Miles: 1286.4
Gallons Burned: 29.7
Elvis Sightings: 11
Total Miles: 15922.6
Total Gallons Burned: 530.4
Total Caffeinated Drinks: 90
Total Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.77
So like I said we got on the bus to Fremont Street (about a 18 minute ride). The buses were clean and you could tell they were all freshly mopped due to the inevitable mess created by inebriated late-night passengers.
Par and I sat on the second level of the bus. Par had just made an observation about the lack economic development in the space between Fremont Street and "The Strip". I changed the subject by drawing a parallel between the people we had seen so far and the run-down appearance of the City.
Whenever I enter a new town, church, restaurant, bank, home, or grocery story I first tactically evaluate the environment (search for concealed weapons, chart the quickest escape route, identify any police), second evaluate the people (are they emotionally unstable, are they generally happy, are they hopeful, are they uneasy, etc.), and third look for the angles. I'm not saying that this is the right way to approach a new situation, I'm only saying it's what I automatically do (you can imagine how fast my mind was working in the highly secure casinos). So anyways I told Par that I noticed a general sense of unhappiness in Vegas. Walking down the street I noticed very few people who were smiling (maybe 1 in 20), and quite a few who looked genuine irked (about 1 in 5). He said he hadn't noticed. I continued that it felt worse that Seattle in the middle of winter when no one has seen the sun in 50-60 days and depression peaks. I wondered aloud why in a place where the sun is ever-present people were so unhappy, Par thought it might have something to do with the money-centric idolatry that is constantly exposed when people lose at a casino.
My mind then jumped to roses. A young lady in the seat in front of us had a dozen blood-red roses. I asked Par what the colors of roses meant. He didn't know. So I, the rude out-of-towner, asked her what the color's meant; she graciously shared that red=romantic love, yellow=friendship, peach=sympathy, and pink=gratitude.
I congratulated her on the dozen red roses and the affection they implied; blushing she said a client from her job at the Aria C&H had given her the roses. She then asked me to explain why I thought Las Vegas folks seemed depressed (she must have overheard my conversation with Par), and mocked me politely when I revealed that I was staying at Circus Circus (the worst fancy Casino Hotels according to locals). With my pride pricked Par piped up by asking how old she was and then if he looked liked Elvis (I had been keeping track of all the Elvis impersonators and Par thought he should count as the Sikh version of Elvis). She again politely told him that she was 22, and he didn't look like Elvis. Then she said turning to me, "But he has Johnny Depp's eyes." I immediately said, "No. No. Brown is just brown" trying to hide my embarrassment. So my one interaction with a real native Las Vegan ended awkwardly as I said, "Nice to have met you" and got off the bus with Par.
Aside number two:
This short encounter relates to something that I have been convicted of as of this Sunday. Pastor Mark as he preached through Luke 11 asked, "Where do you believe that if you ask for something good that God will punish or hurt you?" A strange question don't you agree? I was immediately hit in the gut. I was convicted that I have not asked God for a wife because I fear that he will curse me, hurt me, bringing death and horror to my (future) wife, my (future) kids, and myself. That's pretty jacked up, huh? By not asking God for a wife, I am basically saying that I don't functionally believe that God is good.
That nice, polite young lady was used by God to convict me that I don't trust him. I could have asked her to join us for dinner or asked for her contact info, but I chose not to.
End Aside
Par and I picked out three more Elvis impersonators bringing the total to 11. We returned to the Fremont Street buffet place for a second meal and reveled in all-you-can-eat prime rib again (only $11.99!!). Derek, Roland, Par and I caught some live music and headed back to Circus Circus. I stayed out later (since this was my last night in Vegas). I walked 10 miles up and down the Strip alone spending time with God, and looking the porn huckster's in the eye as I passed them. Half of them looked away, the other half met my gaze with glazed emptiness. I prayed for them that hope and knowledge of life would reach them. Then I slept.
Showing posts with label Mind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mind. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
New Developments and Old Recollections
I haven't posted here in a long time and I honestly can't give a reason why. I had many more adventures after my time at the Wolf Ski Resort yet I have not put the proverbial pen to paper.
Just to get myself going, I'll recount all the events since my triumphant return to Seattle.
1. I resumed serving at Mars Hill Church both on Sunday and during the week. As of right now I am responsible for leading a 16 member team that serves communion to about 900 people every Sunday during the 7:15pm service in Ballard. I am also responsible for running the Thursday night Campus Cleanup where I lead a variable size team (as few as 8 and occasionally as many as 20) in the task of cleaning a 50,000 sqft building, so that it is all ready for weekly events. These two tasks are immensely stretching for me. I am a quiet and self-absorbed anti-social guy who is totally at home in the corner of a coffee shop. Instead God has called me to lead people in a way that glorifies Christ. I feel like I don't do this very well (or as well as I should), but for whatever reason both those teams are doing rather well. I also serve on Security at the West Seattle Campus of Mars (I dig a church that has bouncers...so that all the little kids are safe and the body is protected).
2. I built a deck and now am finishing up by laying the decking material and railings. The project passed inspection so an underpaid overworked city of Seattle building inspector thinks I did a decent job (for whatever that's worth).
3. I house sat for my grand parents and enjoyed the resumption of my road trip's near constant isolation for a mere 7 days.
4. I have been training in earnest for an upcoming Mt. Rainier Hike and a Mt. Adams Summit. 20 mile sprints in the saddle out to Alki and back (420ft to 0ft and back up). Man I remember Dave's sweet bike and am filled with an envy as I chugg along with my 21 speed mountain bike. Calisthenics have help too and I'm in great shape as I look forward to summer.
5. I have geared up by buying an ice axe, new mountaineering boots, and gaiters.
6. I have played tour guide to some Mars Hillians from Albuquerque and my Buddy Andy from Portland.
7. I have read by the pound: Anathem by Neal Stephenson, Adventures with Charley by Steinbeck, Thinking Beyond Stage One by Thomas Sowell, Doctrine by Mark Driscoll, Luke (4 times) by Luke, On the Road by Kerouac, and the 9-part series by Orson Scott Card (Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Shadow of the Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, Shadow of the Giant, Ender in Exile, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind)
So I have been busy, but I feel idle. That makes me feel uneasy. I can't rest. Sabbath is not my normal state.
Ok now I've shaken off the hesitation in writing so now I'll write about what happened after the Wolf. Excuse me let me turn on Mogwai, so my mind is clear...
Just to get myself going, I'll recount all the events since my triumphant return to Seattle.
1. I resumed serving at Mars Hill Church both on Sunday and during the week. As of right now I am responsible for leading a 16 member team that serves communion to about 900 people every Sunday during the 7:15pm service in Ballard. I am also responsible for running the Thursday night Campus Cleanup where I lead a variable size team (as few as 8 and occasionally as many as 20) in the task of cleaning a 50,000 sqft building, so that it is all ready for weekly events. These two tasks are immensely stretching for me. I am a quiet and self-absorbed anti-social guy who is totally at home in the corner of a coffee shop. Instead God has called me to lead people in a way that glorifies Christ. I feel like I don't do this very well (or as well as I should), but for whatever reason both those teams are doing rather well. I also serve on Security at the West Seattle Campus of Mars (I dig a church that has bouncers...so that all the little kids are safe and the body is protected).
2. I built a deck and now am finishing up by laying the decking material and railings. The project passed inspection so an underpaid overworked city of Seattle building inspector thinks I did a decent job (for whatever that's worth).
