Thursday, August 24, 2006

Titans In Canada

Thursday August 24th, 2006

If the Greek Gods are in Washington, their forebears, the Titans, are certainly in Canada. Up here in the Canadian Rockies, they have redefined, at least for me, rugged beauty. Wow. I mean, the Olympics are tremendous, but Banff and Jasper are spectacular, wet, snowy, soaring, rocky, rugged wonderlands. But I will get back to that in a minute, as the last time we spoke I was in Seattle.

So I picked up Ryan at the airport, went back to Matt's and then we met up with Matt's brother Jason and his roommate Jeff, and went out for a night in West Seattle. Ryan's first words as he got in the car were, "I am not going to drink tonight" ... three hours later we are sitting at the Matador, an awesome bar with an undefined westerny theme, drinking large glasses of crater lake vodka on the rocks after having polished off several beers waiting for the late happy hour to start. On the way in Jeff spied some older girls (actually moms who had come out to their old stomping grounds to relive the past) and about an hour afterwards we found ourselves at a second bar, not as lively, that used to be a Chinese place but is now trying to become hip ... unfortunately they did not get rid of the Chinese themed wall paper or Chinese karaoke area, which no one is using.

The girls, Tracy and her sister, had joined us after stopping off in an alley to get stoned. We are all sitting around a table, talking about Tracie's germophobia, as she is trying to convince me that not shaking hands will prevent you from getting West Nile virus and bird flu ... as a side note, I stopped talking to her here as she realized that I did not agree with her obviously brilliant insights into public health ... when a tall blond walks straight up to Ryan (who is not really talking after the long island ice tea and his two crater lake vodkas)

"Are you with anyone?"

Ryan, "Uh, no."

"Then do you want to dance?"

And that was it, I only saw Ryan once more as he was leaving the bar with Shannon (I found out her name later). He called me at 0930 the next morning to let me know he was coming back to Matt's and we needed to get on the road, but the rest of the night had dragged on an we were exhausted. We got some coffee and fruit (I am a big fan of fresh huckleberries) and such at the local farmers market, then finally hit the road at noon, leaving my newly purchased thermarest mattress behind, something I will only realize at the border crossing, when I will have time to think ...

Getting up to Canada should have taken about 90 minutes, but we were slowed by an accident and only got there around 3:15. At the border, Ryan is worried because his passport always gets him pulled out of line on planes for "random" inspections, but we figure it is Canada so it will be fine. We pull up to the window, after some genius kids who go the wrong way and have to make a U-turn across the border, and start talking to the officer, telling him about the money we have on us, the whiskey in the trunk, pocket knives, etc ... We hand him our passports and this exchange occurs

"So where are you guys headed?" "Calgary. Well actually Banff." "Where are you from?"

"He's from San Diego and I am actually moving from San Diego to New York, and am taking a road trip to get there."

"Why are you going to New York?" "I have a job there, I am going to do AIDS research at Albert Einstein college of Medicine."

"And you have a place there?" "Not yet, but it is being arranged by the university, so the apartment will be read on September 10th."

"So you are moving from San Diego to New York to start a new job, eh?" "Yeah, by way of mos of the western United States.
Figured I would take some time and see all the beautiful parks and such."

"Okay guys, just pull on through and park your car right over there, then head into the office."

Confused, we do as instructed, afraid they think Ryan is a terrorist. It turns out that Ryan is not the problem at all. I am the problem, as I am a homeless, jobless vagrant with only 85$ to my name, as the credit cards I show them mean apparently nothing. As I have told them that I am currently without a home or a job, they have decided I have no ties to the US and may stay in Canada. My family and future, by the way, are not considered ties. I am asked to produce proof of my job in New York, or of my housing, which I cannot do. Who carries that stuff around? Who even prints it out anymore.

I tell them I could show them the email, but the email they have there is not for civilian use. To get the email I would have to drive back to a cyber cafe in the states, print it out and bring it back, at which point the current staff would be off duty and I would have to go through this again. I give them the number at Einstein, but its Sunday so they get no one. And despite a search of the car, after which one of the searching agents surreptitiously tells us he found, "good things (Ryan's itinerary showing we need to get back to the states for him to fly out)", they remain convinced I am a threat to national security. Finally, after sitting there for an hour, thoroughly explaining what post-doctoral work is, why I am going to New York and listening to them whisper about us, I ask if I can have them call my old boss, who knows my new boss and can confirm my story. Another conference allows them to do this, so I give them Howard's phone number and they call him and, although I am sure he was tempted to say he had never heard of me, he convinced them that I was actually a citizen in good standing and they let me into Canada, and even gave us passport stamps, although they would not take a picture with us.

