The real Alaska Day 7

Miles: 2,715.7
Average MPG: 19.3
Gallons: 140.71
Bears and Wolves: 12
Alaska Beards: 7
Miles Hiked: 22.6

Present Day:
So I was planning to lead a small tour of Seattle last night where Peter (not sure if I mentioned that I have a genuine German Mars Hill Church Intern living at my house...well I do and his name is Peter) and his girl friend Amy  (also from Germany and also interning at Mars) could be properly introduced to their new home of Seattle (for the next 13 months at least).  Yulia also agreed to come along as well, she has not spent much time in the city, so she wanted to learn about it too.
But in God's providence, my plans were smashed in a beautiful way.  God's plan was better.  Some generous person bought out the 345 section of Safeco Field and gave all the Tickets to Mars Hills Proxy.  So Amy decided to join them with Peter.  So at 1PM I looked for an alternative activity.  After chatting with Kelsey via Sidney on "FacheBuuk", I was given the amazing gift of two free tickets to the game.  Yulia hadn't ever been to a Mariner's game so it worked out. The four of us enjoyed the game, but Peter and Amy were still baffled by many of the mechanics and arcane rules by the end.   Baseball (don't get me wrong, I love to play and occasionally watch) is weird, it just is.  The whole game is between two guys and they take a lot of time staring longingly into each others eyes until every once in a while one of them throws a ball by the other who tries to stop it from being caught by another guy who is dressed up like Optimus Prime. It was a fun night and the conversation was great.

A few weeks ago...in Alaska:
Previously on "Alaska: a Josh's Road Trip Expeience"...
Josh drove a large SUV then didn't sleep, then he hit a bird, then he didn't sleep again, then he got on a bus, then he got off a bus, then he got back on a bus, then he got off a bus, then he bought some tickets, then he kinda slept...
Day 7 YEAH I GOT MY DAYS ALL MIXED UP, thanks Yulia for providing me with your notes about the trip!
So we woke early and Yulia, Nick , Tina, and I all packed up and distributed our gear and headed out:

We left Mirella and Josue at Reilly Creek for one night and two days (with a can of bear mace, 1 Tim 5:2) so the four of us could go backpacking in Denali!  Yeah actually going off the trail across country and camping in the last great American Wilderness.
We sat through the educational training film on how to not die in the back country, packed up all our food into two Bear Cans (designed to keep anything the bears might be interested in out of their grasp behind some stout black plastic), and got on the 2PM Camper Bus.  We were let off the bus at the Teklanika River Bridge in Sector 29 of the park.  We off-loaded our packs from the back of the bus and strapped up as the bus rolled away.  We were left on the dusty road with the roar of water and the whipping of the wind as the reality of our loneliness hit us.  Were were going to be on our own for the next 25 hours.  Remember that the day before we had seen 6 Grizzly Bears and 5 moose (which are more dangerous that the bears) just yesterday, in fact two of the bears we saw were within 4 miles of where we got off the bus.  In Denali, the average concentration of bears is about 0.35 bears or wolves per square mile in the sub-alpine areas.
I don't know if all that data went through Yulia, Tina, or Nick's mind, but it sure as hell went through mine. As an aside, I got a chance to sit down for a Thai lunch with Nate B, he is on staff with Mars Hill this Thursday.  We talked on many subjects, but one thing that came up when I switched seats during the meal is that I try to always see the door when I sit somewhere.  I find all my exits, and I evaluate each person who enters.  This is all automatic, I have just trained myself to process people and locations and evaluate danger.  I don't try to start any aggression, but I try to be ready to respond if necessary.
So I had SO much fun on the approx. 7.4 mile hike into where we camped.  No! Really! That's not sarcasm!  I really had a lot of fun scanning all visual quadrants for any sign of predators, pit falls, or other dangers.  I looked for tracks (I am NOT a skilled tracker, I just know some minor principles of the trade and kinda what to look for) and watched for "animal sign", umm "animal sign" is kinda a euphemism for poop. I don't know why, but it is.  I was just "on" the entire time.

