Life's a Beach

Well it's been a little while since my last post, and I apologize for that. But, since I believe that very few people have endured my writing this summer, I will have not disappointed many peeps. But for the brave few who continue to read on, I thank you for your support!

Anyway, I'm currently in Moab, Utah, in a cool little cafe/second-hand bookstore on main street. Ready for some canoing! Actually, I messed up majorly. Ok, so the canoe trip launches August 1st right. For some reason I had believed that there were only 30 days in July, and so thought the trip was set to leave tomorrow instead of Friday. So I'm here a day early, with nothing much to do other than hang out and melt on the sidewalk cause it's so damn hot.

Ooooh, I also have another thing to mention that may make you question my status as an intelligent adult. While in California I went on an awesome wine tour in Amador County. The wine tours out here are very different from the ones back East. They give you as much wine as you want here. There's no $5 for 3 tastings or anything like that. You walk up to the bar (but for the love of God don't call it a bar or they will be on to you), ask for a glass, and drink away. Free of charge! Unless you want to try some of the premium wines (psssshhh). For all the wine lovers out there, if you have not come to California for a wine tasting: get off your ass.

But the point I am trying to make is that, having unlimited quantities of wine for tasting, for some reason, affects my judgment. I know, I don't get it either. So I start buying lots of bottles of wine. By the end, I have a baker's dozen of wine, and am feeling good about the world I live in. A good state of mind to be in.

Now that is not necessarily a bad thing; having lots of wine, that is. It can only be bad when you have nowhere to store said wine while driving through some of the hottest parts of the country. Wine does not like heat and dryness, two things you get a lot in Utah. If I went on the canoe trip and just left the wine in the car all week, the wine would certainly no longer win any Amador County gold ribbons, and most likely be undrinkable. Fuck me.

But I don't like flushing $200 down the toilet. I prefer to drink my money. There must be some way I can salvage the wine. Think outside the box.

Well it turned out it wasn't that hard to find a place. I just drove to the canoe outfitters whom we are renting the canoes from and asked one of the guys at the place if I could keep some wine here inside. Without even hesitating he said "yeah suuure bring it on in!". Haha it was almost like he had been in this exact situation before himself and was eager to complete his karmic duty of reciprocity. I've come across so many nice people on my trip. It's really uplifting I have to say.

So that's solved so I'm just hanging out waiting for the other to arrive tomorrow. I spent last night in Salt Lake City. Awwwwesome city. I explored the downtown area, and went to the Clark Planeterium and saw a laser-light dome show featuring U2 music. Salt Lake City is a nice place. Clean, wide streets, good public transportation, lots of parking (free parking, no less), lots of cozy cafes for the weary travelers out there. I wish I had more time to spend there to get the full experience.

Oh, I and spent last weekend up on the "lost coast" of the very northern part of California near Eureka and Crescent city. I went to Redwoods National Forest and saw the huge redwoods. The largest tree in the world is 380 feet tall... !!! The trees were so tall it was really hard to see the tops from the base of the trunks. You know how when you're on a very straight road and in the distance it looks like the two sides of the roads are converging on each other and eventually meet and disappear? Now change your perspective to vertical and think of trees and you'll know what it was like.

I'd been wanting to camp on a beach for a long time and finally had the opportunity at Gold Bluffs Beach in Redwood National Forest. Well, the campsite was actually on the beach exactly. It was on a site right next to the beach, which really pissed me off once I got there. 15 bucks and I don't even get to sleep on some sand? F that. I pitched my tent at the campsite and then grabbed the rest of my stuff and set up on the beach about a quarter mile from the campsite. I brought some goat cheese and some bread to snack on, and a bottle of wine, which I proceeded to drink the entirety of. Yeah it was an awesome night haha. I woke up the next morning with my face in the sand though. I guess I tossed and turned during the night.

So the past few days have been going by really fast. I'll be heading out on the canoe trip as I said on Friday where I will have no access to the internet, cell phones, society... ahhhhhh.

I've also uploaded more pics from Safan Ranch.

3 more weeks and I'll be back! I can't believe it!

Take care everyone.

Life at Safan Ranch

Hey y'all hope y'all is doin' jus' fine. I've spent the past week on the farm so I'm trying to speak like a farmer. Though, that is more of a southern thing I just did. You know what I mean. Shut up!

I don't even know where to begin in telling you what's going on here. So much has happened and the days have been go by so fast it's almost too much to organize into a flowing, coherent narrative. I'll just do some stream of consciousness writing, how's that?

First thing that comes to mind: I'm learning a hell of a lot. I started from scratch, almost, when it comes to gardening, so pretty much everything I've seen here has improved my knowledge on that front... what arugula leaves look like, what basil and sage plants look like, what are weeds in the garden and what non-vegetable producing plants keep the pests away. I know when a tomatillo is ripe and when to harvest all forms of squash. I've also picked up a lot of cooking tips from Steve, the head honcho here. He is a foodie and knows so much about how to cook good food it's insane. I plan on making some of my own ricotta cheese when I get back because of him, that's for sure. And it's not even that hard!

I've also learned about various animals. I know the various functions of having guinea fowl on a farm. I know what purpose chickens serve besides the obvious functions of eggs and meat. I know how to milk goats and what to feed pigs (everything!). I know the different calls of the various fowls and what they mean. Fascinating stuff. Seriously.

So it has been an informational binge, so to speak. It's also been really nice to be in one place for more than a few days. It's a rather large property here on Safan Ranch. I have my own trailer complete with a "bed" and a seating area.

I don't know how to describe this place. It's a farm/ranch, no doubt. There is a chicken coop, a couple of large gardens, a pig pen, pasture for the goats, etc. But it's also an art gallery, believe it or not. The head guy here Steve is really into art and lets artists come here and do whatever they please to the land. Especially urban artists (i.e. graffitists). All of the residential trailers on the property are completely covered in artsy-style graffiti. The barn is covered in graffiti. The house is covered in graffiti. Various wood sculptures are carved into trees. It's really cool. You'll have to see the pictures to know what I'm talking about. Unfortunately I can't upload them at the moment since there is limited bandwidth here on the ranch, but you'll see.

And also, I should say, there is much drama going on here. The two people who run the ranch have been a monogamous couple for the past 14 years, but have recently split up (within the past month, from what I hear). Apparently, from what I hear through the grapevine, the guy Steve started seeing this woman on the side without letting Angela (his official girlfriend/companion) know. It all was revealed at some point a month or so ago and it has been, more or less, chaos since. They bicker over everything, but it's mainly Angela who picks the fights it seems. But after finding out your partner of 14 years is suddenly seeing another woman, I can understand the frustration and even the visceral anger she seems to have for him. I can't even begin to fathom what she must be feeling towards him. 14 years is a long time.

