As we walk down the Muzak-filled hallways towards Gate 66 in the terribly crowded and unhelpfully employed LAX Airport, a sense of melancholy fills me. It’s the end of our trip. The past two weeks are just a blur of memories from 14 states and 5,178 miles of roads that got us to our cross-country destinations. It’s been a momentous trip that will have impacted me for the rest of my life. It’s only fitting that I’m writing this now in Gate number 66, the same number as the very famous route that spans the United States, which starts back east and ends here in Los Angeles. It’s also fitting that we drove on Route 66 here in California for the only time on our trip just a few days ago.
It’s hard to sum up a trip of this nature, where almost every day was a new destination, where every person we passed along the way was unique to their location in this grand United States, where each and every attraction—from the Columbus corner store to the Grand Canyon—that we came across was also unique to itself and its location, but was new to us in our journey. We now have a specific memory and opinion about each of these places, these cities, states, stores, and roads that we have crossed along this journey.
We discovered so much about this country, but there are an innumerable amount of places in this country that I have yet to discover and can only hope to. In a place this immense of which I am a part, I think it’s important that I take the time to actually go and try to figure it out. If I share the title of “American” with millions of others, I should know what it is to be an American. I feel like I touched only upon the tip of the iceberg in determining that on this trip. But I am more knowledgeable about America, having traveled across a large section of this great country, and for that I will always be thankful.
Having the advantage now of cross-national retrospect, I can say which states and cities I loved more than others, and why. Chicago and Denver were two of the greatest cities we visited. Chicago for its beautiful people, beautiful lakeside location, fun bars and cultural music. One of the greatest times I had on this trip was watching Joanna Connor rip her guitar to shreds at Kingston Mines Night Club. Denver was a constant blast, with tons to do thanks to both its amazing nightlife and its proximity to endless nature activities like whitewater rafting—which we loved—and hiking, especially by the Red Rocks Amphitheater. The best state we visited was Montana and the worst, no surprise, was Nebraska. Montana, from the second we entered, was a gorgeous retreat from city life, while still embodying aspects of that society—like nightlife, outgoing people, and friendliness—that I love. Walking down Main Street in Bozeman, so much a “Main Street USA,” was an amazing way to see the culture of this mountainside college town, radically different to what I’m used to home on Long Island or in college in Delaware. There were musicians playing beautiful country western in the bars, people were willing to start up a conversation about your life and theirs, and everyone seemed to just be happy-go-lucky. I saw this same type of people in Wyoming as well. I don’t know if it’s the serene mountain atmosphere that gets to their heads or what exactly it is, but it went to mine as well, and I now too have become a Midwest/Montana/Wyoming addict. As previously mentioned, Nebraska was the worst state, and although our outlook during this interim period (between Chicago and Denver) was probably the lowest of the whole trip, the vast emptiness of the state did not help our declining mood. It seemed that the people of Nebraska were sheltered and negative in a sense, like they just didn’t realize there was a whole world out there if they only went east or west of their state. It’s depressing really, if you think about it.
I can’t say enough of the Midwest/Western people. By far the nicest people we met, complete strangers in reality, were in Colorado, Montana and Wyoming, and I will rave about these people and look forward to encountering them for the rest of my life.
On the contrary, however, were the less than helpful or kind people that we unfortunately came across in this nation. Of these are the Navajo, LA & San Francisco people. The Navajo had a strange way about them that just seemed put off in a sense to everyone who was “staying” on their reservation. People of LA and San Francisco were impersonal and impatient, a flaw common to east coast cities that we’re used to like Philadelphia (where I’m writing this now) and New York.
We visited a few tourist havens of vacuity, where everyone was mindless and people walked around like zombies ooh-ing and ahh-ing just like everyone else. These areas were the Grand Canyon, LA, and San Francisco. My impatient self came out in places like these where I just couldn’t deal with the immense amount of people, many of whom were foreigners who had a hard time understanding English. It just put a damper on the experience of these places, which otherwise I would largely enjoy.
Of course we encountered some incredible landscapes; I’d even venture to say that 90% of the trip was the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. Here are the most notable landscapes that I noticed: the California Pacific Coast Highway, southern Utah/northern Arizona on US-89, and all of Montana/Yellowstone/Wyoming. Each of these landscapes is unique in their own ways and cannot be described anymore than you just have to see it for yourself.
We were blessed with phenomenal weather the entire time. It only rained significantly while we were on the road only twice in Indiana and Iowa. When it was oppressively hot, it didn’t stay hot. But the sun was shining for us 95% of our journey, and that’s pretty damn good.