3. I house sat for my grand parents and enjoyed the resumption of my road trip's near constant isolation for a mere 7 days.
4. I have been training in earnest for an upcoming Mt. Rainier Hike and a Mt. Adams Summit. 20 mile sprints in the saddle out to Alki and back (420ft to 0ft and back up). Man I remember Dave's sweet bike and am filled with an envy as I chugg along with my 21 speed mountain bike. Calisthenics have help too and I'm in great shape as I look forward to summer.
5. I have geared up by buying an ice axe, new mountaineering boots, and gaiters.
6. I have played tour guide to some Mars Hillians from Albuquerque and my Buddy Andy from Portland.
7. I have read by the pound: Anathem by Neal Stephenson, Adventures with Charley by Steinbeck, Thinking Beyond Stage One by Thomas Sowell, Doctrine by Mark Driscoll, Luke (4 times) by Luke, On the Road by Kerouac, and the 9-part series by Orson Scott Card (Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Shadow of the Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, Shadow of the Giant, Ender in Exile, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind)
So I have been busy, but I feel idle. That makes me feel uneasy. I can't rest. Sabbath is not my normal state.
Ok now I've shaken off the hesitation in writing so now I'll write about what happened after the Wolf. Excuse me let me turn on Mogwai, so my mind is clear...
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wolves, small children, and insanity
I guess I'll post the trip stats even though this road trip is concluded.
Miles: 14704.8
Gallons Burned: 484.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 88
Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.5
I also feel compelled to admit one thing before I continue, I have been reading "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac for the first time so I may exhibit a certain violence/exuberance in my writing; you all have my apologies.
After catching up with my aunt and uncle and eating an amazing squash dish that kept getting better as I had it for leftovers, I slept poorly waking often to odd and unpleasant dreams.
I was determined to catch a little skiing on my road trip as it had been 20 months since my last alpine adventure involving rapid descent (rather different from my long and grueling hikes up Mt. Rainier to Camp Muir at 9,550 ft).
Zoom out to see just how awesome it really is:
View Larger Map
Anyhow I set out back up I-26 toward the Appalachian "Mountains" (Honestly these hills are often given far too much credit. They are nice for a Sunday drive but surely do not bear the one critical element that makes a mountain a mountain, namely the tendency to create widows). I await Jen or Alicia's rebutal, you see they have done something like 1,500 miles of the long Appalachian trail and they can tell of the extreme exertion required to defeat such terrain. Check out their cool story, it's the last link in my "Websites!" section.
Oh right! So I drove north but due to my lack of intel, I didn't know exactly where to go, so despite "the" stereotype I stopped and asked for directions to Sugarloaf Mountain. The oldtimer at the gas station looked at me confused. He asked if I wanted directions to skiing. I answered in the affermative, he relaxed as said why not go up to the Wolf? "It's only 15 minutes away."
Excited to be so close to powder I thanked the man and left with after purchasing a sandwich for later.
Much later I realized that Sugarloaf is actually the best skiing in Maine, not North Carolina.
So I valiantly drove north up to the Wolf. I drove a slow road into the mountains that dead ended in a resort community, back tracking I found my error and returned to the correct path. I skidded into the parking lot of a ski rental shop my parking was as follows (Notice the precision of my diagram):
The whole lot was covered in about 6 inches of snow, so I just rammed the car into the lot and let her be where she stopped. I grabbed some shorter skis (its been a little while so cut me some slack).
I managed to push my Jolly Green out of the lot with only 15 minutes work.
Once at the lifts, I paid for the really cheap lift tickets and hopped up the mountain on their one working chair lift. On my second lift ride I met a middle aged man on the lift who was an executive for some southeastern grocery store; then I met a pair of giggling stoners. The next ride was taken alone as were the next three rides.
After getting my snow legs back, I felt like a break was called for. I pulled over here and unpacked the back pack that Uncle Steve let me borrow:
I ate a fine roast beef sandwich, two Hershey bars, two wheat and cheese cracker packs, a quart of water, and some raisins all while enjoying the view.
After the next run, I joined a solo skier who was in line for the lift. His name was Tristan. He came out to ski with his mom, but she didn't want to ski so this 10 year old kid was braving the slopes alone even though this was only his second time skiing. I felt a kinship with this kid; we in our own unique ways were loners experiencing the purest form of solitude: being alone in a crowd (okay second purest form of solitude, the purest being locked away in your car for 12,404 miles to wrestle with your true self, equivalent to two weeks of solitary confinement in prison). So I hung out with Tristan. He was a great kid. I would be proud of my son if he was half the young man Tristan is at the same age. He held himself well and was fearless, he took on the steepest slopes with a thirst for speed paralleled only by my own. He wanted to push the envelope on his ability on skis and he visibly improved with each run. I never had a little brother (that I grew up with), but Tristan would be awesome as a little bro. With his mother's permission here is Tristan:
After I had sharpened my ski skills, I filmed a long clip of me skiing down from the top of Wolf Mountain to the bottom. It is the last clip in this little video project I made from my time on Wolf Mountain. Feel free to leave feedback(much love to the Go! Team who provided the music):
Next time I'll share more from Asheville...
Miles: 14704.8
Gallons Burned: 484.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 88
Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.5
I also feel compelled to admit one thing before I continue, I have been reading "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac for the first time so I may exhibit a certain violence/exuberance in my writing; you all have my apologies.
After catching up with my aunt and uncle and eating an amazing squash dish that kept getting better as I had it for leftovers, I slept poorly waking often to odd and unpleasant dreams.
I was determined to catch a little skiing on my road trip as it had been 20 months since my last alpine adventure involving rapid descent (rather different from my long and grueling hikes up Mt. Rainier to Camp Muir at 9,550 ft).
Zoom out to see just how awesome it really is:
View Larger Map
Anyhow I set out back up I-26 toward the Appalachian "Mountains" (Honestly these hills are often given far too much credit. They are nice for a Sunday drive but surely do not bear the one critical element that makes a mountain a mountain, namely the tendency to create widows). I await Jen or Alicia's rebutal, you see they have done something like 1,500 miles of the long Appalachian trail and they can tell of the extreme exertion required to defeat such terrain. Check out their cool story, it's the last link in my "Websites!" section.
Oh right! So I drove north but due to my lack of intel, I didn't know exactly where to go, so despite "the" stereotype I stopped and asked for directions to Sugarloaf Mountain. The oldtimer at the gas station looked at me confused. He asked if I wanted directions to skiing. I answered in the affermative, he relaxed as said why not go up to the Wolf? "It's only 15 minutes away."
Excited to be so close to powder I thanked the man and left with after purchasing a sandwich for later.
Much later I realized that Sugarloaf is actually the best skiing in Maine, not North Carolina.
So I valiantly drove north up to the Wolf. I drove a slow road into the mountains that dead ended in a resort community, back tracking I found my error and returned to the correct path. I skidded into the parking lot of a ski rental shop my parking was as follows (Notice the precision of my diagram):
The whole lot was covered in about 6 inches of snow, so I just rammed the car into the lot and let her be where she stopped. I grabbed some shorter skis (its been a little while so cut me some slack).
I managed to push my Jolly Green out of the lot with only 15 minutes work.
Once at the lifts, I paid for the really cheap lift tickets and hopped up the mountain on their one working chair lift. On my second lift ride I met a middle aged man on the lift who was an executive for some southeastern grocery store; then I met a pair of giggling stoners. The next ride was taken alone as were the next three rides.
