It is snowing like a bastard here in Prague! This would be fine, or great even, except that my boots are broken and actually ABSORB water and trap it inside. Pray for my feet.
See you guys for Thanksgiving or soon after
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Pictures!
Ok guys. I´m at a hostel in Barcelona with an unexpectedly sweet internet situation.
Hike outside of Jena, Germany, with Brock and Pavlick (not pictured). Pavlick was our gracious host in Jena, our first real stop in Europe. And before we leave this continent, we´re going back there for one more night. You know what that means... more MarioKart! Ah, sweet sweet European nintendo.
You know, I probably should have chosen a different picture - you know, one that shows you what Jena looks like and not just a bunch of stupid leaves and Brocks. Can't change it now though, so I guess you suckers are stuck with it.
Jena though, it's very pretty from up in these mountains. The high point, literally and figuratively, of the hike was an old watchtower, maybe 100, 150 feet teall. [the rest of this paragraph was deleted at Brock's request. What could have been here??]
Bikeride in Jemelle, Belgium. This is the part of Belgium where they speak French. My negotiation for bike rental went something like this:
The castle on the top of the hill in Vianden, Luxembourg. Check out that sweet foreground object that I included because that´s what I do when I try to be artistical!
[PHOTO MISSING]
Here´s Brock and some statue in the Louvre. We´re pretty sure this is what she was doing before her arms got knocked off.
Here are two from a series of me looking stupid and pointing at things. That bottom painting was right across from the Mona Lisa. In fact, in that photograph, I can probably see the Mona Lisa with my peripheral vision. Ooh and Aah if you like.
That´s Oviedo. Where Katy lives. Pretty, no? In this picture, we are quite near to a giant Jesus statue, perhaps 65 times the size of a normal Jesus. But as you can see, Jesus plays no role in this picture. Unless you consider that he, as his own father, created that sky and those mountains and all things. But then, that means Jesus is in every picture ever taken of everything, which kind of cheapens REAL Jesus pictures. Quite a predicament you're in, Jesus.
It's HAY-zoos en Español. Is it weird that Spanish speaking people name their kids Jesus? Seems a bit, um, presumptuous, might be the word. I mean, I know a lot of people have biblical names (Dan and myself included), but I don't think my parents were going, "hmm, let's name one of our kids after a surviving tribe of Israel and another after a lost Tribe."
Hear that Dan? Your tribe wandered and died! Go Tribe of Benjamin!
On the other hand, I think when people decide to name their kid Jesus, they are indeed thinking "yea, we'll call him Jesus, just like Jesus Christ our Lord. This'll rock." I guess the same goes for Muslims naming their kids Mohammed. You can't draw the guy but you can name your kid after him? It seems strange to me.
This is called [i will insert town name here], Spain, where they have this amazing sculpture thingy, and you stand in the center of it and it echoes the sounds of the nearby waves. Really, it just sounds like you have a derder up to your ear (ask me about derders if you don´t know), but it´s still cool.
Alright, I hope you liked these pictures because I doubt you'll be seeing any more before I get back. Good night.
...Except that I can only use it for 20 minutes at a time. [edit: this post actually took me like 5 of these 20 minute sessions and it was terribly frustrating and now I'm actually in Prague finishing it up... AND I didn´t manage to get the Patrick Swayze picture posted. Sorry!] So I´m gonna throw up some choice pictures from various parts of my trip, without much commentary [edit: internet is free in Prague so I've added a bit more commentary]. Enjoy!
Hike outside of Jena, Germany, with Brock and Pavlick (not pictured). Pavlick was our gracious host in Jena, our first real stop in Europe. And before we leave this continent, we´re going back there for one more night. You know what that means... more MarioKart! Ah, sweet sweet European nintendo.You know, I probably should have chosen a different picture - you know, one that shows you what Jena looks like and not just a bunch of stupid leaves and Brocks. Can't change it now though, so I guess you suckers are stuck with it.
Jena though, it's very pretty from up in these mountains. The high point, literally and figuratively, of the hike was an old watchtower, maybe 100, 150 feet teall. [the rest of this paragraph was deleted at Brock's request. What could have been here??]
Bikeride in Jemelle, Belgium. This is the part of Belgium where they speak French. My negotiation for bike rental went something like this:Me: ¨Je voudrais louer des velos.¨ (I practiced)
Him: ¨I am speaking French. You cannot understand me.¨
Me: ¨Oho! Think again sir. I took 2 years of that language in Middle School.¨
Him: ¨Very well. Let us work out the details of this transaction¨
Me: ¨What?¨
Him: ¨DE - TAILS¨
Me: ¨This is what French sounds like?¨
Him: ¨Pay 20€. Give me Passport. I give bikes.¨
Me: ¨Oh. Okay. Au revoir!¨
Him: ¨I am speaking French. You cannot understand me.¨
Me: ¨Oho! Think again sir. I took 2 years of that language in Middle School.¨
Him: ¨Very well. Let us work out the details of this transaction¨
Me: ¨What?¨
Him: ¨DE - TAILS¨
Me: ¨This is what French sounds like?¨
Him: ¨Pay 20€. Give me Passport. I give bikes.¨
Me: ¨Oh. Okay. Au revoir!¨
[PHOTO MISSING]
Signed printout of Patrick Swayze (!) in the fancy picture room in the above castle. The printout came from the movie "George and the Dragon," where Swayze had a supporting role, playing some kind of idiot. Let me tell you, he really looked the part in this picture.
Other pictures in the picture room included Luxembourg royalty from years past, and the first lady of China.
Other pictures in the picture room included Luxembourg royalty from years past, and the first lady of China.
That´s not a window! (I´m playing the fool) This is at the Centre Pompidou in Paris, which contains a lot of modern art and is awesome. My favorites were ¨One Minute Sculptures¨ by Erwin Wurm. They're just a bunch of silly photographs and I was hoping to find them on the internets and show you to them but I can't. I suppose you'll just have to go to Paris.
Here are two from a series of me looking stupid and pointing at things. That bottom painting was right across from the Mona Lisa. In fact, in that photograph, I can probably see the Mona Lisa with my peripheral vision. Ooh and Aah if you like.
That´s Oviedo. Where Katy lives. Pretty, no? In this picture, we are quite near to a giant Jesus statue, perhaps 65 times the size of a normal Jesus. But as you can see, Jesus plays no role in this picture. Unless you consider that he, as his own father, created that sky and those mountains and all things. But then, that means Jesus is in every picture ever taken of everything, which kind of cheapens REAL Jesus pictures. Quite a predicament you're in, Jesus.It's HAY-zoos en Español. Is it weird that Spanish speaking people name their kids Jesus? Seems a bit, um, presumptuous, might be the word. I mean, I know a lot of people have biblical names (Dan and myself included), but I don't think my parents were going, "hmm, let's name one of our kids after a surviving tribe of Israel and another after a lost Tribe."
Hear that Dan? Your tribe wandered and died! Go Tribe of Benjamin!
On the other hand, I think when people decide to name their kid Jesus, they are indeed thinking "yea, we'll call him Jesus, just like Jesus Christ our Lord. This'll rock." I guess the same goes for Muslims naming their kids Mohammed. You can't draw the guy but you can name your kid after him? It seems strange to me.
This is called [i will insert town name here], Spain, where they have this amazing sculpture thingy, and you stand in the center of it and it echoes the sounds of the nearby waves. Really, it just sounds like you have a derder up to your ear (ask me about derders if you don´t know), but it´s still cool.Alright, I hope you liked these pictures because I doubt you'll be seeing any more before I get back. Good night.
Friday, November 14, 2008
¨Hold on, lemme grab a soda¨
Peculiar title? This is Brock´s mantra. I hear these sacred words At Least 3 times a day, yet I still roll my eyes each time. Today marks the first time I didn´t give him a hard time about his soda intake. Not that hard-time-giving does a lick of good, but I felt I had to try. I hope there are no dire consequences to my lack of vigilance. If Brock becomes diabetic in the next 2 weeks, I will take full responsibility.
By the way, I wrote another entry earlier today. Maybe you read it? Scroll down and take a look-see, because this next paragraph depends on it.
Done? Okay. Profound Realization Number Two: French girls are hot! Actually a lot of them are way too skinny and they all wear just about the same trendy outfit. Usually I´m down on trendiness, but the trends are different here so I´m not used to em. Also they sound awesome when they speak French (the girls, not the trends (trends can´t speak (duh))). Probably if I spent more time there and learned French, the effect would wear off, but for now: French girls are hot!
Next topic: After Rex Pelayo defeated the Moors in Asturias, they got scared or something and went back to Morocco and now Spain is full of Spanish people. The End. But so, Asturias is fiercely traditional and prideful. A lot of kids here are named Pelayo or Pelayon or something. And they have a hundred and ten traditional activities here, most of which involve food or drinking. As with all the places I have been, I was keen on participating in traditional activities, but here, there are just too many.
The best one by far is drinking Sidras (alcoholic, uncarbonated apple cider) that the waiters ¨carbonate¨ by pouring from a very high height. Then you must drink it very fast before the bubbles go away. It´s only about 6% alcohol, but a 70 cL (about 24 oz) bottle costs just 2€. You have to buy a lot, because the waiters only pour your first glass, and when you pour it, it gets all over your pants and the floor and old Spanish guys with their fancy hats and canes have a good guffaw. But then they get up and tell you how to do it right and you get a little bit better at it, holding your pinky just so, and keeping your eyes on the glass, not on the bottle.