So now it is 4:30 and we have to drive 550 miles to get to Banff. Its a long drive and the directions I printed from Google are not clear and we end up veering off at some point and driving much closer to the US border than intended. This would have been a problem but the roadway is like a park. The fabulous highway, which is really fun to drive in Matilda, veers through huge green mountains and around lakes and waterfalls, its great. At one point we enter what must be Canada's fruit country, as fruit stands dot the sides of the highway. We stop and get far to much fruit (1lb of apricots ... suspiciously still in lb even though we are in Canada ... was 39 cents Canadian), hit up a wrap stop (which astoundingly offers everything on the menu in vegetarian, ah those civilized Canadians) and drive past an incredibly long lake in the Okanagan Lakes area, which by the way is incredible. Lush and beautiful with all kinds of gorgeous little rental houses, boats, fishing, swimming ... gotta get back there. Finally, at 1230 or 0130 at night, not being sure if we crossed into the next time zone, we pull off at Golden and pass out in a motel in which we are to spend less than 9 hours.

We get up and head over to Lake Louise as soon as possible in the morning, going to the information station to learn that Petra, my ex-girlfriends sister who is randomly in Banff the same time I am, is in fact not in Lake Louise and that the hotel she is staying at simply has an address in Lake Louise. So we give up on finding Petra and go secure a campsite, crossing the Texas Gate (Canadian for cattle guard) into a wonderful campsite (free firewood, showers, and an electrified bear fence, not to mention all the hoary marmots you could ask for). We set up and head over to Lake Louise for a hike. The lake is breathtaking, so green it takes you breathe away, like it must have sucked the color out of the forests for miles around. It is actually a little disconcerting, the more you look at it, as the water is SO unnatural, but it turns out the color is from glaciers eroding the surrounding hillsides into the lake. Regardless, the lake, its chateau and the hike are spectacular.

We get up to the plain of 6 glaciers, about 4 miles and 1500' up, where we are very close to Victoria glacier, and can sit, after a bit of a scramble, in a glacial waterfall. The plain is a massive moraine, the rocks and dirt left as glaciers pass over, with 6 (thus the name) glaciers surrounding it. If you have never seen a glacier, and I had not, they are awesome. Massive sheets of white that look like permanently frozen waterfalls stuck to the sides of mountains. Incredible. There is also a fabulous tea house up there, where they helicopter in supplies every spring and make everything fresh each day. From the tea house we move on, climbing up a ridiculous switch back trail (1200' in about a mile) and then down to Lake Agnes, past a second tea house (apparently, back in the 1930's it was civilized to have high tea up here after getting hideously sweaty climbing up over 1000' feet in your finery) and finally down another 2 miles to the lake.

We stop by the town plaza on the way back, pick up some food for dinner and stop in a candy/ice cream shop, where a wonderful lady helps me find the hotel that Petra is staying at, so I can call her and arrange a meeting the next day. While this sounds easy, it took us about two hours to do so as I am unable to successfully use the Canadian phone system, cannot hold or read the coins I have a in desperation accidental call Petras boyfriends business partner in the Czech Republic at 5 am his time ... we get back to camp exhausted, make a quick meal of beans and cheese and pass out. Unfortunately for me the 6lbs of apricots that we got and I ate most of are not dealing with my stomach well, and I am awake most of the night ...
Still, we get up at 6 am and speed up to Petra's hotel along the icefields parkway, getting lost in the incredibly thick fog about 1 km from the hotel. Despite this, the fog is wonderful as the way it settles over the mountains, lakes and glaciers on the sides of the road is amazing.



We do eventually find Petra and Robik and have breakfast with them, which was great. We follow the Czechs from the hotel to Athabasca glacier, on the way to which they stop 8 or 9 times to take pictures by wandering out into the middle of the 2 lane freeway. We finally get to the Icefields visitor center and go out to walk on the glacier, which is a surreal experience, essentially indescribable, the best I can do is like hiking uphill on a giant frozen waterfall.