Yesterday, before we boarded our plane in San Francisco, we drove up to Muir Woods, north of the Bay Area. Walking around this ancient forest, where most of the trees are over 1000 years old, I got a surreal kind of perspective that I had only experienced in glimpses on this trip. Touching one of those trees was like touching the past, before my life, before California was called California, before any humans inhabited the area. But it was also like touching the future. If those trees have lasted 1000 years, who knows how many more they will persist. And the saplings in that forest are our link to the future; they will grow into huge redwoods that will be a link to the distant past, a time that is present in my life right now. Steinbeck wrote about them as “ambassadors from another time,” and that “the vainest, most slap-happy and irreverent of men, in the presence of redwoods, goes under a spell of wonder and respect.” It is this respect that I have found throughout this trip, respect for something greater than myself, something greater than any one of us, that words can barely show.
It’s also surreal growing up my entire life minutes from the Atlantic Ocean and then driving clear cross the country to the other ocean and spending a few days there. It’s another way to put life and this country into perspective. The end of the United States, looking out onto the Pacific, is so vast that I was compelled to ask the question, “What’s there?” which then evokes the question, “What’s here?” and that’s a question that I’m going to keep asking myself for the rest of my life, and one for which I will be in constant search of an answer.
The entire way home, the following quote from Robert Pirsig has been hanging over my head like an albatross: “You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.” During the hours of reflecting at where I’ve been on the endless flights back east, I come to sense a feeling of longing that I have for more travel, but also a sincere sense of accomplishment that I possess. To answer my question of what’s here, and to add to my search for happiness, I have learned that happiness is here and now in life and can be found in all parts of the country, we just have to be looking for it within ourselves. Happiness did not exist at those specific cities, coordinates of latitude and longitude, it existed in me while I was in those cities, traveling at a specific latitude and longitude, and that is something that I learned that I will take with me wherever I travel for the rest of my life.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
San Francisco - Last Night of the Trip
So here we are, the city by the bay. When we left LA yesterday it was a little surreal knowing that when we got into our next city, it would be the final stop on this trip. We hopped right on the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Santa Monica and headed north. We stopped briefly in Malibu for breakfast, in San Luis Obispo for lunch, and a brief stop at the John Steinbeck Museum in Salinas, but other than that, it was smooth sailing along this incredibly scenic route.
The PCH has to be the prettiest road in America. For most of the time, you are nestled right on the coast, with nothing to your left (if you're driving north) but endless sea. It was the perfect road to completely sum up our trip because the landscape kept changing, just like the landscape that we've encountered across the entire country. There were palm trees of course, but there were also sprawling farms and endless trees, and the same livestock that we saw on the side of the road in Montana, Indiana, Iowa and all across. There were mountains--not Tetons of course--but mountains that came down and crashed right onto the PCH and going into the Pacific Ocean itself.
Before we got to Big Sur, the roads climbing up the mountain were so winding I couldn't believe at times how close to the mountain (and the water) we were actually getting. A sharp turn right and we would be lodged into the mountainside. A quick turn left and we would be submerged into the ocean. It was cool to be driving on the PCH because you really were in charge of everything, as if the road itself wasn't already in charge of you.
San Francisco, like every destination, was welcome and we were greeted by my cousin Suzy, and later met by my cousin Kyle. I'm really glad we ended the trip here and I was able to hang out with my cousins. Last night we went to a Mexican bar/restaurant which had incredibly sweet margaritas and spicy enchiladas (and lasagna, according to Suzy). We all had a fun time, got a little soused on the margaritas, and then went home and watched The Karate Kid. Good first night in San Fran.
Today we actually got to see more of San Francisco. Suzy lives in The Mission part of town, which is very ethnic, with a million cultures and people on 24th Street, with their cultural and colorful murals decorating the walls of their iglesias and panaderias. We checked out Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf, which is incredibly crowded and there are way too many tourists that it almost shed a dark light on the already fog-covered city. After seeing the sea lions, trying Anchor Steam beer and Boudin Bakery sourdough bread, we headed over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, a beautiful seaside town that reminded me of Port Jeff, for a great seafood dinner, where I got my first taste of authentic Napa Valley wine.
Overall, I'm glad we came to San Fran and I'm happy that I hung out with my cousins, but I think our opinions on the city as a whole are less than amazing. If we had started in San Fran on the other hand, I believe we would have liked it a little bit more. But, after seeing all the amazing places we've been to, and staying and going out in such great cities across the country, we had higher standards for what we liked, and I don't think the city of San Fran really met up to them.
A longer, more reflective post about the entire trip will come tomorrow. As for right now, we're about to watch the Darjeeling Limited while drinking some white wine, with only one window open because it's so damn cold out here in the city by the bay.
The PCH has to be the prettiest road in America. For most of the time, you are nestled right on the coast, with nothing to your left (if you're driving north) but endless sea. It was the perfect road to completely sum up our trip because the landscape kept changing, just like the landscape that we've encountered across the entire country. There were palm trees of course, but there were also sprawling farms and endless trees, and the same livestock that we saw on the side of the road in Montana, Indiana, Iowa and all across. There were mountains--not Tetons of course--but mountains that came down and crashed right onto the PCH and going into the Pacific Ocean itself.