After getting my snow legs back, I felt like a break was called for. I pulled over here and unpacked the back pack that Uncle Steve let me borrow:
I ate a fine roast beef sandwich, two Hershey bars, two wheat and cheese cracker packs, a quart of water, and some raisins all while enjoying the view.
After the next run, I joined a solo skier who was in line for the lift. His name was Tristan. He came out to ski with his mom, but she didn't want to ski so this 10 year old kid was braving the slopes alone even though this was only his second time skiing. I felt a kinship with this kid; we in our own unique ways were loners experiencing the purest form of solitude: being alone in a crowd (okay second purest form of solitude, the purest being locked away in your car for 12,404 miles to wrestle with your true self, equivalent to two weeks of solitary confinement in prison). So I hung out with Tristan. He was a great kid. I would be proud of my son if he was half the young man Tristan is at the same age. He held himself well and was fearless, he took on the steepest slopes with a thirst for speed paralleled only by my own. He wanted to push the envelope on his ability on skis and he visibly improved with each run. I never had a little brother (that I grew up with), but Tristan would be awesome as a little bro. With his mother's permission here is Tristan:
After I had sharpened my ski skills, I filmed a long clip of me skiing down from the top of Wolf Mountain to the bottom. It is the last clip in this little video project I made from my time on Wolf Mountain. Feel free to leave feedback(much love to the Go! Team who provided the music):
Next time I'll share more from Asheville...
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Storming Castillo de san Marcos in St. Augustine
Miles: 10335.6
Gallons Burned: 340.2
Caffeinated Drinks: 65
Gigabytes of Pictures: 27.9
I'm in New York. It's awesome. People from everywhere, culture being made everywhere, life in every stage, movement, constant movement, basically a taste of heaven. I don't know how to articulate what I feel here in the Big Apple. I just stood in Time Square for over an hour watching all the faces stream by, wondering at their existence, imagining how beautiful their stories must be...Why is she smiling?...What makes them looking into each other's eyes like that?...Why is that blond gal looking so sad and standing in the middle of so many just to be alone?...What brought him to the place where he hands out fliers to a strip club?
This city is devastating. I couldn't deal with this place for an extended period, there are just too many stories, too many lives to constantly wonder about. I am too curious for this city. I can't be like the wall of people who don't so much as turn to look when a man screams in agony after being clipped by a cab or at the screaming prostitute led away by New York's finest.
I am glad I leave tomorrow. I love this city, its the greatest in the world, but I can't handle it. Maybe I'm just too small for it.
Seeing the acid-worn statuary in Washington Park made me think about my time in St. Augustine Florida, so let's step back.
I got to Augustine at about 11pm after a slow drive up from the Miami Area. Parking was easy in old town and I (being an obsessive walker) headed in search of adventure before the engine had stopped settle into stasis. I walked through the Plaza de la Constitucion into the old retail district:
Then I saw the oldest wooden school house in N. America:
I ease-dropped on a ghost tour discussing the city wall watchman's daughter who is said still stand at the wall and wave at drunk people. Here is her wall:
After that I started looking for some coffee, failed, started getting cold and thought about going back to the car and abandoning my quest for the castle. I'm glad I didn't. Instead of getting warm I drove on quickening my pace to stay warm. I found the famous Castillo de san Marcos. It was closed (obvious I know by then it was 11:50pm). However I felt that I had a moral obligation to breach the wall being a loyal subject of her majesty the Queen of England. Oh yeah! Didn't I mention it? I am a dual citizen of both the United Kingdom and the United States. Wierd huh? Email/call me and I'll explain if your interested in another piece of my story. Anyways, when the Spanish held this historic fortress the British tried several times to take it. They were repelled each time. The Fortress is imposing to be sure, but couldn't the British ships blast a hole in the wall and storm the castle? Well no. One reason is that the fortress is built from Cantila (a locally hewn sedimentary rock that is very porous). When a cannon ball strikes this it doesn't crack/shatter the bulwark, rather the ball is "absorbed" into the wall. It just gets stuck inside of the stone. So this fort was never defeated in battle.
I am British. So I mounted a night-time assault. It helped that I was dressed entirely in black (I can't help that it is my most flattering color). So I snuck past a young star-gazing couple and a bored looking guard and into the grounds of the National Monument. I jumped down into the fort's moat, this is what I saw:
The lack of light made any longer range photos a study in black shadow.
I ran into an official ghost tour of the fort and I blended into the group. That's when I saw this cannonball furnace. What the defenders would do was heat a cannon ball until it glowed red and then drop it into a cannon and shoot it into a ship starting a fire:
Oh and this store's sign reminded me of Phil's upcoming clothing line:
One final anecdote. As i walked back to the car around 2am I approached a ghost tour from a dark alley. One of the tour participants looked down the alley and violently grabbed his buddy and pointed at me. I stopped and stared the wide-eyed men down...What was the big deal? They eventually moved on whispering to each other. This was my wardrobe for the evening:
Was I really that "ghost like"?
Next time I'll tell you about a church that made Mars Hill look like a preschool...
Gallons Burned: 340.2
Caffeinated Drinks: 65
Gigabytes of Pictures: 27.9
I'm in New York. It's awesome. People from everywhere, culture being made everywhere, life in every stage, movement, constant movement, basically a taste of heaven. I don't know how to articulate what I feel here in the Big Apple. I just stood in Time Square for over an hour watching all the faces stream by, wondering at their existence, imagining how beautiful their stories must be...Why is she smiling?...What makes them looking into each other's eyes like that?...Why is that blond gal looking so sad and standing in the middle of so many just to be alone?...What brought him to the place where he hands out fliers to a strip club?
This city is devastating. I couldn't deal with this place for an extended period, there are just too many stories, too many lives to constantly wonder about. I am too curious for this city. I can't be like the wall of people who don't so much as turn to look when a man screams in agony after being clipped by a cab or at the screaming prostitute led away by New York's finest.
I am glad I leave tomorrow. I love this city, its the greatest in the world, but I can't handle it. Maybe I'm just too small for it.
Seeing the acid-worn statuary in Washington Park made me think about my time in St. Augustine Florida, so let's step back.
I got to Augustine at about 11pm after a slow drive up from the Miami Area. Parking was easy in old town and I (being an obsessive walker) headed in search of adventure before the engine had stopped settle into stasis. I walked through the Plaza de la Constitucion into the old retail district:
Then I saw the oldest wooden school house in N. America:
I ease-dropped on a ghost tour discussing the city wall watchman's daughter who is said still stand at the wall and wave at drunk people. Here is her wall:
After that I started looking for some coffee, failed, started getting cold and thought about going back to the car and abandoning my quest for the castle. I'm glad I didn't. Instead of getting warm I drove on quickening my pace to stay warm. I found the famous Castillo de san Marcos. It was closed (obvious I know by then it was 11:50pm). However I felt that I had a moral obligation to breach the wall being a loyal subject of her majesty the Queen of England. Oh yeah! Didn't I mention it? I am a dual citizen of both the United Kingdom and the United States. Wierd huh? Email/call me and I'll explain if your interested in another piece of my story. Anyways, when the Spanish held this historic fortress the British tried several times to take it. They were repelled each time. The Fortress is imposing to be sure, but couldn't the British ships blast a hole in the wall and storm the castle? Well no. One reason is that the fortress is built from Cantila (a locally hewn sedimentary rock that is very porous). When a cannon ball strikes this it doesn't crack/shatter the bulwark, rather the ball is "absorbed" into the wall. It just gets stuck inside of the stone. So this fort was never defeated in battle.