The Athabasca glacier is receding, but it is still only about 1.5 km from the highway and a small section is roped off for safe walking, the rest being dangerous because of crevasses, as we are informed by about 2 dozen signs on the 0.5 km walk to the glacier. We walk, slide, sway, and clamber 100 feet up the glacier, wave goodbye to Petra and Robik (could not actually hug them as I would have fallen over), take some pictures, watch the other tourists slide down into the mud and then return to the icefields center, to learn about the glacier, which is 70 stories deep at its deepest point, and the Columbia Icefield, the most important natural phenomenon that no one has ever heard of. Seriously, look it up, it provides fresh water for about a 1/3 of north America. Amazing.

The rest of the parkway is also spectacular, although at this point Ryan and I are so tired we actually have to stop to take 45 minute nap in a rest area. We saw a dozen glaciers, some that looked like birds feet, some that looked like hats on the mountains, some that looked like snow slides and step ladders, and all of which were amazing. The Icefields Parkway is almost certainly the most beautiful stretch of road I have ever witnessed, with dozens of massive, severely shaped mountains and pure blue lakes and waterfalls complementing the glaciers in the drive down this glacier carved valley. We stopped several more times for short hikes, saw the Sunwapta and Athabasca waterfalls (incredible falls from glacial run off, most notably just incredibly powerful, which massive amounts of water gush through small rocky canyons, the canyons were carved into odd an beautiful shapes that complemented the falls) and ended the day at Lake Moraine, another gorgeous blue green glacial lake in the Lake Louise area.

We finally get a good nights rest and pack up the next day to head to Banff, stopping on the way to hike out to lower Johnston falls. Beautiful, a scaffold running about 400 feet down on the side of a 500 foot tall granite wall, over a fast moving stream. Trees and mosses everywhere, all highlighted by the sound of the stream rushing over and past a number of boulders and small rapids and falls, ending in a cave so close to the 50 foot falls that the mist soaked your shirt and you could almost touch the waterfall. The only problem was the massive amount of people, many of whom had actually never been in the wilderness before, as attested to by the clacking sounds they made walking out to the falls in heels.
Moving on, in Banff we toured the cave that started Canada's first national park (Banff), check out some Hoodoos (not as cool as in Bryce canyon but still great) and generally appreciated this beautiful tourist trap. Moving on too late in the afternoon, we sped off to Calgary in order to take the fastest route to the border, only to find it impossible to get gas (the gas stations we stopped at would only be accessible from one side of the road and would only allow you to access the freeway via access roads) We also discovered that there were traffic lights on the freeway, which slowed us up quite a bit. By the time we got to Fort MacLeod (birthplace of the mounties), an hour from the US, it was too late to see the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump and no one could direct us to the to the Mountie monument, so we just got some fries at A&W, the ubiquitous Tim Hortons being absent, and got down to the border.

Returning to the US was no problem, they were only concerned about tropical fruits, and we crossed into Montana and headed south. However, as soon as we crossed, there was fresh snow all over the ground, where there had been none 50 feet northward across the border ... this, coupled with the flash flood warning that was in effect as we headed into glacier, convinced us that our time in Montana might be troublesome ... but more on that next time.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Northwestern Wonders

Saturday August 12th, 2006

This part of the country is so spectacular ... of course I am only finding this out as I am leaving it. What an idiot. Wow, the parks I have been to in the last week just blow me away. I cannot wait to show all of you my 500 pictures for the last 5 days (I mean, they are nice pictures, but 500? Maybe I am having a little diarrhetic camera thumb, I just cannot stop).
Matt got into San Francisco last Sunday, we saw the concert, Ska Cubano, at Stern Grove, which was so cool and even got in a practice hike as Dave, Matt, Ryan and myself trekked around through the park. Then back to Dave and Ems, dinner with them, drinks with Sikes and Carla, then to bed too late and up too early having drunk too much scotch. Matt and I got on the road around 745, after Matt spent 45 minutes cursing the mac operating system, and headed up to Lassen.

This drive is not so gorgeous, at least the first part, as we headed up past Sacrmento and into North Central cali. However, this was the first time that I really got to push Matilda (my Pontiac Vibe GT, who rocks), and she runs like an angel. Took me a while to figure out the 6 gears, but now we are humming ... we spend most of the ride looking for an In and Out, adding credence to my theory that In n' Out will be one of the things I miss the most when I leave, but never seem to find one. At around 1130, we arrive in Red Bluff, a tiny town just south of lassen, so small that Matt proclaims, "Funny things probably go on with parents and kids and stuff". Yeah, its a creepy little place, but we turn off just before 89 (the road into Lassen), and stop at a little eatery called 2 Buds Beans & BBQ.