Before we got to Big Sur, the roads climbing up the mountain were so winding I couldn't believe at times how close to the mountain (and the water) we were actually getting. A sharp turn right and we would be lodged into the mountainside. A quick turn left and we would be submerged into the ocean. It was cool to be driving on the PCH because you really were in charge of everything, as if the road itself wasn't already in charge of you.
San Francisco, like every destination, was welcome and we were greeted by my cousin Suzy, and later met by my cousin Kyle. I'm really glad we ended the trip here and I was able to hang out with my cousins. Last night we went to a Mexican bar/restaurant which had incredibly sweet margaritas and spicy enchiladas (and lasagna, according to Suzy). We all had a fun time, got a little soused on the margaritas, and then went home and watched The Karate Kid. Good first night in San Fran.
Today we actually got to see more of San Francisco. Suzy lives in The Mission part of town, which is very ethnic, with a million cultures and people on 24th Street, with their cultural and colorful murals decorating the walls of their iglesias and panaderias. We checked out Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf, which is incredibly crowded and there are way too many tourists that it almost shed a dark light on the already fog-covered city. After seeing the sea lions, trying Anchor Steam beer and Boudin Bakery sourdough bread, we headed over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, a beautiful seaside town that reminded me of Port Jeff, for a great seafood dinner, where I got my first taste of authentic Napa Valley wine.
Overall, I'm glad we came to San Fran and I'm happy that I hung out with my cousins, but I think our opinions on the city as a whole are less than amazing. If we had started in San Fran on the other hand, I believe we would have liked it a little bit more. But, after seeing all the amazing places we've been to, and staying and going out in such great cities across the country, we had higher standards for what we liked, and I don't think the city of San Fran really met up to them.
A longer, more reflective post about the entire trip will come tomorrow. As for right now, we're about to watch the Darjeeling Limited while drinking some white wine, with only one window open because it's so damn cold out here in the city by the bay.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Los Angeles #2
What a great day today in Hollywood. Let me do a quick recap. We were awakened to a wonderful breakfast cooked for us by Jose the incredible host, who took off from work today just to be our personal tour guide of LA, and let me tell you we would have been lost without him. He took us first to the Santa Monica Pier, where we saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time on this trip, our official destination. It was a surreal feeling to be standing on the opposite coast from which we started this journey, and the irony was that we didn't even drive to the coast--Jose did! Tomorrow we will officially be driving the coast up to San Francisco on the Pacific Coast Highway, which will make our cross-coastal trip official.
We then met up with Colleen at her job on The Lot, the former Warner Brothers Studio, and then walked to Jamba Juice (which was recommended to us all the way back in Chicago!). Jose took us to Hollywood Boulevard, where we walked and saw the Chinese Theater, the stars Walk of Fame, and some ridiculous "characters" like fat Spiderman, Elvis, and 4 Jack Sparrow's. There were way too many tourists, way too many people focused on themselves and their own personal advancement, that I dubbed the city "the cemetery for hopes and dreams." The characters just brought this kind of sadness out of me that I sensed throughout Hollywood Blvd--everyone trying to be someone they're not or something they hope to be.
We drove back along Sunset Boulevard, which is beautiful, and met up with Colleen at the excellent outdoor mall The Grove, where we ate delicious entree crepes from The Crepe Company in the Farmers Market section. Colleen and Jose then took us to the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy show where we saw the group improvise based on people in the crowd's iPods. It was fun to experience and they even played a couple of my songs, creating skits based off of them. To sum up the vacuous and self-centered souls in this town, outside the UCB Theatre the supposed former child-star "Jay Leno Child Lookalike" talked to us for about 5 minutes about his recent SAG-card grab and the shallowness of people in this city. It was an interesting way to get a perspective of the city. I remarked that if we weren't staying with Colleen and Jose, I know we wouldn't be getting the same kind of perspective of the city, and we would probably be more inclined to dislike the city than anything else.
We ended up tonight at a great Irish bar close to their apartment, where I drank an incredible White Russian and we enjoyed some great times and conversation, the five of us together, with our generous hosts here on our last night in LA.
We then met up with Colleen at her job on The Lot, the former Warner Brothers Studio, and then walked to Jamba Juice (which was recommended to us all the way back in Chicago!). Jose took us to Hollywood Boulevard, where we walked and saw the Chinese Theater, the stars Walk of Fame, and some ridiculous "characters" like fat Spiderman, Elvis, and 4 Jack Sparrow's. There were way too many tourists, way too many people focused on themselves and their own personal advancement, that I dubbed the city "the cemetery for hopes and dreams." The characters just brought this kind of sadness out of me that I sensed throughout Hollywood Blvd--everyone trying to be someone they're not or something they hope to be.
We drove back along Sunset Boulevard, which is beautiful, and met up with Colleen at the excellent outdoor mall The Grove, where we ate delicious entree crepes from The Crepe Company in the Farmers Market section. Colleen and Jose then took us to the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy show where we saw the group improvise based on people in the crowd's iPods. It was fun to experience and they even played a couple of my songs, creating skits based off of them. To sum up the vacuous and self-centered souls in this town, outside the UCB Theatre the supposed former child-star "Jay Leno Child Lookalike" talked to us for about 5 minutes about his recent SAG-card grab and the shallowness of people in this city. It was an interesting way to get a perspective of the city. I remarked that if we weren't staying with Colleen and Jose, I know we wouldn't be getting the same kind of perspective of the city, and we would probably be more inclined to dislike the city than anything else.