Still you spill a lot, but the three of you end up well buzzed for under 15€. The three of you? Yes, Brock, Katy, and you (me). Brock´s girlfriend Katy, who you may remember from Seattle, now lives here in Oviedo. We´ve been staying here with her for the last full week because we like it here so much. And because it´s free and I get my own bed and I don´t have to listen to Brock snore (this is a big deal). AND because when we lugged all our things across town to the train station 4 hours ago and found out we needed reservations and could buy them just around the corner, IF the people who sold them weren´t on strike! But we´re not upset. I mean now. Brock was pissed. He bought a soda.
No! He bought candy! I can´t believe I didn´t mention the candy. It´s not as frequent as the soda, but that guy eats a lot of candy. In Oviedo the frequency has increased to about one new bag a day. It´s hardly his fault though. He has a weakness for gummies, and there are stores Everywhere with gummies of all colors and shapes and sizes literally stacked from floor to ceiling. The man is a sugar fiend. My earlier statement about taking responsibility for his future diabetes? I take that back. It´s way beyond my control.
I´ve gotten off track. We were trying to go to Madrid today but we couldn´t. Supposedly, the workers are not striking tomorrow, so we´ll be leaving in the morning, and without Katy as translator, I´ll be using my rudimentary Spanish to get us food and shelter. Did I mention I lost my phrasebook back in Luxembourg? That thing was awesome. It had all the major languages of Western Europe and how to say things like ¨Hi¨ and ¨How much does that banana cost¨ and ¨I´d like to rent a bicycle¨ and ¨Don´t touch my face¨ in all those languages. But I lost it! So I bought a phrasebook for Spanish people who need to know English here in Oviedo. It works well enough, except that the table of contents and all the explanations of stuff are in Spanish, and the book itself is not sufficient to translate them. Buying it was fun. I went into the bookstore and said ¨No hablo Español. Libro para Ingles ... Español. Por favor.¨ He wasn´t getting it so I just kept going ¨Ingles ... Español,¨ gesturing with my left hand for Ingles, and my right for Español. Eventually we did business and had a good laugh.
That´s enough for now, but here´s a tantalizing tidbit: we fed peacocks today. At a zoo? No. Then how? Maybe one day I´ll tell you the whole story but here´s one hint: it was awesome.
Au revoir!
By the way, I wrote another entry earlier today. Maybe you read it? Scroll down and take a look-see, because this next paragraph depends on it.
Done? Okay. Profound Realization Number Two: French girls are hot! Actually a lot of them are way too skinny and they all wear just about the same trendy outfit. Usually I´m down on trendiness, but the trends are different here so I´m not used to em. Also they sound awesome when they speak French (the girls, not the trends (trends can´t speak (duh))). Probably if I spent more time there and learned French, the effect would wear off, but for now: French girls are hot!
Next topic: After Rex Pelayo defeated the Moors in Asturias, they got scared or something and went back to Morocco and now Spain is full of Spanish people. The End. But so, Asturias is fiercely traditional and prideful. A lot of kids here are named Pelayo or Pelayon or something. And they have a hundred and ten traditional activities here, most of which involve food or drinking. As with all the places I have been, I was keen on participating in traditional activities, but here, there are just too many.
The best one by far is drinking Sidras (alcoholic, uncarbonated apple cider) that the waiters ¨carbonate¨ by pouring from a very high height. Then you must drink it very fast before the bubbles go away. It´s only about 6% alcohol, but a 70 cL (about 24 oz) bottle costs just 2€. You have to buy a lot, because the waiters only pour your first glass, and when you pour it, it gets all over your pants and the floor and old Spanish guys with their fancy hats and canes have a good guffaw. But then they get up and tell you how to do it right and you get a little bit better at it, holding your pinky just so, and keeping your eyes on the glass, not on the bottle.
Still you spill a lot, but the three of you end up well buzzed for under 15€. The three of you? Yes, Brock, Katy, and you (me). Brock´s girlfriend Katy, who you may remember from Seattle, now lives here in Oviedo. We´ve been staying here with her for the last full week because we like it here so much. And because it´s free and I get my own bed and I don´t have to listen to Brock snore (this is a big deal). AND because when we lugged all our things across town to the train station 4 hours ago and found out we needed reservations and could buy them just around the corner, IF the people who sold them weren´t on strike! But we´re not upset. I mean now. Brock was pissed. He bought a soda.
No! He bought candy! I can´t believe I didn´t mention the candy. It´s not as frequent as the soda, but that guy eats a lot of candy. In Oviedo the frequency has increased to about one new bag a day. It´s hardly his fault though. He has a weakness for gummies, and there are stores Everywhere with gummies of all colors and shapes and sizes literally stacked from floor to ceiling. The man is a sugar fiend. My earlier statement about taking responsibility for his future diabetes? I take that back. It´s way beyond my control.
I´ve gotten off track. We were trying to go to Madrid today but we couldn´t. Supposedly, the workers are not striking tomorrow, so we´ll be leaving in the morning, and without Katy as translator, I´ll be using my rudimentary Spanish to get us food and shelter. Did I mention I lost my phrasebook back in Luxembourg? That thing was awesome. It had all the major languages of Western Europe and how to say things like ¨Hi¨ and ¨How much does that banana cost¨ and ¨I´d like to rent a bicycle¨ and ¨Don´t touch my face¨ in all those languages. But I lost it! So I bought a phrasebook for Spanish people who need to know English here in Oviedo. It works well enough, except that the table of contents and all the explanations of stuff are in Spanish, and the book itself is not sufficient to translate them. Buying it was fun. I went into the bookstore and said ¨No hablo Español. Libro para Ingles ... Español. Por favor.¨ He wasn´t getting it so I just kept going ¨Ingles ... Español,¨ gesturing with my left hand for Ingles, and my right for Español. Eventually we did business and had a good laugh.
That´s enough for now, but here´s a tantalizing tidbit: we fed peacocks today. At a zoo? No. Then how? Maybe one day I´ll tell you the whole story but here´s one hint: it was awesome.
Au revoir!
Profound Realizations
If you´re reading this then you already know: I am in Europe. I have been for the last month. And before that I was traveling all round the country, to various interesting and uninteresting places. Some have called me a great world traveler. Some have called me a veteran explorer. Some are even so bold as to dub me ¨Vasco DeGama Resurrected.¨ Others simply know me as a man about town. Others still, they call me ¨Ben, Genius of the West and Far West who knows nothing of the East.¨
To all these admirers and hangers-on I say thanks. And I think it is time that I gave you all something in return for your tireless devotion. You see, when one travels so extensively, one experiences many new things, and one is prone to have Profound Realizations. I wish to impart to you, dear reader, some of these Realizations, so that you may know them without risking world-weariness as I have.
Let us start thusly: I have been many places (as you know) and with many places come many bathrooms, W.C.s, Servicios, outhouses, holes in the ground or what have you. I am a clean man; I shower occasionally, and I brush my teeth twice a day. Sometimes I even floss. But these bathrooms can be dirty, vile places. They might not have decent lighting, or toilet seats. Often, to decrease my total amount of time in the bathroom, I wait patiently, gathering up all my bathroom trips into one Grand Bathroom Trip, where I might use the toilet, wash my face, and brush my teeth all at once (I mean, not like, at exactly the same time, because usually the sink is too far away from the toilet, but I do all that stuff in one trip to the lav). When taking such a Grand Trip, I prepare my toothbrush with toothpaste, I grab a washcloth and some soap, and for a longer trip, I bring a good book (not THE good book mind you, that one´s boring). I like to brush my teeth last, so I set down the toothbrush ever so carefully, making sure it wont tip over, brushing the bristles or the paste against some grimy surface. Then I go about my other chores (also taking care to avoid wet areas when I put my book down). I return to the sink, pick up the toothbrush, and BAM: Profound Realization! The bristles are protected from grime, yes, but the back of the toothbrush is just sitting on that grime. And, here´s the important bit: the back of the toothbrush goes in my mouth too! How many times have I brushed this way? At campground bathrooms and hostel bathrooms and train stations? Dozens! Hundreds!
Yes, reader, it takes many months of travel to discover deep truths such as these. It is my hope that you can benefit from my mistake. I would like to offer a solution to this dire situation, but as yet, I have none. Should I bring some object on which to rest the toothbrush - a buffer zone against the grime? Should I keep the toothbrush in my pocket? If so, do I apply toothpaste beforehand, or do I bring the toothpaste tube with me? Do I take two separate trips the the bathroom?
Alas, each of these attempts has ended in disaster (or an unacceptably inffecient Grand Bathroom Trip). Perhaps after many months more I shall discover the answer. If so, you will be the first to know.
Okay. Enough of my high-falutin´ Ben-the-great-traveler talk. Also, despite my promise of multiple Realizations, this was the only one, and I suspect many of you already knew about it, and maybe even think it´s obvious. But to me it was Profound! So shut up.
It´s a shame, but I can´t post pictures of my trip. I have many lovely photos, and I´m sure you´ll all see them, but internet cafes and library computers and so forth wont let me upload them. Right now, at this very moment, while I´m typing this, and WHILE YOU ARE READING THIS (not really), I am at one of those library computers in Oviedo, Spain. Oviedo is in Asturias, and it is Rich With Tradition. Some Celts settled here some centuries back, and not long after, the dastardly Moors began their conquest of Spain. They almost won too, but Rex (king) Pelayos of Asturias drove them off.
Bah. It´s a good story too, but I just got kicked off this computer. I´ll continue it another time, and impart some of the rest of my adventures.
Adios!
To all these admirers and hangers-on I say thanks. And I think it is time that I gave you all something in return for your tireless devotion. You see, when one travels so extensively, one experiences many new things, and one is prone to have Profound Realizations. I wish to impart to you, dear reader, some of these Realizations, so that you may know them without risking world-weariness as I have.