Walking in Matt asks a walking piece of leather, I am assuming it was Bud, if there is an In n' Out in the area. "In and out, that's bullshit. Try my girls Tri-Tip!!" responds the cowhide, and then walks past his girl (assuming she was his daughter as she was maybe about 16 ... otherwise maybe Matt is right about the strange things that happen here) and grabs two pieces of meat of a rotating BBQ and thrusts them towards us. "Gowon now, try it." Hes right, its great and we get Tri-Tip sandwiches and beans for lunch. The girl, stops by our table later and prompts us to try the specialty of the house, homemade jerky. Its delicious, incredibly salty and spicy and so difficult to chew I assume it is made of wood. Six days later I am convinced it is laced with crack or some other highly addictive substance, because I cannot stop eating it.

The leather gives us directions to a grocery store, and we head off, stock up and get up to Lassen around 1330. By the time we get there we are both grinning like idiots, as the drive up 89 takes you through a massive pine forest and in the distance you can see mountains all around as you slowly climb up to around 6000 feet. The park itself is much like the surrounding forest, with the addition of numerous sulphur pits and other volcanic activity. We drive the road that meanders through, stopping at various viewpoints and trails. At the first stop, sulphur works, Matt tells me he thinks the earth farted, a description which I consider to be apt. A number of stops later we stop at Bumpass Hell, a 3.2 mile trail that takes you to the largest sulphur vents in the park. According to legend, KV Bumpass, a trail guide here in the 1860s, plunged his leg into a mud pot and severely burned himself, prompting a joke about how he made an early descent into hell. I saw the area he fell into and all I can say is people were tougher back then.

The hell is really cool. As you approach, a stream running off flows past, it is warm like bathtub water. The hell itself is series of large pools , churning and spewing off numerous foul smells, like a witches brew. The water at some points is actually bubbling like in a pasta pot, at others just discolored and beginning to boil. Small mudpots dot the area, bubbling and churning cement in the earth. There were some snowfields nearby, and I had picked up a snowball to take a picture with "A snowballs chance in hell" was to be the title, but the smoke in the area was so warm (as was my hand), that the snowball melted before I got there.

After the hell, which was a tough hike despite the distance due to the snow fields and elevation, we stopped at a number of spectacular viewpoints, taking in the scenery (forest, snowfalls, Lassen itself and surroundings) and seeing the area devastated by Lassen in 1915. We camped for the night at the north end of the park, cooked up fabulous chicken fajitas in tin foil(with chicken from 2 Buds), played some cribbage, drank some scotch (my bottle of Chivas probably is not going to make it out of Canada) and went to bed. On the way out the next day, we stop to see a final view and a car pulls up next to us.

"Whaddya see?" he says. "Lassen" we respond. He drives off disappointed. I don't get some people.

We head up north to Crater Lake along 89, stopping at too many construction sites (apparently the entire length of highway 89 is being repaired) and at Burney Falls. Roosevelt called Burney falls one of the wonders of the world, and I have to agree. Pumping 100 million gallons of water a day over the falls (a lot but far less than my estimate of 5 billion gallons), this waterfall is indescribable. Now I have a small fetish for waterfalls, but none-the-less. It starts with two large cataracts, like white and solid like streams of ice, falling 129 feet down off the river above. In addition, the walls of the canyon are covered with tiny rivulets of water, dripping down and variety of green mosses and roots and clay colors in the pool beneath, making the entire wall behind the main falls look like an organic damn about to burst. The falls are so powerful they spray mist 150 feet away, and the sun shinning down onto the pool makes a rainbow in the mist. Simply heavenly.

After losing my shit staring at this waterfall for half an hour, Matt reminds me we need to move and we hustle up 89, taking in incredible views of Mt. Shasta, which never quite emerges from its crown of clouds but is still impressive. We stop in Klamath Falls, get a huge sandwich and use the Internet in the public library and move up to Crater Lake. The anticipation grows here, as you enter the park a good 25 miles from the lake itself, so the whole time you are waiting to see it and speculating as you slowly climb up to the lake rim.