So that story has been going on. There also has been some drama amongst the other WOOFers here. A WOOFer is a volunteer here at the farm, like myself. There are 4 or 5 of us here now, with people coming and going all the time. I'm getting along with everyone pretty well. I've been pretty quiet most of the time. I seem to talk very little when I'm in a new environment I've noticed. Brain overload from new things being learned? Who knows.

But anyway there has been some drama between Anna and Johnnie. Apparently they hooked up one night and it has been weird between them ever since. Sex tends to do that to people sometimes.

So yeah, it's been a very strange time here so far. I don't quite know how to categorize it yet. Or maybe I shouldn't. I feel the experience of living here is its own category.

I finally got the day off today and went on a wine tour! No, not in Napa or Sonoma. I went to a few of the wineries here in the area in Amador County. They've got some great wines here! Lots of excellent Zinfadels and Barberas that are harder to find on the east coast. I bought a case of wine from various places here so anyone who wants to try some I can hook you up.

I've got another week here and my thinking is that it should go extremely fast. Between my daily chores and the 10 hours of sleep I've been getting daily, I'll be out of here in no time! Ready for my canoe trip in Moab! Mooooooaaaaaabbbb!

Peace.

California Love

Well I finally made it. I'm here in California, and have been here for the last 2 days. A weird place, but not in a bad way.

I spent Friday evening in Hollywood and walked up and down the famous Boulevard. I haven't seen any of the blockbuster movies this summer yet so I decided what better place to see my first summer movie than Hollywood? At the Mann Chinese Theater no less. The theater was really cool, but smaller than I had imagined for some reason. And there was a whole bunch of people in costume outside the theater who you could take pictures with (for a small price, of course). I noticed that, since the 3rd movie, Spider Man had gotten a beer gut. There was also a crazy guy in a Jesus shirt telling everyone that they were going to hell, and a couple of monks in full-robe from who knows what religion/cult performing some strange chantings complemented with a stringed instrument I had never seen before. All under flashing neon lights.

Like I said, strange place.

But that was fun. After the movie I drove about an hour north up towards San Fran and slept in my car at a rest stop. The hotel prices in CA are INsane. $95 for a Motel 6. A MOTEL 6! Good god man. How about I sleep in your parking lot for free and pirate your Wi-Fi instead?? The non-chain hotels are even more expensive.

But anyway, I drove up the famous route 1 road along the coast yesterday. There were some great views and it was fun to drive around the tight corners overhanging the cliffs. That is, until, I came upon a roadblock an hour south of San Fran. The road was closed (and all the campsites along the road too) because of the wildfires raging here. The cop said that the fires reached all the way to the coast and had burned up some of the road along route 1. Damn. Not to mention all the homes destroyed, people displaced... some 50,000 acres of land destroyed the cop told me. It's hard to get my mind around a figure that large. Crazy crazy stuff.

But what that meant was that I had to go the way back the way I had just come. Route 1 is a rather isolated road with very few out-letting roads back to the main 101 highway a little ways inland. Great now I won't make it to San Fran this evening. I backtracked 4 miles and made a turn onto a road heading to highway 101. But because this part of the coast is basically a road sandwiched between the ocean and mountains, turning back inland meant that I had to climb through the mountains to get to the other side. The road was straight uphill, windy, and very very long. It was kinda cool, but the fact that I was being delayed detracted from my enjoyment somewhat.

Anyway, 4 hours later than I had expected, I had made it back to highway 101. By this time it was already dark. I slept in my car in the parking lot of a Sheraton hotel. Not a bad night's sleep actually. Today I drove through San Fran and am currently in Sacramento in a Greek cafe. The farm is not too far from here so I am going to spend the night here and drive to the farm in the morning. Yay!

I'll be at the farm for the next two weeks, with limited access to the internet, so I wanted to post before I go. I'll probably post again in the coming week, but who knows. It is a farm, after all.

Oh, and I may or may not have pierced a certain part of my head while in Hollywood.

Like I said, crazy place.

Peace!

Donation to Excess

This is how I think of Las Vegas.

People from all over the world come to donate their money to the casinos of Las Vegas. Donate, of course, is not the term used. Gamble is the more popular term. But it might as well be a donation. The house will always win, in the long run. It's a mathematical certainty. People, in effect are giving their money away. Instead of a warm feeling of having helped someone and a tax deduction, the return value of a Las Vegas donation is entertainment. Merriment. Gaeity. A jolly good time.

Of course, there are the lucky few who come to Vegas and who spurn the odds and revel in the mathematics of the short run, leaving the desert with more money than they had arrived with. A beautiful thing.

I was on my way to Las Vegas Thursday from Flagstaff, AZ. Vegas was only 5 hours away, and I thought since I was so close and I had time that I would stop by to see the sights. I'd been there before but there's way too much to do on just one visit.

But on my way, I realized my heart wasn't into it. I don't like to gamble, perhaps exactly because of my statistics background, and I was feeling tired. Walking on the strip with a whole bunch of crazies didn't seem so interesting at the time. But I was already half way there, and it was getting dark. Not much else around in the desert, and I didn't want to go back. What can I do?

It was then that I had an idea. An idea whose origin had two sources. The first was a story in the book Freakonomics. The author, Steven Leavitt, was invited by a close friend to go to a Chicago Bulls game one day. Not being a basketball fan, Leavitt wasn't really interested in going to the game since he had no interest in the outcome. But instead of turning his friend down, he came up with a scheme for altering his attitude. He proceeded to place a large bet on the game (that the Bulls would win I believe). Now he was very interested to see the outcome of the game, to say the least, and happily joined his friend. He didn't change his attitude toward the game itself, but rather his economic tie to it.

The second source was this story I heard about this guy from England who decided to sell everything he owned, including the clothes on his back, and place it all on one roulette bet. His entire life. Just one bet. Now that's balls.

These two stories floating in my head, I made a decision. I was going to place a large bet, just one, on a game of roulette. If I lost, I would continue on, pissed off at myself for doing such a stupid thing. But if I won, oooooo if I won, I would have myself an awesome night and stay in an expensive hotel room somewhere on the strip.

It worked. As soon as I made that decision I was really looking forward to Vegas. My attitude had changed. I wasn't dreading it as just another requisite stop on my tour of the West. I was looking forward to my bet. I put a lot thought into it. What was I going to bet on? Red or black?