Let us start thusly: I have been many places (as you know) and with many places come many bathrooms, W.C.s, Servicios, outhouses, holes in the ground or what have you. I am a clean man; I shower occasionally, and I brush my teeth twice a day. Sometimes I even floss. But these bathrooms can be dirty, vile places. They might not have decent lighting, or toilet seats. Often, to decrease my total amount of time in the bathroom, I wait patiently, gathering up all my bathroom trips into one Grand Bathroom Trip, where I might use the toilet, wash my face, and brush my teeth all at once (I mean, not like, at exactly the same time, because usually the sink is too far away from the toilet, but I do all that stuff in one trip to the lav). When taking such a Grand Trip, I prepare my toothbrush with toothpaste, I grab a washcloth and some soap, and for a longer trip, I bring a good book (not THE good book mind you, that one´s boring). I like to brush my teeth last, so I set down the toothbrush ever so carefully, making sure it wont tip over, brushing the bristles or the paste against some grimy surface. Then I go about my other chores (also taking care to avoid wet areas when I put my book down). I return to the sink, pick up the toothbrush, and BAM: Profound Realization! The bristles are protected from grime, yes, but the back of the toothbrush is just sitting on that grime. And, here´s the important bit: the back of the toothbrush goes in my mouth too! How many times have I brushed this way? At campground bathrooms and hostel bathrooms and train stations? Dozens! Hundreds!
Yes, reader, it takes many months of travel to discover deep truths such as these. It is my hope that you can benefit from my mistake. I would like to offer a solution to this dire situation, but as yet, I have none. Should I bring some object on which to rest the toothbrush - a buffer zone against the grime? Should I keep the toothbrush in my pocket? If so, do I apply toothpaste beforehand, or do I bring the toothpaste tube with me? Do I take two separate trips the the bathroom?
Alas, each of these attempts has ended in disaster (or an unacceptably inffecient Grand Bathroom Trip). Perhaps after many months more I shall discover the answer. If so, you will be the first to know.
Okay. Enough of my high-falutin´ Ben-the-great-traveler talk. Also, despite my promise of multiple Realizations, this was the only one, and I suspect many of you already knew about it, and maybe even think it´s obvious. But to me it was Profound! So shut up.
It´s a shame, but I can´t post pictures of my trip. I have many lovely photos, and I´m sure you´ll all see them, but internet cafes and library computers and so forth wont let me upload them. Right now, at this very moment, while I´m typing this, and WHILE YOU ARE READING THIS (not really), I am at one of those library computers in Oviedo, Spain. Oviedo is in Asturias, and it is Rich With Tradition. Some Celts settled here some centuries back, and not long after, the dastardly Moors began their conquest of Spain. They almost won too, but Rex (king) Pelayos of Asturias drove them off.
Bah. It´s a good story too, but I just got kicked off this computer. I´ll continue it another time, and impart some of the rest of my adventures.
Adios!
Monday, October 27, 2008
en Belgique
So you know: Brock and I are at a hostel in Brussels and I have 6 1/2 minutes to write this entry before I run out of internet time.
So. This hostel is awesome. We are drinking Belgian beers (obviously) from the hostel bar that would cost almost 4 times as must from a liquor store in America.
So far we've been to Germany, where we played a lot of MarioKart with our friend Pavlick and met a lot of his German friends and went ice skating with them and went hiking in the beautiful college town of Jena where he lives.
And Luxembourg, where we explored the castle at the top of the hill in Vianden, and failed to rent bikes in Diekirch and Brock hated Diekirch but I liked it okay because I was drawn by a series of interesting objects (cool bridge, kayak competition, donkeys, Dutch sign about Water tables, weird exhibit called Zeitreise (time travel) hill, field, horses, etc) into the nearby hills and ended up taking an extremely pleasant 3 hour hike.
And Belgium as you already know, where we have wandered around the city on foot, mostly lost, until we stumble into a super impressive cathedral or cozy bar with pig bladders (?) hanging from the ceiling or we wind up back at our hostel...
Time is up!
Bye!
So. This hostel is awesome. We are drinking Belgian beers (obviously) from the hostel bar that would cost almost 4 times as must from a liquor store in America.
So far we've been to Germany, where we played a lot of MarioKart with our friend Pavlick and met a lot of his German friends and went ice skating with them and went hiking in the beautiful college town of Jena where he lives.
And Luxembourg, where we explored the castle at the top of the hill in Vianden, and failed to rent bikes in Diekirch and Brock hated Diekirch but I liked it okay because I was drawn by a series of interesting objects (cool bridge, kayak competition, donkeys, Dutch sign about Water tables, weird exhibit called Zeitreise (time travel) hill, field, horses, etc) into the nearby hills and ended up taking an extremely pleasant 3 hour hike.
And Belgium as you already know, where we have wandered around the city on foot, mostly lost, until we stumble into a super impressive cathedral or cozy bar with pig bladders (?) hanging from the ceiling or we wind up back at our hostel...
Time is up!
Bye!
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Like Hike
Let me repeat something from my last entry: I love beating the crap out of my body and I love the recovery process that follows. I like being worn to exhaustion, and then going a little farther. I like returning to home or to camp completely drained, with 5 or more hours of daylight still remaining. I like resting motionless, sprawled on the couch or ground for 45 minutes until I have the energy to eat. And I like eating. Eating constantly for 2 days and still being hungry, my muscles devouring all and demanding more, promising to be stronger and more endurant in the days to come. And I like sleeping, soundly and heavily, so that I can do it all over again ASAP.
As you may have guessed from the title of this entry, the very best way that I have so far discovered to beat the crap out of my body is HIKING. Preferably in some place beautiful and interesting, and with friends and/or brothers. Lately, I have had the opportunity to do just this, several times, in a span of about 2 weeks.
First: Yosemite.
I actually took this picture. Imagine that. It wasn't even hard. Previous posts have shown that I am a crappy photographer, but none of that matters to the mighty Yosemite Valley. This place has more grandeur than a sackful of Alps, and it provided the backdrop to Hike #1. Dan was there with me for the first mile of Hike #1, but his legs gave out after we reached the first scenic overlook.
Like a good brother, he gave me his water, and his blessing to continue without him. Like a bad brother, I took his water and sent him on his way down the mountain alone.
He didn't mind though, since he had already beaten the crap out of his body, and was about to get a jump on the recovery phase.
And I didn't mind because I was greedy for the top -- the top being the overlook of Upper Yosemite Falls, half a mile from the valley floor. The horizontal distance of the hike was about 3 miles. I'm about to do some math here, so bear with me. The middle third of the hike went up and down a bit, but overall was relatively easy and relatively flat. This means basically all the half mile up was contained in two miles of over. Steepness grade = up divided by over = slightly less steep than 250 flights of stairs.
The last third of the hike was almost literally stairs, constructed decades ago from thousands upon thousands of carefully placed rocks, by some insane person or persons. The view from the top, as you might expect, is a bit daunting. Nevertheless, I leapt forth into the abyss, snapping the picture on your right before floating gently to the bottom, suspended by an improvised parachute of my own design.
Second: Joshua Tree.
I struggle to find the words to convey the pure joy that can be tapped from the infinite piles of rocks and boulders at Joshua Tree. Dan and Eric were there too. Ask them, and maybe they can tell you better than I. Climbing and scrambling up and through these piles is without a shadow of a doubt my very favorite thing in the whole world.
The hike at Joshua tree was long and meandering, as we followed our monkey instincts from one tall rock pile to a taller one and a taller one and so on, zigzagging around the desert until we reached the precipice shown above, where we sung Lion King songs.
The hike began roughly here. Do not be fooled by those pretty blue "flowers." Upon closer inspection, you will find that they are not flowers, but giant thorns, and you will realize that you should have guessed as much, because every damned thing in this surprisingly lush desert has giant and painful thorns.
From there we continued through some straightforward uphills,
convenient stairways,
creative upclimbs,
and tiring downclimbs. This last downclimb, starting from the Lion King rock, consisted of a mighty crack, dark and treacherous (but not too treacherous, mom), that took nearly an hour to navigate. One of the most wonderful things about these rock piles at Joshua Tree is that often you find yourself at a seeming dead end, and just before you turn back to seek another route, you look around a corner or over a ledge, and new paths emerge. Sometimes you do have to turn back, or climb up a ways when your ultimate goal is down, but in general, if you are diligent and creative, the rocks seem to provide you with what you need.
Please, if you like climbing or exploring or deserts, visit Joshua Tree. You will not be disappointed.
Third: Palo Verde.
From the humble rooftop of Eric and Mesan's Palo Verde home, Dan points to our lofty goal: the top of blandly named Palo Verde Mountain. Knowing second-hand how easy it is to die in the desert, we went prepared, carrying with us 4 1/2 gallons of water, 1 baggy of rice, 2 pieces of bread, 1 1/2 clif bars, 4 hardboiled eggs, a big can of baked beans, and about 60 almonds and peanuts. Yea, plenty of water, but a little more food would have been nice on our 6 hour excursion into the harsh midday desert.
We began by driving to a water-carved canyon, 2.4 miles from the summit. We strapped on our collective 45 pounds of water, and began our trek into the canyon, its high walls protecting us from the morning sun. We traveled along, wary of the loose rock and fascinated by the power of water, until we came to a pool left by the recent rains.
After Eric explored its depths and found them manageable, we took off our shoes, and carried them and our packs over our heads to keep them dry. We ended up chilly and soaked, but we found that to be useful soon enough, when we emerged from the canyon into the largely shadeless hills of the desert.