The lake itself is pretty unbelievable. Its approximately 4 x 6.5 miles of blue so brilliant it makes the sky look gray. In the caldera of an extinct volcano, the cliffs of red and gray rock surround the lake and tower over it by one to two thousand feet. To the side of the lake, the Wizard, a smaller, tree covered cinder cone, rises up 900 feet from the lake surface. Described as the gem of the cascades, it is a truly remarkable site, kind of a feast for the eyes. I take pictures but I cannot do the lake justice as it is simply too large and too remarkable for my meager photo skills to capture. I simply stare in wonder, awed and almost refreshed by its beauty. And by outside, as it is up around 7800 feet, so its windy and pretty cold, waking m up rather nicely. We check out the phantom ship, a 400,000 year old piece of lava that looks like a boat, and Matt gets excited at the Cloudcap overlook and goes bounding up the hill. At another stop Matt tells me to leave the car running, as he will be right back and then proceeds to get out, jump over the retaining wall and vanish down the slope.

After 10 minutes I am confused, I get out and look over the ledge and see Matt chatting up two girls about 100 feet down the slope. Amanda and Andrea, are on a trip up to Seattle. They are American and Swedish, cute and very cool, met in journalism school in Europe, and have a number of incredibly entertaining stories about their misadventures in the Old World. The four of us hit it off great, so we drive over to the watch tower, a fire station up on an 8,013 foot overlook, and trek up to the top. I should mention that Amanda is equipped with a gigantic camera and a will to use it, stopping Matt and myself at various points to say, "your green eyes match up with the green behind you, I must take a picture" and then proceeding to take 10 or 15 pictures. She makes me look very conservative with the camera.

The views from the watchman are great, as is the company, so we decide to camp out together. The girls hook up some beer and wine and desert, Matt and I make up some quesadillas and chicken fajitas using our fabulous tin foil oven technique, and we eat, drink and carouse. Desert was a special treat, as the girls made roasted bananas full of melted chocolate. Excellent. After dinner we sit by the campfire, drinking and indulging Amanda's curiosity about American sexual idiomology, covering everything from rim job (a particularly used term as we were on the rim of the lake all day) and snowball to dirty sanchez and the rusty trombone. Bronskying was a favorite. She returns the favor, teaching us Swedish terms like mumblepants, and Andrea proceeds expound on various German sexual terminology. We get to bed late, get up too early, check out the lake with the girls in the morning and head off. The lake is clear in the morning, even more blue than the day before, but without the ripples from the wind, and you can see tiny details of clouds reflected in the water. Spectacular.

Today is the day of driving, as we plan on covering about 600 miles. We cruise along 138, across I-5 at Roseburg and make it to Bandon on the coast at around 1300. We stop at Bandon dunes, an epic golf course that Matt compares to Mecca, at which point Matt runs around gawking like an idiot and licking the greens. Embarrassed, I pretend not to know him other than taking pictures, and after spending about 45 minutes checking out this picturesque gem of expensive landscaping, we head up the coast. For those of you who have not seen the Oregon coast, I am sorry. Its awe-inspiring. As 101 winds its way along, it rounds any number of incredible cliffs and massive rivers and bays, viewpoints, huge stone and steel bridges, cute seaside towns, gigantic sand dunes and beautiful forests, giving the drive an epic feel. If you stopped at every picture worthy spot you would travel about 50 miles a day. I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the coast, and ma firmly convinced that if the weather was a little less wet and a little warmer, Oregon would be the most populous state in the union.

We stopped at the sea lion cave, Bob Creek and up at three arches National Wildlife Refuge near Tillamook. By the time we got to three arches it was already 1915, and the sun was beginning to set, but after 8 hours in the car we were ready to move. We ran down to the beach, kicked off our shoes and ran around chasing the aerobie for about 45 minutes. It was incredibly windy so I think I maybe caught one or two throws of the hundreds made, but just running around on this beach was great none-the-less. The beach was wide and flat, with the titular arches, three massive rounded rocks, just off-shore.

After 45 minutes of running we stripped down and dove into the water, body surfing for about five minutes until blue started to predominate our coloration. We jogged around the beach for about 20 minutes to warm up, ignoring the stares and then hustled back to the car,dried off, and powered through to Portland where we spent the night at my step aunt Susan's house.
It was great, beautiful house in a great neighborhood, Susan actually made us dinner (coho salmon, awesome) and more impressively did not mind that we showed up an hour later than I predicted and called for directions 5 times. The next morning we took a short walk around the neighborhood, picked some blackberries, made up a massive omelet for brunch and took off. Just as we were leaving I mentioned this travel blog and Susan asked if I would send it to her. I asked her daughter, Amy, if she could show her mom Myspace, and the look I got when I mentioned that I had a Myspace account was priceless (Imagine a teenager, equal parts confused and horrified, kind of squinting, scrunching up her face, narrowing her eyes at you and saying "you do Myspace, but you're so old.")

