5-5-05

Today is Thursday May 5^th 2005.  Cinco de Mayo.  Every Mexican in town has a flag flying high.  I am in my camper at Battle Creek Campground in South Dakota.  Two miles away is Mount Rushmore and fifteen miles away is Crazy Horse.  I arrived at Rushmore around 5pm and goofed off for thirty minutes, then went to Battle Creek and set up camp.  I just got back from a hike up the mountain that is literally right next to my campsite.  They call them the black hills.  They are gorgeous.  It is almost like some giant scattered all these huge rocks along the mountain side.  I made it to the highest point that I could see from my campsite.  It was just turning dusk as I arrived at the peak.  The wind was whistling through the trees in the most peaceful of ways.  I felt that feeling that you feel when you are a kid.  When you are supposed to come in from playing, but you dont.  You stay and you appreciate the cool breeze hitting you in the face.  I like that feeling.

Its chili right now, about 8pm mountain time.  I wore a hoody on my hike and of course my fat ass was sweatin in it.  I took many pictures and some video.  The silence of the mountain makes me very happy.  Calm.  I am alone at the campsite, save for the couple eight spots over.  This is my second night among these people.  The drive-n-camp community; I have found, is very old.  Most of the people I have met are in their 60s and 70s.  Enjoying their golden years on the road.  There is something relaxing about that though.  I met a wonderful man, whose name I have forgotten, that told me all about Crazy Horse.  An unfinished sculpture of a Lakota Indian warrior.  The man told me that it was the biggest sculpture project ever under taken.  An Indian named Crazy Horse sitting on a horse and pointing towards his people.  Carved in the side of a mountain.  I plan to go there tomorrow.  It is so quiet here. 

I have just started a new book called "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert M. Pirsig.  I have never heard of it before.  I bought it at the recommendation of the woman working at Barns and Noble last week.  My question to her was, "Do you have anything about Finding yourself or Trekking through Montana" She recommended it, so I am going to read it.  The little Webber grill I borrowed from Sanjay should be lit by now, so I am going to cook the t-bone steak I bought in Sioux Falls.  Then I plan to read until I fall asleep.  Tomorrow I plan to rise when the sun and the birds tell me to.  I want to hike a little around Rushmore and take more pictures.  Then go down to Crazy Horse.  I like this campsite, so I think I will stay for another night.  The lady at the desk was very helpful and informative about a scenic loop around the park.  I hear my steak and I am famished, so I will leave you until next time.

5-6-05

This morning I awoke to the birds chirping.  While I was still tired, the day that awaited me compelled me to rise.  I made myself a bagel with honey nut cream cheese and sat down to read my book as I awoke.  I was reading out on the picnic table next to my camper; when an orange chested black bird flew down to eat.  I dont know anything about birds, but the sheer closeness of this one made him beautiful. He couldnt have been more than two feet from me.  I sat there silent for a while and watched him scavenge.  It was close to ninety by then, according to my thermometer, but the cool breeze from between the mountains made it more than comfortable, almost needed a sweatshirt.  The local dog that had befriended me the night earlier came rushing over and scared off the bird.  I pet her head, told her she was a good dog and gave her a piece of my bagel, then went on reading.  I like it here. Peaceful.  No one is in a hurry.  Even if I wanted to, I have no need for a watch or to keep track of time what-so-ever.  This, I am still getting used to.  Its only been three days since I began this journey and I am already reaping the rewards.  Happiness overcomes me.  I want to bring my new friend with me, but alas, she has a collar.

Today I visited Mt Rushmore and Crazy Horse.  Crazy Horse, while incomplete, had much more to offer than Rushmore.  Rushmore was elegant and patriotic, while Crazy Horse was honest and pure.  The story of how Crazy Horse began is amazing.  One man and his family, asked by the Lakota Indians to sculpt a tribute to show that the red man had heroes too.  I was amazed to learn that no federal funding what-so-ever has helped this project.  As a mater of fact, the family that started it has refused over twenty million dollars in grants.  Just because they didnt think the government would finish it nor do the Lakota Tribe proper justice.  The plans are ambitious and the monument is grand.  You can fit 35 Mount Rushmores into Crazy Horse.  They have an entire facility dedicated to education and history of the Dakota Indians.  Crazy Horse is pointing.  He is pointing to his lands.  His quote is,"My lands are where my dead lie buried".  He was stabbed in the back during battle.  My appreciation for the Indian Culture has grown leaps and bounds in literally hours.  I bought a fake golden arrowhead necklace for $9 to show my support.  Perhaps it will bring me good luck.

The drive between the two parks was absolutely awesome.  Very beautiful.  I took many pictures.  South Dakota is truly a gem.  Its like Colorado in the sense that you are surrounded by overpowering mountains and lush forests, but the rock formations that hug every road are indeed staggering.  I must have stopped ten times in those 15 miles between the parks. 

I am going to pack up camp now; its 15 till 3pm here and I want to be in Rapid City by five.  I think I will stay the night and move onto Montana, skipping Yellowstone for time reasons.  I spent two more days than I had planned in South Dakota.  Most definitely it was worth it.  I have already made plans in my head to return sometime in the future for some hiking and of course to check on the progress of Crazy Horse. 

5-7-05

            Today was pretty eventful even though I spent 99% of it in the truck.  I left Rapid City South Dakota around 10am Mountain Time.  The sky was overcast, but didn’t look threatening.  I drove westbound on I-90 until I got to the Deadwood exit.  Apparently the same exit has Sturgis, the motorcycle rally point of the universe.  You go right to Sturgis and left to Deadwood.  I went left.  The drive to Deadwood was ok.  Lots of hills and forest.  The sky looked to be clearing up as I came into town.  I wasn’t too impressed with old Deadwood.  It was run down and dingy.  Looked a lot like Grandview or Raytown.  With all the gold that came through there in the late 1800’s you would think the town would be more built up.  They had a jillion casinos and a lot of Wild Bill stuff, but overall it was lame.  The only part I got out of the truck for was the mock up town they built to resemble the HBO show and the town sign.  I took a picture of Bullock and Star hardware and went back north to I-90.

            Along I-90 I stumbled upon the Devils Tower exit.  I took it north about 30 miles on this beautiful winding country road.  Farms and rolling pastures hugged the road and I felt at home.  The clouds were starting to get darker and rain began to fall lightly.  I could see the tower ten miles from it.  It was elusive in that regard.  It is so huge and just sticks out like a sore thumb on the countryside.  It was a good 30 minutes from when I saw it to when I arrived upon it.  When I finally did pull up to scenic rest stop adjacent to the memorial, the rain had picked up quite a bit.  The clouds looking more and more ominous, but I ventured on.  I went to the gates and asked since the day was so crappy, would they still charge me the $8 admittance fee.  The lady at the booth joked that the fee was doubled.  I ascertained that I wouldn’t be able to hike around the memorial and take pictures as I had planned in my head because the rain was falling too hard.  So I turned around, took some half ass shots from the driver’s seat and decided I would out run the rain by heading north into Montana on rout 112.  Big mistake.

            If the weather had been cooperative, the 300 mile jaunt would have been pleasant, but alas it was not.  Towards the beginning of the drive it looked as if I would actual out run the storm, but as I got further and further in, the clouds seemed to follow me.  The road was paved and relatively smooth, nothing old Fred couldn’t handle.  Yes, I have nicknamed my truck, Fred.  I’m a dork with a red truck.  So be it.  At one point, I hadn’t seen another car or human being for 45 minutes, and then I got to a town called Broadus, population 40.  I gassed up and headed northwest on 212.  My goal was to get as far deep into the Montana back country as I could.  I wanted to camp under the stars and not see any city lights or noise.  I was going to find those stars everyone was talking about.  Instead I got caught in one of the worst thunderstorms I have ever seen and abandoned the idea, looking for civilization.  The temperature drop 15 degrees and I saw more lightning than I ever care to see again.  The water was coming so hard it had nowhere to go, so it just puddled up everywhere.  The banks of the little streams following the road swelled and turned into gushing rivers.  It would have been tolerable had the road not been under “construction”.  And when I say under “construction”, I use the term loosely.  11 miles of mud surrounded by mud, I shit you not.  The only traffic was eighteen wheelers and me.  The ruts must have been a foot deep.  I popped old Fred into 4-wheel high and said lets do this.  Fred had no problem, but mister pop-up camper was bouncing and jumping all over the place.  Just as I started out on this mud highway the rain really picked up.  To quote forest Gump, “We had sideways rain”.  I couldn’t see 10 feet in front of me, not that it really mattered because I was going 10 miles and hour.  At one point I looked up at the sky and it was as dark as night.  It was three thirty in the afternoon.  It took me and hour to get past this 11 mile construction patch.  And that was just the beginning, from there I had a fifty-five mile an hour paved one lane local road that winded thru the country side.  Again, under different conditions, it would have been pleasant.  Instead, every time one of these eighteen wheelers past me going the opposite direction, they carried a tidal wave of water with them that washed over me like a blanket.  That half second before the wipers cleared away the muck was scary.  When those suckers fly by they carry a draft too.  The whole truck shimmies and it feels like the camper is going to achieve flight.  I see a big truck coming and I grip the wheel with both hands, knuckles white with fear.  Bracing myself for orbit.  I see my life flash before me and all I can’t think of is my genius idea to have jalapeño chips for lunch.  The Prilosec OTC I had for breakfast was no match for this storm.  I usually don’t get flustered, but I was in the middle of hell.  What sucks is, I wanted to take a picture of Fred’s first mud adventure, but the rain was so extreme, it cleaned the camper and Fred after the mud highway.  For the first time in the journey my XM Satellite Radio was static.  Deep in the canyons of South Dakota it was clear as day.  Through tunnels and under bridges, it was fine.  But today, when I was in the 5^th inning of the Royals/ Orioles game, it quit.  So I went to plan B.  Popped in an Incubus CD, then the Doors Greatest Hits and finished the storm with some Chili Peppers.  Overall I drove 500 miles today and in complete shit.  Only the first and the last 50 miles were on an interstate.  It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

            So, I pussed out when I got into Billings and rented a motel room.  I couldn’t have set up camp in this mess anyway.  I guess I am a fare weather camper.  Honestly, if camp was already set up, I would have enjoyed the storm, but this was not the case.  Right now I am at Outback steak house in Billings, awaiting a table, right next to my motel.  Turns out my bushman ass didn’t even realize it was a Saturday night and the evening before mother’s day to boot.  They are smokin busy.  My wait is 45 minutes for a table of one.  I am on the porch under the awning in my winter coat, typing.  These bumpkins are looking at me like they have never seen a laptop before.  Thank God for the woman who comes out to the waiting porch to offer refreshments from the bar.  “Yes mam, I would enjoy a cold Coors Light very much, thank you”. 

I plan to cheat on my restrictions a little when I get back to the motel and turn on the TV to check the Doppler.  I’m sure I will watch Sports Center too.  I didn’t jog or hike today either.  What a slacker.  My progress as far as self reflection and soul searching was stifled today by the storm, so it doesn’t seem like I got anything accomplished.  Even though this letter is quit lengthy.  I am exhausted, though.  I think I will read and fall asleep, after about eight beers and a steak of course.  Tomorrow I plan to head straight for Glacier National Park, foregoing the night in the middle of nowhere.  I am sure I will be able to achieve at least one night of complete solitude in Utah or Arizona later on in the trip.  So I am not concerned. 

5-8-05

This morning was indeed a glorious morning.  The sun was shining bright.  It was a  cool 72 degrees.  I have never been so happy to see the sun.  I left Billings around 10am, right after my continental breakfast.  I had a do-it-yourself waffle and a bagel with cream cheese.  Topped off with some apple juice.  Thank you to my friend Sanjay who got me a killer rate reduction from $110 to $25.  I saw the Doppler and it looks clear for three days.  As my uncle Steve would say, "Life is good."

I left Billings on Montana Route 3, then headed west on 12 until I hit 191 north. The drive on route 12 was very pretty.  Lots on crop fields and cow pastures on huge rolling hills tucked in between plateaus.  I must have stopped six times for pictures on that short road alone.  From 191, I got onto 87 into Great Falls.  The atlas says Billings is bigger than Great Falls, but it seemed to me that Great Falls was the larger.  Or at least from the roadside. I bought a huge T-bone steak at Albertsons in Great Falls and buried it in ice in the cooler.  This sucker was thirteen bucks and weighed in at 1.4 pounds.  It is on the grill right now, as I type.

From Great Falls I took the interstate north to Shelby, where I rode Highway 2 into Glacier National Park.  I could see the mountains 30 miles out and they were capped in snow.  I had a burning desire to ski, but of course it is too late in the season for that sort of thing.  It was nearing 5pm as I approached the park.  I drove through this painted tunnel, marking the park with huge letters.  I stopped four or five times to take pictures until my disk was full.  I decided to go ahead and find camp, rather than get out the laptop and download them.  I drove a good 45 minutes into the park before I realized all the camp grounds were closed.  The temperature on my truck thermometer was 48.  I soon got to the end of this particular path into the park and had to turn around.  The small town of Kiowa on the outskirts of the park had many RV parks, all closed.  Apparently this is not the season.  I asked the guy in the one gas station and he told me they dont open until early June, the night time temperature freezes people water.  OK.  I would have been fine.  My pop up has a heater and heated beds.  Damn these fair weather campers.  All I wanted was a little piece of Earth to call my own for one night, but no.

By now it is 7:30 and I am getting concerned as to how much light I have left.  I head 15 miles back into the next town of Browning on the direction of the gas station attendant.  I find the RV Park he spoke of and it is abandoned.  The booth is unlocked and has directions to fill out a card and put $10 into an envelope.  I do so and set up camp at site number one. 

I get camp set up and the grill lit by 8:45 and it still isnt dark.  As a mater of fact, it is 9:30 right now and it isnt dark.  The overcast that has been with me since noon has deceived my senses, so I do not realize that I have passed into another time zone.  Dumb ass.  I was freakin out earlier, not wanting to set up camp in the freezing dark.  Technically I am still in Mountain time zone, but only because the line swerves around the park.  I guess so the whole park has the same time.  What do I know?  Im a dumb tourist.

Earlier Fred had a scuffle with mister trash barrel.  I got a little over zealous when I pulled into the RV Park and nicked the damn thing.  Its a minor scuff, no dent.  It looks as if it can be buffed out, but it irritated me none the less.  I cracked open an ice cold Coors Light from the cooler in the bed of the truck for solace.  I have since made peace with the barrel.

The temperature right now is 44.  I am prepared for a cold night.  Got the bed warmer on high and heat on full blast.  I just reached over and felt the bed.  Its nice and toasty.  I am kind of excited for sleep.  I have on a hoody and some really thick pajama pants.  I think they are fleece.  That and my Chiefs stocking cap.  I should be fine.  If not, I always have old Fred.  That SOB can heat up pretty nice.

Tomorrow I plan to explore the park.  It is huge and will take me at least two days if not three.  I want to hike and shoot some cool, remote pictures.  One of my goals is to find a spot to relax.  Somewhere with a nice view and knock out a few chapters in my book.  Maybe take a Dixie, who knows.  The next two days are purely for exploring and relaxing.  I got nowhere to be.