We ended up tonight at a great Irish bar close to their apartment, where I drank an incredible White Russian and we enjoyed some great times and conversation, the five of us together, with our generous hosts here on our last night in LA.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Los Angeles #1
I am currently writing from the abode of my high-school friend Colleen and her boyfriend Jose, two of the most generous and hospitable people I've ever met. We left Tuba City yesterday early at around 8 (Navajo time, 7 AM Arizona time), and here are some of my thoughts from the road:
Wednesday we hiked a few miles into the Grand Canyon. It was a struggle at times but I'm so glad we did it. You really have to push yourself at certain points to get through it, but the reward of finishing is so worth it. I'm reminded again--and was the whole time going back up the canyon on Wednesday--of the quote "It's not the mountain we conquer but ourselves." What I found incredibly calming about hiking into the canyon was the ability to be alone and reflect. Yes, the three of us hiked in together, but for 90% of it, we were involved in our own introspection. And because of that, all three of us weren't the same people hiking out of the canyon as we were hiking in. It has that surreal effect on you.
Serenity and peace bring me happiness--the goal of this trip. One of the most serene moments of this voyage so far was at Cedar Ridge--our inner-Canyon destination. I lodged myself between two branches on a tree and just sat and contemplated everything surrounding me. I felt so insignificant, but the massiveness, the grandness of that feeling almost brought meaning to my life. Compared to this hole in the earth, compared to all the people on this grand earth, I am still here, still living, breathing, and being. It was an awesome revelation.
On the road Thursday morning, we stopped at Simpson's Market in Arizona at the intersection of I-89 and AZ-64 in the Navajo Nation. A Navajo man said good morning to every single person waiting on line for their breakfast burritos--a New Yorker, a few French Canadians, and a few Navajos, all radically different--and he said so eloquently, "It's a beautiful day to wake up on this side of the grass." I'm so glad I have this man's positive outlook to remember my stay in the Navajo Nation because some of the other Navajos we encountered were a little less than gracious and welcoming.
We were back on I-40 W, the National Road as we saw it called in Ohio. The mountains in Arizona certainly aren't as illustrious as we've seen. They are mounds of brown with specks of green. They make me long for the mountains of Wyoming and Montana or the sweet release and endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
The Arizona desert is sparse and unwelcoming, a contrast to what we've seen in this country all along. The Mohave Desert in California is not exactly what I pictured (sands stretching out into infinity, with level ground and no mountains). Instead, there are millions of cacti and other desert plants of a brownish, dried-out color. The mountains in the distance are either brown heaps or haze-covered shadows. There is a sense of endlessness here, in the state where we are to actually end our journey.
I could not believe the smog surrounding I-15, heading into LA. Every mountain, building, road in the distance was covered in a thick haze mixture of smoke and fog. I kept thinking of Matt's new friend Denver Phil who said LA is a "vacuous city." We drove on Route 66 (just to say we did), but the road was uneven and a poor drive--both with road conditions and the trailer homes that sat on its shoulders and dotted the National Trails Highway that spans from east to west coast, just like we have done in this past week.
We made it into LA alright. The city is big, with skyscrapers jutting out of the skyline. It was nice to get back into a fast pace again, something I have been missing in the land-locked states of this country. We visited Beverly Hills yesterday, having lunch at the Beverly Hills Diner, which was old-fashioned and delicious. We walked around 90210 admiring the stores, rich people, and anyone on Rodeo Drive in general, rich or not, tourist or local.
Our friends Colleen and Jose took us to a great local restaurant, Marie Callendar's, for dinner, and it was a nice change of pace to be with people we knew. It's a good way to end this trip across the country--with the comfort of friends and family who remind me of home, all the way on the opposite coast, but appearing as a glimpse here on the west Californian coast, with the endlessly blue Pacific Ocean to our west and the entire continental United States recently crossed and experienced to our east.
Wednesday we hiked a few miles into the Grand Canyon. It was a struggle at times but I'm so glad we did it. You really have to push yourself at certain points to get through it, but the reward of finishing is so worth it. I'm reminded again--and was the whole time going back up the canyon on Wednesday--of the quote "It's not the mountain we conquer but ourselves." What I found incredibly calming about hiking into the canyon was the ability to be alone and reflect. Yes, the three of us hiked in together, but for 90% of it, we were involved in our own introspection. And because of that, all three of us weren't the same people hiking out of the canyon as we were hiking in. It has that surreal effect on you.
