Dog Rescue

Let's start this off with a confession, I occasionally have idiot moments. For example, a few weeks ago, following a Halloween Party at our friend's house, Sara and I got a ride home with a sober driver. The next morning, I walked 6 miles along the ocean side of the airport fence back to the house we had the party at and picked up our car. The idiocy arises from the fact that the three street dogs (creatively named Blackie, Whitey and Oreo; Brownie disappeared over a year ago, but people still ask why Blackie is named that when he's mostly brown, it's because of precedent) we look after and feed followed me on my walk.

It's not unusual for them to walk with us the mile or two out to Airport Beach and hang out while we swim, snorkel and relax. However, this time, I passed right by the beach and kept walking along the sea wall past the airport radio tower and along to the next set of pools and to the point on the South end of the mouth of the Pala Lagoon. The dog kept coming along with me for the walk. This stretch of land is unique in American Samoa as it does not have any wild dogs. The 5 to 40 yard wide stretch of land that borders the airport fence doesn't have any residents for a four mile stretch, so with no one living there, there's no cast off food for wild dogs to sustain themselves. Therefore with no food, there's no packs of dogs.

As we crossed no competing dog pack's territory, there was nothing to discourage the dogs from following me. They followed me the four miles to Lions Park, which is some of the meanest turf for dog packs in American Samoa. Bravely our dogs followed me through, the casually walked through some of the toughest dogs turf. Whitey was the first to turn back, mostly due to getting cut off from the rest of the dogs by a pack in the Park. Oreo made it to the beginning of Tasi Street, where he ended up in a stand off with one of the local dogs and not proceeding any further.

Blackie braved on until the end of Tasi Street, where he fled after getting surrounded by a pack, as I made my final turn into Off-of-Tasi Street. I got in our car and proceeded to start driving back. Oreo was still standing where I left him at the beginning of Tasi Street. Recognizing our car he started to chase it along the Lions Park Road. Once I could see he had made it back to the place where the path back started I sped up. One to discourage him from trying to follow me along the road back and two, to keep from holding up the traffic I had following me as a result of driving 10 mph so that a dog could follow me. I pulled away and the dog didn't see me turn away, so I figured he made it back to the starting point for the trail back. I then proceeded to drive home and fall over for the rest of the day from heat exhaustion.

That evening, none of our dogs had made it back to the house. Sara and I drove to Lion's Park to look for them, but after an hour of hunting around, we didn't see any signs of them.

By the end of the work day on Monday, Whitie and Blackie had filtered back to our house. Both were a little shell shocked and humbled by seeing how the meaner dogs on the island live. However, Oreo, our current favorite didn't make it back. For the next two and a half weeks, we didn't see him. Both Sara and I gave up hope that he'd make it back. Best case, he'd take up with a pack where ever he ended up. Worst case, he was already dead.

It was a bit of a surprise early in the morning when driving home from the gym. Sara was driving and I was staring off into the fenced in grassland that surrounds the airport runway. All of a sudden I saw Oreo standing along the airport fence, only he was on the wrong side of the fence. He was locked in on the runway side. I pointed him out to Sara and we pulled over.

Oreo was a whining, skin and bones version of himself, but it was certainly him. He also had made friends and had another young dog with him. I walked along my side of the fence with the two dogs following along the inside, while Sara drove back to our house to get her phone and the number for the airport. I walked all the way to the gate at the end of the runway and waited. Sara managed to talk to someone at the airport and they said security was on its way to open the gate. Sara also brought some biscuits for the dogs. Which we fed to them through the fence.

Eventually a SUV from Airport Security made it out to the gate and immediately to dogs ran off. In talking with the security officers, we learned that they had been trying to catch Oreo for the last two weeks. Once we asked them to back away, Oreo snuck through the gate. We thanked the guards and then needed to get home and get on with our morning. I walked Oreo back to our house, not wanting to take any more chances that he was going to get lost. Twice he tried to take wrong turns, turns out he's really bad with finding his way home. He made it back OK and so our dog pack is back up to three. Oreo's also been filling out a bit since then and all of the dogs have seemed to recover from their ordeal. Also, I'm an idiot and not allowed to take the dogs on walks anymore.

