The Great Solar Eclipse of 2017 crossed the continent, from Oregon to South Carolina, and gave millions of people the chance to witness one of the most awe-inspiring events in the natural world.

But you had to be within the "path of totality", a narrow band across the earth's surface several thousand miles long but only about 70 miles wide. Outside that band you would only see a partial eclipse, not a total eclipse.

And there is no such thing as a "partial total eclipse", despite the impression blogs and the news media might give. I honestly think that's why so many people misunderstand the utter beauty of the spectacle; they may have seen a partial eclipse in the past that was total somewhere else, and even though they weren't in the path the news kept gushing about it being a total eclipse, so they assume they must have seen a total eclipse and just didn't find it all that impressive.


Posted by Dan 08/29/2017, revised 09/06/2017

It's been a rough season this year, beginning with a minor fracture in my foot, which caused me to back out of the South Bay Duathlon. By the time Wildflower rolled around, I was running again, but at a greatly reduced volume, which turned out not to matter when I found out our apartment lease terminated on race day. Instead of toughing out the hot dry hills of the Long Course, I spent my day heaving boxes and furniture; nearly as brutal, but with no finisher's medal at the end. Morgan Hill Sprint in May ended up being the official opener of my race season, pretty late by California standards.

And then 6 days before the race, I had a bike crash ... on the Morgan Hill course.

I've had my share of topples, but this was my first high speed wipeout, and it felt like the ultimate betrayal to have my bike suddenly misbehave and cast me off so swiftly. I was fortunate that both my bike and I survived intact, if a little banged up, but our relationship suffered a major blow.

Stubborn as I am, I decided to race Morgan Hill anyways, and I quickly found that I had a new monkey on my back. I was now mistrustful of my bike, despite all our wonderful years and miles together. I wobbled uncertainly through each turn and when I returned to THE dreaded corner, which happened to be on a nice downgrade, my brakes screamed out in terror well in advance of the intersection. Since I don't typically use my brakes, the sound was unfamiliar to me, and sent me into a panic.

I took the corner wide and slow, wobbling and screeching the whole way, nearly coming to a complete stop at the shoulder on the wrong side of the road, beyond the cones marking the course. I gave a sheepish nod to the police officers guarding the course, "It's my first time."

Mercifully, my bike did not dump me off at any point in the 16 mile ride, and I still managed to come away with a podium finish and a strengthened resolve to search for my lost cycling confidence.

The following weekend I headed out to the east coast for Jerseyman. The 2 loop bike course featured a series of climbs affectionately termed Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear. And where there are climbs, there are descents. I was warned ahead of time about one particular sharp turn at the bottom of one of the steepest hills. The race director had placed a wall of hay bales at the corner to cushion the blow for anyone who failed to make the turn. I went out to practice this section of the course the day before the race, and on my first attempt, I not only missed the turn, I rocketed past it at over 30mph, brakes squealing all the while, until I finally managed to come to a stop a quarter mile down the road. I practiced again and again until I had the timing and speed just right.
Posted by Kimberly 06/28/2016

Thailand is generally considered to be a safe country for travellers to visit, but if you plan a trip to Thailand it would be wise to avoid the island of Ko Tao. You wont find this in your Lonely Planet but many tourists who venture to Ko Tao never return. The island, considered to be one of the best places in Asia to get scuba certified, is packed with over 40 dive companies and the instructors and divers that go with it. All on an island small enough to walk across in an hour. Nearly everyone on the island is here to dive, and to party, and everyone does alot of both. If you're not familiar with the dive community, they are the most laid back, fun people you'll ever meet. By diving or enrolling in a course you immediatley make friends and get plugged into the local scene. The problem? The island drags you in. Countless many people have the same story; 'Yeah, I came here for a week long vacation and never left..' Within 6 hours of arriving it was plain that our original 1 week target was totally unrealistic.

Posted by nik 09/21/2008

This grand experience of mine is off to a good start.
This past weekend, I was invited to go on a trip with a group of Ecuadorians (and one German) to camp on the rim of a volcanic crater lake a few hours from Quito. So jumping in with both feet, off I went to spend a weekend hiking a great ridge trail around an incredibly blue, beautiful lake, and essentially completely immersing myself in the Spanish language.

This is the lake, high in the Andes under the beautiful sun! Our camping spot was at the highest point on the ridge, at the left of the photo.

I came to this country with barely a handful of Spanish to my name, but it's about time I learn to speak in a language other than English! The entire weekend was an opportunity for me to listen listen listen. I don't know enough yet to be able to follow what was being thrown back and forth in the fast-paced, slang-heavy conversations, but nevertheless, it was great to be surrounded by Spanish for two straight days. Most of the people in the group knew some English, so when it was necessary to communicate with one another, it was possible. But for the most part, I was a silent observer, asking "Como se dice ___?" and "Que significa ___?" in the times that I would break into conversation and attempt to practice speaking en espanol.

Posted by Whitney 01/18/2011, revised 01/18/2011