5-9-05

            When I was twenty-two years old I went golfing.  It was the year 2000.  I shot-gunned a beer every hole with my cohorts, until we got to hole twelve.  We were drunk and we ran thru some fences.  To make a long story short, the fences we ran through with the golf cart were owned by some pissed off citizens.  The cops were called.  I saw a cruiser on the fairway and turned in the opposite direction.  In retrospect, that was the wrong move.  I was charged with two counts of destruction of property and DUI.  Apparently you can get a DUI if you are in a gas-powered vehicle.  It didnt help that I was lippy with the local Grain Valley cops.  I was also charged with resisting arrest, for driving the cart away from the cruiser.  I paid my fines and my lawyer fees.  Close to $4000, after the two years of high risk insurance, mandatory.  I know it was retarded and I am ashamed of it.

            So.  I left my camp site this morning around 11am.  My goal was north, into Canada.  The sky was gloomy and overcast.  I felt depressed.  I hadnt seen the sun in two days.  I took highway 17 into Canada.  It was more scenic than I had expected and I was ready for some pretty mountains.  The grayness of the day made it hard to want to be outside.  I am a sun glasses kinda fellow. When I got to the border, it was closed. Just like the rest of Glacier National Park.  I turned around and back-tracked 30 miles to highway 89.  When I arrived at the border, I had my passport ready and I was excited to enter the country.  During my border check, they asked if I had any weapons.  I was honest and told them that I had a tazer my mom gave me for protection.  What a dork I must have sounded like.  Well, you cant bring tazers into Canada, I was told.  I asked if I could give it to them to mail back to me. They told me, no.  But I could back track eight miles to the city of Babb and mail it myself.  I did so.  When I returned, they red flagged me and I had to pull over and talk with an immigration agent.  He asked if I had ever been arrested.  I said yes, once, five years ago, when I was dumb.  He ran a background check and to make a two hour experience short, I was denied access.  My DUI and resisting arrest was enough to reject me from entering the country.  I was embarrassed and I left.  Damn it.

          To get to Washington from Glacier is not a straight shot. I went south on 89 and west on 2.  Until I got to 93 into a town called Polson.  Polson is this wonderfully beautiful town on Lake Flathead.  Surrounded by mountains and of course, over cast. I stayed the night.  Three hundred miles traveled.  One hundred miles from my camp last night.  What a wastedly disappointing day.  Ok, I am tired.

       In Polson, I discovered a bar called Casa de Liqueur.  At first all I wanted was some food and then sleep.  The kitchen was closed and I met some locals named Mitch and Robert.  We drank and played pool until 2am, then I went to bed.  I have learned absolutely nothing today and I m not any wiser for it.  Except, that in April 2007, I am eligible to apply for re-admittance to Canada for a $200 fee.   What a fool I feel like.

5-10-05

            I woke up today at 10:30am with an incredible headache, stinking of beer and liqueur.  I am so glad that I bought those rounds of Jager shots last night, not. 

I left Polson around 11am and headed for Seattle on interstate 90.  The drive was long and tedious.  About ten hours and 500 miles.  The Eastern and Western ends of Washington are mountainous, while the middle is flat farm land.  I stopped for a good half hour at the Columbia River Gorge.  It was gorgeous.  Reminded me of the Grand Canyon, just not as grand.  My hangover limited my exploration.  How stupid am I?  I get kicked out of a country for being a drunk five years ago, so what do I do?  Tie one on.  Real smart.  Have I learned nothing?

     Through out this trip I have been averaging 80 mph on the interstates.  On the way to Seattle I was pulled over by a Washington Highway Patrol officer.  I got a ticket for 75 in a 60.  While the posted speed limit was 70, I was pulling a trailer and even though it is the smallest trailer known to man, I still qualify for the 60 mph restriction for eighteen wheelers.  I did not know this.  The sun still isnt out.  All I want to do is get to Seattle and get out of this freakin truck.  My luck with law officials continues.

       I arrived in Seattle around 7pm local time.  This town is absolutely gorgeous.  Every overpass and median has lush vegetation.  Lots of vibrant green everywhere, full of life.  The sun finally broke through the clouds just as I was entering the town.  My mood has suddenly shifted and all is good.  After three days of gloom and rain, I appreciate the sun even more.  The bays were full of sailboats.  Every road was hugged by a bike trail full of joggers and cyclists.  The temperature is a warm 62 degrees, it seems to be rush hour, but it doesnt affect me.  I am just glad to be here.

        I drove around Seattle for a good hour.  Through downtown and across a couple of the bridges.  I love to see the ocean.  I rolled down my windows, killed the radio and took it all in. The aroma of the sea brings memories of Huntington Beach flooding into my head and all I want to do is find a beach.  But alas I am a little too far north for that sort of thing, so I drove around some more. 

Downtown Seattle makes the Kansas Citian in me jealous and full of envy.  I drove past Vestco and Qwest stadiums.  Right there in the heart of downtown, very cool. It was the typical busy downtown scene, but easily accessible and very well put together.  I decided to get a hotel rather than a camp site.  I wanted a real shower and didnt think I would be able to find an RV park in the city.  I ended up at the Best Western.  Literally this hotel is a block from the Space Needle.  I plan to visit there tomorrow.  I had allotted three days in Canada, but since I am a criminal and have been exiled, I have some time to kill before following the coast south.  I think I will stay in Seattle until Saturday.  I would like to catch the Mariners game this Friday.  They play the Red Sox.  I have always wanted to visit another stadium.  I may do the same thing in Frisco with the Giants next week.

        The sun did not completely go down until close to 9:30.  I am amazed by this.  There is so much day time here, can you imagine how much you could get done in this kind of weather?  I find it ironic that the city most synonymous with rain is the sunniest I have seen in days.  After my shower, I plan to sleep.  Tomorrow shall begin with a downtown jog and some breakfast at the Starbucks in the lobby.

5-11-05

            My eyes first cracked open at 5:30 this morning.  My hotel room faces east and the sun was peering in through the huge fifth floor bay window.  I was immediately filled with warmth.  I do love the sun.  I am amazed, still, at the amount of daylight they have here.  Lucky bastards.  I went back to sleep until eight.  I was pleasantly surprised at the complimentary newspaper hanging on my door knob.  The Seattle Times.

            I got dressed and went for a jog.  The people here are very motivated.  Lots of people out at 8:30 in the morning.  Jogging, biking, sailing.  There are trails for jogging everywhere, all of which are perfectly manicured with vibrant flowers and trimmed shrubbery.  I saw many park benches and quiet spots to think.  I could definitely spend some time here.

I damn near read the entire paper at Starbucks and had a banana nut muffin and cappuccino.  I still say Quik Trip cappuccino is better, but hey, Im just a guy from the Midwest that they wont let into Canada, what do I know?

            I did read a couple negative things about Canada today in the paper.  I guess the prime minister was voted out and refused to leave.  Thats civil.  Also, a story about an immigration agent that looked the other way for free pizza.  I chuckled quietly at my table and it made me feel better about my denial of entry.  Those hypocrites, I thought. They have the same corrupt idiocy that we do.  Whats that all aboot?  While I was in Starbucks, the morning show that was on the television was interrupted by a special report.  The White House and Congress were evacuated due to a suspicious airplane.  It was later announced to be a false alarm.  Just a little reminder of how crazy this world we live in really is.

            After my jog and breakfast, I took a shower and went out to explore the town.  Per the suggestion of the front desk attendant, I went to this nice par three golf course about three miles away.  They had a double-decker driving range.  I of course had to smash some balls from the upper deck.  It was very cool.  You could see the ship yards from the tee box.  The course was pleasant.  It was only nine holes and all par threes.  I shot a 27, only pared once, but its not about the scoreright? 

            When I made it back to the hotel, I parked Fred and went for a walk.  Some sort of fatal accident occurred on the highway near me and the town was going crazy.  Helicopters in the air, police and emergency vehicles everywhere.  I thought we were under attack.  In the craziness, I got kind of lost.  I couldnt see the Space Needle or the water, so I got pretty disorientated.  It took me a couple hours to find my way back.  But I didnt mind.  It was actually the most excitement I had all day.  I got back to the hotel and chilled out.  Read my book and took a nap. 

            Tomorrow I plan to find a lawyer to fix the ticket I got yesterday.  I also plan to see the Needle, for which some how I ran out of time today.  I need to get Freds oil changed tomorrow as well.  It sounds strange when you say it like that, doesnt it?  I am at 36% oil life.  My truck has this awesome dashboard computer that will tell you anything you want to know.  I have been averaging twelve miles to the gallon and have traveled 2300 miles.  I shutter to think the amount of money I could have saved if I were taking this expedition a year ago when gas wasnt $2.40 per gallon.  Old Fred is dirtier than hell, so I may even wash him tomorrow as well.  Big day.

5-12-05

            After my last e-mail, my father wrote me to say, 27 isnt a bad score on a nine-hole, par three course.  9 x 3 = 27, yah, it was a typo.  I shot a 37.  This means I averaged bogey and double bogey.  If I had shot par, I would have written five or six paragraphs on the subject proclaiming my PGA tour aspirations, but no.  I still suck at golf.  Sorry for getting your hopes up dad.  :)

I woke today at 8:30, went for a walk/jog and breathed in the brisk fresh air.  I ate breakfast at the quaint little caf on 6^th street.  I had a Belgian waffle with strawberries.  Mmm  I sat in the caf for at least an hour and half reading my Seattle Times.  I dont know why, but I like this paper better than the KC Star.  Kansas City just isnt as interesting I suppose.  Did you know that since the late 70s, Seattle has had a law in affect that says 1% of all construction costs on public buildings must be used for city art and beautification?  I think that is absolutely fabulous.  I am in such a better mental place when I walk past these a vaunt guard sculptures and unusual murals.  I think this should be a law across the globe.  This town has three art museums and is preparing to build a fourth.  I plan to find one of them tomorrow.  I also learned today that the town has grown very rapidly in population over the last decade.  The mayor wants to raise the height restriction on sky scrapers to make room for the new occupants.  The current limit is twenty-five stories.  They have such a progressive attitude here.  Everywhere I go I hear good music.  I may not have ever heard it before, but it isnt the sleepy-time elevator music KC has.  Nirvana and Pearl Jam came from Seattle and you hear a lot of them, which is fine by me.  In other news, Elliot Bay has had an unusually high amount of whale traffic in the last month.  The fairies have had to slow down to avoid the hump backs.  That is awesome.  Apparently the deepest points of the bay are at 900 feet, but the whales, with no natural predators other than man, are curious.  They also have 30 foot diameter octopus.  That would be freaky to see.  Downtown has so much to offer compared to KC.  Again I am jealous and full of envy.  The monorail they have here is about the most convenient thing I have ever seen.  Not only does it get you were you need to be and fast, but you are above everything, so you can take in the beauty of the town.  For only a buck fifty, too.  Why in the world does KC have an airport 45 minutes away, a football and baseball stadium 30 minutes away and no damned monorail? 

            A couple of months ago my ex-girlfriend and I designed this cool sun/moon/stars design and she etched onto my dresser mirror in the bedroom.  It looks very cool.  I have always had a thing for the sun and other celestial objects.  My favorite number is five.  The etching has the sun, with the moon and three stars inside of it.  Five pieces. Get it?  Anyway, I got it tattooed on my arm today.  I have wanted a tattoo for some time, just couldnt decide on the design.  This design has meaning for me and I like it, so there.  I hear the nay sayers from across the country already.  I know my buddies Wes and Joe and my sister Jacque will be proud that I got inked.

            Anyway, it hurt like hell and took two and a half hours.  When it heals, I will send pictures of it.  The artist that did it was very cool.  A dude named Jeff.  A father of two who grew up in San Diego.   He has been a tattoo artist for 12 years. Ten months ago, he and his wife decided to move to Seattle.  They both hated California and love Washington.  He agreed with my assessment of the towns beauty.  He also added that the people were much more pleasant than in California.  I enjoyed him immensely.  At first glance he looked like a ruthless criminal, but he turned out to be one of the nicest people I have met thus far.  It just goes to show you that people arent always as they seem.  We are so full of stereo types in this country.  It is sometimes hard for me to accept people as they are, without any preconceived ideas creeping into my mind, but I am trying.  I am already thinking of another tattoo.  A small one on my ankle maybe, of the infinity sign.  Well see.  I have to leave this plastic wrap bandage on it for eight hours, so that it doesnt dry out.  Then apply this Neosporin looking stuff called AD twice a day for three days.  It didnt bleed much while it was happening, but right now the bandage is soaked in blood.  Cool huh?  I thought I could read my book during the two and half hours of needle work.  But, I could not concentrate.  The pain wasnt completely unbearable, but I couldnt just sit there and comprehend my book either.  It doesnt hurt much at all right now.  Feels like a rug burn.

            After the tattoo, I went to visit the Space Needle.  It seemed appropriate after leaving a tattoo parlor named "Under the Needle".  The parlor is literally in the shadow of the Space Needle, so it was a fitting name in both regards.  All I have to say about the Space Needle isvery cool.  The observation deck is 520 feet up.  They have a revolving restaurant at 500 feet with a $25 minimum purchase.  I did not stay for dinner.  The whole thing tops out at 1815 feet.  Compared to the Eiffel Tower at 984 feet and the St. Louis arch at 630 feet.  The observation deck is loaded with cool little tidbits of information about Seattle.  At every vantage around the deck, they have a picture of the area in front of you with markings and descriptions as to what buildings and places you are looking at.  Along with huge binoculars every ten feet.  I spent an hour up there just reading all the facts and looking through the binoculars.  The more I learn, the more I fall in love with this city.  On a clear day you can see Canada from the observation deck.  Those lousy French speaking bastards.  My animosity for Canada grows by the day, even though I completely understand it is entirely my fault for being a jack ass and getting denied entry.  Still, my immaturity will not allow me to release this growing hatred for the country.  After my last e-mail, my brother Justin sent me a response declaring Canada a bunch of losers and GO USA!!  I chuckled and agreed.  Ah, ignorance is bliss.

            I ate dinner at the bar downstairs for the second time in the last three days.  Both times the same bartender was working, Jim.  A nice old man in his 50s, loves basketball.  The Seattle NBA team has been in the playoffs against the Spurs for the last three days.  They lost by 25 points, then 15 points.  The poor bar tender looks like hes ready to commit suicide.  His team doesnt seem that good, compared to San Antonio.  There name is kinda dumb too.  The Seattle Super Sonics.  What the hell is a Super Sonic?  I didnt ask Jim, for fear it might worsen his condition.  I watched KU alum Nick Colluson tonight, he did well, playing for Seattle.  I dont really care for the NBA, but the playoffs are exciting.  I just got back to my room, popped on the television, it is close to half time and they are tied.  Jim must be ecstatic. 

            I had a wonderful dish of pasta with salmon and shrimp.  My God it was awesome.  I do love Salmon.  Accompanied by three vodka tonics, the meal was excellent.

FYI.  I rented a movie from the hotel TV.  Constantine with Kaneu Reeves.  It was the worst movie I have ever seen.  Absolutely terrible.  I tried to give it a chance, but it sucked.  Dont waste your time. 