Miss You, Tucker

Tucker Swimming on the Eagle Falls Trail in the Columbia River Gorge

After a rough few weeks, the end has come for my dog, Tucker. He was put down on Monday afternoon after not being able to eat for the past several weeks. My parents have been caring for him for the past few years, but he's been my constant companion since law school when I got him from the Chesapeake Bay Retriever Rescue.

When I first got Tucks, he was a five year old dog that had major weight issues. He was 125 pounds, I often referred to him as a keg with legs. He didn't know how to fetch and desperately needed regular walks. But other than that he came to me a happy and well behaved dog.

Waiting for the Next Throw in Tahoe

Tucker took a little training to learn to fetch, but once he figured it out he found his calling. Soon he spent daily session chasing the ball on the blacktop at the local elementary school or the grass at Burlingame Park.  It wasn't until we spent a summer of living up at Lake Tahoe that he managed to swim off all the excess weight.

The gravel covered Homewood Beach will always be the place where Tucker was at his best. He's chase sticks and tennis balls out into the water for hours. If you tired of throwing things for him to chase he'd start picking rocks off the bottom of the Lake. Every trip up to the Sayles cabin didn't really begin until Tucker had his swim in the Lake, whether it was summer or there was six feet of snow on the ground.

Even in his last weeks when he couldn't eat and barely walk, he still found some reserves of energy when my parents would take him to the water and throw a ball for him. We know the end was here when on his last day he could only muster a single retrieval from the Bay.

Giving Elbow Steam Baths on a Road Trip

It's hard to say good-bye to your daily companion, especially since he'd been there through many of my recent life phases. I adopted T-Fab before I started dating Sara. I'd often walk him over to her house when we after we started dating each other in law school.

He moved with me from Portland to Tahoe, back to Portland and eventually down to California. He was with me through three years of law school and the years starting to work as an attorney.

What I'll miss about the big guy was his enthusiasm, his non-subtle pleas for attention and his stoic patience.

It's going to be tough to go on without that dumb dog. Thanks for the memories and the years of companionship.

Nothing Could Keep Tucker Out of the Water

Two of my Favorites

Happy Dog

Coast Walk

Sara and I wanted to follow up on our previous weekend's expedition to along the coast west from our house. We did the previous hike with some friends who brought their five-year-old daughter. While sharing the waves and the seashell hunts with a kid that young is fun, it also slows you down quite a bit. Thus we opted to try the hike again, but this time as just with us and one of the criminal prosecutors from our office.

The hike picks up about a half a mile up the road from our house. A small dirt road turns off our road near the end of the airport runway and winds back around towards the coast. We parked at the house of one of the employees of the EPA (who we chatted with as he was heading out to another palagi's going away party) and started our hike.

The coast in this section is all tall cliffs of volcanic rock. The dramatic part is the way the waves roll in with full force and break against the base of these rocky cliffs. Along the route we were treated to blow holes that channeled the waves force up through old lava tubes or passages through the rocky cliffs. This can lead to large holes that boil over with white water on large waves or smaller holes that blow tufts of mist up into the air. Or my personal favorite which is a large void at the water line that fires a forceful gust of air through a vertical hole when waves break into the underneath passage. The air has enough force to blast plastic bottles placed in the blowhole forty feet high. These displays are quite unlike anything I've seen on the California or Oregon Coasts.

The lava cliffs also lead to some amazing formations. As the hike continues west from our village the cliffs get taller and the rock jetties turn into long fingers that reach out into the Pacific

and towers rise from the ocean. These formations make the coast walk zig and zag along the contours of the coast. The path hugs the edge of the cliffs and there are a number of interesting features along the way. A personal favorite of Sara and I's is a large cave that isn't visible from the cliff. The only way you can tell is from the vibrations you feel beneath you when large waves break. The whole roof of the cave rattles like a drum-head with a booming thud.

The walk continues for several miles, until is starts to wind down towards the beach in the village of Vaitogi. Here there is a pack of dogs that likes to lurk in the brush and put on a show of how tough they are. A few thrown rocks disperse them, but it's a constant reminder of one of the great public nuisances in American Samoa.

The previous times I had done this coast walk, we had either turned back in Vatogi and returned on the surface roads or retraced our steps along the coast. This time we pressed on and followed the road out to Larsen's Cove. I'd been to Larsen's Cove once before. It was after I left my shirt at Fagatele Bay and had to hike back in to retrieve it. I'd dropped by the beach known as Larsen's Two, since I was already out there on the Fagatele Bay trail and wanted a little extra hiking.