We spent a lot of time with our eyes on the ground, searching for geodes and quartz and other cool rocks. The geology is so varied at Palo Verde: red rocks with blue veins, gray rocks with quartz veins, rocks literally rusted red, their high iron content exposed the the oxygen in the air. Porous green rocks and dense gray ones, smooth purple rocks and jagged orange ones. The scenery is not as nice as at Yosemite or Joshua Tree, but the rocks kept our eyes busy while we followed the flat desert washes, occasionally glancing up at our goal to keep us pointed in the right direction.
Aside from a few lightly worn game trails and the random zigzagging washes, there are no trails, so we made up our route as we went. After an hour and a half, we reached the base of the mountain, and began our climb up. These rocks are steeper and looser than the ones at Joshua Tree, and they don't provide the plethora of routes like the ones at Joshua Tree either.
Our first attempt at summiting failed miserably (my fault for insisting on it), and we ended up climbing all the way down from halfway up before starting over again. But, we did find a neat cave where we took a much needed rest, and this picture.
We finally reached the top, and I had camera trouble. Unable to figure out how to delete photos from my nearly full memory stick, I was only able to get this mediocre view from the top.
Still though, it's pretty cool.
Finally, on the hike back, I started to feel weak and stopped to drink more than a quart of water, and eat a few almonds, after which I felt great for the rest of the way. Dan though, got increasingly lethargic and unresponsive, no matter how much I dogged him and forced water on him. He says he might not have made it if not for those beans. He says that big can of desert-heated baked beans is the best meal he's ever had, and it showed. After that pit-stop, he made it back the car no problem.
I should mention that Eric crushed the return hike with no visible difficulty. Props to Eric.
Super long blog post is now finished! I hope you enjoyed! Go hiking! Take plenty of food! Goodnight!
As you may have guessed from the title of this entry, the very best way that I have so far discovered to beat the crap out of my body is HIKING. Preferably in some place beautiful and interesting, and with friends and/or brothers. Lately, I have had the opportunity to do just this, several times, in a span of about 2 weeks.
First: Yosemite.
I actually took this picture. Imagine that. It wasn't even hard. Previous posts have shown that I am a crappy photographer, but none of that matters to the mighty Yosemite Valley. This place has more grandeur than a sackful of Alps, and it provided the backdrop to Hike #1. Dan was there with me for the first mile of Hike #1, but his legs gave out after we reached the first scenic overlook.
Like a good brother, he gave me his water, and his blessing to continue without him. Like a bad brother, I took his water and sent him on his way down the mountain alone.He didn't mind though, since he had already beaten the crap out of his body, and was about to get a jump on the recovery phase.
And I didn't mind because I was greedy for the top -- the top being the overlook of Upper Yosemite Falls, half a mile from the valley floor. The horizontal distance of the hike was about 3 miles. I'm about to do some math here, so bear with me. The middle third of the hike went up and down a bit, but overall was relatively easy and relatively flat. This means basically all the half mile up was contained in two miles of over. Steepness grade = up divided by over = slightly less steep than 250 flights of stairs.
The last third of the hike was almost literally stairs, constructed decades ago from thousands upon thousands of carefully placed rocks, by some insane person or persons. The view from the top, as you might expect, is a bit daunting. Nevertheless, I leapt forth into the abyss, snapping the picture on your right before floating gently to the bottom, suspended by an improvised parachute of my own design.Second: Joshua Tree.
I struggle to find the words to convey the pure joy that can be tapped from the infinite piles of rocks and boulders at Joshua Tree. Dan and Eric were there too. Ask them, and maybe they can tell you better than I. Climbing and scrambling up and through these piles is without a shadow of a doubt my very favorite thing in the whole world.The hike at Joshua tree was long and meandering, as we followed our monkey instincts from one tall rock pile to a taller one and a taller one and so on, zigzagging around the desert until we reached the precipice shown above, where we sung Lion King songs.
The hike began roughly here. Do not be fooled by those pretty blue "flowers." Upon closer inspection, you will find that they are not flowers, but giant thorns, and you will realize that you should have guessed as much, because every damned thing in this surprisingly lush desert has giant and painful thorns.
From there we continued through some straightforward uphills,
convenient stairways,
creative upclimbs,
and tiring downclimbs. This last downclimb, starting from the Lion King rock, consisted of a mighty crack, dark and treacherous (but not too treacherous, mom), that took nearly an hour to navigate. One of the most wonderful things about these rock piles at Joshua Tree is that often you find yourself at a seeming dead end, and just before you turn back to seek another route, you look around a corner or over a ledge, and new paths emerge. Sometimes you do have to turn back, or climb up a ways when your ultimate goal is down, but in general, if you are diligent and creative, the rocks seem to provide you with what you need.Please, if you like climbing or exploring or deserts, visit Joshua Tree. You will not be disappointed.
Third: Palo Verde.
From the humble rooftop of Eric and Mesan's Palo Verde home, Dan points to our lofty goal: the top of blandly named Palo Verde Mountain. Knowing second-hand how easy it is to die in the desert, we went prepared, carrying with us 4 1/2 gallons of water, 1 baggy of rice, 2 pieces of bread, 1 1/2 clif bars, 4 hardboiled eggs, a big can of baked beans, and about 60 almonds and peanuts. Yea, plenty of water, but a little more food would have been nice on our 6 hour excursion into the harsh midday desert.We began by driving to a water-carved canyon, 2.4 miles from the summit. We strapped on our collective 45 pounds of water, and began our trek into the canyon, its high walls protecting us from the morning sun. We traveled along, wary of the loose rock and fascinated by the power of water, until we came to a pool left by the recent rains.
After Eric explored its depths and found them manageable, we took off our shoes, and carried them and our packs over our heads to keep them dry. We ended up chilly and soaked, but we found that to be useful soon enough, when we emerged from the canyon into the largely shadeless hills of the desert.We spent a lot of time with our eyes on the ground, searching for geodes and quartz and other cool rocks. The geology is so varied at Palo Verde: red rocks with blue veins, gray rocks with quartz veins, rocks literally rusted red, their high iron content exposed the the oxygen in the air. Porous green rocks and dense gray ones, smooth purple rocks and jagged orange ones. The scenery is not as nice as at Yosemite or Joshua Tree, but the rocks kept our eyes busy while we followed the flat desert washes, occasionally glancing up at our goal to keep us pointed in the right direction.
Aside from a few lightly worn game trails and the random zigzagging washes, there are no trails, so we made up our route as we went. After an hour and a half, we reached the base of the mountain, and began our climb up. These rocks are steeper and looser than the ones at Joshua Tree, and they don't provide the plethora of routes like the ones at Joshua Tree either.
Our first attempt at summiting failed miserably (my fault for insisting on it), and we ended up climbing all the way down from halfway up before starting over again. But, we did find a neat cave where we took a much needed rest, and this picture.
We finally reached the top, and I had camera trouble. Unable to figure out how to delete photos from my nearly full memory stick, I was only able to get this mediocre view from the top.
Still though, it's pretty cool.
Finally, on the hike back, I started to feel weak and stopped to drink more than a quart of water, and eat a few almonds, after which I felt great for the rest of the way. Dan though, got increasingly lethargic and unresponsive, no matter how much I dogged him and forced water on him. He says he might not have made it if not for those beans. He says that big can of desert-heated baked beans is the best meal he's ever had, and it showed. After that pit-stop, he made it back the car no problem.
I should mention that Eric crushed the return hike with no visible difficulty. Props to Eric.
Super long blog post is now finished! I hope you enjoyed! Go hiking! Take plenty of food! Goodnight!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Blog Blackout Ends!
"Huzzah," says blog supporter.
Let me start by apologizing for going so long without an entry. You readers really made blog-writing enjoyable, and I let you down in a big way. I can only imagine how it must have felt for you to wake up each morning and race to your computer with high hopes, only to have them dashed against your monitor, which you found bare of any updates. Day after day passed, and still no word from Ben. As time passed, you must have stopped checking entirely (who could blame you?) and eventually you forgot there even was a blog. But something inside you that had once been full was now empty. Your heart? No. Your soul? No. Your brain? Maybe, but probably something less well defined. Whatever it was, it was gone, and even if you didn't realize it, your life was, on some level, ruined.
For this, I sincerely apologize. I hope that I can make it up to you now and in the days to come.
Let me start (again) by saying that I have been having an excellent time here in the golden/bear state, despite seeing no gold and no bears. Yes, California, our nation's tallest state. After leaving Brock's I shot through Oregon and traversed nearly all of California's 800 mile height in 3 days. I would have taken more time, but I was hurrying toward Eric and Mesan and their tiny desert home in Palo Verde, CA, out near the Arizona border. Until recently I would never have said this, but you may have heard of Palo Verde -- a former UFC champion just died very near there, done in by the unforgiving desert heat on mile 3 of a 4 mile hike. We actually heard the search helicopters a few days before we saw the news.
If you look closely, you can actually see the unforgiving desert heat. If you find yourself here, I hope have plenty of water with you. But enough of deserts and heat and Palo Verde for now. Right now, at this moment, I am in Los Angeles, and that's what I want to talk about.
Los Angeles has proved to be a great town - a great sprawling mess of a great town, made even better no doubt by the awesome house where I'm staying:
The house, like LA, sprawls. It took me half an hour to explore it, and still I'm not totally sure I've seen all the rooms in it. The house belongs to Chris Gorman's dad, who is graciously allowing me to stay here awhile, along with his daughter-in-law's sister Rose. It took a few explanations before Rose started to remember who I am, me being her sister's husband's brother's wife's sister's son. But she's great. She's living here full-time and has been happy to share the house and the house's booze. Tomorrow we might be going on a bike ride to Venice Beach.
Oh, the house is in Old Hollywood, which will make for a decent, but not grueling, 30 mile round trip. Today is the first day I've biked in over a month and I didn't do too well, so we'll see how I fare tomorrow.