Hey, look the Super Sonics won game three.  I am happy for Jim.

5-13-05

            Friday the thirteenth.  Feels like a good day.  I woke up today around 8am, skipped the jog for a long walk through the city.  My arm is starting to look better.  Its going to take some getting used to.  Every time I pass a mirror it catches my eye.  I already feel like the left arm looks bare.  It needs a little flavor to make it look as cool as the right.  It doesnt really hurt that bad.  Feels like someone punched me in the shoulder, feels like a bruise.  My goals today are museum, lawyer, baseball game, laundry, not in that order.

            I left the hotel after a shower.  It was 8:45.  I ate an apple that I bought from a street vendor along the way to the museum.  Today I walked longer than I had any previous day.  I was about 7 hours total away from the hotel.  The Seattle art museum is twenty blocks away.  Rather than ride the monorail, I chose to walk.  The sun was shining, all the people were out, and it was a nice day to walk.  Of course I saw even more things I liked about the city along the way. 

I walked about five blocks with this local guy who told me about the museum and helped guide me there.  The museum is on the corner of 1^st and University, he showed me.  There is another museum even further down the way, but it is the Asian art museum.  I didnt go to that one.  The one I did go to did not allow photographs, which was a bummer, because it was beautiful.  Two of the five floors were closed for transfer of exhibits.  The first floor was just a lobby with cool Roman-type sculptures and info about Seattle.  It also had a food court and a gift shop.  They let me take pictures of the 1^st floor sculptures, but that was the end of mister camera. 

The second floor wasnt that interesting to me.  Lots of Chinese and Japanese art and pottery.  It was ok, but I like the impressionist paintings and modern sculptures more.  It took me 15 minutes to mow through that floor.  The third and fifth were closed, but the forth floor was truly a gem.  Four rooms of modern art.  They had an entire wall of Warhols and another wall of Monets.  I do enjoy standing in front of those paintings and wondering how or what the artist was thinking or trying to convey when they painted it.  The room that impressed me the most, however, was the Glass Sculpture exhibit room.  I spent forty-five minutes in that room alone.  They had all these crazy blown glass sculptures with light refracting through them in odd ways.  Every color under the sun, mostly abstract, but with a purpose.  I loved that room.  I could have hung out all day with those crazy sculptures. 

The last room on the fourth floor was the religious paintings room.  It was cool, but you know, all that stuff looks the same to me.  And they didnt have any DiVincis.  They had a gigantic ceiling painting in the center of the room.  I laid down on the huge wooden slab/bench they had directly under it and gazed up at it for a couple of minutes, it was cool.  You know, angles and gods flying around in between clouds.  Chubby babies that have adult looking faces.  The usual chapel ceiling art.

            The area around the art museum is really neat.  Lots of fountains and metal art.  Right in front of the building there is this huge metal man with a moving arm.  I sat down in the little park there and read the paper for a while.  The apple I had for breakfast was not tiding me over, so I went walking to find some lunch.  I came across this little caf called the Alligator Pear.  I asked the lady at the counter what her favorite sandwich was.  She told me "the original".  Which was this turkey and Swiss deal with some sort of sweet peppers and avocados.  It came out hot on this kind of Panini bread.  It was very delicious.  I washed it down with a Dr. Pepper and some jalapeno chips.  The Dr. Pepper was in a glass bottle, so it seemed cooler.  I chilled out at the Alligator Pear for a while, reading through my complimentary Seattle Times.  The most interesting thing a read today was this article about Mount St. Helens.  The story spoke of the 1980 explosion and how the wilderness around it had rebounded.  After 25 years, the lake is full of fish, bigger and healthier than before.  The elk and deer are back and the forest is so full that you cant see a person ten feet in front of you.  The cycle of life is truly amazing.  Always resilient and forever going.  I am even more excited to see it than before.  In less than two days, I will be there.

            From the cafe, I walked into a lawyers office.   For $500 I could have the speeding ticket dismissed or I could pay the $120 fee and hope my Missouri insurance carrier doesnt find out.  I opted for option B and mailed those chumps at the Grant County District Court a check for a hundred and twenty smackers. 

     From the lawyers office, I walked down to the water front district.  I stumbled across the Seattle Aquarium.  It seemed old, but still entertaining.  My camera was full pictures by then, so I have no photos of this.  I watched the IMAX production of IN THE DEEP.  It was brilliant.  Very cool.  I dont know if youve ever been to an IMAX theater, but it is amazing.  The huge screen makes you feel like you are right there in the picture.  For an extra $2 I could watch the second presentation call ERUPTION OF MOUNT ST HELLENS.  Of course I paid my two dollars, plus another $6 for popcorn and a bottle of water.  The St. Helens piece was just as cool as the ocean floor piece, but it was produced in 1990.  I wish it were updated with all the nature facts I had read about in todays paper.  I really had no idea that the eruption was that cataclysmic.  I mean, I was all of two years old when it occurred, but I remember hearing nothing about it.  I had no clue about all the soot and ash that covered the west coast for months.  Two to five inches worth of ash in Washington, Oregon and Montana.  Hundreds dead.  The noon day sky turning dark from ash clouds.  It actually erupted a half dozen times, non as great as the first, but still destructive.  The power of thirty five atomic bombs in the first eruption.  They called it the worst natural disaster in US history.  I left there feeling overcome with compassion and gratitude for being alive.  A feeling I had similar to when 9-11 happened, or when I first saw the Grand Canyon.  You know that small, speck of dust feeling.  Insignificant to the grand scheme of things kinda feeling.  You need that feeling every now and then to ground yourself, I think.

            After the IMAX, I walked the sea board and up and down the piers until my feet hurt. In retrospect, I should not have worn flip flops for this all day walking trip.  To get back to my hotel was simple enough in theory, but to go back uptown to the Space Needle from the ocean was really "up" town.  Like five blocks straight up hill.  I am beat.  I got back around 4:30 and sat down to write this.  I plan to have the shuttle pick me up at 6:00 to go to the Mariners/Red Sox game at seven.  I am surly going to were my sneakers for that little trip.  I think I will have dinner at the park and drink a couple beers.  When in Rome 

5-14-05

            It is 11:15am and I just got back to my hotel room from the game last night.  Yah, check out is at eleven.  I got the lady at the desk to extend it to one, so that I could get cleaned up and use the internet before I leave for Mount St. Helens.  The game got over with around 10:30pm.  The reason I am just now getting back from the game is, after the game I took a taxi to the airport and hung out with my brother Jake and his girlfriend Nicole for the rest of the evening.  They happened to be in Seattle last night and they had an extra room for free, so I crashed there.  The freakin cab ride was $35 from the stadium to the airport.  Ouch.  This morning I got up at nine and took the 9:30 bus to downtown.  What a disaster that was.  It took me an hour and forty-five minutes to get here.  We must have stopped at every street corner for 50 blocks.  It only cost $1.25, so I cant complain too much.  There was every kind of person you could imagine on this thing.  It smelt awful and all these dirty people were shoulder to shoulder.  It was pretty disgusting and all I could think about was getting clean.  I have never been so happy to own a car.  I cant wait to get into that big red truck parked downstairs.  After I delouse myself with a hot shower of course.

            The game.  It was fantastic.  I had a really good time.  The stadium is state of the art and the fans were great.  There was more scoring than I have ever seen at a baseball game before.  I rooted heavily for the underdog Seattle team.  I must be good luck because the hometown team ended up winning 14-7.  We saw five home runs between the two clubs.  What a great game.  My single seat ticket was in between two couples above third base in the upper level.  To my left was this handicapped gentleman named Lance and his buddy Steve.  To my right was an older married couple named Ethel and Frank.  Lance had some sort of birth defect that made his arms extremely short.  They were half the length they should have been and very deformed.  He was awesome though.  Very enthusiastic about Mariners baseball.  He knew more about baseball than I ever will know.  Had a great disposition about his disabilities. His buddy Steve next to him looked a lot like Danny Glover.  Lance was extremely intelligent.  Very well spoken and just down right smart.  He reminded me a lot of my Uncle Tom.  Just one smart SOB.  I got the impression that Steve wasnt all there, but he was very polite and pleasant.  At first glance, I was disappointed to see them as my neighbors, but again I was proved wrong.  I have had so many encounters on this trip with people that I would normally not associate with. They all turn out to be absolutely great.  It is starting to become the theme of my expedition.  Tolerance and acceptance may be the one thing I have learned thus far.  Dont judge a book by its cover, comes to mind.

To my right sat Ethel and to her right was her husband of 42 years, Frank.  Frank has been a die hard Red Sox fan since before time. Ethel is a Seattle fan.  They both were from Seattle and came to a lot of games.  When the Sox are in town, Frank roots against the Mariners and so does Ethel.  She told me that she really hates the Sox, but roots for them to jinx her husband.  I couldnt make it up if I tried.  Every time the Sox did something good she would clap and cheer while muttering obscenities under her breath.  When the mariners did well she rubbed her hand together and shouted boo.  She was hysterical. 

            The ball park is an open air facility.  They have a mechanical roof that can be slid over the stadium if it rains.  I said to Ethel in the first inning that I hopped it would rain so I could see the roof close.  Sure enough in the 3^rd it started to sprinkle.  It took about twenty minutes for the roof to completely cover the stadium, very cool.  I wish Arrowhead had that.  The game was close to a sell out, but the concourses were open and un-crowded.  They were very well managed and it was easy to maneuver among the vendors and people.  Again, I wish Arrowhead had that.  The food and beverages were typical ball park quality.  With the exception of all the Indian food.  The French fries were covered in curry and the only beer options were Bud Light and India Pale Ale.  Odd, I thought.  Lance told me that Seattle has a huge Indian population, as well as Asians in general.  Being across the Pacific and all. 

            With the exception of the bus ride this morning, I had a great experience.  And even the bus ride was a good lesson in humility.  It is close to twelve now and I am going to take a shower and head to Mount St. Helens.  I am kind of sad to leave this city.  It has given me so much, but my time has come.  I am excited to see the volcano though.  I hope it doesnt erupt while Im there.  That would be bad.  Later.

5-14-05 PM

            I only traveled 200 miles today.  I drove south on I-5 out of Seattle.  It was sad to leave.  I really fell in love with that city.  I will most certainly return some day.  My drive took me through some very heavy traffic until I got about 50 miles out.  Then it was your basic two-lane interstate.  I pulled off to get some gas and went to the local Wal-Mart.  Where I bought some lotion for my arm and sun block for later.  I guess you are supposed to guard tattoos from getting sun burned.  That way they dont fade.  I also bought some Q-Tips.  Boy have I been missing those puppies.  I used three in each ear as soon as I got back to the truck.  When I was done, the ends were bright yellow, almost neon. I could have made a candle with the amount of wax I pulled out.  Thats for all you ladies out there.  Grrrr.  Thats right.

Also at Wally World, I wanted to buy the new Audioslave or Foo Fighters or Nine Inch Nails album.  I have been hearing the new songs on my radio now for two weeks, but none of them were out yet.  So I bought the new Dave Mathews CD.  I am unsure if it is any good because I didnt get a chance to listen to it.  Instead I listened to Roger Clemons beating the crap out of the Giants.  The rocket had ten strike outs when I left him in the 5^th inning.  That will be nice for my fantasy baseball score.

            The prettiest part of the day was when I got onto 12 East, toward Mt. St. Helens.  It looked like a Brazilian jungle.  I drove over huge, towering bridges that spanned enormous gorges.  Each valley was thick with lush forest and vegetation.  I stopped at an RV park at the entrance of the Volcanic Monument.  They have a laundry facility here and I desperately need to wash some closes.  They also have a golf course adjacent to the camp sites.  I am planning on hacking some balls there later. 

This place is surrounded by gorgeous green mountains and forest.  It is absolutely breath taking.  It is just after 6:30 and the temperature is right at 79 degrees with some mild cloud cover.  I went ahead and cranked up the air conditioner in the camper.  Its a tid bit nipply in here right now.  I will sleep like a baby tonight.  I didnt get much sleep last night goofing off with Jake, so I am kind of tired.  I do so want to golf a bit before I go down, but I may just have to skip it.  I met this evenings neighbor.  They seemed nice.  Two older couples from Michigan.  They have one of those $400,000 deluxe edition road warriors.  It put my little camper to shame.  The guy was joking with me that I made the rest of the people here look like fools for spending so much more on gasoline with their big rigs.  He was just trying to be nice and make me feel at home.  I appreciated that.  But really, how much worse can you get than freakin 11.5 miles to the gallon, cause thats what old Fred is dishing out.  I am spending a fortune in fuel.  The dashboard computer says I have consumed 211 gallons thus far.  That number just seems staggering to me. 

The people next to me are nice enough, but they have three dogs and one of them wont shut the hell up.  Maybe I wont sleep like a baby tonight.  A dog barking for no reason drives me absolutely bonkers.  I may have to go golfing, just to rid myself of these obnoxious beasts.  I am looking out the window right now and the old lady is chasing that dumb dog around with a kitchen spoon, swatting at him and telling him to be quiet.  The dog is faster than the lady and doesnt seem to give a crap about what she wants.  Hes going nuts.  She has absolutely no control over that dog what-so-ever.  At least she is trying. 

Now she seems to have given up and is just standing there next to her dog looking at the other dog across the way that is causing her retarded ass dog to bark.  The other dog is quietly looking back as if to say, "What the hell are you barking at bitch?"  Thats what Im saying too.  I hate people that cant control their animals.  Where the hell are the men in that camp?  That dog was quiet when they were around.  I may have to strangle me a canine tonight.  I am about two seconds away from getting my paintball gun out of the toolbox and having some target practice with that damn mutt. 

I just realized that I probably should have told those Canadian border monkeys that I had a paintball gun.  Whoops.  Oh well, screw the French, those clowns.  I am feeling bitter tonight and that freakin dog isnt making things easier for me.

Ah ha, thank God.  The men are back in camp and the old lady is telling on the dog.  The little bastard looks scared, like hes about to get a whopping.  I can see the fear in his eyes.  I hope that man beats the ever living crap out of that annoying little rat.  Finally after an hour of ear piercing barking and havoc, it is over.  Peace in the valley at last.  Thank you mister neighbor man from Michigan.  You are my hero.

Wow, I can ramble on about anything.  Earlier, I was thinking that this uneventful day would yield just one maybe two paragraphs.  Im close to a 1000 words here.  What a shmuck.

Its 9:30 now.  Rather than go golfing, I went for a drive.  I toured the country side with my camera and the Mariners game.  Shooting pictures of the mountainous sunset and cow pastures.  It is really beautiful here at dusk.  The temperature dropped down to a comfortable 62 degrees and I hear no dogs.  After an hour of winding through the landscape, I started to head back.

 This afternoon, when I was amongst civilization, I forgot to buy a steak or something to cook on the grill.  This place is in the middle of nowhere.  I am in the sticks, as it were.  Having nothing planned for dinner, I made my way to the one restaurant in town.  The Big Bottom Bar and Grill.  It looked like a dive, but there were no other options.  I came in, grabbed a bar stool and met a waitress named Betty.  She was about four feet tall and had an enormous smile.  Her curly grey hair was in a net and she was wearing flannel.  She called me honey with a folksy country draw.  I asked her my usual question of, "What do you recommend?"  She told me, "Honey, its all good" "Well then, Betty, Ill have the fried halibut and a Coors Light."