Turns out the all coral beach I'd seen on my previous hike was the much less interesting beach in Larsen's Cove. The trail to Larsen's One, which is accessible from east of Larsen's Cove is a little protected beach that has some spectacular sand and is protected from waves by the fringe reef. Only planning on hiking, I'd

neglected to bring my swimsuit. I regretted this situation when we got to the long sandy beach that it is Larsen's One.

Sara and our prosecutor friend made some time to lounge in the water. I took it upon myself to track down some good seashells. We also made ourselves a promise to either camp or barbecue at this spot in the near future.

After enjoying some beach time, all we had to was hike back to Vaitogi and wait for the prosecutor's boyfriend to drive out and pick us up.

This is a blow hole near the mouth of Larsen's Cove. The pan to the right shows the beaches of Larsen's Two and then Larsen's One.

Umu and Breaker's Point

Our friend left a few weeks ago. He finished his bird surveys for the National Park Service and got to spend a weekend relaxing and hanging out before returning to Hawaii and then on to the mainland for Burning Man. We were dismayed to see one of our good friends on the island go. Last week we ran into one his Samoan coworkers. We'd met her a few times and joined our friend for an umu at her house. It was one of our best times hanging out with a Samoan family in their own home. One of her nephews just graduated from UC Davis and his mother, who owns the super market where we shop, was telling us about his process for applying to law school. This is omething Sara and I are intimately familiar with.

This week, while shopping at the market, we ran into Visa, our friend's Samoan coworker. With the National Park Contract over, she was working at the market. We chatted for a bit and she invited us to join them again for their Sunday umu. Umus are the traditional Samoan feasts that are done every Sunday with the whole family in attendance. The food preparation starts before dawn. A fire is started behind the house, with rocks added to retain the heat. When the flames die down, the food is added to the coals and it bakes for four or five hours. Traditionally the food was wrapped in banana leaves. Consumer culture has shifted this to aluminum foil, but the cooking technique remains the same.

Traditional dishes at a Samoan umu are taro, breadfruit, palusami, faiai fee (octopus cooked in coconut milk and ink), oka, pork and fish. Less traditional, but very common are rice, fried chicken, Kool-Aid, beef ribs and ice cream.

We showed up and the kids were chasing around a remote control car that the church had handed out. The 8 or 9 boys were quickly demolishing the toy. In the time we were there it got stomped on, the tires fell off and it was driven off several large drops. The boys kept themselves pretty occupied with the car until it was run into the ground. The girls, even down to ages 7 or 8, were working in the kitchen. Eventually the boys were put to work bringing out the food and using fans to keep the flies from beating the people to the feast. One boy of about 10 brought out a mask that resembled Frankenstein's monster. This frightened a 2-year-old girl, who would remount her wails every time the mask would reappear until she was allowed to wear it and then it stopped being a problem.

An umu is like having Thanksgiving dinner every weekend. We were treated to some amazing food. the guests we were served first and it is considered disrespectful not to take a full plate and finish it. Sara and I were quickly stuffed on breadfruit dipped in palusami. I tried the octopus, which was very good. All of this is was served on their covered front porch.

The best part was the community and the view. Their house over looks the beach in the village of Alega, and has a spectacular sight in Tuaga Rock. Next time we visit we'll remember to get pictures.

Once we were filled with food and packed up with leftover palusami and breadfruit we set out to hike the companion hike to Blunt'sPoint: Breaker's Point is at the mouth of the Eastern side of the harbor. We pulled off at the trail head and had to contend with a few street dogs barking at us. A few stern words and we were able to walk on through. Once we hit the trail, it climbed steadily through banana plantations until we reached a small plateau. Here the trail branched two directions, Sara explored the one to the right and I took the one to the left, a minute later we met again in the middle and showed each other the gun placements that we'd found.

Both guns were similar to the ones we'd seen at Blunt's Point. They were large bore guns that had been pulled off a warship at the beginning of World War 2, when the navy base in the harbor needed to be fortified.

What remains of the guns has been long left to rust and the unrelenting climate of the tropics. The bunkers beneath the guns have started to flood and have several inches of standing water at the base of the stairs. Not having anything more than sandals on we didn't opt to explore the passages. The hike was pretty short, with just a single steep section. But after that quantity of food, we needed to balance ourselves out with a little activity.