I am British. So I mounted a night-time assault. It helped that I was dressed entirely in black (I can't help that it is my most flattering color). So I snuck past a young star-gazing couple and a bored looking guard and into the grounds of the National Monument. I jumped down into the fort's moat, this is what I saw:
The lack of light made any longer range photos a study in black shadow.
I ran into an official ghost tour of the fort and I blended into the group. That's when I saw this cannonball furnace. What the defenders would do was heat a cannon ball until it glowed red and then drop it into a cannon and shoot it into a ship starting a fire:
Oh and this store's sign reminded me of Phil's upcoming clothing line:
One final anecdote. As i walked back to the car around 2am I approached a ghost tour from a dark alley. One of the tour participants looked down the alley and violently grabbed his buddy and pointed at me. I stopped and stared the wide-eyed men down...What was the big deal? They eventually moved on whispering to each other. This was my wardrobe for the evening:
Was I really that "ghost like"?
Next time I'll tell you about a church that made Mars Hill look like a preschool...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Florida's Eastern Coast
Miles: 9624.3
Gallons Burned: 316.8 (total gas mileage is 30.377 so far)
Caffeinated Drinks: 59
Gigabytes of Pictures: 26.8
I'm sitting in Scoop Beauregard's Ice Cream and Coffee Shop. Enjoying a nice Latte. Contemplating a book. Yep life is good. Here in Falls Church the weather is cloudy and there are piles of snow everywhere...It's almost like there was a big storm here or something.
I just had this little blond-haired kid come up to me and say "Excuse me mister. But your computer is really cool my uncle has one just like it." All in one breath, then he turned away before I could even say thanks. Man, I clearly remember being that awkward yet bold and honest all at the same time. It was like a week ago! He just wanted to tell me exactly what he thought and that's all. Why do I feel self conscious and so often don't say what I think with boldness like that kid did? We should be more like that kid.
The odd and fantastic people I have run into on this trip have helped me to see why is is so stupid to live as I do: Self absorbed. From those kind folks at St. George's, the great young guy from the Alabama fireworks store, the kid from Wolf Mountain, the snow bird down in the Keys, the friends from school that I have seen, a fellow blogger from Bowling Green, the wonderful couples in San Antonio and Dunedin, all the people that have been there and been harsh or encouraging, the nice and cruel, the needy and the generous, all of you have been agents showing me how small my perspective has been. So thank you. So much.
Now that I have "introspected" a little how about we talk about what happened after my adventure in the Keys.
I slept that night at a rest stop on the Ronald Reagan/Florida's Turnpike. The next day I drove up the east coast of Florida on FL-1 and FL-A1A. I pulled off A1A at Patrick Air Force Base's Beach. There was an amazing beach with no wind and 8 foot waves that dozens of surfers were enjoying. Since this coast is open cold ocean, they were wearing wet suits. I'd love to learn to surf, maybe some day I'll head out to the Washington coast and give it a shot.
I made it to Cape Canaveral about 4pm and drove out to the Kennedy Space Center.
I bet you think I went into the visitor center...Well...No. It was late in the day and it cost $38. But I took pictures of the outside of the center!
On the way out I notice this place:
I guess NASA has its own nuclear reactor across the inter-coastal waterway.
I continued north to New Smyrna Beach and enjoyed seeing the cars out driving on the sand.
Next time St. Augustine and my night time shenanigans at Castillo de San Marcos...
Gallons Burned: 316.8 (total gas mileage is 30.377 so far)
Caffeinated Drinks: 59
Gigabytes of Pictures: 26.8
I'm sitting in Scoop Beauregard's Ice Cream and Coffee Shop. Enjoying a nice Latte. Contemplating a book. Yep life is good. Here in Falls Church the weather is cloudy and there are piles of snow everywhere...It's almost like there was a big storm here or something.
I just had this little blond-haired kid come up to me and say "Excuse me mister. But your computer is really cool my uncle has one just like it." All in one breath, then he turned away before I could even say thanks. Man, I clearly remember being that awkward yet bold and honest all at the same time. It was like a week ago! He just wanted to tell me exactly what he thought and that's all. Why do I feel self conscious and so often don't say what I think with boldness like that kid did? We should be more like that kid.
The odd and fantastic people I have run into on this trip have helped me to see why is is so stupid to live as I do: Self absorbed. From those kind folks at St. George's, the great young guy from the Alabama fireworks store, the kid from Wolf Mountain, the snow bird down in the Keys, the friends from school that I have seen, a fellow blogger from Bowling Green, the wonderful couples in San Antonio and Dunedin, all the people that have been there and been harsh or encouraging, the nice and cruel, the needy and the generous, all of you have been agents showing me how small my perspective has been. So thank you. So much.
Now that I have "introspected" a little how about we talk about what happened after my adventure in the Keys.
I slept that night at a rest stop on the Ronald Reagan/Florida's Turnpike. The next day I drove up the east coast of Florida on FL-1 and FL-A1A. I pulled off A1A at Patrick Air Force Base's Beach. There was an amazing beach with no wind and 8 foot waves that dozens of surfers were enjoying. Since this coast is open cold ocean, they were wearing wet suits. I'd love to learn to surf, maybe some day I'll head out to the Washington coast and give it a shot.
I made it to Cape Canaveral about 4pm and drove out to the Kennedy Space Center.
I bet you think I went into the visitor center...Well...No. It was late in the day and it cost $38. But I took pictures of the outside of the center!
On the way out I notice this place:
I guess NASA has its own nuclear reactor across the inter-coastal waterway.
I continued north to New Smyrna Beach and enjoyed seeing the cars out driving on the sand.
Next time St. Augustine and my night time shenanigans at Castillo de San Marcos...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
For-Everglades
Miles: 8197.4
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 46
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.2
This Latte is great here at Fido in Nashville. Josh and I enjoyed the Opryland Hotel & Resort and the Nashville Parthenon...Yes it exists. I'll post pictures when I get caught up in posting. Until then let's go back to the Everglades.
At a place like to the Everglades, biodiversity is the most amazing thing...No. Actually the sun is. In Seattle we get 8 months of gray cloudy drizzle 2.5 months of cool partly cloudy Fall and 1.5 months of Sun. The lack of sun makes Seattle known for its high use of anti-depressants and caffeine. So as the typical moody Seattle guy, the Sun in Florida's southern extremes is amazing.
Fist I'd like to talk about the Fauna.
Did you know there is an American Crocodile? (Yeah Alicia and Jen you know but how about other people?) I had no idea. Turns out there are between 1600-2000 adult Crocs in Florida and the Everglades is the only place on Earth where Crocs and Gators coexist. They can be clearly differentiated using three basic characteristics:
1 - snout shape - The Crocs' snout is narrower than the Gators'
2 - teeth - the Crocs' teeth upper and lower teeth are always visible, whereas only the Gators' upper teeth are visible
3 - color - The Gator is darker than the Croc
This little guy was hot so he had his mouth open to cool down. He and his bigger friend looked chill, so I walked up (ready to sprint away if he/she so much as flinched) and took this:
This little guy was next to the Crocs above:
Just like in Seattle this "Laughing Gull" is fearless and begs shamelessly for food:
I was hiking toward Snake Bight when I ducked off-trail and wandered for a 100 yards until I ran across this Snowy Egret and his with reflection.
