Pam LeBlanc gets a ride through the airport in Boise after detaching her ACL in a ski accident. Six months into ACL recovery, she’s looking forward to skiing again. Tony Harrison photo

Despite a job that has, over the years, involved everything from water ski jumping to backpacking and mountain biking, I’d never really injured myself – at least not badly – until I detached my ACL last spring.

Then, on the Ides of March, just two weeks after skiing through waist-deep powder during a back country cat-skiing trip in the San Juan Mountains, I fell while skiing a groomed run at a tiny ski resort in Idaho called Lookout Pass.

The name of the place alone should have given me warning.

Ski patrollers wrapped Pam LeBlanc’s leg in bubble wrap after she fell while skiing in Idaho. Pam LeBlanc photo

I fell awkwardly and got a ride down the mountain on the back of a snowmobile. There, a patroller wrapped my leg in bubble wrap and cardboard like a Fed X package and sent me to a hospital. A doctor in Coeur d’Alene gave me a brace and a pair of crutches and told me to see an orthopedic surgeon back in Austin.

It turns out I’d detached my ACL, torn the meniscus and fractured the bone. The surgeon installed an ACL from a cadaver in early May, and I’ve been on the mend ever since.

ACL recovery

Today, nearly six months into my ACL recovery, my doctor told me I might be able to ski again by February.

When I look down at my right quad, the one that’s injured, it still looks puny compared to the good one. “Like a hotdog,” someone joked the other day. But my physical therapist, who I’ve gotten to know well over the past six months of twice-a-week visits, promises it’ll return to normal. It just takes time – a year or more. Friends who have had the same surgery say they’ve come back stronger than before.

I hope they’re right.

I’m terrible at sitting still, and I’ve had to learn a lot through the recovery process. Four months on crutches tested my patience.

Even when she couldn’t walk, Pam LeBlanc could swim.

I wasn’t allowed to swim for three weeks after surgery, and even when I got back in the pool I still couldn’t kick for a few more months. I’ve only recently started biking again. I can’t run yet, and I missed water skiing all summer. My leg feels stiff, like someone stuffed a towel in the joint.

But the idea of skiing at the end of this season makes me giddy. Sure, it’ll be scary, latching on my ski boots and pointing my skis down the hill that very first time. I won’t be jumping into the moguls right away. I’ll have to remind myself I can’t do the things I used to do.

Pam LeBlanc spent four months using crutches after detaching her ACL in March 2023. Here she hikes at Martin Dies Jr. State Park. Chris LeBlanc photo

People ask me all the time during tthis ACL recovery if I’ll ski again, and that seems so strange to me.

Of course I will. That’s why I got the surgery – because I love skiing and backpacking and pushing my body to its limits. You can live a perfectly normal life without an ACL, but you need a fully functioning knee to do the things I love.

And I’m not ready to give those things up just yet.

A team led by Leven Brown attempting to row through the Northwest Passage called it quits this week. Photo by Shawn Marriott

An eight-person team trying to row through the Northwest Passage in a single season has called it quits in Cambridge Bay, roughly the midway point of the 2,000-mile expedition.

The team, led by Leven Brown, started rowing at Pond Inlet, on the eastern edge of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, on Aug. 17, after a month-long motor-assisted transit from Scotland. This weekend, they rowed into Cambridge Bay under their own power, with an escort from Canadian Coast Guard officials. Locals there advised them to stop and come back next year to finish their attempt.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Brown said by phone Monday. “We’ve decided to call it a day. Some may say it’s a bit cautious, but we’ll be back next summer.”

Brown, 51, heads home this week 60 pounds lighter than when he started, and with plenty of adventure stories to share.

Leven Brown, leader of an eight-person team trying to row the Northwest Passage, ended the expedition this week. Photo courtesy Leven Brown

Just getting to the starting point proved challenging. The ice around Pond Inlet broke up late this season, and big winds threatened to drive the team’s 44-foot boat onto the floes.

“The expedition almost ended before it started,” Brown said.

Read more:Yippeekiyay! Arctic Cowboys at it again for second attempt at kayaking Northwest Passage

One of three teams looking for a record

The team was trying to become the first to row the passage in a single season. Two other teams made similar attempts this year – the Texas-based Arctic Cowboys have kayaked more than half the passage so far and are still paddling, and solo rower Matty Clarke ended his expedition after mechanical failures a few days ago, 150 miles from Gjoa Haven

“We knew because of our late start we were up against it from the start,” Brown said of his team’s attempt. “And once we got rowing, the winds were extremely vicious.”

