Vegas Blog - Day 1

Miles: 776.2
Gallons Burned: 29.7
Elvis Sightings: 0.0
Total Miles: 15412.4
Total Gallons Burned: 511.1
Total Caffeinated Drinks: 86
Total Gigabytes of Pictures: 33.6
I'm in Wells Nevada in the northwestern portion of this great state. So far I have seen exactly 0 Elvis impersonators, disappointing.
My kind traveling companion Par has been a great co-pilot despite his lack of sleep. Using my latest piece of road trip tech, Par has managed to predict the exact location of a series of thunderstorms and flawlessly modify our lodging plans all without the need to halt our relentless forward progress toward that oasis in the desert. How did Par know the weather's location and exact arrival time in advance you ask? He used my new netbook computer featuring an Ericsson cellular modem. This enabled my co-pilot extraodinare to connect to any cell tower in our path and utilize the 3G network. Using Google Earth he verified local forcasts, checking often to ensure our safety.
How terrible of me, I almost forgot to thank Nick for his patient and excellent dirrection that allowed me to activate and integrate the GPS cabability of my netbook. Nick walked me through the proper hyperterminal commands to render the NMEA protocols active. This rapidly updating system provided Google Earth with our precise global location allowing us to acurately judge our pace and the best places to resupply.
As the driver for this road trip, I have enjoyed being at the wheel of Par's fine 1997 Mitsubishi Galant. The first leg from Seattle to Boise Idaho was uneventful yet beautiful.

The second leg of our trip was slightly more eventful as Par regaled me with stories and wisdom of the ins and outs of Las Vegas while the weather predictably darkened. We saw this as we approached our stopping point for the night:

Just as we entered Wells the rain began in ernest and lightening shown in the Sierra Nevadas.
Allow me to share Par's imPARted wisdom ;)
1 - In Las Vegas they try to attract people to gamble away their childrens', grandchildrens', and great grandchildrens' inheritances by offering very cheap food - so be prepared for $12.99 all you can eat Prime Rib!!
2 - In an attempt to destroy your judgement to facilitate the rapid transfer of said offsprings' future wealth from your pocket to theirs, the casinos provide free alcoholic beverages to all active gamblers - so even if you are playing the penny slots very slowly you can score a free drink (Par's personal record is a 19 cent Long Island Iced Tea)!!
3 - Smoking is allowed in all Casinos, to better promote all manner of vice - so if you have asthma and a gambling compulsion, you could very well die at the roulette table, hmm maybe they should call it 'Merican Roulette so we don't fall behind the Russians!!
Tomorrow we will arrive in Vegas, and maybe explode from our planned Prime Rib eating contest, tune in tomorrow to find out!

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...

Buckhead Church

Miles: 11057.3
Gallons Burned: 364.1
Caffeinated Drinks: 69
Gigabytes of Pictures: 30.6

Ok let me explain how I ended the last post. I didn't mean to demean Mars Hill Church. I love Mars. First of all the unofficial motto/statement of purpose "It's all about Jesus", obviously the amazing people, the individually missional character of the church, the "from the gut" declaration of the Word, the indie feel, the black (I love black), the...You get the point. Despite the "cultish" name (Mars Hill sounds a little creepy) it is a great example of biblical church (please know that I respect your at home approach Dave). So when I said:
"a church that made Mars Hill look like a preschool"
what I was trying to get across was the size, not the composition/organization/maturity/etc. Buck Head Church is crazy big. One of their 3 campuses (the baby campus) does Mars Hill in 3 services (10,000 people).
Oh yeah, you might need context for the last 6 sentences. I stayed the night after St. Augustine south of Jacksonville at a rest stop off Interstate 10. And crossed into Georgia early on February 14th (yeah I'm more than 2 weeks behind on my blogging). After a little PT, I spoke to Tony (a big gangsta-looking dude at that rest stop) who told me that he and his girlfriend left San Antonio in search of a little fun on a road trip. They were low and cash, and he said they would head up to Detroit to find a job. This little event stands out to me because all I could think to do was sympathize with him. I didn't know what to say. He was in a tight spot, and I couldn't really help him.
Anyway, I drove north toward Atlanta and made it into town just in time to be late to meet Eric at a Starbucks. After saying "hi" and shaking hands I followed him all the way through a huge parking garage and into an overflow lot. I didn't even know the name of the church. I just knew from Yuskie, a solid guy who recently moved to Seattle from Atlanta and volunteers at Mars, to meet up with Eric. So I'm in a foreign city following a guy I've never met to a place I've never heard of...great plan? Yes, it was. I was led by Eric to this building:


It looks like a nondescript office building but it actually is a custom built church. We quickly passed through a lobby reminding me of a dozen convention centers. And I walked down to the second row stage right. Thanks to both of you Yuskie and Eric. After a great message about Jesus, I called Eric and got directions to the "Fusion". Again I was in the dark with respect to the nature of where and to what I was going. Apparently they are church-wide alcohol-free safe-zones where professional singles from all life stages come to mingle and meet each other. So I of course bring a bottle of Washington wine. Yep. The south is a little different, especially about alcohol. I chatted and ate Oreos until the Fusion ended. Then Eric, a fusion coach, kindly let me stay at his place. We chatted and enjoyed each others company. He told me about the World of Coca-Cola, so the next day I went.
I expected a corporate center similar to Microsoft's lame little visitor center (never go, it really is terrible, they put no effort into it). I was totally wrong. The experience was closer to a specially visit to Willy-Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Here are some videos and stills of the magic at Coke.
The first Coke dispenser for the space shuttle:

All the recent Olympic Torches:

The Atrium:

The Tasting Room:

The best part was the tasting room where you can taste all the Coke products. Each stand serves products from Asia, North and South America, Europe, and Africa. You go around with a tasting cup and can try all of it. I discovered Europe has the Worst drinks. The absolute worst! South America had the best and the other continents were about the same.
Of course being in an urban center I had to eat Pho (pronounced "Fa").

I enjoyed my time in Georgia and I'd love to go back and visit or even live.
Next time I'll tell you about Tennessee...and the other Josh B.

Super Saints Win

Miles: 6810.4
Gallons Burned: 231.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 37

Still here on the pier in Flamingo Bay.
Remember how the Saints beat the Colts on that most holy of American days, Superbowl Sunday? (Congrats Andrew, you were right the heart of those Saints beat the precision of Manning) I really don't. There were some amazing passes, that fateful interception...something about the Who. My point is that I don't really remember the game, because I was with some neat people.
The day after my harrowing beach adventure, my official plan was to wake up at noon, eat some steak, and watch Mad Max, Mad Max 2: the Road Warrior, and Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. I accomplished my first two goals and even managed to start watching Mad Max when Cheryl and Susan came over to my car.
When I looked up and saw two people approaching I thought, "Oh no. What did I do wrong? Did they find out about my bonfire? Am I breaking some obscure rule about sleeping in my car? Oh no there getting closer!"
Did I mention my strong bent toward antisocialism...(I like Rand but I'm not talking about that kind of socialism right now). Anyways, these two kind and gracious beyond gracious women invited me over to a fancy RV to watch the Superbowl with them. I was so taken aback that I blurted something out then as they asked what I had just said, I said, "Let me get my shoes on." They didn't understand what I had said until I actually used intelligible words. Being a 23 year old guy from Seattle I'm used to being ignored, silently judged, sworn at, receiving the finger, and the like by complete strangers. So you might imagine what it is like to receive grace, mercy, kindness, respect, even...dare I say it...FOOD from strangers. Not just strangers but strangers who are different. Bill & Antje, Jack & Cheryl, and Brad & Susan are all older individuals who are either retired or semi-retired.
Suppose you see some strange kid with Washington State plates in a Florida State Park who has slept in his car the one day you knew he existed. Would you go out of your way to engage him (taking the risk of rudeness, rejection, even possibly danger)? How about inviting him into your home (the RV is Brad and Susan's full-time home)? I'd have a hard time doing that. But that's because I am not as nice as these six wonderful individuals. I'd like to publicly thank all six of you for your generosity and overwhelming hospitality!
I feel embarrassed that I couldn't even offer you any of my food (raw steaks, a block of cheese, and some Cheez-its don't really work).
We talked all through the game and shared stories on every topic from "special" beaches to a 170 mile-an-hour car ride that Bill once took. I enjoyed myself immensely and really treasure the experience. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of them, but if you want to see them just close your eyes and imagine the 6 kindest people who have ever graced you in your time under the sun.
Feel free to leave a comment telling a story about how people have been kind to you.

