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.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
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.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Let's talk about great quotes real quick: Last night at 317's in Bozeman, I was talking with Dick Shanahan about Sir Edmund Hilary's quote, "It's not the mountain we climb but ourselves." It's such a beautiful quote and can be applied to the trip that we're on as well. Also, in Ohio, we were discussing the quote, "To travel is better than to arrive;" I found a similar quote on a shirt here in Jackson, which of course I picked up. The quote is, "The journey is the destination." Such a beautiful way to describe our trip: where the journey and the destination are one.
Today was an amazing day, full of natural wonders. Yellowstone is hard to even describe with words--there is so much incredible natural wonder that I've never even seen the likes of before in my life. Natural hot springs, geysers (including Old Faithful), waterfalls, canyons, the tremendous Yellowstone Lake, countryside that is every shade of green. It's so hard to even describe. Matt and I took about a hundred pictures today at Yellowstone, which we traversed for over 5 hours. At one point while we were driving, a couple of bison crossed the road, and one even came within 5 feet of the car. It was seriously surreal.
After visiting our desired destinations at Yellowstone (not even a quarter of what you could do there), we were tired of driving and wanted to get to our lodging here at Jackson. Plus we hadn't really eaten much all day. So, our time going through the Grand Tetons had to be limited to just the drive straight through to jackson. The Tetons were incredible though. Picture massive mountains at your fingertips surrounding your drive everywhere you turn, with only a beautiful lake or a gorgeous green field between you and the giants. I totally want to come back and explore these two parks for more than just a couple of hours.
Here in Jackson, we are amazed with this small, cowboy western town. It came out of nowhere (from the mountains and valleys of the Tetons to the city of Jackson Hole). It has a great small-town feel, but there are so many stores, bars, galleries, plenty of things to do. We went to an amazing restaurant which served western game like bison and elk (which we ordered) and delicious local microbrews like the Grand Teton Ale or Montana's Moose Drool. Tonight we're going to head to the famous Cowboy Bar for a couple of drinks, and tomorrow we are setting out for Utah and Arizona (all in one day) bright and early when the sun rises at 6 AM. Til the next western city!
Today was an amazing day, full of natural wonders. Yellowstone is hard to even describe with words--there is so much incredible natural wonder that I've never even seen the likes of before in my life. Natural hot springs, geysers (including Old Faithful), waterfalls, canyons, the tremendous Yellowstone Lake, countryside that is every shade of green. It's so hard to even describe. Matt and I took about a hundred pictures today at Yellowstone, which we traversed for over 5 hours. At one point while we were driving, a couple of bison crossed the road, and one even came within 5 feet of the car. It was seriously surreal.
After visiting our desired destinations at Yellowstone (not even a quarter of what you could do there), we were tired of driving and wanted to get to our lodging here at Jackson. Plus we hadn't really eaten much all day. So, our time going through the Grand Tetons had to be limited to just the drive straight through to jackson. The Tetons were incredible though. Picture massive mountains at your fingertips surrounding your drive everywhere you turn, with only a beautiful lake or a gorgeous green field between you and the giants. I totally want to come back and explore these two parks for more than just a couple of hours.
Here in Jackson, we are amazed with this small, cowboy western town. It came out of nowhere (from the mountains and valleys of the Tetons to the city of Jackson Hole). It has a great small-town feel, but there are so many stores, bars, galleries, plenty of things to do. We went to an amazing restaurant which served western game like bison and elk (which we ordered) and delicious local microbrews like the Grand Teton Ale or Montana's Moose Drool. Tonight we're going to head to the famous Cowboy Bar for a couple of drinks, and tomorrow we are setting out for Utah and Arizona (all in one day) bright and early when the sun rises at 6 AM. Til the next western city!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Bozeman, Montana
So my expectations were correct and I absolutely love Montana. We went to a wonderful brewpub tonight for dinner and beers, Montana Ale Works, where the beers--each one that I tried--were so delicious, and the food was just as good. The people in Montana are welcoming, willing to reach out and talk to you, wherever you may be from.
Heeding our Ale Works server's advice, we walked down Main Street and checked out a few bars, though most of them weren't as happening being that it's Sunday. We stopped at 317, where I had a wonderful conversation with Bozeman local Dick Shanahan, who is an architect and world traveler. We discussed Bozeman, Robert Pirsig, Montana playing the Blue Hens, our trip across the country, and the economy. I was dismayed to learn that he intends on voting for McCain in the fall, but was happy to hear he admires Obama's charisma and that he didn't sound too upset of Barack were to win. He was a worldly and interesting gentleman to talk to, and really made me excited to be in Bozeman.
We continued on to the Crystal Bar, which had a hodgepodge of different people--probably an accurate assumption of the Bozeman population. We didn't stay for long, only for a drink, but I was still convinced that the city (on regular nights, maybe not usually Sundays) is a hub for young people situated at the heels of a beautiful mountain range, where the possibilities of this world are endless. I'd certainly like to come back (I joked with Matt and Jeff as the mayor of this city) to spend some substantial time among the mountains.
Tomorrow we're waking up early again to go to Yellowstone (an absolute once-in-a-lifetime must according to Dick), Grand Tetons National Park, and ending up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming tomorrow night. So, until then....!
Heeding our Ale Works server's advice, we walked down Main Street and checked out a few bars, though most of them weren't as happening being that it's Sunday. We stopped at 317, where I had a wonderful conversation with Bozeman local Dick Shanahan, who is an architect and world traveler. We discussed Bozeman, Robert Pirsig, Montana playing the Blue Hens, our trip across the country, and the economy. I was dismayed to learn that he intends on voting for McCain in the fall, but was happy to hear he admires Obama's charisma and that he didn't sound too upset of Barack were to win. He was a worldly and interesting gentleman to talk to, and really made me excited to be in Bozeman.
We continued on to the Crystal Bar, which had a hodgepodge of different people--probably an accurate assumption of the Bozeman population. We didn't stay for long, only for a drink, but I was still convinced that the city (on regular nights, maybe not usually Sundays) is a hub for young people situated at the heels of a beautiful mountain range, where the possibilities of this world are endless. I'd certainly like to come back (I joked with Matt and Jeff as the mayor of this city) to spend some substantial time among the mountains.
Tomorrow we're waking up early again to go to Yellowstone (an absolute once-in-a-lifetime must according to Dick), Grand Tetons National Park, and ending up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming tomorrow night. So, until then....!
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