In my pondering I looked over to the mountains and saw the sunset. The red sunset. Well, that was easy.

I got to Vegas around 9:30 PM. Lights, people, everywhere. The traffic was slow-going, but it didn't matter. There was plenty of brightly-lit, eye candy to gaze upon. Oooooo purty lights.

For one reason or another I decided to place my bet at the Paris casino. If I happen to lose, c'est la vie, hein? On my way to the casino floor, I realized I hadn't decided on the amount of my bet. $300 came to mind. Perfect. My heart was pumping.

I got my money from the ATM, and searched for my table. I found one that had an older couple laughing away. Seemed like the place to stop. I handed the dealer (?? do you still call the person doing the roulette machine a dealer or is there some other name) my $300 and asked for the chips. He started counting out $5 and $10 chips, but I stopped him, and asked him for the largest value chips I could get.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yep."

He handed me 3 $100 chips. Apparently for chips of this amount he had to inform his pit boss. I don't know why. $100 chips aren't really that large, are they? By Vegas standards anyways. Oh well. Protocol must be followed.

"Cashing 3 $100's at table 6!", the dealer-spinner person yelled. The pit boss looked at me for a fraction of a second, and then back to the dealer. He nodded. The older couple didn't say anything, too busy planning their betting scheme for the next play.

I shuffled the chips on red. My heart was racing a bit. I felt the thrill. Thrill is just a hybrid of excitement and stupidity, I remember thinking. What the hell was I doing??

Too late, the ball was already spinning. My heart was drag-racing now. Man, how could that one guy place his whole life on one bet?? I'm only betting $300 and I'm shaking. RED! REEEED!!!

At this point the older couple noticed my bet. They seemed more worried than excited for me. But they joined in with me: "Come on red!! Let's go reeeed here we go now!" Even the dealer joined in. It was cool.

The ball started searching for its resting place. It was very undecisive. It kept on jumping in and out. For those few seconds everything going on around me didn't matter at all. My complete focus was on that little fucking ball. Stop already!!

And then it fell...

Even though I was watching it intently, I didn't where the ball landed. From my vantage point, there was a blind area on the roulette wheel (the area that was closest to my body). It was until the dealer shouted it out that I knew...

"RED 36!!!"

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

There was shouting. Fist-pumping. High-fiving of older people who didn't quite know how to high five. AT THE SAME TIME.

Heeeeellllllsss YEAAAAHHH!!! I'm sleeping on the strip toooniiiight! I'm sleeping on the strip tooooniiiiight!!!

The dealer dropped another three $100 chips next to mine and gave a soft "Congratulations, sir." I immediately swept them up and headed to the cashier to get my hard-earned money. Haha. Hard-earned my ass.

So I decided to treat myself. I walked the strip a bit and decided on the Bellagio as my resting place for the night. $200 per night. "Do you have anything more fancy?" I asked, hoping to blow my entire $300 in one shot. Turns out, believe it or not, they do. I know, who would have guessed right? And if you're willing to spend $800 a night, you can find out exactly how fancy those rooms are.

"I'll take the $200 room, thanks."

The room still was the best room I've ever stayed in. Marriott corporate rooms eat your heart out. After dropping off my stuff in the room I started walking the strip. What a beeeeeeaaaauuutiful night!!!!! Hi there illegal Mexican workers handing out fliers for prostitutes! No I don't want one but thanks have a great night!

Awesome night. The next day I treated myself to the AMAZING lunch buffet they have at the Bellagio. Seriously, that was some of the best food I've ever had in my life. Mmmmmmmmm.

I've thought a lot about what would have happened if I had lost that bet. It's hard to imagine, really. Since I did win, I look at the bet in a very positive way: yeah, well, even if I had lost the money I would have been ok with it because I took a chance and that took a lot of chutzpah and it's only money. Most likely though, I would have been incredibly mad with myself for doing something so stupid and would have been sleeping in my car the rest of the trip. Fuck Vegas, and everything that glows for that matter, my motto would have been.

Such is the way of things. There are not always diametrically opposed potential outcomes, but choice and consequence are always multi-faceted, under the rule of chance. To quote from one of my favorite books:

"If our method of reasoning is to reflect life, it needs to embrace uncertainty, since that, above all else, is our lot."

Choice is the enactment. Our response is the consummation.

Viva Las Vegas.

The Misadventures of Chris: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Trailhead to Toe

Mooooore downhill. God what was I thinking? I could be resting right now. No no no, that is exactly why you are doing this, to push yourself beyond what you normally would do. To find out something new. To engage your own mind at its extreme… yeah, sounds all well and good but, in the moment, the extreme sucks.

But the point is I carried on. Before I knew it I was a couple miles away from the campsite anyway, so it wouldn’t make much sense to turn back anyway. Keep rollin’, rollin’ rollin’…

Now my feet were killing me. The blisters were really hurting me now, my right foot particularly bad. I didn’t want to take off my shoes and socks and let them dry though. I didn’t have the time, and plus I thought that if I stopped and sat down for awhile, my muscles would freeze up and that would be it.

So I continue on. I hit a particularly steep downhill section, and occasionally found myself trotting down the trail because of my downward momentum. Down and down I go and in the distance… what’s that? The sky? It looks blue. Is there a big dropoff? As I got closer and closer, my perspective changed but still I couldn’t make out what it was. It was only when I practically was there that I realized it was, in fact, a lake. I walked down to the edge, curious. The path just seemed to stop at the water’s edge. I looked around for any possible alternative route. None. I checked the map. Wait there’s not supposed to be a…

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK!!!!

I lost it. I yelled out FUCK several times. I told the lake to go fuck itself. Threw rocks and sticks in it. And just shouted out other nonsensical vocalizations. Somehow I had gone off the path… but how? I kept following the same path from the campsite? There were no turns, were there??

Knowing that I probably was not being asked by the powers that be at Smoky Mountain Park to swim through the lake, I began backtracking. Not just backtracking. Backtrackin uphill. It was steep. I was tired. Stupid gravity. Damn you relentless laws of physics.

I looked from left to right to see if there were any other paths. I eventually came across what looked like a path to my right. It was narrow, but definitely a path. I looked around for a sign, and finally found one, its visual path blocked by a tree. When I hike I mostly look down at what’s in front of me so that I won’t trip or roll my ankle. In doing so, I missed the sign and continued on. But it bothered me… you have to turn to stay on the correct trail?? What the hell is that about?? Bah!