Louisiana Bayous

Miles:5425.9
Gallons Burned: 185.82
Caffeinated Drinks: 34

I'm sitting half a mile pass an oil refinery on a two lane road frequented by hunters with shotguns and fishers with graphite rods. As the engine idles, powering this netbook, I look out at egrets, pelicans, and dozens of other unidentifiable birds. It's overcast and the trees sit out in the bayous looking like the masts of sunken galleons that have been locked in ice.

I can smell my steak searing on the stove under cover of bacon, and "I think to myself what a wonderful world". Um actually...I just had that great song pop into my head.
In truth, what I have been thinking about all day is a family's feeling of loss when they came back to see their house destroyed by the storm surge. The entrepreneur who put 30 years into his hardware store, building it piece by piece and defeating all opponents, only to have it scattered and laid waste by hundred-mile-an-hour winds. Even after 4 years the wounds in this community are blatantly evident. Whole neighborhood's with no one but rats for tenants. Wrecked shrimp boats dragged unceremoniously from highways and left to rot in the ditches. Behind each rotting house, car, business, and boat was a man's dream, a goal, possibly a life's pursuit. All gone, all "meaningless."


This volunteer fire department still uses their old partially collapsed building.
When I use the word "meaningless", I use it as Solomon used it. Meaningless is used over 30 times in his book Ecclesiastes and is selected to show how finite and how brief life, achievements, and pursuits really are. Perhaps "vapor" is a better term. The dude actually opens his book with: "Meaningless, meaningless all is meaningless." His publisher must have been an imbecile. You don't start like that! Who would want to read past that?
Well...I guess I am rather undiscriminating. Anyway, he lived it up: master of wealth, master of sex, master of political power, master of a nation, and master of reputation. His freaking house was way bigger and more elaborate than the one they built to God. He had a posse and a harem. And then he has the gall to write this book at the end of his life and say, "Meaningless, meaningless, all is meaningless." (He does eventually close the book with an answer to life's meaninglessness, you can read it for yourself if you want.)
I haven't lived very long; I haven't seen the deepest horrors of this world. Looking at the devastation here in the Ninth Ward and the Mississippi River delta, I think he's right. Life is a vapor, before I know it I'll be dead and all my achievements and pursuits (even my name and any memory that I even existed) will all be forgotten.
So now that you are all sad and (now a quick quote from one of the funniest guys I have ever met) "have a bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and a gun in the other, wondering if you should end it all right here", what do you do?
Solomon answer: "nothing is better for you than to eat and drink and enjoy the good of your labor."
So I come back to where I started. Steak! Wow I love steak. It's so tasty and good, the rare/medium rare tender goodness just calls out to me. I wish I weren't driving back to New Orleans after this otherwise, I would totally pop open a bottle of Washington state cabernet and enjoy a glass with my steak. Eat my friends, drink too, enjoy your life because you don't have long to live.