            The place was tiny but homely.  There were lots of animal heads on the walls surrounding an old pool table.  It was the first bar I had ever been in that sold wool socks and hunting knives, right next to the bottles of liquor behind the bar.  It was crawling with what looked to be concrete workers.  Tanned up hillbillies in filthy jeans, muddy boots and sleeveless shirts.  I found out later from the gentleman sitting next to me that they were loggers.  His name was Matt and he was two sheets to the wind.  Nice as hell, but blinding drunk.  It was hard to have a conversation with him and all he wanted to do was talk about my tattoo.  In an incoherent, gibberish sort of way.  I ate my fish, drank my beer and left Betty $3. 

            Earlier in the evening I bought a roll of quarters from the RV headquarters.  After my meal, I took the quarters and my trash bag full of laundry to the washing facility. Soon after, I realized I hadnt fully thought my plan through, because I had no detergent.  I drove to the only other building in town, which was a gas station slash propane dealership and asked the lady if they sold any.  She said no, but I could try cutting up a bar of Palmolive to use as a substitute.  I asked her if that would really work and she assured me it would.  She looked like the kind of lady that knew these types of thing, so I bought the soap and headed to the machines.  Right now the washers are running and I have some time to kill, so I am talking with you.

            My close are in the dryer now and I notice the grass around the park already has a thin layer of dew.  Its 10:00 and I can hear some sort of bird crowing in the distance.  Possibly an owl or hell, even a cat.  I havent a clue.  Otherwise it is very quiet here.  The silence is broken every time I start up Fred to go tend to the laundry.  I feel guilty for the disruption while the other campers sleep.  I think I will walk back to retrieve the dry close.  Soon enough I will be folding and then off to bed.  I want to get up early tomorrow and knock out nine holes before I visit the volcano.  Then, off to Redwood.  I have come to the conclusion that I am going to skip Crater Lake in Oregon.  It is just too far off the beaten path and I am running out of days.  I should have left Seattle earlier, I suppose, but honestly.  I think that last night with the ballgame and my airport trip was more enjoyable than Crater Lake would have been.  I will catch it next time for sure.  My buddy Zach will be saddened to hear that I skipped it.  It was the only place he demanded I go.  Sorry Zachster.

5-15-05

            I awoke last night around 3am to the soothing sounds of a rain storm rolling in through the mountainside.  I checked to make sure I hadnt any leaks in my camper.  Once satisfied, I quickly fell back asleep until eight.  I slept like a rock.  I wish it would lightly rain every night, maybe even thunder a bit, followed immediately by bright sunshine every morning and afternoon and then a cool breeze at dusk.  In my perfect world, I would have that, but here in Washington, I do not make the rules. 

The rain is so heavy this morning that I cant pack up camp with out getting completely drenched, let alone go golfing.  I am sitting here in my underwear and blind mans spectacles, enjoying a bottle of cold water and some granola bars, gazing out my tinted plastic window at the water logged landscape before me.   There is a man mowing the RV park lawns right now.  All I hear is his little John Deere engine with blades spinning.  The noise is loud when he makes his pass by my camper and then softens as he drives away.  The repetitive sounds of his grass cutting elude my senses and I begin to think the rain has stopped.  I open my camper door to see that it has not.  There are standing puddles everywhere.  Rippling as they get pelted with droplets from the grey sky.  Every now and then I can hear his mower catch a pool of water and the engine whines and bogs down.  What a trooper this fellow must be to continue mowing in this weather.  It is close to ten now and I am mustering up the courage to begin my departure.  The thermometer reads 54 degrees and Im sure even colder when you are sopping wet. On a sunny day, it takes me about twenty minutes to raise or pack up camp.  I do wish the rain would stop for a little bit. 

            I have plans to be in Reno on the 17^th and I am three days out.  I cant believe it, but I guess now I will skip the rest of Mt. St. Helens.  To get to the actual volcano is another hour drive down a winding country road and then back.  I cant justify that kind of time, just to sit in the truck while it pours.  Most likely the volcano is covered with clouds, just as the mountain tops around me are right now. I will have to drive eleven plus hours today to get to Redwood.  Then nine hours to Reno, skipping the coastal drive entirely.  In retrospect I should have left Seattle two days earlier.  I have had to sacrifice Crater Lake, the rest of St. Helens and now the coast.  Sadness overcomes me.  My trip was, perhaps, a little too ambitious. 

            I ended up leaving camp around 11am.  I was so wet; I had to change close in the truck.  That was a new experience.  I am a big guy and while Fred is very spacious, taking off wet jeans and putting on dry ones in the drivers seat was a chore.  I chose to wear a tank top for the rest of the day so that a shirt wouldnt wipe off the A & D medicine on my arm.  It turns out that choice gave me more entertainment than I ever thought it would.

            From my camp, I drove fifty miles back to I-5 and headed south to Portland.  It was rainy and foggy the entire trip.  Oregon is supposed to be beautiful, but all I saw was wet highway and wet gas stations.  I stopped at a Starbucks to get some coffee.  The gray day was making me tired.  Everyplace I stopped, the person behind the counter or a customer in line with me, commented on my tattoo.  I am still in the ointment stage, so it looks like it has Vaseline on it.  It shimmers in the light and immediately draws your attention.  I learned today that there are a lot of people out there with tattoos. And I heard all about their tattoo experiences today.   They opened up to me like I was Oprah.  Every one of them started with the exact same phrase.  "Did you just get a new tat?"  My response was exactly the same every time, "Yes, a couple of days ago".  The lady at Subway, on the outskirts of Portland, didnt charge me for bacon on my turkey and bacon sub.  She said it was because she liked my tattoo and to have a great day.  She told me how hers itched an awful lot in the first week and she was sure mine would by tomorrow.  I overheard a child in line with his mother at Chevron say "Did that man paint his arm?"  She told him, "No, he just got a tattoo like daddy".  The child followed up with, "But daddies doesnt have colors" The mother told her child there were two kinds of tattoos, daddy had one kind and that man has another.  I smiled at the kid and paid for my gas.  He was a cute little boy with a crazy kallick.  He reminded me of McLaughlins son, Michael.  Adorable.

 I bought two salmon steaks at the fish market in the same town.  The older man at the counter told me about how much his tattoo hurt.  When I asked where it was, he told me about a bad car accident that almost killed him.  He had surgery to repair his back and the tattoo was covering up the scar.  His tattoo was a picture of his wife, Ilene, with angles wings.  She died in the crash.  He was a sweet old man with white hair and I felt for his loss.  I guess it happened twenty years ago and he has never remarried.   I could see he still had on his wedding band.  As he told me the story, I saw his eyes watering up and his lips begin to tremble.  I couldnt help but have a similar reaction as I watched him speak.  He was so genuine, wearing his heart on his sleeve, right there at the fish counter.  The more I heard, the more my eyes felt heavy and my jaw began to quiver.  I felt like he would have talked to me all day, but I cut the conversation short when I felt my own emotions start to emerge.  Its strange how peoples raw honesty and real life stories can affect you.  I have never met that man before, probably will never see him again, but my heart sobbed for him.  Still now, as I type, seven hours later, I get choked up.  I suppose the human condition is universal. What a sad story.  Between the rain and his story, my day spun into a grey and lost feeling. 

The woman at the RV park front desk, damn near pulled her pants off to show me her hip tattoo of a dolphin.  She was more than happy to tell me about her trip to Miami a couple of years ago that inspired it.  People are passionate about their tattoos.  Body art is a big deal to them.  It has meaning.  I have ventured into a whole new subculture of people.  Thats two groups of people that have brought me in open armed since I began this journey.  The first were those road nomads, the RV people.  The second now is tattooed America.  My shoulder ink and my pop-up camper give me the keys to sail right into their worlds and take a look around.  I cant help but wonder how many other areas of society are out there that I am oblivious to.  I am sure plenty.  And probably just as full of good people as these two are.

            So I get to Redwood National Park at dusk.  I take pictures and look around a bit, but the light is almost gone.  None of the pictures came out very well and the rain has turned to fog and mist.  For whatever reason, my camera doesnt shoot well at dusk anyway.  I found an RV park and set up camp.  The charcoal is lit and I am waiting to put on my salmon steaks.  I have never cooked fish on a grill, let alone on a charcoal grill, so I hope it works out.  My side dishes are Coors Light and Chips Oh Hoy Cookies.  A nice balanced meal for nice balance dude.

            I am eight or nine hours from Reno, so I plan to spend the morning in Redwood, see the sights and maybe even screw around on the coast before I head inland to Nevada.  I hope the rain quits so that I can fully enjoy the day. 

For the most part today was boring.  I did listen to the new Dave Mathews CD, twice.  I usually give a new CD a good run through a couple times, so that every song can have a chance to make it into my minds top tier.  I enjoyed songs 1, 2,3,5,6 and 8 off this particular album.  Its pretty mellow stuff, but fitting my rainy day drive through Oregon.  Since I was on a major interstate, I didnt have to fear for my life at every turn like in the Montana rain storms, so I had a lot of time to think.  The rain always does that to me.  I am in kind of a somber mood this evening.  That mans story really stuck with me.  It made me think how lucky I am to have loved and to have felt loved.  I wish I could help ease his pain.  He obviously still has heart ach and anguish.  You would think after twenty years, he would be able to get through a story he probably told a thousand times with out crying to a complete stranger.  It made me think about my own emotions and how fragile they really are.  As I sit here, under my mobile roof, waiting for my fish to cook, I wonder if I made things worse by darting out of the fish market.  I certainly didnt want to make him feel bad.  I became emotional and was confused as to what to do.  He probably thought I was just some jack ass that he poured his heart out to for no reason.  I wish I could let him know otherwise. 

5-16-05

            The sun is out this morning.  Thank Jesus.  Even though the sun is shinning brightly, my camp site is shielded by the huge canopy of tree tops above me.  It is quite shady where I am, but bright enough to tell that it is a sunny day.  In the light, I can see how truly beautiful it is here.  I am excited for the day to begin.

            The girl at the sub shop yesterday was right.  My tattoo itches today and it’s pealing.  While I was in the shower, if you can call it a shower, more like a port-o-potty with a shower head and a soap shelf.  Anyway, as I lathered up my wash rag and gently cleaned my arm, flakes of colored skin came off onto the cloth.  I hope that’s normal.  I think it is.  I’m sure if it’s not, someone today will tell me all about it.

            I got camp packed up by 10am and was on California Highway 101 by 10:15.  It wasn’t but twenty minutes before I was in the heart of Redwood National Forest.  It would have actually been five minutes, but the coastal drive persuaded me to stop a number of times to breathe in the sea air and snap some photos.  The northern California coast reminds me of the movie Goonies.  Lots of rocks along the shore with big rock islands just off it.  Scattered around like some sort of accident.  I felt compelled to jump in and swim towards the little islands for some climbing and exploring.  I did walk down to the coast at one point.  I walked until the incoming waves encompassed my flip-flopped feet.  The water was very cold.  Too cold for even I, the novice tourist that I am, to get in. 

            The one place I stopped in Redwood was “Trees of Mystery”. Dun, dun dunnn….For $13, I walked through this self guided tour of the incredible forest.  It more than satisfied my Redwood fix.  I estimate it was around a mile, mile and a half worth of trails.  Every thirty yards or so was a wooden box, with a little black button on it.  When you pressed the button, a deep, movie theater preview sort of voice came over a speaker that was hidden inside.  The voice told me all about the particular tree in front of me.  Very informative and entertaining.  Once I got to the midway point of the trail, I found a gondola chair lift. It was similar to the kind you see in Colorado, but there were no ski slopes beneath it.  It went up a couple thousand feet, through the forest.  I was told it took eight minutes to arrive at the observation deck above.  Every minute or two it would stop for thirty seconds, so that the people down below and up top could load and unload.  During the pause, you hung there next to the car going the opposite direction.  Swaying in the breeze, the car fighting its previous momentum.  It’s Monday afternoon, so it wasn’t busy at all.  The one car I saw with people in it waved to me.  I waved back.  It was a man that looked to be in his mid-twenties.  His arms were covered with tattoos.  He saw mine and gave me the peace sign in a kind of sideways motion.  The older woman with him was in a wheelchair, she simply waved.

            When I reached the summit, I exited the glass car, gingerly.  I exchanged head nods with the gentleman running the machine.  I have found this to be a strictly male thing.  Women feel the need to greet people verbally and possibly accompanied with a curtsy.  All men need to do is lightly nod.  Add that with a neutral facial expression and the greeting is over.  Both parties are content with the greeting and ready to move on.  This generally only happens when there are just men involved, if a woman is with the man, he has been trained to greet his fellow humans with a verbal expression.  It’s all very unconscious and until someone like me brings it up, not even thought of.  Welcome to my world.

            I headed up the maze of wheel chair accessible decking to the observation area.  The view was absolute spectacular.  You could see the entire valley, full of towering trees, sloping down and into the pacific.  Earlier I didn’t know about this part of the tour, so I blew twenty-five pictures on the trees.  I only had five left on this disk, so I used two for the mountain top deck view.  Saving three for what ever else I would encounter on the remainder of the tour.  It turned out to be the same as the first half, so I took some pictures of myself under the canopy, to end the disk.

            By the time I was finished with the Trees of Mystery Tour it was after noon.  I drove south on 101 until a little dinner caught my eye.  It was named Danielle’s Place.  It was the prototypical kind of café that I have been frequenting on this trip.  Small, not busy.  Probably many health violations.  My main criteria are that I have never heard of it before and it didn’t have a drive thru.  By those standards, it was perfect.

            I entered the café and sat down at the counter.  There was one other customer. He was seated at a table near the corner.  The doors were propped open and a cool ocean breeze filled the tiny space.  I was very comfortable in my tank top, shorts and sandals.  I love California’s weather.  The waitress asked me if I would like anything to drink.  Dr. Pepper, I replied.  I saw no menu and the woman didn’t look as if she was going to get me one, so I asked.  She apologized and gave me this newspaper menu loaded with your typical lunch and breakfast items.  I ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries.  The sports page was on the counter next to me, so I gobbled it up and began to read an article about Latino managers in the major leagues.  Just when I got to the Tony Pena part of the article, (by the way, I didn’t know he quit, that saddens me), this blonde haired lady with a huge toothy grin approached from behind the counter top.  She asked what I would like on my burger and how I wanted it cooked.  I told her ketchup, mayo and onions on a wheat bun, toasted if possible.  She headed to the grill across the way and began to cook, I continued to read.  She was the happiest person I had ever seen sweatin over a steaming flat top grill.  Humming and almost dancing.  While I was reading, a man selling advertising appeared and asked to speak to the owner.  The blonde woman turned from the grill and said, “I’m Danielle”.  They spoke.  I recognized his pitch from my days at the BBQ restaurant.  She was much more patient with the man that I ever was.  She gracefully declined after hearing his entire shpeal and even asking questions.  He left with a smile, she went back to the kitchen to continue my burger. 