The only good news was that I had gone only a mile, maybe a mile and half out of the way. Add up both ways and that’s 2 to 3 miles. Bad, yes, but if could have been much worse considering the state I was in.

So I turn onto the trail to stay on the trail I was already on, and soon after see another sign saying that I was only 2.6 miles from the trailhead. I remember reading that sign and feeling rejuvenated. I was going to do it. 2.6 miles is nothing. An hour maybe. The happiness from seeing that sign would surely be enough fuel for me to finish the hike alive.

Not a few steps from the sign and I hear a clap of thunder. Then another. Several in succession. The clouds were doing their own version of Stomp. It was really dark out now, and the wind was picking up. Shit. I put down my pack to begin my waterproofing process. I read that it did rain a lot in the Smokies, especially at the peaks, so I made sure to bring a poncho with me. The backpack I had came with a waterproof cover that could be wrapped around it as well. If it rained, it would be an inconvenience for sure, but I could manage.

But as if I put my pack down on the rain button, it started pouring as soon as it touched the ground. Not just pouring. It was torrential. The kind of rain where you can’t see but a few feet in front of you. I scrambled through the pack to find the poncho. Where the hell is it??? I reached down, grabbing for anything that felt rubbery. My cooking pot fell out onto the ground. Shit! I found the poncho and put in on, and then stuffed the pot back in, it’s handle now sticking out from the top. Reaching around in my bag, I had shifted items from their carefully packaged positions, and now the pot didn’t fit into the puzzle anymore. Fuck it, it’s just the handle. I quickly covered my pack as well in its waterproof layer, but it was already soaked. Lovely.

When I was waterproofed I stood up, and looked around me for a little bit. It was a really cool setting actually. From a distance, the torrential rain looked like mist instead of water, and so it looked like the woods were foggy and mysterious. I thought wow this is awesome. This is nature, man.

That feeling of communion with nature lasted about 5 seconds. It was before I realized that I had to hike in this. I was still going downhill, and the rain had turned the trail into rivers. The trail was no longer solid, and my feet stuck in the ground a little bit, making each step that much more difficult. And my feet, oh god my feet, were screaming in pain. The fresh water felt like acid for some reason. As I was walking I felt one of my blisters burst on the second toe of my right foot, and it began throbbing in unbelievable pain. Jeez I didn’t know blisters could hurt that much. The next few steps were agonizing, but I didn’t care. I had to continue. How could I stop now? In the middle of the trail in the rain I’d set up a tent and call it a night?

The rain had no plans to stop. My face turned into a permanent grimace. The pain in my foot, though still potent, eventually faded as my body grew used to it. My pace had considerably slowed, so I had no idea how long it was going to take. In my condition I lost track of how long I had been walking and what pace I was on, so I had no idea how long I had hiked since the last sign. I could only hope for the best.

After about 10 hours according to my compromised perception, I saw a sign that said it was only .7 miles to the trailhead. FINALLY. FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY!! .7 miles even in the rain, even with my blisters, even with my fatigue, was going to be easy. My spirit was lifted by the knowledge that this was soon going to be over.

I started to chuckle. Then it became a laugh, then an outright explosion of joy. I hunched over, hands on knees, cause the laughing was hurting my already sore back, but I continued anyway. I was incredibly happy. I didn’t think of how stupid I was, or how this situation, for the most part, was my own doing and that I should go in for a CAT scan upon my return. I was just happy that it was almost over.

I pulled myself together and marched onward, almost having forgotten the pain in my right foot. I came to the tunnel at the beginning of the trail and was finally sheltered from the rain. By the time I reached the opposite end of the tunnel the rain had stopped. Thanks a lot mother nature, a little late aren’t we? Oh well at least I’ll be able to change into some dry clothes when I get back to my car.

My car! I was never so happy to see my lil’ Ford Focus. I heaved myself against the side of the car and breathed a deep breath. I threw my backpack down as to blame it for my pain and searched my car for some dry clothes. I stripped down right there in the open. There probably was no one around the parking lot, but I wouldn’t have cared if there was. I put on some dry clothes and felt 1000% better. Then I took my shoes off and got a look and the tragedy I forced upon them. I don’t think I should really go into details, but I do have pictures if you really are that interested to know. Yeah you heard me, I took pictures. This needed to be recorded.

After I was fully clothed I started out to the nearest hotel. There had to be one somewhere close. I know I saw a few in Bryson City (the town closest to the trailhead). There was probably one cheap there… whoa!

eeerrRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Slammed on the breaks. What the…?

Turkeys! There were wild turkeys blocking the road. Two of them. Unaffected by the noise of my breaks, they slowly turned their floppy heads towards me and proceeded to… do absolutely nothing! They weren’t moving, at all. AT ALL. I inched closer. Nothing. I honked a few times. Nothing.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

But instead of being mad, I had to laugh. This wasn’t so bad compared to what happened to me earlier. I’m in my car. I’ve got a Gatorade. The air-conditioning is on. Soon I was going to be sleeping in a soft bed. All the things I usually take for granted came rushing to my mind as if they were luxuries, instead of daily expectations.

After a few minutes they decided to attend to whatever turkeys do while not on paved roads. As I drove by I gave their backsides the finger... in retrospect, I agree, very immature. They were just being turkeys after all. I was just being human.

I eventually did make it to a hotel and eventually fell asleep. It was a long day. Almost 21 miles over 10 hours with wet feet. It’s a few weeks after the fact now, and my right foot still has not fully recovered.

So was it worth it? Did I find what I was looking for? Tough to say. But it does make for a good story, and that is certainly worth something.

Some Firepower

This was the sparkler bomb we made on the advice from the pyro-head who was at the fireworks stand. It was maybe a 100 or so sparklers bundled together very tightly with climber's tape, which made it look like a stick of dynamite. It did not let us down. Thanks, crazy pyro-guy!



(Yes the fire was put out successfully)

Too Much Ain't Enough

You said it, Mr. Petty. Though sometimes it's hard to actually write about it all.

Currently I am in an international youth hostel in Flagstaff, AZ hanging out with some funny people from all over. This is an awesome town. I've only been here since this afternoon but I'm getting such a good vibe. I'm going to hang here for part of tomorrow and then head to the Grand Canyon. It's so close I just can't pass it up, now can I?