The operational window of the team’s rowboat, named Hermione, is between 0 and 25 knots. “Anything above that we start going sideways and it’s hard to navigate,” Brown said.

Read more: Solo rower reaches midway point of Northwest Passage expedition

The team used an electric motor several times to reposition the boat when it slipped off its anchorage in the middle of the night.

“We’re not hiding the fact that we switched the motor on, but it certainly didn’t help us move forward,” Brown said.

Adventures along the way

Brown’s team was made up of seven men and one woman. They rowed in shifts, two hours on and two off, whenever conditions allowed. They rarely went ashore, except to occasionally set an anchor line.

They did stop at Fort Ross, site of the last trading post established by the Hudson’s Bay Company, for a break. “You could almost feel ghosts of previous explorers surrounding you in the cabin there,” Brown said. “It was intimidating and inspiring at the same time.”

It’s also where one of the more frightening moments of the expedition unfolded.

“A skinny, hungry-looking polar bear looked at us as if we were chicken nuggets,” Brown said. “We’re certainly not used to these in Scotland. We ended up having to scare it off.”

The bear stood its ground as the rowers clanked rocks. The bear flattened its body against the ground and hid behind rocks, occasionally popping its head up to check out the humans. Finally, the rowers shot a firearm to spook the bear away. Even so, it moved slowly, Brown said.

Brown’s team members – seven men and one woman – ranged in age from 26 to 68. They came from Barbados, the Faroe Islands, South Africa, Scotland, and England. Despite the long time spent in a small craft with two cramped cabins, the rowers generally got along, Brown said.

“Everybody has a funny five minutes because you’re cold, you’re wet, you’re tired, the food’s miserable and you’re missing home,” Brown said. “But I’m so proud of the team. They rowed like heroes.”

Brown says he’s still unsure who called the Coast Guard to check on them but says he’s grateful for the assist.

“It’s still a little bit of a mystery as to who called them,” Brown said. “It wasn’t us, but it might have been concerned family or friends.”

Hat tip to the Arctic Cowboys

As for the Arctic Cowboys, the Texas-based team of four kayakers still paddling, Brown says he wishes them well. No matter who makes it through the passage under human power first, he says, the message is the same.

“The ice is disappearing, and the environment is different up here,” Brown said. “If someone can get through in single season, it speaks volumes about what’s going on.”

Flo, the famous Barton Springs tree, has a fungus and must be removed. Photo courtesy City of Austin

Flo leans like graceful dancer, a leafy cascade of branches bent low over the edge of Barton Springs Pool.

The old Texas pecan tree has been dipping down the hillside since at least 1928, providing shade to bathers and gnarled beauty to the grounds of Austin’s favorite spring-fed pool.

But she’s sick, and on Sept. 14, crews will remove the long-leaning tree from the park. Before she goes, though, Flo is getting a grand send-off from the people – and city – who love her most.

A Celebration of Life for the beloved Barton Springs tree is scheduled for 7 p.m. Wednesday, Sept. 13. A water blessing is planned, along with time for her friends to say their farewells.

History of the beloved Barton Springs tree

Barton Springs makes a fine place to cool off on a hot summer day. You can see Flo at the center of this photo. Pam LeBlanc photo

Over the years, Flo has drawn a lot of attention. Photos from the 1920s show a nimble young Flo, her branches stretching toward the sky, in front of the original wooden bathhouse. By the late 1940s, after a limestone building had replaced the wooden bathhouse, part of Flo’s trunk was hollowing out. At some point, bricks were place in that cavity.

In the 1970s, crews replaced the bricks with a cement mixture, a practice now known to speed internal decay, according to the city’s website. At the time, crews also planted another pecan uphill of Flo to replace the canopy that eventually would be lost.

Through the years steel posts have been added to hold Flo steady. Cables also provide support. A fence was put up around the tree’s roots to reduce soil compaction from foot traffic.

A grim diagnosis for the Barton Springs tree

But this July, Austin Parks and Recreation Department staff noticed fungus at the base of the tree. They took a sample and sent it to a diagnostic lab at Texas A&M University for analysis. In August, the lab confirmed that the tree had Kretzschmaria deusta, or brittle cinder fungus.

There is no effective treatment for brittle cinder fungus, which feeds on live tissue. Healthy-looking trees can collapse under their own weight.