While on the Bight path I found the secret spider that bit Peter Parker.
At Snake Bight there were no snakes but there were these neuts (or non-specific lizards). This littl eguy is about 3 inches long:
Here we see a Great Egret, notice the distinctive beak that differentiates it from the Snowy Egret. he was sunning himself, so I used my old trick to get close to him so I could get this shot. Oh what's my trick? Hmm... I don't want to tell you otherwise you tell a cat or bird and they won't fall for it anmore.
My only shot of Manatees, you really need a boat to see them well and Jolly Green wouldn't stand for the injustice of having to wear that hat (cars with kayaks on top look like the "cool" kids with their fancy hats).
I made a friend! "Tony", an adolescent Brown Pelican, hung out with me for 45 minutes when I wrote those blog posts from Flamingo Bay. Again the trick worked!
As I stalked an egret to get a great shot, I saw this little fellow.
The rare and illusive "Bowen".
Moving on to the glade part of the Glades
As a registered "amateur, amateur botanist" I feel qualified to use the Latin classification of genus and species when referring to the flower below: Prettius Flowerus
See how dense the undergrowth and Mangroves gets.
Again this "amateur, amateur botanist" will use my massive knowledge of plants to classify this little fellow: the Parasitic Aloe. Actually my mycologist friend Josh informed me it is a Bromeliad.
Josh couldn't ID this one so I'll call it a Lilly.
Yeah, they have palm trees everwhere.
I really enjoyed the Everglades and the whole experience of seeing this sub-tropical nirvana.
Next time the Keys...
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 46
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.2
This Latte is great here at Fido in Nashville. Josh and I enjoyed the Opryland Hotel & Resort and the Nashville Parthenon...Yes it exists. I'll post pictures when I get caught up in posting. Until then let's go back to the Everglades.
At a place like to the Everglades, biodiversity is the most amazing thing...No. Actually the sun is. In Seattle we get 8 months of gray cloudy drizzle 2.5 months of cool partly cloudy Fall and 1.5 months of Sun. The lack of sun makes Seattle known for its high use of anti-depressants and caffeine. So as the typical moody Seattle guy, the Sun in Florida's southern extremes is amazing.
Fist I'd like to talk about the Fauna.
Did you know there is an American Crocodile? (Yeah Alicia and Jen you know but how about other people?) I had no idea. Turns out there are between 1600-2000 adult Crocs in Florida and the Everglades is the only place on Earth where Crocs and Gators coexist. They can be clearly differentiated using three basic characteristics:
1 - snout shape - The Crocs' snout is narrower than the Gators'
2 - teeth - the Crocs' teeth upper and lower teeth are always visible, whereas only the Gators' upper teeth are visible
3 - color - The Gator is darker than the Croc
This little guy was hot so he had his mouth open to cool down. He and his bigger friend looked chill, so I walked up (ready to sprint away if he/she so much as flinched) and took this:
This little guy was next to the Crocs above:
Just like in Seattle this "Laughing Gull" is fearless and begs shamelessly for food:
I was hiking toward Snake Bight when I ducked off-trail and wandered for a 100 yards until I ran across this Snowy Egret and his with reflection.
While on the Bight path I found the secret spider that bit Peter Parker.
At Snake Bight there were no snakes but there were these neuts (or non-specific lizards). This littl eguy is about 3 inches long:
Here we see a Great Egret, notice the distinctive beak that differentiates it from the Snowy Egret. he was sunning himself, so I used my old trick to get close to him so I could get this shot. Oh what's my trick? Hmm... I don't want to tell you otherwise you tell a cat or bird and they won't fall for it anmore.
My only shot of Manatees, you really need a boat to see them well and Jolly Green wouldn't stand for the injustice of having to wear that hat (cars with kayaks on top look like the "cool" kids with their fancy hats).
I made a friend! "Tony", an adolescent Brown Pelican, hung out with me for 45 minutes when I wrote those blog posts from Flamingo Bay. Again the trick worked!
As I stalked an egret to get a great shot, I saw this little fellow.
The rare and illusive "Bowen".
Moving on to the glade part of the Glades
As a registered "amateur, amateur botanist" I feel qualified to use the Latin classification of genus and species when referring to the flower below: Prettius Flowerus
See how dense the undergrowth and Mangroves gets.
Again this "amateur, amateur botanist" will use my massive knowledge of plants to classify this little fellow: the Parasitic Aloe. Actually my mycologist friend Josh informed me it is a Bromeliad.
Josh couldn't ID this one so I'll call it a Lilly.
Yeah, they have palm trees everwhere.
I really enjoyed the Everglades and the whole experience of seeing this sub-tropical nirvana.
Next time the Keys...
Friday, February 12, 2010
Dunedin Flor and Chess' Core
Miles: 6460.2
Gallons Burned: 221.4
Caffeinated Drinks: 36
I am sitting in George and Catie's (Alicia's parents, thanks so much to the three of you) living room at about 11:30pm while I listen to The Mountain goats (Thanks Joe!). Dunedin Florida (pronounced "done-eden", huh reminds me of Seqium, WA which of course is pronounced "squim") is a neat city outside of the Tampa Bay Metro-plex. George took me on a great evening tour of the city and allowed me a glimpse into his illustrious chess career.
Here we go again...another Aside! Are you serious?!
George has beaten Masters and even a handful of Grandmasters! He has played in the Canadian Open and many regional and national US tournaments. George's highest rating was 2250 USCF. He has a second edition Nimzowitsch's "My System" and a book published in 1848 that has games recorded with white starting first as well as games with black starting first! He has a beautiful ivory whale bone chess set that is all hand-made and might cost as much as $200-$400 per piece to replace!
So...why do I care so much about finding someone who is passionate about those 64 squares and 32 pieces? Glad you asked! My dad loves the game, and he imparted his love to me. I played in my first rated chess tournament when I was four-and-a-half years old and won 3 games out of 5 (I think, is that right Dad?). Over the next 14 years I played more than 480 rated tournament games, more than any other player in Washington State scholastic history (there is one seventh grader who is on pace to play 510 if he sticks with it as long as I did). With my dad's help, I traveled to Canada and 13 states (and DC if that one counts for anything) to play in all kinds of events ranging from an international match to the US Open.
I guess I am sort of bragging...oh wait...no. I'm a chess player. We are a peculiar folk, not mainstream, so there is not much to brag about.
When you would have been playing PeeWee football or staying after school to work on a play, I would sit alone memorizing famous games and endgame tactics or hidden in a little room with a couple of other not-so-cool kids practicing opening strategy.
My dad shelled out a lot of cash on lessons from an International Master and on plane tickets. I won a couple of state championships and some national honors. But why Chess? All those hours, days, months, dollars...
The game is ancient and has been played from India to Iceland in people's basements and in Cold War international matches between superpowers. It is kinda "the" game. For those who are new to the topic of Chess, it is an exercise in spatial pattern recognition blended into a psychological interrogation of your opponent wrapped neatly in 64 squares with the brutal soundtrack of a ticking binary clock.
I have made people cry in frustration and defeat. I have been offered bribes to throw games. I have seen and executed checkmates 12 moves into the future. I have broken down others and been broken.
To answer the why question, I need to have another Aside. (Seriously can you actually have an Aside within an Aside? A digression to a digression?)