Before coming out here I went on an AMAZING excursion to Northwest Arkansas with my friend Lauren and her hubby Ryan. We left the Thursday before the 4th and didn't get back until the following Monday. So much happened I will lose feeling my fingers if I typed it all out but highlights include:

-Meeting some random lady while rock climbing in Tulsa and her subsequent offer to let us stay at the house she was watching over for someone she also did not know

-Jumping on the Indiana-Jones-esque bridge at Horshoe Canyon Ranch

-Discovering the coolest tree swing ever while frolfing at the ranch

-Putting on our own fireworks show with only minimal fires resulting

-My first real climbing experience!

-Dropping 30 feet into a "wet" cave and the exploration that ensued

-Being confronted by the police of Eureka Springs while attempting to sleep in car after a night of heavy drinking

-Canoeing with the puppies!

And I probably missed some stuff too but man it was action-packed. Whew.

I just posted the second chapter of my three chapter saga about my solo hiking trip in the Smokies. It's even longer than the first. Good lord. The 3rd chapter is almost done too!

And I just found out that the farm people would now like me to arrive on Monday, July 14th instead of this Saturday the 12th. So that gives me a few extra days to play with. Dare I stop by Vegas on my way to California??? Hmmmm. Maybe.

But in any case, I'll be driving around southern California on my way up north the farm. Where I'm going I haven't figured out yet. I'm starting to feel a bit fatigued being on the go all the time so I'm thinking a few days at the beach would be nice. Yeaaaaahh I think I just hit the nail on the head there.

Hope y'all had an awesome 4th of July weekend!

Keep it copacetic.

The Misadventures of Chris: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Difficulty Level Strenuous

So I pack everything up and start heading out. It was a pretty easy-going, pain-free hike to the campsite. It was 7 miles, but relatively flat and at a low altitude. At the beginning of the trail is a tunnel about a quarter-mile long. It’s completely covered in graffiti on the inside, and at the mid-point, you can’t even see the ground you’re walking on. The only light is coming from either end of the tunnel; the only proof that your eyes are indeed open. A little unnerving, but pretty cool.

I arrived at the campsite feeling great. It took me only a little over 2 hours to hike the seven miles, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Not even tired at all. Ready for more! Plus, the campsite was empty. I was completely secluded. I know my mom wouldn’t like to hear that I was at least seven miles from anyone, but it was what I was seeking. If anything went wrong, hey, I had Bandaids. I’m coo I’m coo.

I started to set up camp. I grouped all the food and toiletries together that I would have to put in the bear bag. I pitched the tent by the stream so I would have the white noise of flowing water all night. I took out the water filter, the stove sack, and… wait, what’s that? I felt something odd in the stove sack. Huh? I opened up the sack and… ahhh ha! The lighter! Yes. I forgot I had put it in with stove when I was stuck on the road in the mountains! How smart of me to do that! And then I thought, how equally dumb of me to forget. No matter! I was going to have a campfire and a warm dinner! Come on baby light my fire.

After some tasty Beefaroni I filled up my water bottles and decided it was time for bed. It was only 8:30, but I was beat. The campfire would have to wait for tomorrow. I fell asleep almost right away, though I kept waking up during the night. Camping in such seclusion makes me paranoid about every noise I hear. A leaf rustling, a branch falling; these noises normally are quite benign but in the wilderness could mean that you have some undesirable mammalian company. Of course it’s unlikely that any animal will take any interest in you if you take the necessary precautions, but without somebody near me I always get a wee bit jittery. After a few minutes I pull myself back together and go back to sleep. I used the book I brought with me as a pillow.

I woke up around 8 AM the next morning. Ahhhhhhhh what a beautiful day. I took down the tent and hung it out to dry, and started eating breakfast: a banana and some trail mix. After the tent dried out, I packed everything up and headed out at about 9:30 AM. I was to follow the White Oak Trail for about 4 miles and hook up with the next trail. The trail was entirely uphill, so I was in for a tough day from the outset. Bring it on. I’ve got plenty of fat to burn.

What the map didn’t mention was the number of stream crossings along the trail. I’m not talking about the kind of crossing with a trickling of water generously sprinkled with large stepping rocks. No these streams were ten to fifteen wide at least, with flowing water a foot deep. Not the Mississippi for sure, but deep enough to completely soak your feet. Hiking a long way in wet socks and shoes is definitely not a good thing. It makes your skin softer and prone to blisters and tears. It was something that I did not want to deal with, so I took my time crossing the waters.

The first stream came. Maybe ten feet or so wide. A decent amount of rocks. I scanned the crossing for suitable rocks and chose my path. I took my time and crossed the water with relative ease. No close calls. The second stream was no different, though at one point the weight of my pack shifted and almost lost my balance, but I quickly recovered.

Then came the third stream. This one looked menacing. There were lots of rocks, but they were smallish and were all wet from the gushing water. Just be careful and you’ll be ok. I stepped onto the first rock and planted all my weight. No slippage. I moved onto the second, and third, no problems. When I was a couple rocks from the edge, I tempted fate by stepping on a particularly curvy rock, mainly chosen because of it’s proximity rather than on its merits of stability. I put my right foot down and pressed with as much weight as I could from my current rock. No slippage. So I made the transfer of my entire weight…

SHIIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!!

My right foot slipped to the right of the rock and into the foot-deep water. The fell into a partial split, forcing my left foot outward, off it’s rock, and into the water that had just said hello my right foot.

AHHHHHHH IT’S COLD IT’S COLD IT’S COOOOOOOOLD!!

I scrambled to the shore, only a few feet from me at the time. Damn. Both my feet were completely soaked. Not good. I could change my socks but my shoes were soaked all the way through and any replacement socks would be drenched in no time. Not even a half hour into the hike and my feet are wet. Should be an interesting day.

A few minutes later, I realized that I was not hiking uphill as much as I thought I would. Odd, I thought. According to the map I should be going uphill at a pretty steady pace by this point… wait a second, am I on the right path? The campsite was right at the junction of two trails: the White Oak Trail, and the Forney Creek Trail. The White Oak was what I wanted, and the Forney Creek went in the complete opposite direction. Doubt crept in. Did I take the wrong trail?? I hadn’t checked before I left for some reason if I was on the right trail. Why wouldn’t I check? I’m not that dumb, am I? Instinct told me I couldn’t have been that dumb, but the need of my logical mind to verify was haunting my every step. I walked for a few more minutes. Still no steep incline. After about a mile, I decided to turn around and head back to camp. This of course meant that I had to cross stream number 3 again…

Ok ok, this time I’ll be extra careful. As I was walking I felt my shoes drying out a little bit and so I thought it prudent not to try to get them wet again. I stepped on the first rock, then to the second, then…

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTT!!!