More customers randomly came in and I got the impression that the other waitress was pretty new, still in training.  It became apparent that Danielle was running the grill and training her new waitress at the same time.  Danielle was a very pleasant woman.  She had that gift to get along with anyone, even if it was a stressful situation.  I remarked in my head, that I would have loved to have worked with her.  Those types of people are like liquid gold.  I had feelings of envy when I saw how well she dealt with the ignorant new employee during her obviously understaffed rush.  Even with my own sense of right and wrong, under the same conditions, I could have easily become tart or course, but not Danielle.  She kept her cool, all the while keeping the guests and the employee happy.  My time in the food industry has cursed me in a way that every restaurant I enter, I am constantly critiquing it in my mind.  My friends always comment on it and it’s true.  I have a very strong opinion about how things should be done and run.  Not that it makes any difference, but Danielle was doing an excellent job and I told her so.  She smiled with a sheepish grin and blushed while she said, “Thank you, how was everything?  Just as a person of her quality would. 

            My burger came out, exactly as I ordered it.  It was big and juicy, dripping with grease as I picked it up.  Absolutely delicious.  I continued to eat and finish my baseball article.  Can I just say, it really irks me that baseball doesn’t have a salary cap.  It really makes it unfair.  Especially to teams like the Royals who can’t have a 200 million dollar payroll, thus forcing good managers like Pena to quit.  I could go on about that for three pages though.

            I left Danielle’s Place full and satisfied.  Almost too full.  I got back onto 101 and headed south.  It wasn’t but a half hour before I started getting those oh so familiar feelings.  My body wanted a nap.  I was right next to a disserted beach and said screw it.  I hadn’t had near enough time with my old friend the Pacific Ocean anyway.  I pulled over next to a sign that read, “No swimming Dangerous Undertow” I got my hoody and some towels from the camper as well as my reclining lawn chair from the bed of my truck and headed down to the beach.  I set up the chair, put on my hoody, wrapped my legs in the towels and relaxed.  It was 2pm.  I was maybe fifty miles from my camp site of last night.  But hey, this is my day.  This is my ocean and damn it, if I want to take a nap with the sounds of waves crashing in my dreams, so be it!  If there is anything I have learned thus far it is, screw itineraries.  Make it up as you go along.

            To me, it doesn’t get more beautiful than the Pacific Ocean and in particular the California coast line.  There is something very surreal about it.  Soothing and calm.  I understand it and it understand me.  It is hard to put into words exactly.  I think I was a sea creature in a previous life.  Seeing that horizon of blue that seemed to extend on into eternity made my heart skip a beat.  I shutter in amazement and remember what it is to feel alive. 

            I got my tri-fold lawn chair situated a dozen yards from where the waves were crashing into the sand.  I laid down in a way that my head was propped up just enough to see past my feet and into the water. I snapped a few pictures from the camera around my neck and gazed into forever.  I day dreamed about one my favorite movies.  In my mind I was Tom Hanks, castaway on a deserted island.  It took me a while before I actually felt tired again; the excitement of this place had quieted my slumbering thoughts.  I watched a seagull rummage for food and even saw a sea lion pop his head out of the surf.  I was the only thing on his beach and I thought he may have been looking directly at me.  I saw a couple of them earlier in the day by the docks.  They are so cool.  I want one.

            I did finally doze off.  I don’t recall any dreams, which is unusual for me.  The weight of my two hundred and fifty pound body sunk the lawn chair into the sand and I ended up just inches above the earth.  I had hoped to awaken fully rested and relaxed, ready for my drive to Reno.  Instead, I awoke suddenly to a soaking wet ass.  The tide came up just enough to drench the bottom of my chair with cold salt water.  I got up, grabbed my stuff and went back to Fred.  It was 4:45.  I slept for two hours on that beach.  Cool.  For the second day in a row, I changed my pants in the truck cab.  I’m getting better at it.

            By the time I got on 101 south it was 5pm.  I felt good though.  I drove to the California 299 junction, filled my gas tank, bought an ice cream bar and headed east towards my old pal Interstate Five.   I drove through some mild mist and discovered a rainbow.  I got a sweet photo of it.  Those things are strange.  Exciting, but strange.

Before I continue, let me enlighten you with some factual numbers.  From highway 101 to I-5 is around 120 miles via route 299.  If you average 60 miles an hour, it would take you two hours to get there.  It took me three hours and fifteen minutes.  Highway 299, while very scenic, was the curviest road I have ever been on.  I averaged 35 miles an hour.  Each curve was followed by another curve in the opposite direction.  They all seemed like half circles.  I began to get car sick.  Every 45 seconds my body would jostle and sway with the truck.  If you have an afternoon to waste and want to see a beautiful, scenic road that follows a river through the California Mountains, I highly suggest it.  But if you simply want to get to I-5 from 101…back track up 101 and over.  You’ll save an hour easy.

            So it’s 8:15 when I get to a town called Redding, which is the intersection of 229 and I-5.  I don’t know if I was dizzy from the last road or just not paying attention, but somehow I ended up on 44 east, rather than I-5 south.  I didn’t even realize until I was eleven miles of course.  I happened to look back in my rear view mirror and see a spectacular sunset against the mountains.  I pulled over to take a picture and it dawned on me that the sunset was in the wrongs spot.  It should have been over my right shoulder not behind me.  My error was confirmed when I got back in the cab and the compass read east, not south.  Dumb ass.  It wasn’t a total loss though; I got some stunning photos of the sunset on my way back west to I-5. 

            So it’s dark.  I am driving south on I-5, towards Sacramento, where I will pick up I-80 east into Reno.  I am about 230 miles away from reaching my destination of my Aunt and Uncle house in Reno.  I grab a cappuccino from a random exit ramp, Chevron.  It is absolutely terrible.  I am forced to pull into a Shell, where I know from experience that the cappuccino is at least decent, and get new one.  Luckily I had cell phone coverage on this particular road and I called an old friend.  We talked for 45 minutes, catching up on each others lives, which helped pass the dark drive time.  The rest of the time, I chugged cappuccino and listened to the XM channel for comedy. That station is great.  It’s easy to stay alert when you are laughing and hearing jokes from comedic greats like Richard Pryor, George Carlin and Lewis Black, just to name a few.

            I get to Reno just shy of 2am.  My brother is there waiting for me.  We B.S. for an hour and a half and he goes to bed.  I return a couple e-mails and begin to type this journal entry, you know, while it’s fresh in my head.  It is 5:22 now and the freakin sun is coming up.  I am half tempted to get some sunrise pictures and ride out the rest of the day on just my sleep from the beach nap.  Foolish I am sure, but hey, my new motto.  No itineraries let it happen.

            Tomorrow, ah, today, I plan to give old Fred a good washin and an oil change.  I never got it done in Seattle and I am at 27% oil life.  You gotta love a dashboard computer that tells you when to change the oil.  3800 miles so far on this trip.  He is a dirty S.O.B. 

5-17-05

            I got into Reno last night around 2am. Hung out with my brother until 4am.  Wrote in my journal until the sun came up.  I tried to ride out my cappuccino buzz and stay up all night.  My Uncle Tom got up around six to go to work, he left by seven or so.  My Aunt Lisa is still in KC for my Cousin Lauras graduation.  She should be back tomorrow afternoon. Jake was asleep.  I piddled around the empty house till eight a.m., got hungry and went to Dennys.

I had a Grand Slam with apple juice.  The waitress was this extremely chipper Spanish woman.  Very upbeat.  I was way too tired to engage her.  I felt like the walking dead, a zombie.  The meal was fine and I headed back.  I crashed at 9am, leaving my brother a note to wake me by two.  I felt bad, because I knew he had planned to spend the afternoon with me, but I needed rest.  I woke up at 1:15 and took a shower.

They have this dog named Wolfie.  He is quite possibly the coolest dog I have ever known.  He is a short little low-rider.  I have no clue what kind of dog he is, and for the most part neither does Tom or Lisa.  Tom is trained in the field of veterinary medicine.  He works in the pathology lab at Bayer in Reno.  He thinks the dog may be part corgi.  What ever he is, hes black and a load of fun.  Very smart too.  Fun to play tug of war with or ball.  As I was typing this morning, he would bring his red ball up under the table and toss it into my feet.  If I wouldnt respond, he would nudge the toy into me, forcing me to grin and get off the laptop.  Hes so damn cute, I feel bad when I quit playing with him.  He gives me this sad face, which forces me to play with him longer.  We have this game where Ill chase him into the kitchen and stop, then go the other way around through the dinning room in through the other kitchen entrance.  If I give him a juke move, he freaks out and tries to avoid me.  It is extremely comical if I can get him onto the tile in the kitchen, because he doesnt get very good traction and peels out.  His full name is Wolfgang, but they call him Wolfie for short.  I like to call him Wolf-Man myself. 

            My Aunt and Uncles house is in a newer subdivision of Reno.  This town has a very high growth rate.  As a matter of fact, my brother and I are going to look at a house today that hes buying.  Tom and Lisas pad is pretty sweet.  Five bedrooms with a mountain for a back yard.  My uncle has been tinkering around back there since they moved here two years ago.  They just had a huge rock wall put in at the base of the hill.  It has a three step stone staircase leading to the hill.  When he gets it all done it will be gorgeous, Im sure.  Id like to build him a kick ass deck platform up the hill a bit.  Someplace to see the mountains and stars, a place to relax.  This town doesnt have much lawn space.  Mostly the yards are small and sculpted with rocks and bushes.  The weather is pretty dry here, desert like, not very conducive to grass growing.  Every place with grass has an irrigation system of some sort.  Reno is wedged between the mountains.  They shield the town in a way and allow for pretty nice weather.  That is what I hear anyway.  Every time I am in town they are having "abnormal" weather.  The local Indian tribe called me yesterday.  It seems they want me to visit the reservation and do a little dance.  Apparently its been dry there lately and they heard about my mystical powers to bring the rains. 

            Their backyard is almost an animal retreat for rabbits and birds.  Quails, bluebirds, etc.  Tom told me that the quails have a look out on the fence to alert the other birds when Wolfie comes into the yard.  As I type, I am on the back porch talking with Tom and Jake, watching the dog chase off birds. He never catches them, but that doesnt seem to discourage him.   The sky is overcast and it looks as if it will rain.  This town usually doesnt have much rainfall, but this week has been "abnormally" wet.  Mother Nature must have heard I was coming.

            Earlier in the day, Jake and I went to a town called Fernley, thirty miles east of Reno.  We looked at the lot where his house is to be built.  We also toured the model home.  His design is a three bedroom, two bath model with a large front porch.  A very nice home for him and Nicole.  None of the houses here have basements.  The theory is that it is too rocky and there are no tornadoes.  I think its B.S. myself.  If you can dig a basement in the Rockies, you sure as hell can dig one here.  No one seems to care though, so what ever.

            On our way back from Fernley, we took a detour.  This place has tons of dirt and rock trails that go up and down the small mountains that surround the town.  We took a trail that led from the highway, over and through the mountains, directly to Tom and Lisas neighborhood.  It took over an hour and we had to drive pretty slowly, the rocks were jagged and the trail anything but groomed.  We were all alone.  Its cool because there are no fences anywhere.  Of course there isnt any need for them since cattle cant feed off of rocks and dirt, but I loved it because you felt free.  Free to roam and explore.  My brother often tours these hills in his truck and farts around.  Old Fred did well.  It gives me joy to have a truck that will go where ever I want to go.

            When we got back to the house, Tom was just getting back from the hardware store with the dog.  He takes him everywhere.  Wolfie likes to travel.  Tom got some conduit and was fixing an irrigation problem on the side of the property.  We shot the shit for a little bit out back on the deck and then he took me to a Mexican restaurant called Betos.  It was this tiny building, looked like it used to be a gas station.  It was old and dirty and dank in the middle of a bad part of town, but the food was great.  Jake and I had some margaritas and Tom had a Mexican beer. 

            We got back home and I crashed.  I screwed up my sleep schedule pretty good trying to stay up all night and I was full of beer and margaritas and Mexican food.  I slept like a rock.  Best sleep in two weeks.

5-18-05

            I woke up today at 8:30.  Jake and I had plans to Golf around nine.  He had taken my truck to the car wash earlier in the morning, before I woke up and cleaned the crap out of it.  Even Armoralled the cab.  And you know that trash barrel Fred got into a fight with in Montana?  Ya, he waxed and buffed it out.  What a swell guy.  Old Fred was lookin good.  I had to take a picture.  I forgot how good that sucker looked when it was clean.  These last two weeks have been rough on the trucks appearance.  Lots of mud and dirt and general filth.  By the time he was done, Im sure that car wash had dirt from eight different states running down the drains.

            We got to the golf course around 9:15.  The wind was incredible.  Almost blew the ball right off the tee.  We had to take our ball caps off because they kept blowing away.  The course was nice, surrounded by mountains.  There were only two other cars in the lot when we pulled up, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves.  It had a lot of "wetlands".  These are parts of the course surrounded by red poles and full of swampy grass.  Supposedly it is the "natural" wetlands and we were to stay off them so as not to disturb nature.  Its all crap.  The lazy bastards that built the course either wanted us to lose ten balls or were just too lazy to build over them.  You gotta ask the question, "Wasnt this all wet lands before the golf course was built?"  And if so, why leave these particular wetlands?  Needless to say, we lost quite a few balls.  If the wind didnt carry them into the swamp, our own bad shots did.  The place was infested with geese too.  Tons of them, everywhere. 

            Before any of you jump to conclusions.  No, we did not drink any beer on the course...  Until the tenth hole, where we got an eight pack of Coors Light to finish off the day.  Overall, I shot pretty well.  I got my second birdie of all time on one of the par threes.  I believe it was hole number six.  I had a spectacular drive, about 150 yards.  The wind was at my back and I clubbed down to a nine iron to compensate.  It landed ten feet from the pin.  Then, to the shock of everyone, including myself, I actually made the stinkin put.  That hole made my week.  Two holes later, I hit a bomb from the tee box, against the wind.  Probably 275 yards.  It wasnt the longest stroke in the world, but it was straight and it went where I wanted it to go.  Landed on the fairway too, by God.  Jake shot well.  He hasnt swung the wrenches in five years. He went to the driving range two days ago to prepare for our outing.  He told me he didnt hit very well.  Whatever.  Freakin liar.  He beat me today by twelve strokes and thats after I cheated a little.  Ive been golfing at least once a month for a couple of years now.  He takes off five years and comes out shootin like Tiger Woods.  He had no birdies though.  My birdie was honest and I am proud of it.  That makes both brothers, a father and a grandpa now that can beat me at golf.  Im sure that if my sister, mother or grandma ever played, they would beat me as well.  How depressing.