This little side trip didn't last too long, as the heat of the day soon chased us back down the trail.

Random Moments

A few random occurrences from today:

Sara and I saw a sea turtle at lunch.

I picked up a custom sewn Hawaiian shirt from the little Indonesian sewing shop.

We had a staff meeting to talk about the two month ordeal to get us new office supplies.

We snorkeled in the lagoon by the hospital, the visibility was bad, so we watched some Samoan Cricket, aka kirikiti while waiting to dry.

We learned that Brownie likes Tikka Masala leftovers.

We had a 3 inch long praying mantis on our front porch.

There also were two toads inside our screen door.

Sara and I tried Cuttlefish flavored chips and they are awesome.

Ended the evening with a Wayne's World plane landing moment at the runway by our house. (Looking up at the Milky Way and down the runway was unlike anything we've ever experienced.)

Just another day in paradise.

Brownie

When I left home, I assumed I was going to be doing without animal companionship for the balance of my time here in American Samoa. Tucker is happily living with my parents for the last two years and Sara and I have had a hole in her hearts and household without him.

With the rough reputation that local dogs have here on Tutuila, I didn't expect to find much along the lines of a dog I'd get along with. Turns out I was wrong. Sara and I have slowly been adopting a neighborhood dog. He had been the dog of the Risk-Taker, but he and his family moved out of Freddy's Beach. The Risk-Taker asked that I look after his dog in his absence. So all of a sudden, Sara and I have a new ward.

Our first few days, Brownie shied away from us and treated us as most other island dogs do. After a few days, with no one else looking after him, Brownie would start to peek in our window. We would come out and greet him, he'd remain shy, but let us pet him. We'd feed him, but he wouldn't eat until we went back behind the closed door. Even after we went behind closed doors, he would look around, take a bite of food, then raise his head and scan the horizon, then repeat the process. He's a wary old island dog.

Some days he'd show up with fresh cuts and scars on his snout. During the night we will occasionally hear dogs facing off in the dark. I've heard reports of Brownie fending off three other dogs and driving them off. He has the scars to back up those claims.

Brownie's eventually warmed up to us. He'll now stand outside our door in the evenings. Sara and I will bring him out some leftovers or stale corn chips with some sauce. He'll now eat us with us standing in front of him. He's slowly integrating himself into our household. We'll see if he remains as a permanent part of our lives here.

Tisa's Barefoot Bar

So last weekend Jay and I decided to check out one of the most raved about local hangouts - Tisa's Barefoot Bar. It's on the Eastern end of the island and quite a ways from our home in Freddy's beach, so we took a few pictures of our drive along the way.

This first shot is of Pago Pago harbor looking west and back toward the town and our office. The second shot is Faga'itua bay, which is farther down the coast line a few coves over from the harbor.

As we continued along, we came upon this fun little island, which becomes a peninsula when the tide is low. Tutuila has several such islands, one of which we pass every day on our way to work called Fatu Ma Futi or "the flower pot." Then we actually passed Tisa's and headed farther on to Au'asi, which was farther east than either of us had been. Because it was Sunday, there were next to no cars on the road. Samoans are a very religious people and on Sundays, nearly everyone is in church. By the same token, it's considered disrespectful to swim at a beach near any village on a Sunday. So as not to disturb the locals of Au'asi, Jay and I parked toward the end of the beach and walked away from the village to enjoy some time on the coast before heading back to Tisa's. As you can see from the below pictures, it was pretty spectacular.

We checked out some blue starfish and filled our pockets with sea glass and shells as we walked along. Sea glass (i.e., broken beer bottles) is everywhere here, and as a result, shoes are required on certain beaches. Just before we were about to leave the beach, three dogs from the closest house began to approach us and were barking fiercely. Fortunately, it only took a couple of thrown chunks of coral to dissuade them from coming further.

Having defended our territory, we perched on some lava rock beneath the palms and had a snack of toasted nori. Among the rocks, we found more hermit crabs than I have ever seen in one place. In fact, upon closer inspection, at least half of the shells on the beach were moving if we watched for a moment or two. Pretty neat stuff.