This time I said “Shit!” out loud. This time I really lost my balance and had to put my hands out to catch myself from completely falling in the stream. My hand plunged themselves into what I’m sure liquid nitrogen must feel like. How can water be this cold??? I propped myself up, shaking my hands violently, trying in vain to shake off the feeling of cold. I added another “Shit!” for good measure and trudged back to dry land, defeated again by stream number 3.

I eventually made it back to camp and searched for any trail markers. I found a sign a few hundred yards before the campsite. As I approached it, dormant brain cells began activating in the memory section of my brain. Why is this all so familiar… why… and then I saw the sign and…

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!!!

Now I know why I didn’t check my direction before I originally left the campsite. The sign indicated that the Forney Creek Trail was to the right, the White Oak Trail to the left, which led to the campsite. The campsite was already on the White Oak Trail, so I was most definitely on the right trail.

My theory is that my brain stored this information in the “no need to think about anymore” section of my memory, along with such memories as where I keep my ball point pens. The information stored was so obvious and superficial that it would no longer need to be accessed. My brain compressed the files and stored them out of sight to make room for more data. The only time this data can be activated is with current streaming visual data. It’s the kind of thing where once you find something that was lost, and suddenly the whole story of its location and why you put it there comes back in a flash. Ohhhhhhh yeah! Now I remember. Why your mind couldn’t access that information when it would have been more useful before you started looking under couches and seat cushions for your keys is a question we may never answer. Such is the mind. Err, mine, at least. But I digress.

At the pace I was going, I estimate that I had gone out a good mile. That mile plus the mile backtracking meant that I had traveled two miles and was back at point zero. And on top of that, my feet were damp. Not a good start of the day. But again, I was trying to be positive. Ok, it’s still early and I have plenty of time to get to the camp. I always plan things so that there is a lot of built-in dead time, in case things go wrong. So, in a sense, this could be part of the plan, right? Instead of dead time, it’s an extra 2 miles I can use to enjoy nature. Right.

So I started out from the campsite for the second time, which meant… I would have to cross stream number 3 again. I think it’s a fair statement to say that you’re officially in touch with nature when you become competitive with a stream. “I’m going to cross you this time! I’ve got a look at you twice now, and know which rocks to avoid!” It was a moot point though. My feet were already wet. I could walk across, sparing myself the time and the trouble of crossing via rock. But I already decided that I had to beat it. I had to cross it. It was a matter of pride now. I know I can do this.

So I planned my route, one clearly superior to my first. How had I not seen it before? First rock, second rock, no problem. I’ve got this. Third rock… whoooaaaa. I wobbled a bit but regained my balance. Not this time, you bastard. Confident, I stepped to the fourth…

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT BALLS!!!

I added the “Balls” part this time, I think because I had already yelled “Shit” a few times and the word was losing its power as an anger ventilation mechanism. Rock four was not the culprit, but rather the false trust I placed in rock three. It was fine for support when standing still, but when I shifted my weight to go the next rock, my right foot slipped backwards into the familiarly frigid water, which then caused my left foot to miss its intended target as well. I struggled quickly to regain a semblance of balance and again walked defeated to the opposite side. I looked back at the stream for a bit, wondering if the stream was that hard to cross or if had just gotten in my head. Either way, I was 0 for 3. I considered walking back through the water to other side and attempt another crossing. But what was I trying to prove anyway? And to whom? My pride needed to be reminded who was in charge. I shook my head and moved on, squishing my way up the trail.

So onward up the trail I tread. At first, not so bad. A bit of slight uphill here, a stream crossing there. Ooo ooo, there’s an awesome looking centipede. . About 20 minutes after stream number 3, the real uphill started. It was ridiculous. Not only was it steep, but this uphill climb was 4 miles long… 4 MILES. UPHILL. NO STOPPING. To be fair to the trail, I knew this was coming. I had a map of the trail loop I was doing complete with detailed specs of the elevation changes on the trail. But still, those were words, this was real. I was dying. It was a hot day too, and a couple miles into the uphill hike I was completely soaked in sweat.

2 miles… 3 miles… 4 miles… when was it going to end? That’s when the doubt came. Doubt if I was going to be able to finish. Doubt as to my reasons for going on this trip. Why was I doing this anyway? What am I trying to do here anyways? Torture? Clearly this is not a “fun” activity. Or is it? The closer I got to the top, the more I started feeling better about myself. I was doing this difficult trek. There was no debate about it. There was no alternative explanation as to how I reached the point I was at other than my choice to do so and my willingness to continue. There was a certain visceral clarity in what I was doing. I embraced this thought of the mind and transformed it into motivation of the body. Difficult? Yeah. Painful? Somewhat? Possible? Absolutely. The question of why (perhaps the question most readers are thinking right now), I realized, in the moment, is irrelevant.

The top. FINALLY. It’s about time. I rewarded myself with a peanut butter sandwich and a banana. I wasn’t very hungry, and had to force down the sandwich, because I knew I had to be burning an amazing amount of calories. It took me at least two hours to hike those 4 miles uphill. I’m not sure if that is a good pace or not, but I was definitely going fast in my own mind. I felt like I had accomplished something.

The top of the ridge wasn’t very exciting. The Smokies are almost completely tree-covered, even at its summits. This summit was no different, and there weren’t any picturesque views for me to gaze and reflect on. Oh well. I got all of my pictures last week with Brad and Louise.

The worst part about the top had to be the trail itself. As I said before, this trail was pretty isolated and difficult to reach. This isolation combined with the fact that not many people hike the trail at all meant that the trail was overgrown and, at several points, blocked by fallen trees. I constantly had to make sure that I was on the trail so that I wouldn’t go off the map. Grasses and plants leaned over from the sides to taste the sunlight that poked through to the trail. At one point I had to go through a field of thorny bushes (I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and shorts). That was awesome. I also had to walk through a lot of areas with really tall grass, perfect breeding grounds for ticks. At the time I thought there was NO way I was walking out of this park without those alien-like creatures. Man those things are ugly and revolting. They remind of those things in the movie Alien that infect the host human bodies. You know, the things with the circular bodies and legs all around? Anyone know what I’m talking about?

Anyway, the trail continued at a more or less flat level for about another 4 miles. There was some uphill, and some downhill, but nothing drastic enough to bemoan about. There was also a nice breeze at times, which felt great on my sweat drenched face. I heard a clap of thunder in the distance, but the sky was mostly free of clouds and the sun still shining down on me, so I didn’t think anything of it.