The ride today was an attempt to reach Griffith Observatory, just 2 miles from the house. The roads were extremely steep, probably 20% grades or more in places, and after 3/4 miles and half an hour, I reached an unexpected locked gate and turned back. If I hadn't been so physically devastated, I might have tried to find another way in by bike, but instead opted to shower, relax awhile, then drive up later. The observatory, named for the magnificent Welshman Griffith J. Griffith, and its sweeping views of the city, were impressive. I watched the sun set just south of the HOLLYWOOD sign, then saw the planetarium show.
This is not an amazing picture (hence its small size, but you can click it for a larger view if you want) but it's the best I got before my camera batteries died. The vistas were spectacular though, I assure you.
The Observatory exhibits and planetarium show were a nice Astronomy 101 refresher - nothing stellar (ha ha) but definitely worthwhile. I imagine I'll take another bike ride later in the week and hang out up there some more. The way I drove was longer but seemed way less intense.
There's still more I want to say about LA, but this entry is getting long so for now I'll just say Brian Bass is awesome, and so is Mr. Dan -- thanks for visiting. I'm glad you had a good time.
Next entry might be more about LA, or more probably it'll be about hiking, and how I've learned that beating the shit out of my body and then recovering is just about my favorite thing to do.
Let me start by apologizing for going so long without an entry. You readers really made blog-writing enjoyable, and I let you down in a big way. I can only imagine how it must have felt for you to wake up each morning and race to your computer with high hopes, only to have them dashed against your monitor, which you found bare of any updates. Day after day passed, and still no word from Ben. As time passed, you must have stopped checking entirely (who could blame you?) and eventually you forgot there even was a blog. But something inside you that had once been full was now empty. Your heart? No. Your soul? No. Your brain? Maybe, but probably something less well defined. Whatever it was, it was gone, and even if you didn't realize it, your life was, on some level, ruined.
For this, I sincerely apologize. I hope that I can make it up to you now and in the days to come.
Let me start (again) by saying that I have been having an excellent time here in the golden/bear state, despite seeing no gold and no bears. Yes, California, our nation's tallest state. After leaving Brock's I shot through Oregon and traversed nearly all of California's 800 mile height in 3 days. I would have taken more time, but I was hurrying toward Eric and Mesan and their tiny desert home in Palo Verde, CA, out near the Arizona border. Until recently I would never have said this, but you may have heard of Palo Verde -- a former UFC champion just died very near there, done in by the unforgiving desert heat on mile 3 of a 4 mile hike. We actually heard the search helicopters a few days before we saw the news.
If you look closely, you can actually see the unforgiving desert heat. If you find yourself here, I hope have plenty of water with you. But enough of deserts and heat and Palo Verde for now. Right now, at this moment, I am in Los Angeles, and that's what I want to talk about.Los Angeles has proved to be a great town - a great sprawling mess of a great town, made even better no doubt by the awesome house where I'm staying:
The house, like LA, sprawls. It took me half an hour to explore it, and still I'm not totally sure I've seen all the rooms in it. The house belongs to Chris Gorman's dad, who is graciously allowing me to stay here awhile, along with his daughter-in-law's sister Rose. It took a few explanations before Rose started to remember who I am, me being her sister's husband's brother's wife's sister's son. But she's great. She's living here full-time and has been happy to share the house and the house's booze. Tomorrow we might be going on a bike ride to Venice Beach.Oh, the house is in Old Hollywood, which will make for a decent, but not grueling, 30 mile round trip. Today is the first day I've biked in over a month and I didn't do too well, so we'll see how I fare tomorrow.
The ride today was an attempt to reach Griffith Observatory, just 2 miles from the house. The roads were extremely steep, probably 20% grades or more in places, and after 3/4 miles and half an hour, I reached an unexpected locked gate and turned back. If I hadn't been so physically devastated, I might have tried to find another way in by bike, but instead opted to shower, relax awhile, then drive up later. The observatory, named for the magnificent Welshman Griffith J. Griffith, and its sweeping views of the city, were impressive. I watched the sun set just south of the HOLLYWOOD sign, then saw the planetarium show.
This is not an amazing picture (hence its small size, but you can click it for a larger view if you want) but it's the best I got before my camera batteries died. The vistas were spectacular though, I assure you.The Observatory exhibits and planetarium show were a nice Astronomy 101 refresher - nothing stellar (ha ha) but definitely worthwhile. I imagine I'll take another bike ride later in the week and hang out up there some more. The way I drove was longer but seemed way less intense.
There's still more I want to say about LA, but this entry is getting long so for now I'll just say Brian Bass is awesome, and so is Mr. Dan -- thanks for visiting. I'm glad you had a good time.
Next entry might be more about LA, or more probably it'll be about hiking, and how I've learned that beating the shit out of my body and then recovering is just about my favorite thing to do.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Cirque de Soleil without the weirdos
I cannot imagine a more impressive display of physical ability than this -- Sport acrobatics.
And before I watched it, I wouldn't have been able to imagine it.
I know this blog is supposed to be about what I'm up to, and not a vehicle for posting links, but I did watch this video like 3 1/2 times today, so in a way, this link is what I'm up to.
And before I watched it, I wouldn't have been able to imagine it.
I know this blog is supposed to be about what I'm up to, and not a vehicle for posting links, but I did watch this video like 3 1/2 times today, so in a way, this link is what I'm up to.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Brocktastic
I've been trying to think of a way to thank Brock for the continued generosity and camaraderie he's provided me this past month. So I came up with this shitty solution: a tribute in blog form!
Here he is in all his splendor, preparing to ski I guess. I got this picture from Katy's camera. Sometimes he calls me bennifer and it makes my day. Sometimes in the morning, as he prepares for work by stomping clumsily around his apartment, he wakes me up and says "aww, did I wake you up big guy?" I just cover my head with a pillow and silently curse him before falling back to sleep. Then when I awake again 2 or 3 hours later, I stretch my legs and begin another lonesome day in a Brockless apartment. Oh, I'll go climbing or biking, or do any number of things that are tons better than whatever mind-numbing crap Brock does all day, but it all still pales in comparison to spending time with Mr. Bafford.
See? It's nonstop laughs with good ol' Brocker. Today he told me he wishes he could just exercise all day. When I said that's basically what I did, he directed some delightful profanity at me. But I learned long ago that with Brock, the amount of swearing he does is inversely proportional to how upset he is. When we lived together in college, on returning from class he would often curse up a storm. "What's wrong?" I'd say. "What a clusterfuck this is! I can't find my fucking goddamn cellphone!" Then he'd find it immediately.
I should mention "clusterfuck" again. This is Brock's favorite word. Anything that is slightly askew is deemed a clusterfuck. Shorthand for clusterfuck is CF. Remember this if you find yourself conversing with Brock.
This is Brock Sampson. He is Brock's favorite fictional character. He is the reason our Brock enjoys the Venture Brothers. Now, to his credit, he does seem to genuinely enjoy the non-Brock aspects of the show, but Sampson is without a doubt the reason for his original interest.
If these Brocks were to fight, I fear that Brock Bafford would be killed before even inflicting a bite wound. He is a biter.
He is also a thinker, a drinker, a biker, a climber, and recently, a food dehydrator. He's a regular renaissance man. Also he's a rester, a complainer, and above all, a dead-hooker-joke maker. I won't repeat any of them here, not because of my readers' sensitivity, but because each individual joke isn't very special. It's the sheer number and constancy of dead hooker jokes that makes them special.
It's just a coincidence that I chose this picture to follow the word "special." Really. I just like this picture. It exemplifies Brock's commitment to bike safety. Guess what he does every time he sees a biking hippie without a helmet? Did you guess curse loudly? No? Then you haven't been paying attention.
We always see a number of these hippies on our way to one of the many local dive bars here in Olympia. Since Brock moved here for work, he has been deeply conflicted about the place - on one side is his love for dive bars, and on the other, his extreme hatred of hippies. Happily, his proximity to Katy and his internet friends have tipped the balance in Olympia's favor, and I do believe he likes it here.
Look there. He's as happy as a helpless turtle. I'm pretty sure he's thinking about Olympia there.
Alas, he'll be leaving soon, and I'll be leaving even sooner - I'll be leaving Brock. Today I've come to grips with this, and it's going to be hard to do, but the time has come. By Monday I'll be out of Olympia and heading down the west coast - so Brock, I say so long to you. But perhaps I'll be back after a month or so, for as you know, and envy, and hate, I can do whatever I want.
Thanks for the memories, big guy. I hope this article has left you feeling appreciated, complimented, and not too much insulted. Don't ever change.
Here he is in all his splendor, preparing to ski I guess. I got this picture from Katy's camera. Sometimes he calls me bennifer and it makes my day. Sometimes in the morning, as he prepares for work by stomping clumsily around his apartment, he wakes me up and says "aww, did I wake you up big guy?" I just cover my head with a pillow and silently curse him before falling back to sleep. Then when I awake again 2 or 3 hours later, I stretch my legs and begin another lonesome day in a Brockless apartment. Oh, I'll go climbing or biking, or do any number of things that are tons better than whatever mind-numbing crap Brock does all day, but it all still pales in comparison to spending time with Mr. Bafford.
See? It's nonstop laughs with good ol' Brocker. Today he told me he wishes he could just exercise all day. When I said that's basically what I did, he directed some delightful profanity at me. But I learned long ago that with Brock, the amount of swearing he does is inversely proportional to how upset he is. When we lived together in college, on returning from class he would often curse up a storm. "What's wrong?" I'd say. "What a clusterfuck this is! I can't find my fucking goddamn cellphone!" Then he'd find it immediately.