Serenity and peace bring me happiness--the goal of this trip. One of the most serene moments of this voyage so far was at Cedar Ridge--our inner-Canyon destination. I lodged myself between two branches on a tree and just sat and contemplated everything surrounding me. I felt so insignificant, but the massiveness, the grandness of that feeling almost brought meaning to my life. Compared to this hole in the earth, compared to all the people on this grand earth, I am still here, still living, breathing, and being. It was an awesome revelation.
On the road Thursday morning, we stopped at Simpson's Market in Arizona at the intersection of I-89 and AZ-64 in the Navajo Nation. A Navajo man said good morning to every single person waiting on line for their breakfast burritos--a New Yorker, a few French Canadians, and a few Navajos, all radically different--and he said so eloquently, "It's a beautiful day to wake up on this side of the grass." I'm so glad I have this man's positive outlook to remember my stay in the Navajo Nation because some of the other Navajos we encountered were a little less than gracious and welcoming.
We were back on I-40 W, the National Road as we saw it called in Ohio. The mountains in Arizona certainly aren't as illustrious as we've seen. They are mounds of brown with specks of green. They make me long for the mountains of Wyoming and Montana or the sweet release and endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
The Arizona desert is sparse and unwelcoming, a contrast to what we've seen in this country all along. The Mohave Desert in California is not exactly what I pictured (sands stretching out into infinity, with level ground and no mountains). Instead, there are millions of cacti and other desert plants of a brownish, dried-out color. The mountains in the distance are either brown heaps or haze-covered shadows. There is a sense of endlessness here, in the state where we are to actually end our journey.
I could not believe the smog surrounding I-15, heading into LA. Every mountain, building, road in the distance was covered in a thick haze mixture of smoke and fog. I kept thinking of Matt's new friend Denver Phil who said LA is a "vacuous city." We drove on Route 66 (just to say we did), but the road was uneven and a poor drive--both with road conditions and the trailer homes that sat on its shoulders and dotted the National Trails Highway that spans from east to west coast, just like we have done in this past week.
We made it into LA alright. The city is big, with skyscrapers jutting out of the skyline. It was nice to get back into a fast pace again, something I have been missing in the land-locked states of this country. We visited Beverly Hills yesterday, having lunch at the Beverly Hills Diner, which was old-fashioned and delicious. We walked around 90210 admiring the stores, rich people, and anyone on Rodeo Drive in general, rich or not, tourist or local.
Our friends Colleen and Jose took us to a great local restaurant, Marie Callendar's, for dinner, and it was a nice change of pace to be with people we knew. It's a good way to end this trip across the country--with the comfort of friends and family who remind me of home, all the way on the opposite coast, but appearing as a glimpse here on the west Californian coast, with the endlessly blue Pacific Ocean to our west and the entire continental United States recently crossed and experienced to our east.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Guest Post: Matt in a filthy hotel room in Tuba City
Ten days and three thousand miles into this trip and I've finally been conscripted into blog service. I think in the past year the longest thing I've written was probably a post-it note, so I'll just throw caution to the wind and type to my heart's content. Here's a quick summation of the highlights for myself:
Chicago - can't say enough about this city, it was beautiful in that uniquely urban way. Shining skyscrapers, relatively clean streets, friendly people, engaging nightlife - that should be enough praise to get the point across. As our first notable destination it did not disappoint.
Nebraska - twice I started to warm up to the state and that growing empathy was promptly extinguished by swarming mosquitos and over-zealous state troopers.
Denver - this place is abound with interesting and active people. White-water rafting was a great experience, especially pulling Jon out of the water.
Wyoming, Montana, & Utah - what I had been truly looking forward to on this trip. Stunning vistas around every bend made the drives exciting. It got to the point where I actually wanted to keep driving and had to be forcibly removed from the driver's seat.
This seems a good point to start reflecting. I took up the driving reins midway through Utah and took us through Salt Lake City. I had burned through over 600 pages of reading material and who knows how many songs by then, so driving was a welcome diversion from the back-seat boredom. About an hour south of SLC the traffic and oppressive haze of the city had given way to the mountains and canyons of Utah. There's something remarkably pleasing about driving through a valley, the mountains framing the horizon and the miles of open fields on either side of the road bringing a welcome feeling of insignificance, if that makes any sense. It's like the pressures and chaos of civilization are pushed beyond those mountains, and for a while there is nothing to do but turn your thoughts inward.
I had a conversation with the mother of a friend of mine recently about how people are either drawn to the beach or the mountains. I must classify myself as a mountain man (I need to grow a beard ASAP if that is the case). I find that when I'm on or around mountains or any kind of mountainous terrain I'm much more relaxed and appreciative of the "big picture." It's too easy to get lost in the mess of city and suburb life. This afternoon we finally got to get out of the car and hike a trail instead of a sidewalk, and what better place than the Grand Canyon.
