6.3.2004

San Francisco is freeing their elephants!! The zoo is going against the recommendation of its professional society, the powerful American Zoo and Aquarium Association (AZA) and sending them to sanctuaries!

Ok, so two of San Francisco's elephants have died this year. In their thirties. Elephants in captivity can live to their fifties, so these two died young. The SF zoo director has decided to free their remaining two elephants, one Asian elephant named Tinkerbelle and one African named Lulu, both 38 years old. The AZA (I'm picturing big man, cigar, dark smoky room, thugs at the doorway, big black telephone) called and told him to send the elephants to two of the other zoos who are members of the AZA. The director checked into the zoos who wanted his elephants and said, no way, man. I'm not sending my gentle giants to these sad places so that people can dump food in front of them and that's it. (not official quote). He said, hell no. The only zoos that he would consider giving these precious beings to were in Portland, San Diego, or Seattle. But those weren't the interested parties so the elephants are going to a sanctuary.

By defying the AZA, the zoo's director is risking a lot. It is a gutsy move in zoo politics. Because he defied the AZA there will be "a lengthy conflict resolution process with the association that could, if not resolved, 'result in the loss of accreditation for the San Francisco Zoo and potentially an ethics charge.'"

I love animals so much that it is often a big-time handicap. I cannot watch Gorillas in the Mist. I can't concentrate on a conversation with anyone when I am at the park because when there are dogs around I think of nothing else. Interstate 5 makes me cry and feel depressed for a fortnight (you know what I'm talking about, the Cattle Torture Farm). We could not even go to the Singapore Zoo when we were there, and it is supposed to be one of the best in the world. The thought of animals in cages makes me want to give up hope for the entire world. I can't look at the ads for the animals who need homes at the SPCA or this pet clinic/adoption place right next to my work who has pictures of all of the dogs and cats cocking their heads sideways and looking into the camera with their names, BANJO or RUFUS, posted underneath them telling about the things that they like to do. Oh no. No, I cannot. When I ride my bike past fields where there are horses and they have those sadistic blindfolds on so that they can't see anything, I want to climb the fence and give them back their sight. Why do people do that to horses, anyway? Blindfold them. Why?

Anyway, my point is eventually going to be that loving animals in this way is so depressing because there are never any victories for the animals, it seems. They never win. But now they are!! And the sweet, gentle, big, beautiful elephants are, for once!, having good things happen in their lives. Bless their big hearts. I am so happy that I could scream!! Finally, something is restoring a tiny bit of my love for the human race.

Some people care. And some people care enough to defy powerful agencies so that animals can be treated with respect.

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So it's up! This morning I logged onto the AIDS/Lifecycle site to see if the Experience the Event section had been launched for this year yet. See, I am to be a journalist for the ride. Every evening as I roll into camp I will shower and then sit down at a laptop computer (well, knowing me I will probably reverse the order of those things) and pour out my emotions, my thoughts, my frustrations, my seven-day stream of consciousness. And you can follow along at AIDS/LifeCycle 3: Experience the Event | Journals | Harper's Journal.

There will be a one day lag, but you can read all about the ride and see photos and videos and read our daily newsletter, describing the ride, the mileage, the weather, the elevation gains, the food that we ate.

I am hoping that I will be quite delirious as I write, exhausted, exhilerated, in a completely different place. On a completely different level. Maybe I won't even recognize my writing style. I will absorb the rich expanses of California all day long and then spill it back out for all to read. Or maybe I will just write a lot of whinging about how sore my butt is and how my legs feel like they won't crank another revolution and that someone beside me in our crowded tent city snores. And that everyone is too happy too early in the morning. Who knows?

I have no idea what to expect from this journey that starts on Sunday morning way before dawn. I know that we will ride 88 miles the first day and sleep in Aptos. I know that the second day is 102 miles. I know that at some point we will arrive in Los Angeles, on June 12, official international Bike Naked day (Whee!), and that's pretty much it.

I'm ready, though. I'm ready for the wheels to roll and ready to get away from the city. Away from the hospital. I need open expanses and to sleep on the ground. I need to tire my body out completely and to quiet my mind. I need to come to a point of stillness after a week of constant motion.

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