I should mention "clusterfuck" again. This is Brock's favorite word. Anything that is slightly askew is deemed a clusterfuck. Shorthand for clusterfuck is CF. Remember this if you find yourself conversing with Brock.
This is Brock Sampson. He is Brock's favorite fictional character. He is the reason our Brock enjoys the Venture Brothers. Now, to his credit, he does seem to genuinely enjoy the non-Brock aspects of the show, but Sampson is without a doubt the reason for his original interest.If these Brocks were to fight, I fear that Brock Bafford would be killed before even inflicting a bite wound. He is a biter.
He is also a thinker, a drinker, a biker, a climber, and recently, a food dehydrator. He's a regular renaissance man. Also he's a rester, a complainer, and above all, a dead-hooker-joke maker. I won't repeat any of them here, not because of my readers' sensitivity, but because each individual joke isn't very special. It's the sheer number and constancy of dead hooker jokes that makes them special.
It's just a coincidence that I chose this picture to follow the word "special." Really. I just like this picture. It exemplifies Brock's commitment to bike safety. Guess what he does every time he sees a biking hippie without a helmet? Did you guess curse loudly? No? Then you haven't been paying attention.
We always see a number of these hippies on our way to one of the many local dive bars here in Olympia. Since Brock moved here for work, he has been deeply conflicted about the place - on one side is his love for dive bars, and on the other, his extreme hatred of hippies. Happily, his proximity to Katy and his internet friends have tipped the balance in Olympia's favor, and I do believe he likes it here.
Look there. He's as happy as a helpless turtle. I'm pretty sure he's thinking about Olympia there.
Alas, he'll be leaving soon, and I'll be leaving even sooner - I'll be leaving Brock. Today I've come to grips with this, and it's going to be hard to do, but the time has come. By Monday I'll be out of Olympia and heading down the west coast - so Brock, I say so long to you. But perhaps I'll be back after a month or so, for as you know, and envy, and hate, I can do whatever I want.
Thanks for the memories, big guy. I hope this article has left you feeling appreciated, complimented, and not too much insulted. Don't ever change.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Nerds, Tourism, and Random Objects
I'm finally catching up to myself... this entry is about events that happened only a few days past.
Today I continued my Monday tradition of going to the climbing gym, finding it closed, and returning home. Why Monday, climbing gym? Why close at all? Why can't I remember you're closed? No one will ever know.
So, instead of climbing, I'm here at Brock's house writing. Strengthening my mind instead of my body I suppose.
Onto the meat of this article.
1) Nerds. I think I mentioned Brock's internet friends already. We've all been having dinner on Mondays at one of their houses, and usually after dinner we play a board game -- either Settlers of Catan, or RoboRally. Both awesome games, both too complicated to explain here. Brock seems to hate playing these games, but I enjoy them very much. Two of his internet friends, Scott and Tim, sometimes play these games and more with a group of nerds that gathers every Saturday. I joined them this past weekend and we played games for 12 damned hours! It was awesome.
Probably most of the people reading this have had me strong arm them into playing games that they didn't really want to play, and I'll bet you've all gotten sick of my competitive nature, right? Well I played games for 12 hours, and neither of those things happened! Dave, the host of this marathon, owns probably 150 board games, maybe 3 of which I'd seen or heard of. When we walked in, we were greeted by 3 game tables, 6 or 7 waist-high stacks of games, and a few games already in progress.
Have you ever heard of Settlers of Catan? I hadn't, but it originated in Germany and it's apparently the 2nd most popular game in the world. We played a game of that. We also played Arkham Horror. It's based on H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu Mythos, and it's sort of a mix between an RPG and a board game (as were many of the games there). It's horribly complicated, but once I learned the rules, it was pretty fun. I think it might be boring to go into the games day much more, so I won't.
2) Tourism. Sunday, Brock and Katy and I again hung out in Seattle, this time as typical tourists. We went to Pike Place Market, which is apparently famous so you've probably heard of it. We watched fish throwers and bought Russian pastries that were filled with mushrooms and fish and other things that you wouldn't expect to find inside pastries. From there we walked to the old section of Seattle, which is called [something], and which is literally built on top of an even older section of Seattle. You can go on underground tours and see the ruined old buildings. Despite the idea of the day being tourism, none of us are really that interested in touristy stuff, so we skipped the underground.
Ok so while writing that paragraph I noticed a blue reflection in a glass that is sitting here next to me. Unable to immediately identify the source of the reflection, I stopped writing for a fully minute until I could find it. Why? Was I expecting to learn something important? I don't know, but I had to find it. Do any of you know any attractive girls who do things like that? Please tell them good things about me and then refer them here.
Tourism. Next we drove to Gas Works park, which we TOTALLY should have been allowed to climb all over. Granted, everything was brown with rust and probably structurally unsound, but come on - you can't just leave two story pipe jungles around and expect people not to demand climbing rights. Imagine the coolest playground ever, then double it, then triple that, and then put a big stupid fence around it. Luckily Gas Works park also had nice fields and trees and a hill and a cool sundial. We sat on the hill awhile and looked at the city center from across the water. Seattle is a beautiful city.
3) Random Objects. I don't have any pictures for Nerds or for Tourism, so I took these pictures of things around Brock's apartment.
Dehydrated cinnamon apples.
Brock got this food dehydrator from his parents and finally used it last night to make his apartment smell like cinnamon.
Beer a-brewing, and fruit. Lots of fruit. Those black ones are called Marion Berries, like the former mayor of D.C. The fruit is arranged for dramatic effect, NOT in order of tastiness, which is as follows: cherries (least), strawberries, rasberries, marion berries.
As per Kevin's request, here are the items I bought in Chicago. Also this pinecone that I acquired elsewhere (not to scale).
Today I continued my Monday tradition of going to the climbing gym, finding it closed, and returning home. Why Monday, climbing gym? Why close at all? Why can't I remember you're closed? No one will ever know.
So, instead of climbing, I'm here at Brock's house writing. Strengthening my mind instead of my body I suppose.
Onto the meat of this article.
1) Nerds. I think I mentioned Brock's internet friends already. We've all been having dinner on Mondays at one of their houses, and usually after dinner we play a board game -- either Settlers of Catan, or RoboRally. Both awesome games, both too complicated to explain here. Brock seems to hate playing these games, but I enjoy them very much. Two of his internet friends, Scott and Tim, sometimes play these games and more with a group of nerds that gathers every Saturday. I joined them this past weekend and we played games for 12 damned hours! It was awesome.
Probably most of the people reading this have had me strong arm them into playing games that they didn't really want to play, and I'll bet you've all gotten sick of my competitive nature, right? Well I played games for 12 hours, and neither of those things happened! Dave, the host of this marathon, owns probably 150 board games, maybe 3 of which I'd seen or heard of. When we walked in, we were greeted by 3 game tables, 6 or 7 waist-high stacks of games, and a few games already in progress.
Have you ever heard of Settlers of Catan? I hadn't, but it originated in Germany and it's apparently the 2nd most popular game in the world. We played a game of that. We also played Arkham Horror. It's based on H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu Mythos, and it's sort of a mix between an RPG and a board game (as were many of the games there). It's horribly complicated, but once I learned the rules, it was pretty fun. I think it might be boring to go into the games day much more, so I won't.
2) Tourism. Sunday, Brock and Katy and I again hung out in Seattle, this time as typical tourists. We went to Pike Place Market, which is apparently famous so you've probably heard of it. We watched fish throwers and bought Russian pastries that were filled with mushrooms and fish and other things that you wouldn't expect to find inside pastries. From there we walked to the old section of Seattle, which is called [something], and which is literally built on top of an even older section of Seattle. You can go on underground tours and see the ruined old buildings. Despite the idea of the day being tourism, none of us are really that interested in touristy stuff, so we skipped the underground.
Ok so while writing that paragraph I noticed a blue reflection in a glass that is sitting here next to me. Unable to immediately identify the source of the reflection, I stopped writing for a fully minute until I could find it. Why? Was I expecting to learn something important? I don't know, but I had to find it. Do any of you know any attractive girls who do things like that? Please tell them good things about me and then refer them here.
Tourism. Next we drove to Gas Works park, which we TOTALLY should have been allowed to climb all over. Granted, everything was brown with rust and probably structurally unsound, but come on - you can't just leave two story pipe jungles around and expect people not to demand climbing rights. Imagine the coolest playground ever, then double it, then triple that, and then put a big stupid fence around it. Luckily Gas Works park also had nice fields and trees and a hill and a cool sundial. We sat on the hill awhile and looked at the city center from across the water. Seattle is a beautiful city.
3) Random Objects. I don't have any pictures for Nerds or for Tourism, so I took these pictures of things around Brock's apartment.
Dehydrated cinnamon apples.Brock got this food dehydrator from his parents and finally used it last night to make his apartment smell like cinnamon.
Beer a-brewing, and fruit. Lots of fruit. Those black ones are called Marion Berries, like the former mayor of D.C. The fruit is arranged for dramatic effect, NOT in order of tastiness, which is as follows: cherries (least), strawberries, rasberries, marion berries.
As per Kevin's request, here are the items I bought in Chicago. Also this pinecone that I acquired elsewhere (not to scale).Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Three-Wheeling in Seattle
Okay I'm skipping from North Dakota to Olympia, WA. I've been staying here with Brock for just about 3 weeks now, sleeping on his floor and eating his food and drinking his liquor. And sometimes, I mooch off his girlfriend too. As some of you know, and others of you deny, Brock has a lovely lady named Katy, who works as a TA at UW up in Seattle.