As we set off from the rim into the Canyon I was in paradise. The steady crunch of the rocks under my feet beat like a cadence and the act of descending a trail that bordered a cliff dropping several thousand feet became an automated process that the recesses of my brain were capable of handling without my conscious assistance. Once again I could turn away from the thoughts that consume me in a city: Does my hair look stylishly disheveled? Is that person staring at me? Will someone scoff at me as a stupid tourist if I stop and take a picture of this? Instead I was enveloped by my surroundings and in complete serenity. Everyone on the trail was friendly and each exchange of words just reinforced my peace of mind. Once again every twist and bend brought a new incredible view. The walls of the opposing side of the canyon seemed so far away they could have been a painting. The climb back up was steep to say the least and brought intense focus - regulate breathing, sip water, avoid thousand foot plummet to death. Arriving at the top almost brought disappointment with its feelings of achievement. It was almost like cresting the rim and boarding the shuttle bus left those feelings of peace and focus back below the edge of the canyon.
I would highly recommend a cross-country drive to every American. Usually when I go on vacation I travel to one place and spend several days there, then return home. This brings a disconnected feeling when I think about that place, just like reading American history a chapter a week from a textbook. It's like jumping into a cold pool and then a hot tub, then right back in the pool. It's certainly refreshing and exhilarating, but it leaves you with different and disjointed reference points. By crossing state border after border and time zone after time zone, this truly epic country is meshing together and forming a cohesive story of the nation. We've encountered an array of interesting people, spent time in cities and the wilderness, and seen how every state blends into the next. We've spent time at a battlefield where the 7th Cavalry under George Custer were wiped out by a band of united Native American tribes, and then crossed into reservation territory where those once great nations that once covered the continent are reduced to selling trinkets and "authentic Indian arts and crafts" out of trailers. I feel guilty sitting here belittling this town when I think that this is the tract of land that they were forced onto by the government. The range of emotions and experiences that I've been through in the past ten days have taught me more about this country than a textbook ever has. I've felt both pride and shame in the past when pronouncing myself as American, but I've realized that life is all about the triumphs and failures, the peaks and valleys. The life of this nation is still relatively young and while the current era we are living in I would classify as one of America's "valleys," I think this nation has plenty of guile and ingenuity left in it to turn things around and make us proud once again. Tomorrow we complete our journey to the opposite coast, and I fully expect to love every second of it.
Chicago - can't say enough about this city, it was beautiful in that uniquely urban way. Shining skyscrapers, relatively clean streets, friendly people, engaging nightlife - that should be enough praise to get the point across. As our first notable destination it did not disappoint.
Nebraska - twice I started to warm up to the state and that growing empathy was promptly extinguished by swarming mosquitos and over-zealous state troopers.
Denver - this place is abound with interesting and active people. White-water rafting was a great experience, especially pulling Jon out of the water.
Wyoming, Montana, & Utah - what I had been truly looking forward to on this trip. Stunning vistas around every bend made the drives exciting. It got to the point where I actually wanted to keep driving and had to be forcibly removed from the driver's seat.
This seems a good point to start reflecting. I took up the driving reins midway through Utah and took us through Salt Lake City. I had burned through over 600 pages of reading material and who knows how many songs by then, so driving was a welcome diversion from the back-seat boredom. About an hour south of SLC the traffic and oppressive haze of the city had given way to the mountains and canyons of Utah. There's something remarkably pleasing about driving through a valley, the mountains framing the horizon and the miles of open fields on either side of the road bringing a welcome feeling of insignificance, if that makes any sense. It's like the pressures and chaos of civilization are pushed beyond those mountains, and for a while there is nothing to do but turn your thoughts inward.
I had a conversation with the mother of a friend of mine recently about how people are either drawn to the beach or the mountains. I must classify myself as a mountain man (I need to grow a beard ASAP if that is the case). I find that when I'm on or around mountains or any kind of mountainous terrain I'm much more relaxed and appreciative of the "big picture." It's too easy to get lost in the mess of city and suburb life. This afternoon we finally got to get out of the car and hike a trail instead of a sidewalk, and what better place than the Grand Canyon.
As we set off from the rim into the Canyon I was in paradise. The steady crunch of the rocks under my feet beat like a cadence and the act of descending a trail that bordered a cliff dropping several thousand feet became an automated process that the recesses of my brain were capable of handling without my conscious assistance. Once again I could turn away from the thoughts that consume me in a city: Does my hair look stylishly disheveled? Is that person staring at me? Will someone scoff at me as a stupid tourist if I stop and take a picture of this? Instead I was enveloped by my surroundings and in complete serenity. Everyone on the trail was friendly and each exchange of words just reinforced my peace of mind. Once again every twist and bend brought a new incredible view. The walls of the opposing side of the canyon seemed so far away they could have been a painting. The climb back up was steep to say the least and brought intense focus - regulate breathing, sip water, avoid thousand foot plummet to death. Arriving at the top almost brought disappointment with its feelings of achievement. It was almost like cresting the rim and boarding the shuttle bus left those feelings of peace and focus back below the edge of the canyon.