            We got done right at 12:30.  Jake took me to this BBQ restaurant called BJs BBQ.  It was good.  I had a chopped beef sandwich and Louisiana dirty rice.  Along with a Michelob Light, no Coors at this place.  It looked like your typical BBQ joint.  Smelled of hickory smoke and molasses.  They had the Southern Pride Pit sitting right their behind the counter.  The entire kitchen was exposed and open to see.  All women working there too, which I thought was odd.  I asked the waitress what was good.  She gave me the unimaginative answer of "its all good". I said, "What do you get when you eat here?"  She told me she didnt eat meat.  All I could think of was "Thats a good way to cut down on employee theft, hire the vegans"

            My brother dropped me off at the house so I could jot down some journal entries.  He headed to the airport to pick up Aunt Lisa at 2:30.  I cant wait to see her.  She a cool lady.  Hell of a cook too.  I cant wait to see what she has planned tonight for dinner.  Jake took the dog, so I am all alone.  The wind is going crazy out side.  Sounds like Im in a storm, but when you look outside, its pretty sunny, moderate cloud cover.

            Lisa got home and we chatted awhile.  She was checking messages and mail and things of that nature, so Jake and I went outside threw the football around.  He bought a Styrofoam airplane earlier today for $2.50.  We tried to throw it around, but the wind was so crazy, it didnt really work.  By this time we had both had about eight or nine beers and we began to make some "modifications" to the plane.  Really all we did was put some masking tape on it for support.  We also taped on some rocks for extra weight.  What should have been fifteen minutes worth of fun turned into a couple hours.  We had the dog out there and pretty much just goofed off all afternoon.  It was a blast.

            Lisa made an excellent taco dinner and we ate around 6:30.  I havent had home made tacos in years.  They were tasty.  Jake wants to go outside and try the damn plane again.  The wind seems to have died down a bit.  Its seven oclock now. 

            We went out and threw the plane. Its on its last leg.  Every wing, flap and stabilizer, even the hull has broken in half at least twice.  Its all taped together, looks like a Franken-plane.  I threw the Frisbee up the mountain, as I have done twenty times today at least.  Wolfie goes tearing up the hill as usual, but this time, he missed the second step.  The poor little guy slammed his face into the top step.  Its made of stone and I think it rang his bell pretty good.  He yelped and stumbled around licking his nose for a couple minutes.  He has a little spot of blood by his snout.  Needless to say, Frisbee time was over.  This dog has so much personality.  He has many little quirks about him too.  If you get out the plunger, he goes insane.  If you pet this ceramic cat they have on the patio and say the words, "Nice Kitty", he goes insane.  If you go over to these four foot bushes and run your hand across the top and say, "Tweet, Tweet", he goes insane.  I dont know if Tom has trained him to do this or not, but its hilarious.  The dog is calm and behaved every other second of the day, but cats, birds and plungers drive him absolutely nuts.

            Tonight, the big plans are set.  I am going to use Uncle Toms beard trimmer and cut down my forest of a beard, then I am going to shave the sucker off.  Its time, I think.  Its driving me freakin bonkers.  Bushy and in the way.  Always catching crumbs and getting wet when I drink.  Its like Im a big dog that just lapped up a bowl of water.  When I get out of the shower, my chin is wet for two hours.  I dry off and put a shirt on and the neck gets a wet spot on it from when I pull it over my face.  Its crazy and Im ready for it to be gone. 

            Jake and I plan to leave tomorrow for Joshua Tree National

Park tomorrow morning around 8:30am.  Mapquest tells us it will take eleven hours to get there from Reno.  Should be a great time.  We will set up camp tomorrow night and stay for two nights.  Then I will drop him off in Vegas on the 22^nd and I will head to the Grand Canyon for two days, then home.  My trip is almost over.  I bet my yard is ten feet tall by now.

5-19-05

            Jake woke me up around 6:10 this morning.  His method of raising me is tossing Wolfie into the bed with me.  Waking up to his little cold nose and panting dog breath on your cheek isnt a half bad way to start the day.  How could you ever get up on the wrong side of the bed with that little fellow around?

 The room I was sleeping in had a TV and an extremely comfortable bed.  Even though I went to bed last night around 9:30, I fought the urge to sleep and stayed up watching The World Poker Tour until 11:00.  My buddy Sanjay had bought me this book last year for Christmas called The Super System by Doyle Brunson.  Its pretty much the bible of poker.  An encyclopedia of poker, if you will.  Brunson is the like the God Father of poker.  The book is over a thousand pages and has every kind of poker you can imagine.  Anyway, he was playing on the World Poker Tour last night.  He is in his seventies and I had never actually seen him play, so I was compelled to watch.  Sure enough he won the whole thing, thus justifying my late evening. 

After my Wolfgang wake up call, I put in my contacts to discover a wonderful breakfast Aunt Lisa had prepared for us.  Scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast and OJ.  Perfection.  Jake and I ate like kings and then left around 7:15, headed for Joshua Tree National Park. 

Map Quest told us that the drive from Reno to Joshua Tree would take 11 hours.  They had us going through Los Angeles and traveling mostly on major interstates.  My brother pointed out that we would be hitting L.A. around 4pm and the traffic would be terrible.  On his suggestion we took an alternate route.  I drove the entire way and pretty much just sat back and let him navigate.  We started out on 395 south out of Reno and before it was all said and done, were on six different local highways.  The drive was awesome.  With the exception of the wind advisories in southern Nevada and central California, the trip was flawless.  We drove through snow capped mountains in 80 degree weather.  The sun was shinning brighter than I had seen it shine in two months.  The air was moving fast so when we stopped for fuel or bathroom breaks, the high 80s didnt seem bad at all.  Very comfortable.  With Jake navigating and my lead foot, we made it there in 8 1/2 hours and didnt have to see an inch of L.A. or San Bernardino.  We pulled in just before 4:00, grabbed some steaks and ice from the local grocer and headed off to find a place to camp.

The town that sits on the edge of Joshua Tree is called 29 Palms.  I had heard the name many times before.  My grandparents used to live here in the late seventies.  29 Palms has a huge Marine Base and my Grandpa was stationed here.  Apparently, according to my brother, I was named after a road trip my father and mother had through Joshua Tree.  I had never actually heard that, and have yet to confirm it, but he seems very certain.  If thats true, then my trip here surly was destined.

When you pull into 29 Palms at first it looks like a dump.  A desert town, full of trashy homes and weathered desert people.  The sign on the way in said the town was "An Oasis of Murals".  It took us a while before that sunk in.  The more you looked around, the more you see that just about every building has at least one exterior wall that has a huge mural painted on it.  It could be a doctors office with a mural of an examination room with a patient and doctor.  It could be a U.S. Marines mural.  There is one of a Marine standing in front of Saddam's statue being pulled down.  There were Mom and Pop stores that have the portraits of Mom and Pop working, painted on the side of the store.  The more I think about it, the town is pretty cool.  The desert is so baron and empty, it must be hard to make it look good.  The murals are a nice touch.

From the grocery store we drove to the Joshua Tree Visitor Center.  We got a map of the park and headed in.  At first, it just looked like any other desert wasteland.  Cactus and bushes filled the landscape.  Small rocks and three foot brush trees sporadically scattered among the sand.  There are small mountains surrounding the whole place.  Allot like Reno.  When you get ten miles into the park and over the mountains, is when it becomes interesting.  We pulled into a camp ground called Jumbo Rock.  A fitting name.  The entire place is filled with huge round boulders.  Piles of them.  Mountains of them.  So many that it looks like someone broke apart a highway and piled up the concrete.  Hundreds of feet in the air.  Except these rocks were round and smooth.  No jagged edges.  You look at these things and they are literally just sitting on top of each other.  It looks like you could just push them off.  Of course they are so huge; no human alive could do such a thing.  Standing next to one dwarfs you so much that trying to get the entire rock and your body into one picture is damn near impossible.  Questions begin to arise in your mind, the more you look.  Why are these rocks here?  How did they get stacked up like this?  What did this?  How did they become rounded like river rocks in the middle of all this sand and desert?  The craziness of what you are looking at is hard to fully comprehend.  It looks as if you have just landed on Mars.  My Grandmother was right.  There is no other place on Earth, like this place.

When you drive into the designated campgrounds, there are asphalt paths that lead you around these mammoth boulders and into little coves between boulders.  It was truly fantastic.  I have never felt so excited to be somewhere.  I felt at home.  My brother was the perfect person to take to this place with me, because he felt the same way.  We reminisced about a trip we took when we were young to Jackson Hole Wyoming.  Our parents let us climb this huge waterfall.  It was littered with humongous round rocks going straight up this mountain.  We loved it and have been talking about going back for years.  This place put the rock waterfall in Wyoming to shame.  It was awesome.

We set up camp quickly.  Its amazing how much faster it is with another person and in the sunshine.  Just as soon as we got camp situated, we packed a backpack with ice and beer and went on a short hike.  We climbed the rocks, we straddled the little canyons, we got to the top of every little mountain around us.  It was great.  We saw jack rabbits.  We saw lizards.  We saw Joshua Trees.  The Joshua Tree is kind of like a mix between a palm tree and a cactus.  Very odd.  We made our way back to camp to download the pictures to the laptop and get more beer.  Then went out again.

By the second exploration trip, it was near dark.  Our plan was to head to the biggest rock pile we could see, which was across the campground and behind all the campers.  We wanted to make it there before dusk and sit to watch the sunset.  It so happened that we made it there in time.  Sat down on this huge cliff facing west, cracked open a cold Coors Light and chatted.  We sat on the edge of that cliff for a good hour.  The cliff was the perfect place to sit and watch a sunset, couldnt have planned it better.  The sun sank deeper and deeper behind the mountain range off in the distance until the only light that was out was the moonlight.  It was three-quarters full and so bright; we had no problem getting back down.  What an excellent evening.

We got back to the campsite a little before nine and fired up the grill.  We had a pack of three KC Strip steaks, they were wonderful.  We accompanied the meat with half a bag of Pistachios.  Those suckers are addicting.  After diner, we played rummy by candle light in the camper.  The campground had no electricity and no water, so we were down to bug candles and flashlights.  Which was fine, the bugs were so heavy, we wouldnt have turned on the lights anyway.  We tuckered out around 10:30 and hit the hay.  My little brother beat me at Rummy, by twenty points.  The rotten Bastard.

5-20-05

            I awoke this morning at 6:45, to the blinding sun, shining in through the camper screen window.  This has been the first night I have spent in this rig with all the windows open.  It was very pleasant.  The weather last night was great.  Low sixties with a breeze.  I slept well.  The bug population out here has become increasingly difficult.  While, our camper was relatively bug free, anytime you leave the camper you are swarmed.  I feel very dirty today.  I am dirty.  No shower since two nights ago.  How gross is that.  None of the campgrounds in Joshua Tree have water or electricity, so we have decided to find an RV park in town. 

            We skipped our originally planned blue berry bagels and strawberry cream cheese breakfast, and went to town.  I pretty much took a shower in the 7-11 bathroom sink.  I also cleaned and dressed a wound I had received yesterday on my shin.  Its a nice little three pronged gash.  Looks like a bear clawed me.  Hey, I have an idea, lets drink beer while we rock climb.  Brilliant!  For the record it was Jakes idea, not that I fought it.  Needless to say, we will not be drinking during todays adventure.

            From the 7-11 we ventured to Dennys.  I had chicken fried steak and eggs, Jake got the Grand Slam.  The food was good, but the waitress was not very friendly.  Down right rude.  We may have looked like vagabonds and possibly stank a little, but no need to give us the cold shoulder. The un-showered need love too.  That Spanish lady in Reno put this waitress to shame.   This dumb woman ended up leading us on a wild goose chase for an RV park.  She could have simply told us she didnt know; instead she had us driving all over hell and back.  An hour, we are lookin for this place.  Finally we asked the Vietnamese dude at the Holiday Inn Express.  He was quite friendly, even drew us a map.  The town has two RV parks.  Neither of which are even on the same side of town as that damn waitress told us to go.  Some people suck.

            So the RV place is cool.  Right next to the Marine Base and has a golf course.  I never knew before this trip how many RV joints have golf courses.  Its like there should be a special compartment on the RVs for your clubs.  We probably wont golf since Jakes clubs are in Reno.  Once we found the place and discover it was fine, we headed back to Joshua Tree to pack up and get the camper, bring it back and set up.

            We are headed into Joshua Tree today with a backpack full of WATER and sunscreen.  Before we go, my brother introduces me to fish tacos at the local Del Taco.  Pretty damn good I must say.  I wouldnt have probably ever ordered them on my own, but now Im hooked.

            The time is straight up noon when we enter the Park.  The temperature is 92 degrees.  Its hot.  Dry, but hot.  Our goal today is Barker Dam, in the heart of Joshua Tree.  It came highly recommended by our grandparents.  The park is forty miles by sixty miles, so we dont actually get there until 12:30. 

            Let me first say, this place is amazing.  The same huge boulders and rock formations as Jumbo Rock, but much more grand and this time it has a little lake in the middle of it all.  Absolutely breathtaking.  You cant help but just stand back and try to take it all in.  I would put up with the climate and live in the desert if I could be close to this place.  You would never run out of places to climb to.  When I die, and they ask where I want to spend eternity, I will say, "Spit it between Joshua Tree and the Grand Canyon"  Im hoping Ill be able to fly by then, how great would that be?  Flying through the Grand Canyon for the rest of time. 

We take the mile long trail to Barker Damn and hike around on the surrounding rocks.  We decide to climb the biggest rock mountain next to it.  Something close to 1000 feet we climbed.  Over boulders, under boulders, around boulders.  It was like that Sly Stallone movie, Cliffhanger.  We brought the carpenters gloves I had in the tool box and they helped immensely.  We drank four bottles of water apiece while up there and still could have drank more.  This was by far the longest and highest I have ever hiked.  It was great fun, very exhilarating, but about killed me.  I was gassed.  I can only imagine how great of shape you would be in if you did this twice a week.  Something I didnt know.  The hike up, while difficult, is about a million times easier than the hike down. You would think that thing called gravity that is always pushing you down would be less of a bitch on the way down.  Not the case.  It was damn right scary coming down.  Steep and crazy.  The rocks are so non-conformed; there are literally thousands of possible ways up or down.  Its not like theres a trail or a path.  You make your own path.  There were some points along the way, that I had serious doubts as to IF we were going to get back down.  There were times when we would climb up forty feet and then have to climb back down and find another way, because that first way ended with an eighty foot gorge.    Thank God we had two people.  If one person got in a jam, the other one could boost him up or help lower him down.  Teamwork.  The view from the top was spectacular.  The elevation before we started was already 4000 feet, then we climbed another 1000.  Needless to say I was winded.  The air is thin and your breathing is much harder.  When we got back to the truck, I made Jake drive home.  I could have easily fallen asleep.  Instead, I guzzled water.

            We get back to camp around 3:30.  They have an indoor pool here, so we took a dip.  Our disgusting, un-showered, filthy bodies should not have been anywhere near a pool without first bathing, but we were tired.  Sorry.  The pool was nice; we swam for thirty minutes and then came back to camp.  Jake went to the store to pick out something for dinner and I jotted down some journal entries.  Later we plan to go back up to Joshua Tree and hike around this part called Ryan mountain.  We past it on the way to Baker Dam, and it looked sweet. 