I was home schooled (No not like that...well sort of). My mom and dad didn't want me (the tiny Josh, lowest 2 percent of elementary boys in height) in school. Problem was they weren't teachers. They did their best, but what it came down to was me and a bunch of books. I taught myself math, history, science, and cursive writing. I didn't always do a good job (just look at my cursive writing, I sort of made up my own letter style which is not correct by anyone's standard, I still use them today).
So my mind was formed into a almost totally analytical computer. I looked at everything in terms of protocols and decision trees stretching into the future...even people. That makes me a horrible person in many ways, but ideally suited to Chess. I am still trying to add the whole empathic, artistic, and "fuzzy" sides to my character (hence the road trip and forcing myself to write this journal, but I still get to use Excel so I am in in my emotional happy place).
To summarize why I love chess:
I enjoy chess because I wired my brain to love systems and incremental analysis, both of the board and my opponent's mind, and because it allowed me to have an identity as a kid and adolescent.
When I went into a chess slump, I felt terrible and my identity as a chess players (and as a person) was rocked.
Don't tie your identity to something transient like I did. It sucks.
Basically, it was a treat to meet someone like George who shares an obscure passion and interest.
Tomorrow, February 9th, I'll be heading south to see Fort DeSoto, the Sunshine Skyway, Myakka State Park, and the Everglades.
Gallons Burned: 221.4
Caffeinated Drinks: 36
I am sitting in George and Catie's (Alicia's parents, thanks so much to the three of you) living room at about 11:30pm while I listen to The Mountain goats (Thanks Joe!). Dunedin Florida (pronounced "done-eden", huh reminds me of Seqium, WA which of course is pronounced "squim") is a neat city outside of the Tampa Bay Metro-plex. George took me on a great evening tour of the city and allowed me a glimpse into his illustrious chess career.
Here we go again...another Aside! Are you serious?!
George has beaten Masters and even a handful of Grandmasters! He has played in the Canadian Open and many regional and national US tournaments. George's highest rating was 2250 USCF. He has a second edition Nimzowitsch's "My System" and a book published in 1848 that has games recorded with white starting first as well as games with black starting first! He has a beautiful ivory whale bone chess set that is all hand-made and might cost as much as $200-$400 per piece to replace!
So...why do I care so much about finding someone who is passionate about those 64 squares and 32 pieces? Glad you asked! My dad loves the game, and he imparted his love to me. I played in my first rated chess tournament when I was four-and-a-half years old and won 3 games out of 5 (I think, is that right Dad?). Over the next 14 years I played more than 480 rated tournament games, more than any other player in Washington State scholastic history (there is one seventh grader who is on pace to play 510 if he sticks with it as long as I did). With my dad's help, I traveled to Canada and 13 states (and DC if that one counts for anything) to play in all kinds of events ranging from an international match to the US Open.
I guess I am sort of bragging...oh wait...no. I'm a chess player. We are a peculiar folk, not mainstream, so there is not much to brag about.
When you would have been playing PeeWee football or staying after school to work on a play, I would sit alone memorizing famous games and endgame tactics or hidden in a little room with a couple of other not-so-cool kids practicing opening strategy.
My dad shelled out a lot of cash on lessons from an International Master and on plane tickets. I won a couple of state championships and some national honors. But why Chess? All those hours, days, months, dollars...
The game is ancient and has been played from India to Iceland in people's basements and in Cold War international matches between superpowers. It is kinda "the" game. For those who are new to the topic of Chess, it is an exercise in spatial pattern recognition blended into a psychological interrogation of your opponent wrapped neatly in 64 squares with the brutal soundtrack of a ticking binary clock.
I have made people cry in frustration and defeat. I have been offered bribes to throw games. I have seen and executed checkmates 12 moves into the future. I have broken down others and been broken.
To answer the why question, I need to have another Aside. (Seriously can you actually have an Aside within an Aside? A digression to a digression?)
I was home schooled (No not like that...well sort of). My mom and dad didn't want me (the tiny Josh, lowest 2 percent of elementary boys in height) in school. Problem was they weren't teachers. They did their best, but what it came down to was me and a bunch of books. I taught myself math, history, science, and cursive writing. I didn't always do a good job (just look at my cursive writing, I sort of made up my own letter style which is not correct by anyone's standard, I still use them today).
So my mind was formed into a almost totally analytical computer. I looked at everything in terms of protocols and decision trees stretching into the future...even people. That makes me a horrible person in many ways, but ideally suited to Chess. I am still trying to add the whole empathic, artistic, and "fuzzy" sides to my character (hence the road trip and forcing myself to write this journal, but I still get to use Excel so I am in in my emotional happy place).
To summarize why I love chess:
I enjoy chess because I wired my brain to love systems and incremental analysis, both of the board and my opponent's mind, and because it allowed me to have an identity as a kid and adolescent.
When I went into a chess slump, I felt terrible and my identity as a chess players (and as a person) was rocked.
Don't tie your identity to something transient like I did. It sucks.
Basically, it was a treat to meet someone like George who shares an obscure passion and interest.
Tomorrow, February 9th, I'll be heading south to see Fort DeSoto, the Sunshine Skyway, Myakka State Park, and the Everglades.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Long days and Not-so-Plesant Nights
Miles: 4134.2
Gallons Burned: 135.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 29
I'm here in San Antonio TX with Roger and CJ and their great kids Joshua and Caleb.
A quick note, I have been nursing a nagging injury to my right leg for 4 days now. My Soleus Muscle in my right calf has been hurting so if you guys could keep me in your thoughts and prayers, I'd be hugely appreciative. Julio thanks for the bottle of aspirin! Roger gave me some IcyHot, and if that doesn't work, I'll get some medical advice.
So now my latest brush with excitement...
I awoke to about 6 inches of fresh snow my last morning in Joshua Tree NP and this hungry coyote.
My original trip plan included a stop near Wilhoit AZ with Beverly and Jim but many towns like Wenden AZ were buried under water and mud. So under the wise council of Beverly I chose to not head to Wilhoit but rather detour South. The goal was to avoid all the Snow and flooding; well at least I avoided the flooding. Unfortunately I relied on my GPS unit to calculate a detour. It was less than successful. The two day trip:
View Stuck on a Mountian Pass 1/22/10 in a larger map
The road to Phoenix was mildly ominous as the side of I-10 was lined with 30 foot trees that had been pulled up by the roots. Once in Phoenix, the only hassle was some light traffic. The GPS told me to take SR-60 East to Show Low AZ. It did not mention the mountain passes. In case you wondered, the name of that stretch of road is "the Superstitious Highway".
I made it over a low pass and entered the sunny town of Miami AZ only problem was it was actually snowing. Snowing quite heavily. The roads were bare and wet inspiring confidence in my choice to go on, as daylight faded to black and the longest night of my life began.
Um so a typical author or poster...No scratch that, let's go with "spammer" would follow this ominous sentence with a tale of terror, suspense, excitement, or inspiration. I will instead show you a seasonally appropriate captioned picture of a silly cat!
Source.
Back to the story, I continued east passing several signs warning "Drive with caution Extreme Winter Conditions". I watched my GPS's altimeter tick from 3,000 feet to 5,000 feet in the course of 15 minutes as the visibility halved and then halved again. I passed two State Troopers assisting a U-Haul in the ditch, their lights fading in the rear-view mirror like memories of daylight.