Finally, we decided it was time to head back to Tisa's. Tisa's is - you guessed it - a bar and restaurant owned by a Samoan woman named Tisa. Tisa herself was not around that day, but her husband "Candyman" and several other staff were available to see to our pina colada needs.

Pina coladas are among the specialties at Tisa's, and I think the fresh coconut may have spoiled me for life. Tisa's sits on a bay nearly unto itself and is one of the few beaches we've seen which is totally free of glass. It's a thatched roof and deck structure which sits on stilts out over the beach. Needless to say, the views we enjoyed with our pina coladas couldn't be beat.

I went for a swim in bathwater-warm ocean and then headed back up to the deck to poach some of Jay's yellowfin (caught the day before - ah.ma.zing) and share in some banana fries. The bananas here aren't the Costa Rican variety we're used to, but instead more of a potato-esque dense starch. Delish.

Another funny thing about Tisa's: I had only been on-island for a total of 6 days and I managed to see someone I knew. Ahh, island life... After 5 hours of serious R&R, Jay and I had another swim and packed up to head home. I'm thinking this may become a Sunday tradition.

Dinner Party and Hike

Had a coworker, her spouse (the Kiwi), a former coworker (the risk taker), his spouse and his son over for dinner last night. We had some eggplant parmesan, caprese salad, long bean saute and bread pudding. It was a pleasant evening, but the major thing to come from it (aside from a local plaintiff's attorney trying to execute a writ of possession earlier that evening for the governor's car, with my coworker and the AG stepping to put a hold on it) was the suggestion of a hike out at the National Park of American Samoa the next day.

After a morning of errands with Sara, she packed me off with the boys in the back of a spray-painted and glitter dusted pickup truck with the Kiwi and the risk-taker. We were off to try a hike/run in the National Park on the north shore of the island. I'm glad to have take the journey over the saddle between Rainmaker Mountain and Mount 'Alava in the back of a pickup. Too often my trips around Tutuila have been from inside an SUV. Riding around in the back of a pickup opens up whole new vistas that I never noticed. The volcanic peaks soar around you and the coastal road snakes underneath cliffs and between some stunning verdant slopes when there's no longer a roof to constrain your view. I need to keep this in mind when exploring transportation options here on the the island.

The road up to the ridge was steep. The risk taker was the driver, but being new to driving manual he ran into trouble when he came to a stop after trying to push third-gear too far up the hill. With some gentle ribbing from the more experienced stick-drivers in the truck bed told him how to get going again on a slope. The driver then proceeded to roll several truck lengths back down the steep slope and across the other lane. The Kiwi, took it upon himself to get the car headed uphill again and we managed to reach the ridge of the mountain,where driving responsibilities were turned over to the risk-taker again.

From the saddle between the two volcanic peaks, there is an amazing view down on the harbor and the Tafuna plains. I'm definitely coming back here for a sunset and a beer. If only I'd brought my camera on this trip...

Over on the north side of the island, it's almost all National Park that is accessible from the road to Afono and Vatia. We parked at one of the National Park turn offs and started hiking up from the coastal road. It wasn't until I was on the trail that I realized that both my hiking partners were wearing cleats. I was piddling away in my "barefoot" running shoes. This was OK for the uphill, but there was enough mud underneath the rain-forest canopy to make me leery of the descent. I couldn't think about that too much as we continued our ascent up to the ridge between Rainmaker and 'Alava.

The top of the ridge afforded a new sensation for me in American Samoa. It was slightly cold up there. I may have actually gotten goosebumps. After sweating my way through the last four weeks, it was a welcome sensation.

The foliage would occasionally open up to afford some tremendous views from the ridge. Overlooking the village of Vatia and the Cock's Comb to the north and Pago harbor to the south. Next time I take this route, I'm not making the same mistake I did this time and am going to bring my camera. The best spot had two benches that had an amazing overlook of both the bay and the village of Vatia.

The hike along the ridge was steep and muddy. The Park Service had placed several ladders with rope to make the trail passable. The ups and downs of the ridge were steep and narrow. Without these aids, descending would be a dangerous challenge, especially with steep drops on both sides of the ridge.

The hike down off the ridge cut off right before the steep slope of Mount 'Alava started to climb. The descent was steep and muddy. This is where the cleats my fellow hikers were wearing paid off. I had to pick and choose my steps, where they could crash right on through. I'm going to need to ship an old pair of my rugby or soccer cleats out before the rains make these trail impassable to any other type of shoe.