Then came the downhill… Ugh. I hate the downhill part. Whereas hiking uphill is strenuous but for the most part pain-free, downhill hiking, for me, is just excruciating. I guess it’s just the way my body is built or maybe just the inherent weakness in my joints, but just a few minutes into the downhill and my knees are feeling it. At first, just a slight twinge, but after a couple miles, every step is painful. My feet were also starting to hurt me at this point. I could feel I already had a few blisters on my right foot, and a few were in the development stages on my left. Frickin’ stream number 3.

But the campsite was not that far after the downhill started, about 2 miles. I eventually reached my intended campsite tired and achy, but still in one piece. Ahhhhhh. And wow I finished the hike so early! It was only 3:30 PM when I finished the hike. I was a man on a mission. Having no one to talk to really speeds up your hiking pace, even if you don’t notice.

So I took of my pack and sat on a log by a previously used firepit and breathed a sigh of relief. That’s when the thought I occurred to me: Hey, I’ve only got 6 miles left. I could finish that in a couple of hours and be out of here by 6 PM. Wouldn’t that be cool? The hike is described as strenuous, and recommends making it a three day hike. What if I did it in two? And not just in 2 days, but 7 miles the first, and 17 miles the second??

I had never hiked that distance before in one day. What would it feel like? What kind of stuff was I made of when I pushed myself? I wanted to find out.

With firm resolve, I picked up my pack and started walking the trail again. So stupid. My feet were hurting, my knees were hurting, and I was running low on water. And remember that clap of thunder when I was on top of the ridge? I had heard several others since, and the sky was getting grayer. But my judgment of my idiocy was not even close to its true magnificence, as I would soon discover...

[to be continued...]

The Misadventures of Chris: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: On the Way

written Friday, June 27th

For one reason or another, I had decided that I had not had enough camping the previous weekend with Louise and Brad and decided to go on a solo camping trip. I think it had to do with the fact that I have a lot of free time to kill, but also because I am looking for some adventure. Don’t get me wrong, the last camping trip was awesome and certainly not what I would call easy. But I wanted something more challenging, both mentally and physically. Even with that expectation, it turned out that I had no idea what I was to be in for.

Still being so close to the Smokies, with its abundance of natural beauty and difficult hiking trails, I figured I should head back there. It’s about 750 square miles in size, so there was still a ton to see even after spending 3 and half days in the area the previous weekend. The only bad part would be that I would have to drive through Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg again. No matter. Every rose has its thorn.

I decided on the Lakeshore Trail Loop, a 23.8 mile hike labeled by the National Park as “strenuous”. I assumed that, since the last trail I hike with Louise and Brad was labeled as strenuous and was not all that bad, this trail would be of a similar vein; difficult, but not insanely so. Perfect.

Now, they say when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me. Since it was just me on this trip, it would be more accurate to say I made an ass out of me and myself. That’s a double wammy, and it certainly bore out as the events of the trip unfolded. But of course I didn’t know that at the time…

It was to be a three day, two night backcountry camping trip. On the first day, I planned to drive to the trailhead, hike 7 miles to my campsite, and get plenty of sleep for the day to follow. The second day would be the most difficult: an 11 mile hike, a large portion of it uphill, to the second campsite. The final day would be a 6 mile hike back to my car and civilization, where I would more fully appreciate the wonders and comforts therein. Awesome. I’m such a great planner.

The last time I drove to the Park it was a three hour drive. Now, where I was headed, the trailhead for the Lakeshore Trail Loop, is on the very southern part of the park, and actually is in North Carolina, not Tennessee. Coming from the North, this meant that I had to drive through the entirety of the park to get where I wanted to go. It amounted to an extra 50 miles, which I assumed would add about another hour and half to my trip. No problem. I would get there between 2 PM and 3 PM, which would leave me plenty of time to hike the 7 miles to my campsite before sunset. It doesn’t get dark here until after 9:30 it’s crazy. I’ve got this planning thing doooooowwwwn, son.

So, I headed out from Louise’s place about 9:30 in the morning on Wednesday. I got on 75-South towards Knoxville and then to 640-East with no delays. The previous trip down we ran into some construction on 75-South but it was smooth sailing this time. Sweet, I said to myself, more time for lounging by the campfire tonight. Then I made my way into Pigeon Forge. Lots of traffic, but that was expected this time ‘round. The blinking lights faded into the background as I drove by. I was focused on my trip. After driving through Pigeon Forge I continued on the highway connecting Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg, a two-lane, one-way road surrounded by woods and streams on either side. The road seemed newly paved and was a very smooth drive, no noisy grumpiness coming from my tires. I was listening to “Fresh Air” (with Terry Gross!) on NPR and was hearing a fascinating interview with Jill Bolte-Taylor, a neuroscientist who had had a stroke and was talking about her experiences. Completely engrossed in the interview, I didn’t see that the car in front of me was slowing down, preparing to come to a halt…

errrRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

My tires screamed on the previously pristine asphalt road. I stopped a couple feet in front of the car in front of me, my head whipping back against the head rest. I saw the couple in the car in front of me turn their heads around quizzically…

“What the…?? That asshole almost hit us!”

Phew. Close one. But my mind quickly shifted from panic to frustration as I looked at the line of cars in front of me. Awwwww man what the hell. “How can there be traffic?? We’re surrounded by trees and rocks and streams!” I remember thinking to myself. Like it or not, the Smokies were a popular tourist spot, which means cars… lots of them.

The traffic was literally crawling. I couldn’t have been moving more than 5 miles an hour. I know this because it took me about an hour to get traverse the 5 mile connecting road. The culprit? Construction. What was being constructed you might ask? I’d tell you, except that there were no construction workers or vehicles in sight! One lane was entirely blocked off by orange cones for reasons that are still completely unknown to me. Come on. Humor me. Leave some construction vehicles, dig up piles of dirt, I don’t care. Leave evidence that I can see so as to assume that there was purpose in blocking off that lane. Not just the cones. Please, not just the cones. I made use of my time though. I can now add to my résumé “Can make peanut butter sandwiches while driving” should I feel the need to add a little extra something to catch the employer’s eye.

So about an hour delay. Frustrating and unexpected, yes, but I still had plenty of time. Certainly there won’t be any traffic on the mountain roads. WRONG. About half-way through the park, I was coming around a bend in the road and saw the car in front of me completely motionless…

errrRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!