At this point, I was concerned. My speed was a cautious 20 MPH, my horizon only 40 yards, and my tank down to 5 gallons. Four-wheel drive trucks and SUVs passed doing 50 and I shook my head in envy and disgust. I pressed on as a Snow plow blazed a short-lived trail of good traction for oncoming vehicles. I thought, "The plows are out how bad could it be?"
As my altimeter reached 5,300 I noticed the road pitch tenuously downward. The Colorado River canyon switchbacks began. By the second sharp bend my visibility was at 100 yards and the snow was a mere dusting with none on the road. The time was 8:40pm.
At the bottom of the canyon, the river roared so loudly it was clearly audible over the engine and Decemberists. At 3,200 feet I felt exultant my GPS showed a straight road ahead and the snow had completely stopped. I said a silent prayer of thanks and drove past an RV stopped in a pullout. I immediately noticed that the road slopped upward. The road was soon covered with snow and visibility was down to 20 yards. I slowed my progress to a crawl. I decided to slip into a pull off and wait for a snow plow to wander by so I could drive behind him. I got stuck. The wheels spun to no avail and I was left immobilized in the dark. Right then, the snow plow roared by. Twenty minutes of effort yielded 10 feet of progress toward the road, soaked boots, soaked gloves, and soaked pants. Then an SUV drove by. It stopped (probably to see the spectacle of the stupid guy from Washington "playing" in the snow). Three guys jumped out and helped me get unstuck. In the twenty minutes that had passed the snow plow's trail was filled with 4 fresh inches of snow. So I decided that since things weren't getting better, I was going back the way I came over the mountain pass I had already crossed. On my way back everything looked different. The previously bare road was caked in 5 new inches of snow, the RV was frosted and the formerly clear switchbacks were now practically a bobsled run. Another snow plow must have come through recently because the oncoming lane looked less snow covered than my lane, so I used it. My knuckles were not figuratively white as I climbed the perilous road and turned up the music to hide the sound of my heart in my ears. I clung to the steering wheel like a drowning man would a life saver; my eyes intent on the blind corners searching for oncoming headlights. I stopped next to a jack knifed tractor-trailer and asked the driver if he was okay. He was, and asked if I had any cell coverage. I didn't, so I drove on. There was so much snow. Falling, swirling, waiting for me like quicksand.
On a fresh switchback, I felt the right side of the car lose traction, so I counter-steered left, but then the left side lost purchase too. I went into a slow 90 degree spin as the car's momentum drove uphill. I went sideways, headlights to the rocky mountain wall. instead of breaking I tapped the accelerator and the left front tire caught traction forcing the car into a sharp 180 degree counter-spin. The windshield's view went from a charming view of a rocky facade to the empty space of the canyon. As the car's momentum carried it uphill, I saw the cliff's edge approach. I tapped the brakes with religious fervor not thinking, not feeling, yet understanding. I stopped 12 inches from the edge.
I am sideways on a steep, snow-covered, two lane road, at night, but not dead.
I won't tell you how I got the car pointed down hill, but I did. After failing to escape my white prison I headed down to where I had seen the RV to wait things out.
I slept (no sleep actually occurred I am just using the euphemism) in my car for the fourth consecutive night, ate an MRE, and got very cold (using the car's heater was out because I needed to conserve gas). The trooper who showed up after midnight said that it was best for me to stay put, but warned that the snow was not stopping until 8pm the next night. Fortunately he was wrong. My mind drifted as I tried to force sleep but, none was possible. I felt on edge, being cut off in the dark. My predicament (or maybe the hydrogen gas from the MRE heater) somehow made my meal hilarious, so I took this pic of a MRE's label: "Don't eat the chemical heater?!"
The next morning I manned-up and got out of that beautiful but dangerous canyon:
I learned that I really thrive in adventure even if cliffs and sudden death is involved. I wonder how I would fare in a real catastrophe (like Haiti) not just an uncomfortable night on the road.
Gallons Burned: 135.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 29
I'm here in San Antonio TX with Roger and CJ and their great kids Joshua and Caleb.
A quick note, I have been nursing a nagging injury to my right leg for 4 days now. My Soleus Muscle in my right calf has been hurting so if you guys could keep me in your thoughts and prayers, I'd be hugely appreciative. Julio thanks for the bottle of aspirin! Roger gave me some IcyHot, and if that doesn't work, I'll get some medical advice.
So now my latest brush with excitement...
I awoke to about 6 inches of fresh snow my last morning in Joshua Tree NP and this hungry coyote.
My original trip plan included a stop near Wilhoit AZ with Beverly and Jim but many towns like Wenden AZ were buried under water and mud. So under the wise council of Beverly I chose to not head to Wilhoit but rather detour South. The goal was to avoid all the Snow and flooding; well at least I avoided the flooding. Unfortunately I relied on my GPS unit to calculate a detour. It was less than successful. The two day trip:
View Stuck on a Mountian Pass 1/22/10 in a larger map
The road to Phoenix was mildly ominous as the side of I-10 was lined with 30 foot trees that had been pulled up by the roots. Once in Phoenix, the only hassle was some light traffic. The GPS told me to take SR-60 East to Show Low AZ. It did not mention the mountain passes. In case you wondered, the name of that stretch of road is "the Superstitious Highway".
I made it over a low pass and entered the sunny town of Miami AZ only problem was it was actually snowing. Snowing quite heavily. The roads were bare and wet inspiring confidence in my choice to go on, as daylight faded to black and the longest night of my life began.
Um so a typical author or poster...No scratch that, let's go with "spammer" would follow this ominous sentence with a tale of terror, suspense, excitement, or inspiration. I will instead show you a seasonally appropriate captioned picture of a silly cat!
Source.
Back to the story, I continued east passing several signs warning "Drive with caution Extreme Winter Conditions". I watched my GPS's altimeter tick from 3,000 feet to 5,000 feet in the course of 15 minutes as the visibility halved and then halved again. I passed two State Troopers assisting a U-Haul in the ditch, their lights fading in the rear-view mirror like memories of daylight.
At this point, I was concerned. My speed was a cautious 20 MPH, my horizon only 40 yards, and my tank down to 5 gallons. Four-wheel drive trucks and SUVs passed doing 50 and I shook my head in envy and disgust. I pressed on as a Snow plow blazed a short-lived trail of good traction for oncoming vehicles. I thought, "The plows are out how bad could it be?"
As my altimeter reached 5,300 I noticed the road pitch tenuously downward. The Colorado River canyon switchbacks began. By the second sharp bend my visibility was at 100 yards and the snow was a mere dusting with none on the road. The time was 8:40pm.