The city contracted with independent certified arborists for follow-up inspections and independent opinions. All four arborists recommended removing the tree due to safety concerns. A removal permit was issued.

If the tree came down naturally, it probably would damage the deck, parks officials say. And a roped off area around Flo prevents ADA access to the bathroom. The barriers extend into the pool, causing a sort of water traffic jam as lap swimmers try to get around the danger zone.

The city is collecting stories, memories, and photos of Flo. Share your remembrances at treestroies@austintexas.gov.

Guests can relax in a waiting room at the Away Spa. Pam LeBlanc photo

​You’d probably sooner find a rock star at the Away Spa than me, but when the downtown spot, tucked inside at the W Austin hotel, asked if I wanted to drop by for a treatment, I packed my swim suit and headed downtown.

The hotel is located next to the Austin City Limits Live at the Moody Theater. I valet parked my vehicle and bee-lined it to the fourth floor, where I slipped through the glass doors into the soothingly lit spa.

I was registered for a “signature massage,” but first I got a tour of the place. An attendant showed me the cozy locker room and sitting area (nice touch with a bowl of crisp green apples) and we peeked into the steam shower. Then she handed me a robe and a pair of plastic slides. A few minutes later, a massage therapist led me to a darkened treatment room.

A bowl of green apples for snacking at the Away Spa. Pam LeBlanc photo

The Away Spa’s signature treatment

The signature massage is a basic, all-over massage. My therapist asked if I was OK with CBD-infused oil (bring it on!) and gave me a minute to strip down and position myself under a sheet on the heated massage table. Some eclectic music played in the background.

Read more: On your way to Big Bend, stop by Ferguson Motors in Sanderson

The next 60 minutes passed as quickly as a Texan driving on a two-lane highway in a remote corner of West Texas. (Too quickly!)

She worked my back, shoulder, legs, and arms, rubbing out muscle kinks and stretching every finger individually. She placed a steamy hot cloth on my back and later wrapped my feet in warm, wet towels. And she rubbed my skin with CBD oil, which smelled vaguely like cloves.

It took some effort not to drool as I lay face down on the table. I drifted away.

When the 60 minutes ended, I felt like a noodle.

More than a spa

I wobbled back to the dressing room, where I stepped into the steam shower and sprayed some eucalyptus-scented potion near the vent, per the instructions posted on the wall. I felt like a koala bear (they love eucalyptus.)

A 60-minute signature massage at the Away Spa will set you back $195. I can’t afford that on a regular basis, but I wish I could.

The Wet Deck at the W Austin features a long skinny pool and cabanas you can rent. Pam LeBlanc photo

A spa treatment includes access to the hotel’s fitness center and long, skinny pool, which I spent a few minutes checking out. It’s got alcoves with cushy couches and the whole place feels like the center of a hip, urban canyon.

A bartender serves guests on the Wet Deck at the W Austin. Pam LeBlanc photo

Anyone can purchase a day pass to access the so-called Wet Deck, where you can pay an additional fee to rent a cabana. A DJ spins music on Sundays and a bartender mixes drinks.

I can’t carry a tune or pluck and instrument, but a couple of hours at the Away Spa left me feeling like a rock star.

Visitors at Meow Wolf Denver soak in the neon lights. Pam LeBlanc photo

I’d already stared at spinning wheels and leering clowns in one psychedelic room at Meow Wolf’s Convergence Station in Denver, then teetered through a twisted staircase to get to another. Now I found myself crawling into a subterranean space, gazing through a peep hole at a herd of mechanized buffalo that swayed their heads every time a prairie dog popped into view.

Whoa, I needed a respite.

A fantastical fish swims in a globe on a wall at Meow Wolf Denver. Photo by Pam LeBlanc

I found one when I slid into a cubby hole that held what looked like a bottomless pond, where blue and black lights cast rippling reflections on my ankles.

“This is where you can come and sit when you’re having a little LSD freakout,” someone seated next to me said.

I don’t do LSD, but I can tell you that two or three hours spent wandering through the creative explosion of this four-story immersive art exhibit will, as the saying goes, blow your mind.

Visitors at Meow Wolf sit on a sofa of books. Pam LeBlanc photo

In a good way, of course.

The place is best visited on an off day in an off season, to avoid crowds. Once there, wander without purpose. You’ll get lost – and that’s the point. Meow Wolf is all about discovering mysterious things, which lurk behind unmarked doors, through mirror-lined passages and beneath the surface of a prairie dog village.