From susans we drove to the Columbia Gorge National recreation area, to hike around Multonomah Falls, the most visited tourist destination in Oregon. The earth chose to conveniently place the Falls right next to the highway, so everyone could stop and gawk at the 620 feet of falling water. Multnomah is really not that impressive, as big waterfalls go, because of the low flow; it kind of looks like it is dribbling over the edge of the cliff. Having said that, it is still a beautiful sight, and I was thrilled at the hike, which I will now officially dub the epic waterfalls trail. We walk straight up a series of switchbacks, 1500' in 1.7 miles, walking along a river and stopping at a number of smaller falls along the way. You then traverse the ridge over the top of the falls, garnering yourself a fabulous walk through a number of fern groves and some great views of the Columbia river, before walking back down to the road past Fairy Falls and Wahkeenah Falls, both of which were spectacular, both for their beauty (Wahkeenah in particular was amazing, a three tiered powerful fall, it looks like a faucet shooting out from between two boulders, hitting a third and then stream out of a gap between the third and a fourth) and for their relative isolation, as they did not have the hordes of people standing around Multnomah. Altogether the 5.4 miler was great, seeing so many waterfalls and great views of the Columbia river as well as just having a perfect day for walking.

From the falls we made a beeline to Seattle, getting back to Matt's at around 1900. Bonnie, Matt's girlfriend, stopped by around 8 and we hung out until around midnight, eating burritos, looking at photos and generally shooting the shit. A word about Bonnie, what a fabulous girl, she just lights up a room with her smile and cracks you up with her sass at the same time. Being around her and Matt is great, they make a fabulous couple. It was like being with family.

Friday, Matt was golfing and Bonnie was working so I decided to entertain myself and take a hike in Olympic national park, which lies on the aptly named Olympic peninsula. I got up at the crack of dawn (read 0700) and drove over to the ferry terminal, then carted myself and Matilda across Puget Sound to Bainbridge Island. I had mapquested my route to Olympic the night before, and had deduced that the computer was an idiot, as it said my 188 mile trip would take 5 and a half hours. As it turns out the computer is not an idiot and is in fact prescient, as I did not arrive at Ozette, where my hike was starting, until 1300, making it a 5 and a half hour journey once I got off the ferry at 0830. I am not sure how the computer predicted the insane number of cars driving exactly the ridiculous 55 mph speed limit on major highways, the 45 minute hood canal bridge closure for maintenance, the wrong turn in Port Angeles, the incredible views of the Olympics and Lake Crescent that forced me off the road a dozen or so times, the 800 year old man who blocked off highway 112 with his 900 year old station wagon for half an hour or the oversize load tire hauler who insisted on driving fast enough for me not to pass him at any point on the 113.

It was a trying drive, or would have been, if I was not grinning like a pet monkey staring out the window at some of the most rugged, green, beautiful and remote looking mountains I had ever seen. Highway 101 takes you right past Lake Crescent through the edge of the park, and its tremendous, mountains looming over the highway, so close it seems like you can touch the peaks. So I was in a fine mood when I got to Ozette, on the western coast of the Olympics by Cape Alava, and my mood only improved as I walked along 3 miles of boardwalk through a temperate rain forest to the coast. The only rain forest in the continental US, the rain forests of Olympic are just like forests in California, only far more lush, with mosses everywhere and an incredible amount of grass, ferns and other, unidentifiable by me, green undergrowth.

The coast was even better, blue ocean, wide beaches, gorgeous weather, looking out on a shoreline dotted with gigantic rocks and rock islands, like God took handfuls of giant gravel and threw them at the ocean. During low tide many are connected to the mainland, but I was there near high tide so I could not get to almost any of them. The rock island at Cape Alava, cannonball island, the westernmost point in the contiguous US, was particularly impressive, a massive granite ball crowned with 20 or 30 fir trees.