At the bottom of the canyon, the river roared so loudly it was clearly audible over the engine and Decemberists. At 3,200 feet I felt exultant my GPS showed a straight road ahead and the snow had completely stopped. I said a silent prayer of thanks and drove past an RV stopped in a pullout. I immediately noticed that the road slopped upward. The road was soon covered with snow and visibility was down to 20 yards. I slowed my progress to a crawl. I decided to slip into a pull off and wait for a snow plow to wander by so I could drive behind him. I got stuck. The wheels spun to no avail and I was left immobilized in the dark. Right then, the snow plow roared by. Twenty minutes of effort yielded 10 feet of progress toward the road, soaked boots, soaked gloves, and soaked pants. Then an SUV drove by. It stopped (probably to see the spectacle of the stupid guy from Washington "playing" in the snow). Three guys jumped out and helped me get unstuck. In the twenty minutes that had passed the snow plow's trail was filled with 4 fresh inches of snow. So I decided that since things weren't getting better, I was going back the way I came over the mountain pass I had already crossed. On my way back everything looked different. The previously bare road was caked in 5 new inches of snow, the RV was frosted and the formerly clear switchbacks were now practically a bobsled run. Another snow plow must have come through recently because the oncoming lane looked less snow covered than my lane, so I used it. My knuckles were not figuratively white as I climbed the perilous road and turned up the music to hide the sound of my heart in my ears. I clung to the steering wheel like a drowning man would a life saver; my eyes intent on the blind corners searching for oncoming headlights. I stopped next to a jack knifed tractor-trailer and asked the driver if he was okay. He was, and asked if I had any cell coverage. I didn't, so I drove on. There was so much snow. Falling, swirling, waiting for me like quicksand.
On a fresh switchback, I felt the right side of the car lose traction, so I counter-steered left, but then the left side lost purchase too. I went into a slow 90 degree spin as the car's momentum drove uphill. I went sideways, headlights to the rocky mountain wall. instead of breaking I tapped the accelerator and the left front tire caught traction forcing the car into a sharp 180 degree counter-spin. The windshield's view went from a charming view of a rocky facade to the empty space of the canyon. As the car's momentum carried it uphill, I saw the cliff's edge approach. I tapped the brakes with religious fervor not thinking, not feeling, yet understanding. I stopped 12 inches from the edge.
I am sideways on a steep, snow-covered, two lane road, at night, but not dead.
I won't tell you how I got the car pointed down hill, but I did. After failing to escape my white prison I headed down to where I had seen the RV to wait things out.
I slept (no sleep actually occurred I am just using the euphemism) in my car for the fourth consecutive night, ate an MRE, and got very cold (using the car's heater was out because I needed to conserve gas). The trooper who showed up after midnight said that it was best for me to stay put, but warned that the snow was not stopping until 8pm the next night. Fortunately he was wrong. My mind drifted as I tried to force sleep but, none was possible. I felt on edge, being cut off in the dark. My predicament (or maybe the hydrogen gas from the MRE heater) somehow made my meal hilarious, so I took this pic of a MRE's label: "Don't eat the chemical heater?!"
The next morning I manned-up and got out of that beautiful but dangerous canyon:
I learned that I really thrive in adventure even if cliffs and sudden death is involved. I wonder how I would fare in a real catastrophe (like Haiti) not just an uncomfortable night on the road.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Quick Word from Joshua Tree
Miles: 2370
Gallons Burned: ~81
Caffeinated Drinks: 20
My second Attempt at a V-LOG:
Gallons Burned: ~81
Caffeinated Drinks: 20
My second Attempt at a V-LOG:
Tales of California's Central Coast
Miles: 2331.9
Gallons Burned: ~80
Caffinated Drinks: 19
Since the weather still sticks how about I tell the tale of my passing from San Jose to West Hollywood.
I stopped in Salinas to see the Steinbeck Museum:
I have only read one of Steinbeck's books East of Eden, a book close to my heart. I loved the concept of timsel (the hebrew script carved in the tablet). I also learned of his book where he chronicled his journey around the US with his dog Charlie. My own trip is inspired by two sources (see links), but surely if had read Steinbeck's work I certainly would have found a third source. I will find this book and learn from his wisdom.
Then I drove South on CA 1/101 where through rain and occasional sun:
One of the MOST fun signs I have seen thus far.
The Bixby Bridge, one of the numerous bridges on the rugged coast.
As I drove by I thought, "Huh those beach rocks are really smooth." I put 2 and 2 together and turned around to see this great sight:
Elephant seals in case you were curious.
Next was Hearst Castle:
The dining room where in the midst of silver, ivory, and ebony the guests would eat on paper plates.
That night I arrived in West Hollywood where I met Phil for the first time in nearly 3 years.
Until next time...
Gallons Burned: ~80
Caffinated Drinks: 19
Since the weather still sticks how about I tell the tale of my passing from San Jose to West Hollywood.
I stopped in Salinas to see the Steinbeck Museum:
I have only read one of Steinbeck's books East of Eden, a book close to my heart. I loved the concept of timsel (the hebrew script carved in the tablet). I also learned of his book where he chronicled his journey around the US with his dog Charlie. My own trip is inspired by two sources (see links), but surely if had read Steinbeck's work I certainly would have found a third source. I will find this book and learn from his wisdom.
Then I drove South on CA 1/101 where through rain and occasional sun:
One of the MOST fun signs I have seen thus far.
The Bixby Bridge, one of the numerous bridges on the rugged coast.
As I drove by I thought, "Huh those beach rocks are really smooth." I put 2 and 2 together and turned around to see this great sight:
Elephant seals in case you were curious.
Next was Hearst Castle:
The dining room where in the midst of silver, ivory, and ebony the guests would eat on paper plates.
That night I arrived in West Hollywood where I met Phil for the first time in nearly 3 years.
Until next time...
Tales of California's North Coast
Miles: 2331.9
Gallons Burned: ~80
Caffeinated Drinks: 18
Right now I am sitting in my car in Joshua Tree National Park...in Snow. That's right this place boasts 350 days each year of sun. So of course I came during the 1 day each decade it snows!!!?! Seriously, I'm having a blast. I am enjoying J.R.R. Tolkien's Silmarillion audio book (thanks Mora & Eric), so I apologize in advance if some Chaucer-esque verbiage escapes into my posts. The original plan called for me to be at the Grand Canyon today, but due to three winter storms that have dumped nearly 2 feet of snow there, I detoured South to experience the flooded and frozen deep desert.
As I sit in the ice and snow powering my netbook via a power inverter, how about I tell you the story of my time in San Francisco:
I took public transportation to ford the 65 miles betwixt SJ and SF.
The City's skyline from the Oakland Bridge Westward.
I really like this bridge. It beats the Golden Gate hands down.
I walked the entire waterfront from baseball great Mays' statue at Giants' Park to the Presidio. Then up the hills to Lombard Street:
This Windows Movie Maker video is a compilation of 58 still photos taken from the top of the world's crooked street to the base. It is my first attempt at a Movie Maker project, so feel free to leave feedback.
Gallons Burned: ~80
Caffeinated Drinks: 18
Right now I am sitting in my car in Joshua Tree National Park...in Snow. That's right this place boasts 350 days each year of sun. So of course I came during the 1 day each decade it snows!!!?! Seriously, I'm having a blast. I am enjoying J.R.R. Tolkien's Silmarillion audio book (thanks Mora & Eric), so I apologize in advance if some Chaucer-esque verbiage escapes into my posts. The original plan called for me to be at the Grand Canyon today, but due to three winter storms that have dumped nearly 2 feet of snow there, I detoured South to experience the flooded and frozen deep desert.
As I sit in the ice and snow powering my netbook via a power inverter, how about I tell you the story of my time in San Francisco:
I took public transportation to ford the 65 miles betwixt SJ and SF.
The City's skyline from the Oakland Bridge Westward.
I really like this bridge. It beats the Golden Gate hands down.
I walked the entire waterfront from baseball great Mays' statue at Giants' Park to the Presidio. Then up the hills to Lombard Street:
This Windows Movie Maker video is a compilation of 58 still photos taken from the top of the world's crooked street to the base. It is my first attempt at a Movie Maker project, so feel free to leave feedback.
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