So, on a few occasions Brock and I have traveled up there to visit, and I play third wheel and we do fun stuff. First, a few days after I arrived in Washington, we went up for the 4th of July.
That's me and Brock. If you look real close at the water, you can see a reflection of Katy taking the picture. Behind us is Jerry's boat, where we hung out with some bus drivers Brock works with, and watched the fireworks. One of the bus drivers, Roy, and his wife Sue, raise livestock somewhere around here. Brock and I each ate a burger shaped piece of George the cow.
Then, after a 6 mile, hour long bus ride, we got a good night's sleep at Katy's in preparation for a bikeride around Seattle the next day. Katy planned out the trip, which consisted of ~45 miles of biking, and 3 ferry rides.
Here we are on the other side of that water from the other picture. If you look closely at the water, you're wasting your time. This is only about 10 miles into the ride, and before the first ferry.
This is us on the way to the second ferry. That orange mess on Brock's bike are his walking shoes tied to his handlebars. We pissed him off pretty good when he was rigging it up, giving advice and insulting his methods, but it worked out in the end. He got pretty pissed later too, when we learned the second ferry doesn't run on weekends.
When we found that out, we were about 30 miles into our loop. I suggested we turn back, Katy suggested hitchhiking, and Brock suggested we use a lot of swear words. But - just after we enacted Brock's plan, and before we tried mine or Katy's, we found out from some locals that this was the commuter ferry, and there is another ferry just down the road that runs for free 7 days a week. Whew.
There's Katy on the final ferry back into Seattle. When we reached those buildings, we got back on our bikes and rode the final 6 miles back to Katy's place. It went a lot faster than the bus ride the previous night.
Our second trip to Seattle (1 week ago) was brief - we picked up Katy, and headed northeast our of the city, to Mount Pilchuck. We drove seven miles up the mountain, then began a 3 mile hike to the summit. Brock and Katy had hiked it before, so we expected a steep, but fairly easy trip up to the top. However, when we found large amounts of snow covering the trail half a mile in, Katy got more demerits for bad planning. Brock was displeased again, but I was psyched about this development. We carried on, following others' footsteps where there was snow, and following the dirt or rocky trail otherwise.
On your right is the first scenic overlook, about a mile into the hike. This also marks about where the hike became ALL snow-covered. We started to see a lot of people with ski poles and protect-your-ankles-from-snow thingies. We asked some of these people if they thought we would make it to the top without such gear. They said "Yea, there's a steep part coming up around the bend, but after that it's not so bad. You'll be fine." Steep was an understatement. When I got around the bend, I looked up at a white, 45 degree slope, and if I hadn't known that other people were hiking this "trail," I'd have never thought it possible. Seriously, I would have said no way, and turned around. Thankfully, other people had been hiking it, and their boots had made some steps for us. We still slipped a lot, but we made it up eventually.
Here's Brock, trudging up one of the big hills. He was kind of sick, and was kind of hating this hike. Poor guy.
But I was invigorated. This was the most amazing, beautiful, tiring, and satisfying hike I've ever done.
After 2 1/2 hours, we summited -- well, I did -- Brock was a little freaked out by the sheer drops all around, and opted not to come up to the old fire lookout station atop the mountain. He stayed about 50 meters below, where Katy sat with him awhile before joining me at the top.
She snapped this sweet picture of me breakdancing on a precipice:
We spent some more time up here, just taking it in. It was too much for me to really appreciate-- it was 360 degrees of views like the one above, with a totally unobstructed view of mountains and lakes and rivers and barely visible towns in the distance.
The descent was fun. Even Brock and his headcold enjoyed it. We walked, hopped, slid, fell, and luged our way down.
Yea, it was real fun. Best hike ever.
We've got plans to go back to Seattle once more maybe, and do touristy stuff in the city. I'll keep you posted.
So, on a few occasions Brock and I have traveled up there to visit, and I play third wheel and we do fun stuff. First, a few days after I arrived in Washington, we went up for the 4th of July.
That's me and Brock. If you look real close at the water, you can see a reflection of Katy taking the picture. Behind us is Jerry's boat, where we hung out with some bus drivers Brock works with, and watched the fireworks. One of the bus drivers, Roy, and his wife Sue, raise livestock somewhere around here. Brock and I each ate a burger shaped piece of George the cow.
Then, after a 6 mile, hour long bus ride, we got a good night's sleep at Katy's in preparation for a bikeride around Seattle the next day. Katy planned out the trip, which consisted of ~45 miles of biking, and 3 ferry rides.
Here we are on the other side of that water from the other picture. If you look closely at the water, you're wasting your time. This is only about 10 miles into the ride, and before the first ferry.
This is us on the way to the second ferry. That orange mess on Brock's bike are his walking shoes tied to his handlebars. We pissed him off pretty good when he was rigging it up, giving advice and insulting his methods, but it worked out in the end. He got pretty pissed later too, when we learned the second ferry doesn't run on weekends.When we found that out, we were about 30 miles into our loop. I suggested we turn back, Katy suggested hitchhiking, and Brock suggested we use a lot of swear words. But - just after we enacted Brock's plan, and before we tried mine or Katy's, we found out from some locals that this was the commuter ferry, and there is another ferry just down the road that runs for free 7 days a week. Whew.
There's Katy on the final ferry back into Seattle. When we reached those buildings, we got back on our bikes and rode the final 6 miles back to Katy's place. It went a lot faster than the bus ride the previous night.Our second trip to Seattle (1 week ago) was brief - we picked up Katy, and headed northeast our of the city, to Mount Pilchuck. We drove seven miles up the mountain, then began a 3 mile hike to the summit. Brock and Katy had hiked it before, so we expected a steep, but fairly easy trip up to the top. However, when we found large amounts of snow covering the trail half a mile in, Katy got more demerits for bad planning. Brock was displeased again, but I was psyched about this development. We carried on, following others' footsteps where there was snow, and following the dirt or rocky trail otherwise.
On your right is the first scenic overlook, about a mile into the hike. This also marks about where the hike became ALL snow-covered. We started to see a lot of people with ski poles and protect-your-ankles-from-snow thingies. We asked some of these people if they thought we would make it to the top without such gear. They said "Yea, there's a steep part coming up around the bend, but after that it's not so bad. You'll be fine." Steep was an understatement. When I got around the bend, I looked up at a white, 45 degree slope, and if I hadn't known that other people were hiking this "trail," I'd have never thought it possible. Seriously, I would have said no way, and turned around. Thankfully, other people had been hiking it, and their boots had made some steps for us. We still slipped a lot, but we made it up eventually.
Here's Brock, trudging up one of the big hills. He was kind of sick, and was kind of hating this hike. Poor guy.But I was invigorated. This was the most amazing, beautiful, tiring, and satisfying hike I've ever done.
After 2 1/2 hours, we summited -- well, I did -- Brock was a little freaked out by the sheer drops all around, and opted not to come up to the old fire lookout station atop the mountain. He stayed about 50 meters below, where Katy sat with him awhile before joining me at the top.
She snapped this sweet picture of me breakdancing on a precipice:
We spent some more time up here, just taking it in. It was too much for me to really appreciate-- it was 360 degrees of views like the one above, with a totally unobstructed view of mountains and lakes and rivers and barely visible towns in the distance.The descent was fun. Even Brock and his headcold enjoyed it. We walked, hopped, slid, fell, and luged our way down.
Yea, it was real fun. Best hike ever.We've got plans to go back to Seattle once more maybe, and do touristy stuff in the city. I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Trailblazing, Part II
Here's the link and map again:
I got my pictures developed, but they kind of suck and just don't do their subjects justice. And my fingers were in like 10 of them...
But, continuing with
I) Teddy Roosevelt National Park (TRNP, pronounced "turnip"), ND. Here's my campsite:
Not very wooded but neither is any of North Dakota, and there is a river running right by it. I wish I could have captured the windiness of this place. When I arrived, my bikes were slanted at 45 degree angles on top of my car. And it was a bitch to set up the tent. An Iowan man and his two teenage daughters helped me fight the wind and get it staked down. He commented that it seemed like a very good tent, and his daughters agreed. For some reason I felt self-conscious about using a three-person tent for one person, so I said, "yea, but it's a bit big for one person." Later, I realized that could have been taken as an invitation to the daughters. I should have done a little wink wink nudge nudge.
The wind also made cooking nearly impossible, but after a half hour running between the grill and the camp stove, I ended up with some fantastic soot-covered hot dogs and cold beans. Then, while I slept, the wind covered the inside of my tent and lungs with a thin patina of dirt. Those may sound like complaints, but I actually enjoyed the wind. It got me thinking about how pioneers must have dealt with it, and the satisfaction they must have felt when they figured out how to conquer it and heat their beans to a reasonable temperature.
I spent the next morning in Medora, the little tourist town just outside of the park. I managed to lose a postcard between the car and the Cowboy Cafe where I planned to write it. Sorry mom. Then I got some info about biking, and biked around the ~30 mile scenic loop with my new panniers, which is fricking hard, especially with the hills and the wind.
And here's the first third, with the second third off in the distance.
And here's a buffalo:
I got my pictures developed, but they kind of suck and just don't do their subjects justice. And my fingers were in like 10 of them...
But, continuing with
I) Teddy Roosevelt National Park (TRNP, pronounced "turnip"), ND. Here's my campsite:
Not very wooded but neither is any of North Dakota, and there is a river running right by it. I wish I could have captured the windiness of this place. When I arrived, my bikes were slanted at 45 degree angles on top of my car. And it was a bitch to set up the tent. An Iowan man and his two teenage daughters helped me fight the wind and get it staked down. He commented that it seemed like a very good tent, and his daughters agreed. For some reason I felt self-conscious about using a three-person tent for one person, so I said, "yea, but it's a bit big for one person." Later, I realized that could have been taken as an invitation to the daughters. I should have done a little wink wink nudge nudge.