When Sara's leg gets strong enough, I'm dragging her on this hike. Once we reached the bottom of the trail we were in the village of Vatia. It's one of the more remote and poorer villages on the island. The local school kids used to have to hike over the ridge twice a day to attend school in Pago Harbor along the same trail we just down-climbed. Now that the road's gone in, their access to education slightly easier.

We had to fend off a few local dogs on our walk back along the road to the car. The routine for this is grab some fist sized rocks from the side of the road and if the dogs get too close, throw the rocks at the dogs. It becomes second nature after awhile.

We also had some local kids yelling "Hey Palangi" at us. They loved our casual greeting in Samoan of "Malo" in response. The hike back to the truck was less exciting, we walked along the road to the turnoff where we started. We made it back to the glitter truck with enough sunlight to justify a hike down to the tide pools below where we parked.

There were some cool archaeological sites on the hike down. A star mound, a rock used to sharpen axes and some terraces had NPS signs and descriptions on the hike down. At the bottom of the hike, we got to some deep and narrow tide pools. We jumped from the rocks surrounding the pools on both side and were even able to dive in the deeper spots. It was a great way to cool off and relax after our 5-mile hike.

We eventually made it back to the car after watching the sun set behind the Cock's Comb. The ride back over the ridge was a little chilly in the back of the pickup, especially since we were still wet from the tide pools. Once we made it back to the risk-taker's temporary housing at the hospital the Kiwi and I called our wives and begged forgiveness for hiking the day away and each got ourselves a ride home. Overall an amazing hike, now I just have to deal with my sore legs and blisters. I'll do it again soon, once I have cleats and a camera to do it justice.

Rocks for Dogs

I had one of those "You're not Kansas anymore" moments last night. I was gathering fist sized rocks from the road behind my house, after dark, in the rain while drinking a 750mL of Stienlager.

Why you may ask. The wild dogs have been actively having a turf war in the trees behind my house. I get woken up most nights to the snarls and yelps of dogs battling for the pathways hidden in the tropical overgrowth between the dumpsters of our housing complex. Some nights this will happen three or four times while I try and sleep. Needless to say this is making my acclimatizing to the new time zone particularly difficult.

Asking the other residents of my housing complex for suggested solutions, I received the advice that the best way to dissuade the wild dogs from hanging out is to throw rocks at them (that seemed the better option than feeding them poisoned food suggestion I received). You don't even need to hit the dogs, just let them know that they are not wanted and give them reason to pause before choosing to use the paths near your house.

Under mainland circumstances I take a much different approach to animals. I'm a vegetarian on animal cruelty grounds. I got my dog, Tucker, as a rescue. But at a certain point I need to sleep to dawn, even at the expense of my mainland morals.

Thus yesterday I was out in the rain after getting home from work, gathering rocks that will get the attention of the dogs, enjoying a beer while it was raining. Definitely not how I would have spent an evening as of two weeks ago in California.

On the Island so far

Here is Sara and I's new home. We're in a spot called Freddie's Beach. It actually a block away from the beach, but there's supposed to to be some good snorkeling and fishing on the lava flows that make up the beach. The wild dogs everywhere were a bit much for me. When I showed up on the first night there were 5 camped out on my front patio. My place had been vacant for several month and it looks like they took advantage of the deck to escape the rain. They got into a few snarl fights during the evening (part of the reason I woke up at 3am), but a few days of activity at my house and they haven't made my porch their bed since then.

Apparently the strategy for dealing with the wild dog packs is to adopt one of the less trashy/diseased one. Feed him and treat him well and he keeps the rest at bay. Good thing I didn't try and bring Tucker, he wouldn't make it here.

The highlight of the trip so far was on the first morning. Daniel, a new coworker who arrived at the same time as me, bumped into one of our new neighbors on a walk and he showed us the way out to Airport Beach. It's a mile walk along the lava flows and the fence line for the airport, past a few WW2 pillboxes and some amazing scenery. Looks like this is going to be a spot with some great ocean access. We'll see if my work schedule will let me take advantage of these amenities.

I'll leave you with some romantic island shots, since the rest of the week has been spent getting me up to speed at work and dealing with all the bureaucratic nightmares that come from moving to a place that works on island-time full-time.