I got to walk 3 miles along this coastline, saw a lot of coastal birds, some deer and some whales, climbed, scrambled, wadded and crawled my way over a number of massive boulders, washed up trees, drift wood and other obstacles along the way. At one point I literally had to climb a rope up about 120 feet and then use another series of ropes to climb back down. I think the best part about this hike was that, on this day, with perfect weather and ideal hiking conditions, i only saw 20 people in 5 hours. There were times on the beach where I could see no sign of human presence for over a mile. At one point I was so worried I would miss the trail back that I spent 20 minutes looking for footprints in the sand. Finally, because walking 3.1 miles dry sand and gravel is tough, I reached Sand Point, ate some of 2 Buds crack jerky, and turned and headed back through the rain forest to Matilda, and Seattle. I drove home through winding crazy roads and narrow passes faster than I think I have ever driven anywhere (that is what having a sporty, fun car and a BMW to race will do to you) and made it back to Bainbridge Island in less than 3 hours, but still missed the ferry, so I did not get back to Matt's until around 2230. Epically long day, I was so tired that driving back from the ferry my eyes were getting foggy. But so worth it.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Notes from the Golden State

Tuesday August 7th, 2006

So right now I am sitting in a public library in the beautiful but rather small town of Klamath falls, oregon, having just crossed the border from Cali. I have been out of SD for a week and a day and it feels like longer, much has occurred ...
So when I left San Diego last week it was ridiculously hot ... like Africa hot. At least I thought it was (really it was like 82 degrees with very high humidity, but as many of you know my car was without AC so for me it was like swimming to work everyday), but in Santa Clarita, when I bought 2 liters of water, 2 liters of Gatorade and an iced tea at the gas station, I found out that it terms of heat tolerance, I am the weakest of the weak.

The cute girl at the counter, "How ya doin?".

Me, "Thirsty. It has been unbelievably hot down in San Diego and was the same through LA."

Her, "Its been hot up here too but todays not too bad, it's only 97. Last week it was up around 116. Whats it like in San Diego?"

Me, " ...."

Yeah, I don't do heat, thus, the northern route, which I started on Monday. I finished my goodbyes on Monday and after lunch headed up to Palo Alto.

I HATE LA. Just Hate it. You would think for having as many cars as it has, LA would be full better drivers. No. It took me 3 hours to get from Anaheim to somewhere else not that far away, 4 hours total to get through. It was a mixed blessing though, as I got through the central valley at just around 630, so I only liquified in my car for about an hour and a half before the weather lowered itself to the conditions commonly found in south american marshes.

Got into Palo Alto about 11 pm, ate some blueberries, stood in cold water for about 20 minutes and went to bed. I was staying with my Dad and Peg from Tuesday to Friday, they have a really nice condo in the center of town. Spent the week getting ready for the trip; spent far too much money at REI, twice (my purchases included a spring action mosquito net for head coverage in Minnesota, I here the bugs are the size of eagles and can punch holes in thick plastic), moved a garage full of goldstamping equipment, retrieved my new car from car guy mike (got a 2004 Pontiac Vibe, named Matilda, who is fabulous, she is an absolute beast on the road) hung out with my dad and Peg a bunch (mostly eating, JJ&Fs is a fabulous market/deli), went up and hiked the long ridge trail on Skyline(beautiful, windy trail up off skyline boulevard that rewards a pleasant shady uphill with a great view of the Santa Cruz Mountains?) and generally bummed around. It was great.

The weekend was much more hectic, as I went up to SF to stay with Dave and Emily and visit with some other friends in the city. The weekend involved drinks on the pier (#23, did you know the pier numbers in SF go down from high evens to low evens, then up from low odds to high odds. I didn't either and it made finding pier 23 a lot more confusing), sushi, midditerranean food with triple aple nargila, someones birthday (at which I met the distributor for Han korean vodka, who maybe has the best job ever), brunch with Scotts in-laws (but not scott, which made things more interesting as did the fact that the brunch degenerated into scotch tasting around 2 in the afternoon ... may scotch tasting is not a degeneration after all, as it was pretty good scotch ... mmm, blue label), mexican and karaoke for Daves birthday, a cuban ska concert in the urban jungle known as stern grove, dinner at betelnut, a fabulous restaurant which is still not worth the wait and late night drinks with Carla and Dave (different Dave) at the sumptous Oak Room, which is apparently not as packed with folage as it used to be.

The weekend was a total blast, I got to hang out with everyone I wanted to see, Ryan came up for the concert, Dave gave us a fabulous tour of the city with his impressive tour guide skills, and I just love SF.

And yesterday morning Matt and I got up at the, well too early and took of for Mt. Lassen National Park, which was awesome and will be covered next time. Until then