            Around 5pm, Jake brought back some salmon steaks and we marinated them in Italian dressing.  The sun was beating down, temperature 98 degrees in the shade.  Since we were at a campground with power, we cranked the air conditioner in the pop-up to full blast when we set it up earlier this morning.  Its pretty comfortable in here right now.  The day had already beaten us down pretty hard and we decided to start drinking.  We threw the football around on the sweltering asphalt drive for a while, then moved on to sitting in the lawn chairs and looking out upon the campgrounds.  It was so hot we decided to go into the camper and watch some 3-stooges on DVD.  We set the laptop up on the dinning room table and watched four episodes.  Hilarious.  In between the episodes, we cooked the Salmon.  It was great.  Very tasty.

 After dinner and the movie, we went on a sunset drive in Fred through the back country.  We found a dirt road that said "no access and made our own access.  The sun was setting and we had some Incubus blasting out of the CD player.  Not another human being in sight.  It was another surreal sunset evening adventure.  At one point we had to back track a bit because old Fred couldnt make it up this sand dune.  I never knew it, but sand really sucks to drive in.  No traction, even in four wheel low.  We crashed around 9:30.  Crashed meaning fell asleep, as opposed to wrecking the truck. 

5-21-05

            I woke up this morning to a freezing cold camper.  It was so cold; I had to snuggle into my sleeping bag.  It was nice though.  The air conditioner unit is working overtime today.  It was 92 degrees when Jake got up at 8:45 to get himself some coffee.  I took a shower and wrote a little while he was in town.  Today we are heading to Hoover Dam and the Lake Mead area.  Then off to Vegas to meet our step-sister Heather and her newly acquired husband Eddie, and gamble a bit.  She works for Warner Cable Company and won a trip out here.  They paid for her air, hotel, spending money and they get to have dinner with the Sopranos and Deadwood cast.  They got married yesterday in Vegas.

            The drive from Joshua Tree to Hoover Dam was boring to say the least.  The desert all looks the same.  You look down the highway and it seems as if it goes on forever.  It reminds me of that movie with Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Turo, Fear and Loathing.  The temperature kept climbing, the further north we went.  It was 105 when we got to Hoover.  The dam was pretty cool.  Pretty damn big in person.  I took some dam pictures and we walked across the top and peered over the dam wall.  We didnt take the dam tour because it was so damn crowded.  The place was swarming with dam tourists.  Security was pretty damn tight.  We had to pull the damn truck over to let the dam officer check the rig for bombs.  Once we got close to the dam, we had to park a damn mile away, in the RV parking section.  It was so damn hot, when you looked at the dam concrete you could see the dam heat sweltering from it.  It is pretty damn amazing that they built this in 1934.  Still looks damn good.  I dont have any cool dam fact to enlighten you with, since we skipped the dam tour.  Jake told me that Lake Mead is the biggest man-made lake in the world.  Damn.

            Las Vegas is only a thirty minute drive from Hoover.  It was a Saturday, around 4:30pm when we got into town.  The streets were swamped with people.  Very heavy traffic everywhere.  Even though our father was nice enough to look up camp grounds around Hoover for us, we opted to stay at the Circus Circus RV park.  I had no idea such a place existed, but my brother called ahead to reserve us a spot on this four thousand degree pavement.  We parked the rig, cracked open some ice cold beers and began to bake.  We set up camp in record time and headed toward Paris Le Casino to meet Heather and Eddie.  The temperature is now 107 degrees.  Before we left, we cranked up the air conditioner, but it would be a while before mister camper could overcome such blistering heat.  I was looking forward to a nice air conditioned casino.

            We got to Paris and played some video poker at the bar.  Eddie and Heather came down to meet us and we chatted for a half hour.  We got into town a little late, so our visit with the newly weds was cut short.  They had dinner reservations with the HBO people at 6pm.  Jake and I cruised the strip for a couple of hours.  Mostly eyeing all the gorgeous women that filled the side walks.  This place is full of beautiful women.  We piddled around at a couple more bars and played some black jack.  We watched the fountain show in front of the Bellagio.  It was huge and set to music.  Very cool, save for the Celine Dion number it was synchronized to.  Jake took me to a place that serves pound hot dogs and we soaked up all the vodka tonics we had been inhaling since we got on the strip.  It was around 9pm and I wanted to play some Texas Holdem.  The casino near our camp ground had a poker room, so I played while Jake found some more Black Jack.  I sat down with $80 in chips.  This was 9:30.  I didnt leave the table, except for bathroom breaks, until 4am.  The people I played with were novices and drunk ones at that.  At one point I had build my stack up to $610, but I squandered it away with dumb decisions and cocky play.  I was becoming increasingly drunk myself.  They give you free drinks while you play.  Need I say more?  By the time I called it quits, I was up to $340.  It was 4am and my drunken ass was fine with my $260 winnings.  They dont put clocks in those damn casinos.  Its bright as hell with no outside light what-so-ever.  The place is still packed at 4am with drunken fools.  Its quite an environment.  I left the poker room, cashed in my chips and treated myself to a fish sandwich and some fries at the casino restaurant.  I drank four glasses of water with my meal and staggered home to my air conditioned camper.  Jake had quit around midnight.  He had to catch a flight at 10am.  He and Nicole are going to Hawaii.  They got some sweet deal on airline tickets since they are both flight attendants.  Its a freakin rock star life style those airline employees lead.  He wants to quit, I cant see why.  Hes pretty much been everywhere in this beautiful country.  Gets free flights to wherever he wants.  Sounds like a bummer to me.

5-22-05

            During last nights casino debauchery, I wore flip flops.  This morning when I awoke from my alcohol induced coma, I realized my feet were black.  Tops and bottoms.  One thing you can never accuse this town of being is too clean.  I went to bed last night at 4:30am.  This morning I woke up at 9:30 to tell my brother goodbye.  He caught his 10am flight to Phoenix, where he is meeting up with Nicole for Hawaii.  Freakin rock stars man.

            I feel dirty.  It is becoming my normal morning feeling lately.  I am going to take a nice hot/cool shower and clean myself thoroughly.  The shower facility is thirty yards from my camper.  My feet are disgusting.  You can see a black line where my flip flops were.  A dirt path.  When I look at my feet, I am horrified that I slept in my sleeping bag that way.  I am going to have to find a laundry mat sometime today so that I can clean away the filth. 

            After my shower I will pack up camp and head to the Grand Canyon.  The culmination of my three week sabbatical.  I plan to camp tonight and tomorrow night.  It should be a little cooler there.  The elevation is higher.  I dont care if its 107 like it is here, it will still be fantastic.  I am more excited about going back to the Grand Canyon then I have been about anything thus far.  It is truly a magical place.  I hope they have showers.

            I didnt actually end up leaving Las Vegas until after two.  I left the asphalt campgrounds around 12:45 and subsequently got lost.  That town is larger than I thought.  They have four highways all intersecting.  To get onto any boulevard, you have to use an on ramp.  I felt like a moron when I finally found highway 5.

            I drove over Hoover again on my way out.  I took an hour to get from the security check point to the same point on the opposite side of the lake.  Today is Sunday and it was even more packed than yesterday.  Heat gage read 106.

            My drive into Arizona was ok.  Some mountains and desert.  Pretty much the same as the last three days.  The Grand Canyon doesnt have any major highways in or around it.  It is very under developed, which was fine by me.  I would rather have the dirty desert life than the dirty city life.  I made it to a town called Meadville.  Population 600.  There claim to fame is "Where Lake Mead and the Grand Canyon Meet".  Off in the distance I could see the western edge of the canyon, but not the actual canyon.  I was beat and it was 111, so I got a motel room.  The only motel in town I might add.  Right next to it was the only restaurant in town, The Crows Nest.  It looked like a barn or a shed from the outside. When you walked through the door, you are overcome with the smell of coffee and smoke.  It was full of weathered looking cowboys drinking coffee and smoking Marlboro Reds.  It was eight oclock when I ordered the chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.  The waitress was a pregnant girl, looked to be about twenty.  She was working her butt off.  Very pleasant service.  She was wearing an old Doors T-shirt, un-tucked and blue jeans.  She looked to be eight or nine months pregnant.  She was a cute girl, but you could tell she had had better days.  My dinner came with a salad bar salad.  It was pretty basic.  Lettuce, peas, red onions, croutons, ranch.  Before I could finish the salad, my meal had arrived.  It was good.  I tipped the pregnant girl five dollars.  She was working very hard and I love the Doors.

            After dinner I walked around town a bit with my camera.  They have Joshua Trees here.  Even before the sun was set, you could see the full moon rising up over the canyon walls.  The people I have met here today are nice.  Simple folks that talk slower than the people I am used to.  This place is night and day different that Vegas.  The speedy city life compared to the slow country life.  These people look terrible on the outside.  The man running the motel had some sort of huge sore covering up one half of his mouth.  All the while smoking his Marlboros.  He was a very nice man though.  Told about the market up the street and the restaurant next door.  All the citizens are driving late model pick up trucks and smoking cigarettes.  Its quiet here.  There is a little dog tied to a post in the front of the motel.  He barked at me and began to wag his tail, so I went over and sat by him.  We were facing east towards the canyon, so we watched the moonrise.  He was a cool little dog, just wanted someone to talk to.  He looked thirsty so I gave him some of my water.  My lips have been chapped all day long. The dry desert heat I suppose.  I need to pick up some lip balm tomorrow. 

5-31-05

It has come to my attention that quite a few people I sent these journal entries to, actually enjoyed them.  More so female friends than male friends.  A lot of peoples wives, in particular, dug the Josh-mans vane attempt to spread the word.  Thank you all for the kind things you have told me since my return.  I have finished the much requested "follow up" message.  Sorry it took so long to produce.  It seems that I am more inspired to write when I am away from everyday life.  Since I have returned, my time seems less ample.

My road trip is over, but alas I have realized that my journey may never be over.  Today is Tuesday, I have been home since last Wednesday.  In the last six days, I have received overwhelming support from my family and friends.  So much in fact that it has made me a little uneasy.  You see, this adventure was supposed to have a profound affect on my life.  It was meant to help force my tiny little brain into submission and finally take hold of life and my future.  What it has instead done is inspire others.  In the process, I have felt complete reinforced love from them.  Which is great, dont get me wrong.  Its nice to know I have so many friends.  I am lucky to have them but that conclusion is not quite what I was going for.  I have learned other things from my trip.  I have.  I may not have learned what I expected too, but the lessons I did learn may very wellsupersede the lessons I felt I should have learned.  Ultimately I found out that my good friends are really great friends and that my quirky, unusually insane family, really is behind me.  I always knew my family loved me, but never felt they understood me.  I always knew my friends understood me but wasnt sure if they loved me.  Both instances have become clear to me in the last six days. 

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            On May 25^th 2005 I turned twenty-seven.  At 12:01am on the day of my birth, I was driving Fred through the great state of Colorado, headed east on I-70.  Homeward bound.  My twenty-one day journey was coming to a close and I was feeling nostalgic.  And tired.  I left the Grand Canyon that morning.  My radio had been so kind to supply me with great music as I winded through the mountain side.  It was, of course, night time and under normal conditions, you would never be able to comprehend the beauty of the Rockies as they passed you by.  However, on this particular evening the clouds were all but gone and the moon was two days into full. 

Earlier in the evening, I watched the moonrise as I drove and it was spectacular.  Dusk was an hour past and it was near black.  The mountains shielded the moon from me until the last possible second.  As the road weaved in and around the earth I could see one particular mountain off in the distance.  The peak of this mountain was very defined as there seemed to be an intense light coming from behind it.  I though perhaps I was nearing a large city.  I soon came to realize that this illumination would in fact be the moon.  My night time friend.  My vantage of this object must have been at the exact right time because it was awesome.  It was huge.  The biggest Id ever seen it.  The moon dominated the mountain top skyline.  If you were a Coloradoan, outside of your home, you would have been compelled to just stand there and examine it as it slowly rose from behind the mountain.  The sight of this enormous celestial being, directly in front of me, inspired me to drive through the night.  It was so enticing and beautiful, sitting there just beyond the mountain range.  As if to say, "Happy birthday Joshua, I will be your guide this evening, follow me."  So I did.  I drove the rest of Colorado and then though the plains of Kansas until dawn somewhere near the Topeka exit.  I drank more cappuccino then I ever care to consume again.  I later paid dearly for my nighttime elixir.  Your body is not meant to hold that much warm caffeine.  I wont disgust you with the outcome, but lets just say, Ive got a couple of Kansas rest stops I dont ever want to see again.

            Upon entering the Kansas City limits, I began to notice things.  Small insignificant things that you normally would never take notice of.  Things like street signs, traffic lights, billboards, civic buildings and attractions.  I have become quite the connoisseur of all of these things.  Every state and city does it just a little different.  If I were simply passing through, I would rate KC four out of ten.  Convenience and quality of roads being the biggest turn off.

            I pull into my driveway around 10am, the 25^th.  My yard was already a ghetto yard before I left, now it is truly abysmal.  The front doesnt ever grow and its around eight inches right now.  The back, is like a foot and half tall.  I immediately went over to my tenants side and apologized for the lack of yard maintenance.  They were cool about it; really they were more interested in hearing about my trip than anything.  I chatted with them for an hour and then began to unpack and clean the camper.  If you looked in my garage after I unpacked the truck and the camper, you would have thought I was moving.  I took so much shit on this trip, it boggles the mind.  Tools, golf clubs, books, electronics, kitchen ware, sleeping materials, camping equipment, clothes, I took eight hats.  I am insane for the amount of crap I now have to unpack.  As I unpack, I find things like hacky sacks and boxes of zip lock bags.  Im thinking, "Damn, I could have used that".  I took so much crap; I forgot I even had some of it. 

            The remainder of my birthday involved returning the camper and hanging out at my friends Wes and Amoss house until around eight PM, where as I went home and crashed until 2pm the next day.  Let me say first.  I LOVE MY BED!  I have never been as happy as when I first laid down in my bed that evening. I drove 6700 miles in the last three weeks.  I have seen just about the entire western half of these United States.  I have seen mountains lush with forests and deserts as bare as the moon.  Trees that you can drive thru and volcanoes that could end life in the northern hemisphere.  I have seen such geological nuances that they have never been duplicated on earth.  The happiest I HAVE BEEN IN TWENTY-TWO DAYS, IS WHEN I ENTERED MY HOME YESTERDAY!  My home is truly my castle and I am proud of it.  Every painting on the wall, every different color, every cabinet built into the wall that wasnt there before, is mine.  I love my house and I had yet to truly realize it until today.   Right before I left, I cleaned the entire house, did all the laundry, did all the dishes, vacuumed, changed the sheets on the bed and made it.  I highly recommend going on a trip in this manner.  It was extremely nice to come home to a spotless house and boy did that bed seal the deal.  Absolute bliss. 

One phenomenon that I forgot to mention is what I am referring to as "The Camper Effect".  When I first walked into my house after spending 21 days in my truck and a five by ten foot camper; I was overwhelmed with a feeling.  A feeling of grandeur.  My home seemed gigantic.  The rooms were huge, the hallway was enormous.  How can so much room be dedicated to a hallway?  My hallway is bigger than the camper.  The whole place was spacious and down right roomy.  I literally walked around for a couple of minutes and just took in what I had previously taken for granted.  I live in a mansion.  A duplex mansion.   After a couple of days, the feeling passed and I now realize that while I enjoy my home very much, it is not a mansion, but Im ok with that.  My house is my castle and I love it.