My tires screamed again. I managed to stop about 3 or 4 feet in front of the car in front of me this time (the interview with the neuroscientist had long since ended by this time). Oh no, more construction??? You’ve got to be kidding me! But there was something different this time. We were not crawling, we simply weren’t moving at all. I saw people sitting on the side of the road, their cars turned off. GREAT.

“Ok ok”, I thought, trying to remain positive, “I can do some other packing related chores. I’ll double-check my list of supplies and make sure I have everything and then I’ll put all the stuff I’m not taking with me on the trip in the trunk so as to not tempt and potential thieves.” Done. 20 minutes later, still nobody moving. “Ok, I’ll pack my backpack, putting the items I will least likely need while hiking on the bottom and the things I may use towards the top, making sure to distribute the weight as evenly as possible.” Done. 40 minutes gone by, the cars still sit idle. What the hell is going on???

Finally, after an hour, people started getting back in their cars and the line slowly trickles down the rest of the mountain pass. I wasn’t thinking about my trip at all anymore. I wanted to find out what was going on that would cause a complete blockage of the road in both directions. The answer? Fallen trees. Turned out that a tree or trees had fallen from the side of the road and was blocking both ways. I passed a crew of about ten workers who must have just worked their asses off trying to clear the road as soon as possible. “Well now I can’t be mad at that” I thought. A tree fell, and those guys were just doing their job. My frustration aside, my day was now less an hour, and I began to worry a little bit at the timing of my hike. Really, still plenty of time though.

Onward to the trail! I actually drove through the entire park and onto an Indian reservation in North Carolina because of the way the roads were designed. I had a map of where I was to go, with corresponding names of roads and cities, so I figured I was fine. The written directions on the map were even more encouraging. Two sentences, three roads in total. Cake.

What I soon found out was that the third road was not so easy to find. The map showed that the road branched away from a town called Bryson City, leading northward toward the trail head. But it didn’t say exactly where. So I drove through Bryson City, looking for Lakeshore drive. Nope. Thinking I probably just missed it, I turned around and drove through it again. Bupkis. Ok ok, I’ll just get on a road heading north and find it. So I started driving north. I crossed a bridge. “Perfect! This map shows that you have to cross a bridge! This road is also pretty windy, which corresponds to the map, and it’s pretty secluded, also corroborating the maps story” I thought.

The road ends. No trails. Only trailers. Shit.

Along the true road’s doppelganger, I saw a mini bed and breakfast, and decided it would be best to stop and ask for directions. It was run by an older woman, in her mid-fifties I’d say, who was very happy to see a potential customer. An odd place to have a bed and breakfast I thought. Near the end of a road that dead ends? She knew the area better than me I suppose.

She was very nice and talked with a warm southern accent. “Are y’all goin’ on a hike to tha middle of nowheres along the the lakes?” I thought I’d act the part. “Yes, ma’am. Sure am. Y’all know how to get there?” I think I may have even spoken in a southern accent. Not intentionally, but I have this weird tendency to talk like the people I’m around. Like some sort of vocal chameleon.

Anyway she started giving me detailed directions, which I thought I understood pretty well. She said she didn’t know any of the street names but that it was the left at the first stop sign and then you can go past the high school and then make another left, and so forth. I thanked her in my copycat southern, and headed out again. Ok, there’s the stop sign. Left. Aha! The high school! Another left. Alright, now where’s lakeshore drive?? Hmmmm…

Now I’m driving wherever. I know that the road heads northwest. So I keep heading that way hoping that I’ll eventually find it. The roads of this area were like a labyrinth designed to keep people from leaving. Roads curled around each other more than once, so that sometimes you would be driving down a road and see street x on the right, only to continue down the road and see street x again on the left. I wish I was exaggerating.

By some miracle I eventually came onto the road I was seeking. It was actually called Fontana Road, instead of Lakeshore Drive as my map had indicated. The map wasn’t even worth the dollar I paid for it. By this time I had lost another hour or so. I arrived at the trailhead around 5 PM. Much later than I had planned for sure, but still enough time to get to the campsite before dark. My time of introspection by looking at fire would have to be cut short that night.

So I triple check my supplies and I can’t find my lighter. Where did it go?? I had it just a few hours ago… AWESOME. Not only did I need the lighter to start a fire, I needed it to light my stove since I found out that the auto-starter part of the stove was sold separately on my last trip. GREAT. On tonight’s dinner menu: cold Beefaroni in a can. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Can’t anything go right??? Throw me a frickin’ bone here.

[to be continued...]

Greetings from Rolla, MO

Hey y'all! I'm currently in a Dairy Queen believe it or not. I needed some sugar to keep me awake on the road, and I figured what the hell, I'll see if there are any Wi-Fi signals in the area.

Score.

It seems like I can get a Wi-Fi signal almost anywhere. Lots of fast food places have signals now, and even some gas stations. If those fail, I can pull into the parking lot of a hotel like Best Western or Comfort Suites, which almost always offer free Wi-Fi for me to pirate.

Anyway, I'm on my way to Oklahoma now. I spent yesterday evening with some relatives in Bardstown, KY kinda sorta near Louisville, KY. They were really nice and accommodating despite my really late notice that I was dropping by. They even gave me a mini-cooler once they found out I was drinking warm water and gatorade. A real meal was also nice to have.

I have spent the better part of the past 2 weeks in the Kentucky/Tennessee area. Wow, right? There's a lot of stuff to around there if you're an outdoorsy person. And in those 2 weeks I didn't even scratch the surface of all the natural beauty there was to visit.

Hey and I wanted to thank Louise for letting me stay at her place a few nights here and there between some of my excursions. Not only was it nice to save money, but having a couch instead of the ground to sleep on was much needed. Thanks, tupac.

I have yet to post a few summaries of some things I have done. I took a camping trip by myself to the Smokies (yes, I went there twice). All the stuff that happened on that venture is just too much to have one post on. I wrote up a summary of my experience and it's about 10 pages long in Microsoft Word, so I'm going to have to either post an abridged version (which will take some time) or post it in several sections. I am leaning towards the latter, and may even post it immediately after this post.

I also took a trip to Dollywood. That merits its own post for sure. I haven't even written anything on that yet, but I've thought about it a lot. I'll post that soon.

You see? I knew this would happen. I knew I would fall behind and be overwhelmed with talking about everything. At least I'm being upfront about it, eh? Do I get any brownie points for that?

Hope everyone is having a great summer. The weather has been beautiful wherever I have gone so far. Never a day above 90, and not with any substantial humidity. I've been lucky.

More to come...