This is Kari channeling Anya who is at summer camp cooking for a bunch of kids and climbing rocks all day. As the camera-less owner of a blog, I told Anya I’d scan photos she selected while I’m in San Diego so that I can be useful. Blogging by proxy! I have to do this on my mom’s computer and she listens to a lot of Kelly Clarkson and The New Christy Minstrels. I wish I didn’t have ears. Blog ho!

Disclaimer: These photos are in the order and with the sentimemts which Anya bestowed. Mostly.

Bob blowing bubbles

The most tender picture ever taken

Spendin’ G’s

Former member of the NRA channeling what was always repressed

Anya thinks this picture is “cute”

Check out that hirsuite gentleman

“Being a supermodel is so tough sometimes. I get tired.” -Bryan

Sheeba and bubbles in Dolores Park before Maggie Mudd and before Born in June

Me and Tommy with Sheeba trying to avoid the bubbles

Lucky for Anya, this picture from Maggie Mudd turned out really well. Jahaari smells like salsa for some reason.

Portrait of the portraitist

Anya’s parents moved apartments in SF the morning after Born in June. This is a picture of that.

Anya misses you all. She’ll send letters though, don’t worry.

Gradually regaining worth,
Kari

Partying: what we do best. A little room to room, a little of Kari’s birthday, and something funny.

Half the house crammed into a hallway on their single-minded quest for booze.

We had a seventies room with blacklights, love juice, and reefers.

Rebecca is glowing with mystery and the light of a stegasaurus.

Self-portraiture with a manual camera, especially in the dark, is quite difficult.

Kari, Morgan, and Jordan are good friends.

She’s ready for it.

Allana! I think that’s her name…why am I so bad at remembering names?

Yes, life really is that exciting.

Joe is winsome, Kari is preoccupied.

Later that night we robbed a bank. Then Kari discovered the tap had been stolen, so there went the loot.

This is unrelated, cos it’s from my birthday, yet also very pertinent, because no birthday is complete without a little phallic imagery (it’s vegan, Bryan!).

Winter in a few pictures. I should shoot more black and white.

This guy Mike E. at our house brings plants home a lot. He give this one to Courtney, cause she’s got a green thumb and communes with growing things.

Sunset on the roof. Stephan reminds me of a wolf.

Really, the only reason I took this picture was because she looked good.

This stewardess should’ve won 1st place at the stripper party. She kept it classy, too.

Did you know Diamond Dave runs this website?

This sunset was so awesome, and in my excitement I forgot I had black and white film in the camera. Oh well.

So y’all have seen Kari’s blog about our camping trip that we took the other week. I wanted to supplement it a little with some select pictures from my beloved Cannon A-1.

Our happy spirits couldn’t be dampened by the fact that about 4 other parties were starting on the trail at the same time we were.

Everyone except for me had been either a girl scout or a brownie at some point. I didn’t tell them I was raised by wolves in Russia.

Beauty straight from the get-go.

At this point we could still see the ocean, and probably smell it, too.

Proper hydration was always a priority.

So were rest-stops. Despite that, we managed to hike 11 miles mostly up hill in 5 hours (and passed up everyone else along the way).

Pensive Rebecca.

I can’t remember what she was laughing about. We were probably all high by this point.

Dee-Dee and Theo, I think. Kari’s friend and his buddies were having a feast because it was their last night camping. They were kind enough to share their food and fire with us.

Rob is a geologist. The first time we met him we were all naked, and I thought he’d make a good lumberjack lover.

You wouldn’t believe the amount of food they cooked on this thing.

The next day we woke up and went for a short hike through some damn dense brush.

As Kari mentioned, the terrain would change suddenly from woody to deserty. Hence the abundance of cacti.

The happy mood was pretty pervasive during the whole trip.

After getting poison oak all over us and taking a shit in some bushes, we decided to go for a swim in the frigid snowmelt water.

Then we sat on a log and watched hawk-like for someone to abandon a hotspring.

On the record 4 hour hike back to the parking lot, Kari pointed out this waterfall, straight outta Jurassic Park.

Home again!

I love climbing. I wish I had more time/money/a car/the ability to drive a car so I could climb all the time, but I don’t. Thus, so far all of my trips have been with people that have the above, said people being my mom and our friends. Last August we went to Tuolomne Meadows, which is possibly one of the most beautiful places I’ve been during my short 19 years. The annoying thing is that there are at least ten more awesome pictures that I really want to include, but I can’t find ’em. Damn squirrely photos.

A good breakfast is vital. My mom always brings enough food for an army: pie, lamb shish-kebabs, boiled eggs and potatoes, granola, coffee, fruit…you get the picture.

This is Mindaugis Bagden, we call him Mindy. He used to be a beatnik, a hippie, and then a punk kid. Even though he’s 71, he most often resembles a 5 year old. He’s also been climbing since he was sixteen, and can talk your ear off.

My mom still has a good dose of Soviet Russia coursing through her veins – she’s tough as nails and ready for anything.

Can you believe this woman is afraid of heights?

Mindy has a friend named Dick, who lives in LA and flies a small piper airplane when he wants to get somewhere. They’re old pals.

The first trad climb I ever lead was called “Hermaphrodite Flake” (‘cos you can do it three ways) and that’s what I saw when I got to the end.

I also saw this.

My momma rappelling. She looked so cute I couldn’t resist putting it up.

The next morning I woke up at 6 and went for a walk in the meadows. The slowly disappearing fog made everything kinda mysterious and really pretty.

There were lots of little blue moths flying around, but they hightailed it as soon as the sun came up. There should also be a really tight pic of some mineral springs I walked to, but it’s one of the photos I can’t find.

“Puppy Crack” was the second trad climb I ever lead, and let me tell you, this little 50-foot crack kicked my ass. No falls, but I got the worst case of sewing maching leg ever.

Deciding which cam to put in.

I can’t wait to go back and do that one 17-pitch climb I saw in the guide book.