I would highly recommend a cross-country drive to every American. Usually when I go on vacation I travel to one place and spend several days there, then return home. This brings a disconnected feeling when I think about that place, just like reading American history a chapter a week from a textbook. It's like jumping into a cold pool and then a hot tub, then right back in the pool. It's certainly refreshing and exhilarating, but it leaves you with different and disjointed reference points. By crossing state border after border and time zone after time zone, this truly epic country is meshing together and forming a cohesive story of the nation. We've encountered an array of interesting people, spent time in cities and the wilderness, and seen how every state blends into the next. We've spent time at a battlefield where the 7th Cavalry under George Custer were wiped out by a band of united Native American tribes, and then crossed into reservation territory where those once great nations that once covered the continent are reduced to selling trinkets and "authentic Indian arts and crafts" out of trailers. I feel guilty sitting here belittling this town when I think that this is the tract of land that they were forced onto by the government. The range of emotions and experiences that I've been through in the past ten days have taught me more about this country than a textbook ever has. I've felt both pride and shame in the past when pronouncing myself as American, but I've realized that life is all about the triumphs and failures, the peaks and valleys. The life of this nation is still relatively young and while the current era we are living in I would classify as one of America's "valleys," I think this nation has plenty of guile and ingenuity left in it to turn things around and make us proud once again. Tomorrow we complete our journey to the opposite coast, and I fully expect to love every second of it.
Guest Blog By Jeff: Tuba City Edition
Ah, the Quality Inn of Tuba City. Our room, upon checking in yesterday, was home to ant(s) and a giant urine stain on the bowl. Good stuff. Before I continue with that, I just want to recap a bit of our trip from a different perspective. The White Castle Hall of Fame is surreal. It could more accurately be called a Wall of Fame. Here's hoping Jon makes it in: keep your fingers crossed, kids. Chicago, as Jon has said, was wonderful. I thoroughly enjoyed it there. The accommodations were right in the heart of the city, close to Wrigley. It was a shame to not get into the game, but I believe I killed the brain cells that remember the only letdown of that part of the trip. In Denver the former Real World house has been turned into a ridiculous martini bar in which the booths have curtains. You know, so you can close them and pretend you're... in the shower, I guess? Hey, look at me, I'm drinking my 15 dollar martini in the shower. I'm important.
Yellowstone was fantastic, though we could have seen more animals. I would have not, however, liked to see any bears. It's my one phobia. I don't mind heights, spiders, or snakes, but bears are where I take a stand, sir. No bears! I believe that is because they begin eating you from the legs. So one last thought that I do not want to have is, "Well, he should be getting to my balls soon." So that's my number one way in which I do not want to die. In no particular order, rounding out the top five are: meat grinder, printing press, falling piano, and in the war in Iraq.
I think it's funny that if a bear attacks, you are not supposed to drop your pack, because then bears will learn that it's an easy way to get food from humans. Uh huh.... I would throw my pack, the pope, and Angelina Jolie and her twin babies at a bear in order to get away. I'll buy a new backpack safely at home. Did you know that there's such a thing as bear mace? My god, why do I not have this stuff with me at all times?
Today was the Grand Canyon, or as the Navajo call it, Giant Money Hole. We hiked about a mile and a half down, which equates to 30,000 miles back up. I can't say I enjoyed the hike, but I am extremely glad we did it, because I really need the exercise. We unfortunately didn't see much wildlife here as well, which was terrible, because I wanted to use my bear mace and bear machine gun on a bear, and possibly a squirrel. I wonder if bear mace is effective on other wildlife?
Well, that's about it from me for today. The trip is great, we're getting along very well, and Rassie is a reliable transport. California astern. Depending on which way you face.
Yellowstone was fantastic, though we could have seen more animals. I would have not, however, liked to see any bears. It's my one phobia. I don't mind heights, spiders, or snakes, but bears are where I take a stand, sir. No bears! I believe that is because they begin eating you from the legs. So one last thought that I do not want to have is, "Well, he should be getting to my balls soon." So that's my number one way in which I do not want to die. In no particular order, rounding out the top five are: meat grinder, printing press, falling piano, and in the war in Iraq.
I think it's funny that if a bear attacks, you are not supposed to drop your pack, because then bears will learn that it's an easy way to get food from humans. Uh huh.... I would throw my pack, the pope, and Angelina Jolie and her twin babies at a bear in order to get away. I'll buy a new backpack safely at home. Did you know that there's such a thing as bear mace? My god, why do I not have this stuff with me at all times?
Today was the Grand Canyon, or as the Navajo call it, Giant Money Hole. We hiked about a mile and a half down, which equates to 30,000 miles back up. I can't say I enjoyed the hike, but I am extremely glad we did it, because I really need the exercise. We unfortunately didn't see much wildlife here as well, which was terrible, because I wanted to use my bear mace and bear machine gun on a bear, and possibly a squirrel. I wonder if bear mace is effective on other wildlife?