After Galveston's Thunder

Miles: 5418.0
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35

I really am enjoying this meal at Pere Antoine's, so I thought I'd continue to blog.
However First I must discuss the great food I am enjoying:
I ordered and am now enjoying the New Orleans Sampler:
Seafood Jambalaya - rich and smoky with fantastic sausage and big shrimp
Red Beans and Rice - a New Orleans classic with a surprisingly multifaceted flavor.
Shrimp Creole - Sweet with a strong suggestion of lemon
Gumbo fairly plain, so I added some Tabasco (having just been at the factory I felt obligated)
Mango Margarita (Sauza Gold, Cruzan Mango, Grand Marnier, and sweet and Sour mix) - Grand Marnier's citrus comes through first, then there is a mid palate bite of tequila and finally a smooth finish of fruit (vaguely mango)
Bread Pudding - Smells of wonderful cinnamon, the frosting is not frosting but rather a sweet cream sauce, the chunks of orange are excellent as are those of kiwi.

The meal was fairly priced and excellent with a pleasant yet empty ambiance.
While I am savoring the last of my bread pudding, how about I tell you the story of Galveston?

In Galveston's Gray Thunder both of my sleeping bags, my pillow, and my boots were soaked. And my tent (containing all the aforementioned and a cylinder of propane and my cook stove) was overturned and 25 feet from where I left it. In frustration and (I'll admit it!) more than a little unrighteous anger, I disassembled everything and shoved it into garbage bags.
Right now all is laying out to dry on a bench back at the campsite at Bayou Segnette State Park.
After leaving Galveston, I drove north toward Nacogdoches TX where my awesome cousin Shelby attends Steve Austin University. But before I got there I ran into this along the freeway:

My exact 1.1 second mental analysis was as follows "Knife shop...hmm, wait along the highway!? I'm in Texas...hmm. Dude I HAVE to stop and check this out." So I slowed dangerously from 67mph to 0 on the gravel shoulder of the highway. I will neither conform or deny the alleged purchase of anything in said establishment. Only if you really know me (and Lili knows what I would do in a Texas highway knife store) can you say if I bought anything (You already know I am "cheap").
So after that, I made it up to Nacogdoches and took Shelby out to some Chinese food. I ate their version of Singapore Fried Noodles, LAME. But the time was well spent with my cousin. Me, being an awkward conversationalist, tried not to be too weird, but only Shelby can speak to that. I hadn't seen her in over 10 years and we traded stories of high school experience and unusual friends.
After biding her goodnight, I looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:40pm. I decided to push it a little and run for Louisiana. Kinda bad idea. I made the 300 miles in 7 hours (including the time I spent in a closed McDonalds parking lot stealing WiFi to find a place to stay for the night).
As I drove East on I-10 I saw a blessed sign "Welcome Center Next right, 24 hour security provided". Wow, I was so excited. I slept in their parking lot.
As an aside, sleep is important (in case you never guessed). I remember when I had a particularly terrible period of insomnia, 84 hours without sleep. And I drove 5 hours home on the tail-end of the sleep-cation. During the Joshua Tree and "Pass" in-car nights, I slept sitting up in the car seat. The result was periods of no more than 1 hour of sleep and a lot of "clock watching". That night I used every ounce of my B.S. and M.A. degrees and all the accumulated knowledge of my 23 years on Earth to notice: if I sleep sideways (across both front seats) in the car, I can actually be comfortable! It totally worked!
Well I guess that wasn't an aside. More like a conclusion. Next time Avery Island.

Gray Thunder

Miles: 5518.0
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35

New Orleans has been great, so great that I "lost" a whole day. It's not as bad as it sounds. I just was totally convinced that Sunday was Saturday...either that or last night I slept for 29 hours instead of 5.
Anyways, I'm sitting in the Pere Antoine Restaurant enjoying some fine creole food and a fine Mango Margarita (I'll discuss that in detail later). Sunday is relatively calm in the French Quarter (except for the rabid Saints fanatics) fewer people in the streets and the beads are thrown with less regularity. Now that all my clothes and almost all my shoes are dry, I've been thinking about Galveston TX.