I watched a washing machine filled with bricks spin in an area that resembled a 1970s laundromat. I sat on a couch made of books in a cozy library. I played video games in what looked like a deranged version of a kid-themed pizza joints. The cavernous space is filled with vehicles (this is a transportation station to an alternate reality, after all) like land-locked barges and trucks straight out of Mad Max.

But the best came at the end, when I discovered the Perplexiplex, where ever-changing projections of a fantastical forest swirled across the walls and streaks of light chased me as I walked across the floor.

Meow Wolf Convergence Station in Denver will transport you to an alternate reality. Pam LeBlanc photo

I still don’t know how it worked. But that’s OK. At Meow Wolf, you can let your mind go, and see where it takes you.

Meow Wolf operates locations in Santa Fe, Denver, Las Vegas, and, closer to home, in Grapevine, Texas.

A race is shaping up in the Arctic this season, where three separate expeditions are making their way through the Northwest Passage.

I talked this morning with Matty Clarke, who is holed up in Cambridge Bay, roughly the midway point of the 2,100-mile journey.

Clarke, 32, started in Tuktoyaktuk, on the western side of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, on June 28 with partner Adam Riley. A month into the journey, Riley tore his labrum and had to quit.

Clarke has continued, rowing a 19-foot rowing cruiser he built himself that is equipped with a solar panel and batteries. He sleeps inside the boat’s small cabin most nights but carries a tent for bad weather. He’s gathering footage for a documentary film about his expedition.

Two other teams are vying this year to become the first ever to navigate the passage under human power in a single season. It’s a feat made possible by the warming climate – passages once choked with ice open earlier and stay ice-free longer.

The Austin-based Arctic Cowboys, a team of four paddling in two tandem kayaks, has also reached Cambridge Bay, but are heading in the opposite direction, and a team of eight rowers is positioned at the eastern edge of Bellot Strait, east of Cambridge Bay and heading west.

“When Adam and I decided to do it a year ago, we had no idea no one had done it before,” Clarke says. “I’m doing it for the love of the outdoors. I’d love to be first, but at the end of the day I’m doing it for myself. I’m not up here racing.”

With the warmest part of the Arctic summer now behind, the biggest race isn’t against other paddlers and rowers, it’s against the ice, which will begin to form again as temperatures drop and storms roll in.

“The others seem to think this is a big adventure race. To me I don’t give a (expletive deleted),” Clarke says. “I’m here for myself. Just by chance I’m thrown into this Arctic race now.”

Clarke, who posts videos on YouTube under the name Skote Outdoors, arrived in Cambridge Bay on Monday. He’s making boat and dry suit repairs and waiting out weather, but hopes to get on his way again soon. (Clarke, by the way, was forced last year to dismantle and evacuate an unauthorized off-grid log cabin he built in the Yukon.)

“The next 500 miles will be the most difficult I’ve ever done,” Clarke says. “The weather window gets shorter and shorter, and I’ve got three big crossings left.”

Clarke’s is the only solo expedition, and the rower says he needs to focus on himself and staying strong. Until getting to Cambridge Bay, he hadn’t seen another human for 29 days – although he did spot a few grizzly bears. So far, he hasn’t seen any polar bears.

“I’m not concerned about bears,” he says. “My biggest fear is the ocean itself. It’s pretty ominous making some of these crossings with no one there to bounce ideas off. I’m never sure if the decision is right or wrong. I wake up every day alone, go to bed alone, and have no one to talk to. It’s tough.”

Clarke says he has dreamed of navigating the Northwest Passage since he was a little boy, but back then he imagined doing it in a canoe.

The biggest challenge he’s faced so far? “Learning how to row. Before I built this boat I had never rowed before. We did a three-week training run on the inside passage of Vancouver.”

While that might sound risky, Clarke says his experience growing up in Newfoundland has prepared him for the adventure.

And while he’s new to rowing, he says he’s not new to the elements.

“I’ve spent my life on the ocean and in the woods,” he says.

“The others are paddlers. I’m a woodsman. Dealing with isolation is my super power. As weather gets worse and worse going to start wearing other people down.”

Clarke says he’s ready to get on the water again. “I slept indoors for the first time in two months last night and it didn’t do me well – too warm and stuffy. I miss sleeping on the boat. I need to get out of here quick because I’m going soft.”

He’s hoping to wrap up his trip by early to mid-October.

“I think I have a shot,” he says. “It’s all going to come down to Mother Nature. She’s going to decide if I finish or not.”

www.northwest–passage.com

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