in (we were at least an hour away from the hotel) Luckily for us, the one that broke was for the kids..so we handed out sun hats and drinks and left them by the side of the road. 

So we somehow got 23 people there and 23 people home; and we were sad when it was over. Thomas and I longed for humidity however so we settled in to a big fat seat on a South American airline (they are fabulous now) and fled to Miami. Lexi wrote and asked me if I felt invigorated after 11 days there. HA! I think I speak for all of us when I say we were absolutely exhausted...and dried up like prunes. Drinking wine and taking hot tubs at this altitude and humidity is not for the faint of heart. But that is how seductive the stars are: like all great loves, they will make you do crazy things. 

Onward Travelers! Where to next? xx

Will K and Frederick

Luis, Chico and international man of mystery John B

Schneider siblings and super star guests

One of many pools...was prettier than it looks

Breakfast at 15,000 feet. Group had woken up at 5 am and it was 30 degrees. And this photo was taken before they were stranded at altitude with a broken van. 

My neighbor

Geysers 

Breakfast of grilled bread and eggs

Can't do this justice....why do we ever fight or worry? 

Lunch in the desert waiting for us after a walk

Joe from PEA who drinks neither alcohol nor caffeine but embraces the hot tub with gusto

Intrepid crew drove to 18,000 feet and walked to 20,000. Our very own Hanna B. scrambled up the fastest

From left:
Joe (Exeter); Anouk (Schneider cousin); Chico; Harsha (UChicago roomie); Will; Mystery person; Peter (Exeter, and sundowner winner); Luis S; Ida S; John B (Long time Almhof guest )

Lovely Margaret Fry Brigham

Chico photographing a Vicuna at 15,000 feet 

Cafe in town

Chilly in Chile...about 7 am at 15,000 feet 

Ida and Hanna

sic itur ad astra

Happy barbecue day

Ida 

Chico with Sundowner winner 

John B, Chico and Will K; Peter T

Hanna and Ida

We set up chairs for them to wait for the new van to come

Luis with the Sundowner runner up John B

Chico and Charlie

Chico and Charlie in town

F and his well dressed mother.

Ancient rock scribles

Will following Thomas down a steep sand hill

Two Exonians Peter and Jacob

Chicago roommates

Amy, Simone, Ellie, Margaret..I appear to be losing my sense of humor as wait for breakfast

And thus you shall go to the stars....