I arrived at Galveston Island State Park early in the day (having only driven from nearby San Antonio). The park was dead; there were only 6 RVs in 65 sites (of course there were no tents). All the facilities had been upgraded recently causing me to suspect a rebuild after Hurricane Ike. My campsite was about 3 feet above the Ocean making the whole park subject to the storm surge which accompanies a hurricane. Man this margarita is good... Oh yeah Galveston!
No not yet...
My absolute favorite beverage is Grand Marnier Cognac, which as it so happens is in my Margarita. It snaps as soon as you imbibe it. When you swirl it in your mouth you then are overwhelmed by the citrus essence and the smoothness of the alcohol. After you swallow GM, you are left with a neat finish with no harsh aftertaste, just the rolling ease of gentile l'orange. Hmm...Thanks Dave. Seriously you Da man. I had GM for the first time in Dave's kitchen back in Michigan as he offered several options to educate my palate. Ever since, GM has been my drink of choice.
Okay, Okay back to Galveston:
I setup the tent and went into town as the rain started. I obliviously drove out to the peninsula, then through town, and out to the sea wall. Meanwhile, the storm began in earnest. I updated the blog, returned emails, and called someone all while my poor second tent languished under the assault of a thunderstorm.
While this unobserved carnage occurred, I watched the surfers battle the waves, right next to the brake-water. This reminded me of an old Emo Phillips joke about surfers crashing against rocks. You'd think, "if I was a cool surfer dude, why wouldn't I surf on a sandy beach" (only 1 mile away)? But I am a chess player, not a surfer dude.

Remember I'm standing out on a break-water and the surfers are about 20 feet away from the jagged granite boulders!
I am standing at the end of this while taking the video above:

The next day I drove around Galveston again munching on a Whataburger, but this time with an eye for history and storm damage. It's amazing how much you miss when you don't take your time.



The city was hit with Ike's hundred mile-an-hour winds leaving millions of dollars in damage. State-wide the storm did over $12 billion in havoc and the insurance companies cried (according to the radio news stations).
I enjoyed the Victorian house, however my favorite architectural style is Art Deco. Just so you know when I get to New York City my fascination with the beauty of buildings will likely overshadow all.
Another odd observation: The storm destroyed the breakwaters in Galveston, so While I was there they were building new ones using huge pink granite boulders. The quality of the granite was excellent (counter-top grade), yet they were tossing it into the Gulf of Mexico...
Next time I move onto Louisiana.

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.

Miles: 3124
Gallons Burned: 100
Caffeinated Drinks: 25

I made it to Albuquerque NM against all odds and alive. The widow maker that hit California turned into a very heavy snowstorm in AZ and my GPS tried to kill me by sending me down HWY 60 LINK. I just stopped here last night and slept. Note the 6500ft pass to the northeast and the 6000ft pass to the southwest. The heavy snow made either passage impossible but the night was relatively warm so I was comfortable. The trooper who showed up said my choice to stay put was wise, however I contend my single-minded determination to go forward was as Erasmus would say a "praise of folly".

Anyway, I am in New Mexico sitting in a coffee shop so life is good even when life's transience shows through.
Now pics of the ABQ campus of my church:


In case you are wondering "LOBOS" is the mascot of the nearby U of New Mexico

Gearing Up

Miles Clocked: 0.0
Gallons Burned: 0.0
I just purchased a box of military surplus MREs (meals ready-to-eat) from my local army navy surplus store. Now I have 7 days of heated emergency rations in the event I get stuck in a blizzard/zombie invasion. I, being a total nerd for these sorts of things, did a little research and found out about the history of military foods stuffs from the Civil War forward. About 1.7 million became ill and 45,000 men died from tainted food in the Civil War. The Department of War (later "defense") has been working on this issue ever since.

Anyways the modern MREs I've got will still be edible for the next 7 years, so I'm all set.

For those who are interested here's the menu:

(No dreaded ham omlets)
Here is the US government's official MRE site for further study:
http://www.dscp.dla.mil/subs/rations/programs/mre/mreabt.asp