            So since I have been back, I have been bombarded with friends and family that want to see me.  The whole Memorial Day weekend thing was happening all over and I felt busy.  Friday comes around and I am under the impression my buddies are treating me to a night at Buffalo Wild Wings for my birthday.  My friend Wes and I go up there around 5pm and order some beers and wings.  Shortly after, my other friends call and say they are not coming to the bar because they are bar-b-q-ing at Amoss.  I am little perturbed, but I went with the flow.  Wes takes me back to his house and I walk in the door to a surprise birthday party.  I cross the threshold see my father standing over the rail and my brother Justin directly ahead.  I was flabbergasted.  I felt honored and loved beyond any sense of the words.  I have never had a surprise party and never saw this one coming.  My friends pulled one over on me for sure.  Thank you to Staci Pena, a superb friend indeed, that organized the crowd.  The people on my e-mail list for this sabbatical would ordinarily never be in the same room together.  Through the kindness of Staci, she brought them all together and we had a party.  It was great fun.

Top Ten Most Beautiful Places

Let us first define beauty.  Beauty, as we all know, is in the eye of the beholder.  Through out my road trip I encountered many beautiful places as well as beautiful people.  For the context of this top ten list I will limit my beautiful findings to only places.  To me, the beauty of a particular place can only be discovered by those who are willing to let go. Willing to accept their surroundings and submit to them.  I am sure some of the places on my list will be challenged as to the placement of said locations.  This is natural, for we all have our own opinions on what has and has not touched us or made us feel something.  That is, in fact, my very definition of beauty.  Did it touch me or make me feel?  When I left, was I sad?  While I was there was I inspired?  If a certain place gives you a chill when you see it; if it makes the hair on your neck rise; if you contemplate life, death and all that is in between while you are there, you have in fact found a beautiful place.  I dislike the word spiritual because it has many meaning for which I do not stand for, but I suppose I am describing a spiritual place.  A place in which you feel peace and tranquility.  Possibly heaven on Earth.

#10      GlacierNational Park  -- I am sure, had it not been raining and snowing the entire time I was here.  And had I not just been rejected from Canada, I would have entered this Park higher on the list.  The fact of the matter is, this list is from my perspective, and I did not encounter as much beauty as I had hoped.  Possibly because of my rainy, rejected mood. 

#9        20 HWY in Utah --  This particular stretch of road isnt more than twenty miles long.  It stretched between interstate 15 and local highway 89 right in the middle of Utah.  I stumbled upon it while I was heading home.  On the map it appeared as if it were a short cut, when all actuality it added another hour to my drive time.  Ultimately, the lost hour was well worth it.  I have found that on these winding, curvy, somewhat dangerous roads, I had profound feelings of accomplishment.  I dont necessarily mean in the sense of my own accomplishment, but in the accomplishments of mankind.  Seeing the awesome canyons and enormous mountains separated by raging rivers is all very beautiful and pleasant, but the true amazing parts are the roads I took to get there.  Every time I see one of these bridges that spans hundred of yards, hundreds of feet in the air, I am put into a state of wonder.  The resolve and determination of my species makes me proud.  To take these treacherous landscapes and carve out pathways for the rest of us to travel on. It is a gift that was given by those who came before us.  We take it for granted now, but ultimately we are indebted to these frontiers men and women.  When I drove on 20 HWY, I remembered that this country, for all its faults and ignorance, is truly remarkable.  I remembered that I love being a US citizen and am proud to call this amazing chunk of a rock my home.  The fact that I am able to move around this country so freely and without obstacle is a gift.  I valued it before my trip, but have come to cherish it since.  This particular road definitely reinforces the feeling.

#8        The Pacific Coastline --  In particular the California coast.  I have been here twice before and every time I come back it gets more and more beautiful.  There is something mystical about when water meets earth. It just ignites my internal appreciation and drive to understand this remarkable land.  The soothing sounds of ocean waves crashing into sandy beaches, somehow helps me to realize life.  Everything seems to come into focus when I am on those beaches.  All of lifes ridiculous problems seem to get washed away with the tide.  The beach represents life to me.  I love it there.

#7        I-70 from Utah to Denver At first, I wasnt going to go through Colorado on my way home.  I had been on countless ski trips and felt I understood and appreciated that state long ago.  Time started to become an issue, so I cut my drive short and headed east on I-70 rather than going farther north to I-80 and driving the Wyoming highways.  I-70 actually starts in Utah.  It intersects I-15 and that is its westernmost point.  From I-15 you think you will see mountains, your brain tells you, "We are almost into Colorado now and the Rockies should be coming soon"  What you soon realize is Utah has the widest spectrum of land possibilities compared to any other state.  Maybe California has them beat.  You can snow ski and surf in the same day over there, if you were so inclined. 

Utah is different in the respect that the landscape rotates.  You are not driving though crop fields and then finding mountains.  In Utah, the Earth has a very schizophrenic way about it.  Kind of like KC weather.  You are never sure what will come up next.  I drove through canyons that rivaled the Columbia River Gorge in Washington.  I drove through blindingly bright green pastures of soybeans and corn.  I drove to 5000 feet and into some mild mountain ranges, then back down into some more canyons and pastures.  When you get past Grand Junction Colorado, the real mountains begin.  Even though it was dark when I drove through, the moon was bright enough to see the gigantic cliffs and huge mountain tops. 

#6        HWY 299 in Northern California Gargantuan cliffs with mountain-side roads that must have been prone to landslides.  Humongous views looking out upon the sprawling mountain range.  Ears popping every twenty miles because of the roller coaster road you follow.  Going up and then drastically descending only to go back up again. 

What seems to be a common phrase on my journey, "On the map it appeared to be a short cut."  This road, however, wasnt a little twenty mile stretch.  This sucker was damn near 100 miles and took me five hours to cross.  I have never seen so many curves.  They were half circles connected to half circle.  If I had been in my Kansas City frame of mind, which is hurry, hurry, hurry, I would have been irritated beyond belief and missed the beauty that surrounded me.  On my vacation though, time was indeed plentiful when used in search of beauty.  This stretch of road certainly presented a compelling case.  So I let go and took it all in.  I was both scared and happy at the same time.  I mean, between the elevation changes and the constant breaking around immense curves on the edge of cliffs, all the while trying to look at the wilderness around you, was a bit daunting.  This was by far the most dangerous road I encountered on the trip.  I could have easily wrecked and died on that road.  But I didnt.  And now I am telling you to go there and almost die yourself.  Just remember to slow down and appreciate the journey.

#5        South Dakota  --  More specifically the south western area.  Not only are there spectacular monuments like Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse, but they also have the black hills.  Which are really a small mountains chain.  The places I went to were filled with heritage and memories.  The Lakota Indians really touched me there.  I always knew the Indians got a bad beat, but until Crazy Horse, it never really sunk in.  "My land is where my people lie buried" I will never forget that quote for as long as I live.  My sadness for the Lakota and my joy for the natural element that surrounded me, was enough to secure a top five position.  I will never forget the silence and ease I felt in those mountains, hiking at sunset and enjoying the company of a local dog.  My mind and body may have stayed in Seattle, but my heart is still in South Dakota.

#4        Seattle, Washington What can I say that I havent already said.  I feel like the chamber of commerce should hire me to spread the word.  The town is smart.  From the inception of the city, they have implemented things most communities still havent thought of.  Everywhere you turn there is art.  Everywhere you turn there is a tiny, un-monopolized deli or sub shop or coffee house.  The streets and side walks are clean and full of happy, approachable people.  Music fills the air and it isnt the same old crap you have been hearing for decades.  The progressive nature of there citizens has trickled into their government and it shows.  They made it work.  Downtown is a dream.  Easily accessible, easily maneuverable.  The stadiums are state of the art and ten minutes from anywhere.  Plants and trees follow every path and brighten your day with green life.   You cant find a ten foot stretch of concrete in that town that doesnt have some sort of vibrant, lush green life.  The whole city life versus country life argument gets settled real quickly when you discover this gem of a city.  My hat is off; I wish KC would take some notes.

#3        Polson, Montana--  Out of the blue I know.  This town has beauty that I have never seen before.  The town is small.  Maybe 5000 people.  It rests on the shores of Flathead Lake, on Highway 93 between Glacier National park and a city call Missoula.  I happened upon this quaint little town on my trek from Glacier to Seattle.  I had just been disappointed with Glacier and Canada and merely wanted to spend the night in a warm hotel bed.  I got much, much more, though. 

After my Canadian defeat, I was feeling down.  I went to the local pub to drown my sorrows and met some extremely nice people. I dont have a life changing, profoundly interesting explanation of why Polson is #3. Only to say, that off the shores of Flathead Lake, I found amazing beauty.  I have never been to Cape Cod, but I imagine this place to be like it.  The towns main drag hugs the edge of the lake at one end.  The crisp mountain air shoots across Flathead and smacks you right in the face.  Two hours ago you were hot, now its dark, the temperature is cool and you wish you had a jacket.  Like a night on the beach.  Tiny waves crash into the rocky lake edge beneath your feet and you feel at ease.  The blue water shimmers in the moonlight.  Random fluffy cumulous clouds drag slowly across the sky and create sporadic cover to the half moons light.  Blue mountains surround the lake at every corner except the one you stand in.  A town called Polson.

#2        JoshuaTreeNational Forest  -- A place so nice they named it once.  It helps that I spent two days in this place with my best friend in the entire world.  We climbed and sweated and blistered ourselves through an amazing plot of land, during those two days.  I was happy enough to have done it, but doing it with this particular guy made it all the more cherry.  I climbed some scenery that was amazing.  I did it side by side with an equally amazing person.  The man that climbed Joshua Tree with me might very well be my hero.  At one time in our lives we were bitter enemies.  Claw, tooth and fist.  I have overwhelming regret for the things I have put this dude through.  In the end though, the time that is now.  All I have is complete love and respect for my brother Jacob.  Once in my life, a long time ago, I was arrogant and full of myself.  I had all the answers and damn you to Hell if you disagree.  Since that time I have realized the value of trust.  The value of respect.  Sometime in my life, maybe 19, I realized just how superb that fucker was.  I love Joshua Tree National Park because it has my name in the title and I explored it with my brother Jacob.  It is quite possible that the actual park is dull and boring, I may have been bias.  Actually, thats not entirely true.  The place was magical.  I can only describe it as what it must feel like when you are on the moon, or mars.  Truly unique.

#1     The Grand Canyon You have not yet truly lived, if you have never seen the Grand Canyon.  Joshua Goddard

Ah, what can I say about the Canyon.  You will noticed that I have shortened Its name from Grand Canyon to simply the Canyon.  When speaking about It, I have also decided to give It the same properties as would be given to God and when speaking of Him. 

To me, the Canyon represents honesty.  When I look over His ridges into the depths of the Canyon, I realize how truly mortal I am.  I stand back and feel small, as though I were a pawn in an amazingly large chess board.  But the grandeur of the Canyon is such that a person could never be a pawn.  This gorge in the side of the earth is nineteen miles across.  Imagine a swimming pool being dug into the ground.  You stand on one side and your buddy stands on the other.  You look at your friend eye to eye.  You could spit on him if challenged to do so.  Now imagine being on the same sides of that pool being dug.  Except the hole is 5000 feet deep and your buddy 19 miles away.  Let me say that again.  "When Standing on the edge of the Canyon you can see the other edge of the Canyon nineteen miles away".  Thats 100,320 feet away.  Its mind boggling.  The human brain is supposed to be flabbergasted at actually thinking of ten different objects at once, imagine trying to comprehend two-million cubic feet of space, right in front of you.  Thats just from eye level at the canyon ridge, down, not including the sky.  Nowhere on earth can you see that much at once.  It is one of those moments where you are permitted to witness something so grand, that your heart skips a beat.  Like when you look over the edge of a sky scraper and your chest constricts just a bit and your body tenses up.  Times a million.  If you have never seen it, go there.  Witness the awe.  The feeling you get when you spend some time there is so unique.  You will leave there wanting to duplicate that feeling again.

"Its only the biggest God damn hole on Earth" Clark W. Griswold

Top Ten Things I Learned

#10      In the Northern states, if you are pulling a trailer, the speed limit is 10 mph slower than if you are not.  No matter what how small and insignificant your trailer might be.  No matter how big and tough your truck might be.  10 mph slower.  Its the law!!!  Thanks Washington State Highway Patrol Man, youre the greatest.

#9        If you had to rate each state on the following criteria.  Coolness of its largest city plus geographical beauty.  The city of Seattle and the state of Washington are in my number one slot.   I have been in 42 states over the last ten years and no one holds a candle to the Evergreen State.   A close second would be Phoenix Arizona or the southwestern tip of South Dakota.

#8        Dont get a tattoo where people can see it, unless you are ready to talk about it.  If you didnt have a good story as to why you got your tattoo or what it means, you will after you walk amongst the common folk for a few days with it exposed.  People are passionate about body art.  I am in a new club.

#7        Compassion for my fellow man.  People are very similar.  Once you get past the rough, weathered exterior, we are all scared little children ready for a friend.  Everyone has a friendly face, but not everyones friendly face is immediately recognizable.  Our society teaches us that we are different, but really we are all the same.  Conditioning yourself to abandon the stereo typical crap is indeed a challenge, but one every man, woman and child needs to achieve.

#6        Dont judge a book by its cover.  Try and extend yourself to people not in your immediate comfort level.  New faces are a good thing.  The more you understand them, the more you will understand yourself.

#5        Bring Q-Tips where ever you go.  Unchecked earwax can drive a man insane.  And that waxy smell from your finger after you try and itch it will make you gag.

#4        Always check the weather before you go driving into the heart of a new place.  Especially Montana.  Big Sky country is nice until it turns into Big Storm Country.  Sunshine is the remedy for a gloomy perspective.  Always find the sunshine.

#3        If you have been thinking hard about something, write it down.  Its good therapy.

#2        Go to places you have never been.  See things you have never seen.  Take your time when you get there.  Have a look around.  Take a picture.  SLOW DOWN!!!  Life is not always a mile a minute.  Screw itineraries!  Screw mapquest!!

#1        Life will continue with or without you.  It is a revolving door.  Letting just as much in as it lets out.  The trick, I suppose, is to find happiness along the way and grab your slice of the pie before it gets whisked away.    Despair and hopelessness are selfish emotions.   Go meet someone you have never met before and sit down with them.  Listen to their story.  Nine times out of ten its far worse than your own.  Take in their story and learn from it.  Then go put some sunshine on your face and reflect.  Tell another person what you learned and in turn you will learn even more.  Learning is power in this thing called life.  Something tells me I will never know it all.

Life is supposed to be hard.  Deal with it.  The answers may or may not come, but the time is still the same length no matter what.  Do you want to waste it complaining that you are lost or scared or cant find your way?  I dont.  Not anymore.  If I die not knowing the answers to the millions of questions flooding my head everyday, so be it. 

Love, hate, compassion, joy and sadness.  Without them, we are merely sheep.  The human condition can span a spectrum of emotions greater than the Grand Canyon, and that is the way it is supposed to be.  Figuring them out along the way is all part of the experience.