The wind also made cooking nearly impossible, but after a half hour running between the grill and the camp stove, I ended up with some fantastic soot-covered hot dogs and cold beans. Then, while I slept, the wind covered the inside of my tent and lungs with a thin patina of dirt. Those may sound like complaints, but I actually enjoyed the wind. It got me thinking about how pioneers must have dealt with it, and the satisfaction they must have felt when they figured out how to conquer it and heat their beans to a reasonable temperature.
I spent the next morning in Medora, the little tourist town just outside of the park. I managed to lose a postcard between the car and the Cowboy Cafe where I planned to write it. Sorry mom. Then I got some info about biking, and biked around the ~30 mile scenic loop with my new panniers, which is fricking hard, especially with the hills and the wind.
Here's the beginning of the ride:
And here's the first third, with the second third off in the distance.
And here's a buffalo:
That disposable camera is really lame. I know it doesn't look like it, but I was actually about 12 feet from this bison, who was named Theodore Roosevelt (as are all the bison at TRNP). Theo wandered slowly into the road and stopped there, thwarting me. All the park literature tells you to be afraid of these creatures, so I was, but I followed him a while anyway, until I snapped this picture and ran away.
J) Circle, MT. All I did was get gas here, but this place totally creeped me out. It reminded me of that episode of the X-Files where those deformed hill people do a lot of ax-murdering. Not that I saw any deformed hill people, but still. The gas station was super old-timey, they had to charge two times what the pump read, because the pumps won't let you set the gas price above $3.99. I was going to take a picture, but, you know, I didn't want to offend any hill people.
K) Shelby, MT. After Circle, I thought I was just going to be uncomfortable the whole way through Montana, because I was off the main highway, and I thought it would be a bunch more Circles. But when I got to Wolf Point, in the Flathead Indian Reservation to stop again for gas, there were tons of friendly and obese Native Americans, so I started to warm up to the state. After Wolf Point, I passed 10-15 small 'towns' which ALL consisted of 1 bar and 1 silo/processing plant thing. Then I got to Shelby, where I slept at a motel.
Brock just got home, so we have to go biking now. Next post will be Glacier NP and beyond.
J) Circle, MT. All I did was get gas here, but this place totally creeped me out. It reminded me of that episode of the X-Files where those deformed hill people do a lot of ax-murdering. Not that I saw any deformed hill people, but still. The gas station was super old-timey, they had to charge two times what the pump read, because the pumps won't let you set the gas price above $3.99. I was going to take a picture, but, you know, I didn't want to offend any hill people.
K) Shelby, MT. After Circle, I thought I was just going to be uncomfortable the whole way through Montana, because I was off the main highway, and I thought it would be a bunch more Circles. But when I got to Wolf Point, in the Flathead Indian Reservation to stop again for gas, there were tons of friendly and obese Native Americans, so I started to warm up to the state. After Wolf Point, I passed 10-15 small 'towns' which ALL consisted of 1 bar and 1 silo/processing plant thing. Then I got to Shelby, where I slept at a motel.
Brock just got home, so we have to go biking now. Next post will be Glacier NP and beyond.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Trailblazing Across the Country
Once, when asked what my dream job would be, I replied "trailblazer." You know, one of the people who actually carries logs into the mountains to build those erosion-resistant trails that you might hike in a national park.
My friend Anuj from work likes to remind me of this, and call me a hippie, so the title of this post is a tip of the hat to him, and to real trailblazers. I myself have never really blazed any trails (yet), but I did forge this route across the country. My thanks to google maps for this beauty:
(click on the picture to enlarge. or check out this more interactive version of the map.)
Here's what's what:
A) my starting location. Baltimore, MD.
B) Mike and Alison's house in Belmar, NJ. I spent 2 nights here to kick off my trip. Steve and Jana also came up and we took in one day of an AVP (pro volleyball) tournament, played plenty of v-ball ourselves, and enjoyed and/or mocked the local beach culture. Mike and Alison were fantastic hosts and showed us all a good time.
C) My Aunt/Uncle/Cousins' house in Horsham, PA. I called Greg Sunday at about 4 p.m. and asked to "stop by." When I arrived 2 hours later I was warmly greeted by everyone but Chris, who was working (yes, that includes Oggie). We talked for a while and then I imposed myself on them and ended up staying 2 nights, leaving on Tuesday morning. Everyone worked Monday except Alex, so he and I talked philosophy and went climbing. Then we ate at Chris's restaurant for Greg's birthday. I can't thank you Pennsylvanias enough for the great time I had.
D) The Brighton Recreation Area in Brighton, MI. Here I learned what a mountain bike is really for. And let me say, mountain biking is HARD. After the first 2 winding, hilly, rocky, rooty miles, I considered turning back, but plodded on, and I was so glad I did. I ended up riding 15 miles that day, and it was the most fun and satisfying bike ride I've ever done. I fell once, because I took my eyes off the trail for 1 second to read the mile marker. And I smashed my knuckles on a tree. Totally worth it.
E) Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. As you can see, my route took me through very little of Indiana. But I did stop and camp there. And it's a good thing too, because I got a some free ice cream. The short story is, the lady in line behind me was being a bitch, and the clerk and I exchanged a knowing look about this, and I walked away with free ice cream.
Also, if you want to visit Chicago, and you like camping, go here. There is a train stop across the road and it takes you right into the city.
F) Chicago is awesome. I wasn't able to take advantage of the abovementioned train, because I couldn't take my bike with me. Instead, I parked in chi-town, and biked around, through Millenium Park, and then to a bakery that Rosemary told me to go to. I forgot the address in the car, and then it turned out the bakery had changed locations. This meant I had to bike all over the city asking people where to go, and wound up in a latino neighborhood, where I got great food, great thrift store t-shirts, and finally found a cassette tape player at Jalisco Discoteca Electronica. If I do become a bike courier, Chicago is now high on my list of places to do it.
G) Alexandria, MN. I slept here. Nothing more. But I should mention that Wisconsin (one of the few states in which I did not stop) is beautiful, and I'd like to do a very long bike trip there sometime.
H) I stopped for the day in Fargo, ND, mostly because of the Coen brothers' movie. It turned out to have a sweet downtown area where I ate and bought some panniers at a bikeshop employing all young hipster-ish females. James, it seemed just right for you.
That's enough for now. Look for (I) thru (O) tomorrow, hopefully accompanied by some pictures, which I started to take at (I) with my disposable camera.
Good night
My friend Anuj from work likes to remind me of this, and call me a hippie, so the title of this post is a tip of the hat to him, and to real trailblazers. I myself have never really blazed any trails (yet), but I did forge this route across the country. My thanks to google maps for this beauty:
(click on the picture to enlarge. or check out this more interactive version of the map.)
Here's what's what:
A) my starting location. Baltimore, MD.
B) Mike and Alison's house in Belmar, NJ. I spent 2 nights here to kick off my trip. Steve and Jana also came up and we took in one day of an AVP (pro volleyball) tournament, played plenty of v-ball ourselves, and enjoyed and/or mocked the local beach culture. Mike and Alison were fantastic hosts and showed us all a good time.
C) My Aunt/Uncle/Cousins' house in Horsham, PA. I called Greg Sunday at about 4 p.m. and asked to "stop by." When I arrived 2 hours later I was warmly greeted by everyone but Chris, who was working (yes, that includes Oggie). We talked for a while and then I imposed myself on them and ended up staying 2 nights, leaving on Tuesday morning. Everyone worked Monday except Alex, so he and I talked philosophy and went climbing. Then we ate at Chris's restaurant for Greg's birthday. I can't thank you Pennsylvanias enough for the great time I had.
D) The Brighton Recreation Area in Brighton, MI. Here I learned what a mountain bike is really for. And let me say, mountain biking is HARD. After the first 2 winding, hilly, rocky, rooty miles, I considered turning back, but plodded on, and I was so glad I did. I ended up riding 15 miles that day, and it was the most fun and satisfying bike ride I've ever done. I fell once, because I took my eyes off the trail for 1 second to read the mile marker. And I smashed my knuckles on a tree. Totally worth it.
E) Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. As you can see, my route took me through very little of Indiana. But I did stop and camp there. And it's a good thing too, because I got a some free ice cream. The short story is, the lady in line behind me was being a bitch, and the clerk and I exchanged a knowing look about this, and I walked away with free ice cream.
Also, if you want to visit Chicago, and you like camping, go here. There is a train stop across the road and it takes you right into the city.
F) Chicago is awesome. I wasn't able to take advantage of the abovementioned train, because I couldn't take my bike with me. Instead, I parked in chi-town, and biked around, through Millenium Park, and then to a bakery that Rosemary told me to go to. I forgot the address in the car, and then it turned out the bakery had changed locations. This meant I had to bike all over the city asking people where to go, and wound up in a latino neighborhood, where I got great food, great thrift store t-shirts, and finally found a cassette tape player at Jalisco Discoteca Electronica. If I do become a bike courier, Chicago is now high on my list of places to do it.
G) Alexandria, MN. I slept here. Nothing more. But I should mention that Wisconsin (one of the few states in which I did not stop) is beautiful, and I'd like to do a very long bike trip there sometime.
H) I stopped for the day in Fargo, ND, mostly because of the Coen brothers' movie. It turned out to have a sweet downtown area where I ate and bought some panniers at a bikeshop employing all young hipster-ish females. James, it seemed just right for you.
That's enough for now. Look for (I) thru (O) tomorrow, hopefully accompanied by some pictures, which I started to take at (I) with my disposable camera.
Good night
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