Well, that's about it from me for today. The trip is great, we're getting along very well, and Rassie is a reliable transport. California astern. Depending on which way you face.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Tuba City, Arizona
We finally made it to Tuba City, here in the Navajo Nation in Northern Arizona. We drove for about 11 1/2 hours today all the way from Jackson, Wyoming. Here are some notes along the way:
We crossed into Idaho shortly after leaving Jackson, climbing up the mountains and winding around the Tetons. In Idaho, US-26 was a gorgeous continuation of western Wyoming with the Snake River careening around scenic green mountains and valleys traveling away from the road.
Ever since Denver, it's been hard to leave the places we've visited. Last night after going to Cowboy Bar, Matt and I, ambling down Jackson Hole's Main St., found it hard to leave the town that we'd fallen in love with in only a few hours. Part of what contributed to Jackson's--and Bozeman's--splendor was the people, strangers who exuded kindness everywhere we went. They are carefree, happy-go-lucky people who don't care where you're from. You are good enough to have a conversation with, and maybe even dance with to a little country-western. It's nice to know these people are out here--they made me want to be a better, more welcoming and kind person.
A gas attendant this morning at an Idaho Chevron in Bonneville County caught us at the door and we chatted briefly about the state of the economy--how it takes him $80 to fill up his SUV and he knows that the US is storing up barrels of gas in Idaho and Utah. His lasting words were "I blame everything on George Bush." Surprising to hear that out here...
We drove by huge, intricate mountains in Pocatello, Idaho. The mountains in this area are sinewy, large muscular structures, carved details of light and dark brown. As you move further south in Idaho, green becomes the preferred mountain color, with firs and pines multiplying into the thousands. These rolling mountains--like the rivers as America's arteries--are the muscles of this country.
Salt Lake City from the highway looks like a nice mountain-side city. We had lunch at the Red Rock Brewing Company, where the beers were watered down and non-alcoholic. The hefeweizen tasted like lemonade and the food wasn't that impressive either. It's a strange city and a sign supported by the Church of Latter Day Saints (what's that even mean?!) overlooked the highway on the way out. I think I'll pass.
US-89 in Southern Utah cuts right through the mountains. It's not an interstate, so it has its pros and cons, but it was pretty sweet to be riding next to a river weaving in between the mountains we'd only seen from a distance on the interstate. The landscape in southern Utah goes through a huge transformation in colors and geological structure. US-89 goes right past Bryce Canyon National Park, Lake Powell, and Glen Canyon, all beautiful sights to behold. When we entered into the Navajo Nation in Arizona, the highway goes up the red-dirt mountains with huge views of the valleys and red mountains cascading into the horizon.
Tomorrow, we'll be checking out a bit of Tuba City and heading to the Grand Canyon for some more exploration and discovery.
We crossed into Idaho shortly after leaving Jackson, climbing up the mountains and winding around the Tetons. In Idaho, US-26 was a gorgeous continuation of western Wyoming with the Snake River careening around scenic green mountains and valleys traveling away from the road.
Ever since Denver, it's been hard to leave the places we've visited. Last night after going to Cowboy Bar, Matt and I, ambling down Jackson Hole's Main St., found it hard to leave the town that we'd fallen in love with in only a few hours. Part of what contributed to Jackson's--and Bozeman's--splendor was the people, strangers who exuded kindness everywhere we went. They are carefree, happy-go-lucky people who don't care where you're from. You are good enough to have a conversation with, and maybe even dance with to a little country-western. It's nice to know these people are out here--they made me want to be a better, more welcoming and kind person.
A gas attendant this morning at an Idaho Chevron in Bonneville County caught us at the door and we chatted briefly about the state of the economy--how it takes him $80 to fill up his SUV and he knows that the US is storing up barrels of gas in Idaho and Utah. His lasting words were "I blame everything on George Bush." Surprising to hear that out here...
We drove by huge, intricate mountains in Pocatello, Idaho. The mountains in this area are sinewy, large muscular structures, carved details of light and dark brown. As you move further south in Idaho, green becomes the preferred mountain color, with firs and pines multiplying into the thousands. These rolling mountains--like the rivers as America's arteries--are the muscles of this country.
Salt Lake City from the highway looks like a nice mountain-side city. We had lunch at the Red Rock Brewing Company, where the beers were watered down and non-alcoholic. The hefeweizen tasted like lemonade and the food wasn't that impressive either. It's a strange city and a sign supported by the Church of Latter Day Saints (what's that even mean?!) overlooked the highway on the way out. I think I'll pass.
US-89 in Southern Utah cuts right through the mountains. It's not an interstate, so it has its pros and cons, but it was pretty sweet to be riding next to a river weaving in between the mountains we'd only seen from a distance on the interstate. The landscape in southern Utah goes through a huge transformation in colors and geological structure. US-89 goes right past Bryce Canyon National Park, Lake Powell, and Glen Canyon, all beautiful sights to behold. When we entered into the Navajo Nation in Arizona, the highway goes up the red-dirt mountains with huge views of the valleys and red mountains cascading into the horizon.
Tomorrow, we'll be checking out a bit of Tuba City and heading to the Grand Canyon for some more exploration and discovery.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