We started on the left from the bridge and completed this circuit.

Anyway, we headed north parallel to the Teklanika and made good time on the sand bars.

Bear Print

Wolf Print

Caribou and Wolf Print

We turned off the river and entered the tree line.  In Denali, the trees are not large (the Pines top out at 70 feet) due to the brutal winters and paucity of winter sun light. We faced our first river crossing and all four of us escaped with dry socks.

We existed the line of woods and entered rolling hills over fresh Tundra. Its composition was 30% wild blueberries, 20% moss, 30% low assorted brush, 10% Crow berries, and 10% grass. Basically when you walk on tundra you are walking on top of plants,about 6-10 inches off the ground.  We crested three rises and gained our first territorial view of our goal.  We actually stopped a mile and a half short of our goal but day light was fading. Our conversations ranged wildly, and slowly waned as energy and terrain took its toll.

 The land was full the sounds of flowing water and the call of small birds, the smell was that of fragrant fruit mixed with fresh wet earth, the taste was that of delicate berries blended with moist clean air, the touch was that of soft ground and pliable flora with the brush of gentle leaves on the palms of my hands, and the sight, the sight was that of yellow purple peaks with blue green creeping forests yearning for the heights they will never achieve and the spring green tundra with blue tasty dots of delight as far as the eye can see.
In a too trite word, beautiful.
We made camp on a ridge in the wind and Nick and I lashed the lady's tent to our tent tying everything down tight.  We ate MREs and stored our food 120 yards away. I placed a branch on the bear can and checked it the next morning, nothing had been disturbed.
I slept for two hours until 11PM then lay awake until morning.  The others slept well and hopefully dreamed of wide open lands and lush hills rolling beyond sight, beyond mind, beyond every fear and every anxiety.

VERY special thanks to Ratatat's "Nostrand" for it's incalculable contribution to this poor excuse for a Blog post. Also Marshall you helped too, you better love Hailey with all that you are.

Alaska Days 3-4

A little update from my life, Peter has moved into my house. Very exciting.  He flew in last night from Stuttgart, Germany and will spend the next 13 months as an unpaid intern for Mars Hills' West Seattle Church. He is a nice guys and he seemed excited when I invited him and Amie (sorry if I misspell that) to go out shooting this Saturday.

Miles: 2,548.3
Average MPG: 19.3
Gallons: 136.04
Bears and Wolves: 4
Alaska Beards: 3
Miles Hiked: 0

So I believe sufficient time has passed to continue to write about Alaska. I am not a historian, I really don't need to wait until all the participants' grandchildren die of old age before enough distance has passed to yield sufficient perspective.
So we drove on to Denali from Fairbanks. The rolling hills of the plains slowly gave way to the more rugged and more lush landscape of the highlands.  As we entered and cleared Healy the massive peaks of Denali National Park came into view. Clouds hovered ominously not unlike the fly-in scene in  Jurassic Park. We cruzed into the park and hit the Mercantile.  I booked 6 nights in Reilly Creek Campground. Unfortunately there was not an open site that night (total fail on my part, I should have called ahead).  So we packed ourselves back in the Traverse and headed South were there was sure to be a good campground.  There was it was called Grizzly Bear Recreation Area and RV Park. Think about that for a second...a recreation area for grizzly bears.  Hmm most folks might realize the not-so-subtle implication about staying at this place, but that didn't phase us.  After some shenanigans, we got a remote campsite over-looking the Nenana River and setup the mondo-tent (Thanks Erik) and a smaller tent.  After we all had our showers, we retired. I failed to sleep in the Traverse that night.

I woke first and started cooking some Bisquick pancakes and some bacon.  As we all awoke, we found the previously mentioned hood ornament (see the song bird). After leisurely packing up, we drove up to Denali NP and picked out our campsite for the next 6 nights.  We reset our tents and decided we needed to go out and buy some tarps since the weather forecast called for rain for the next week.
So I asked for any volunteers to go help me find some tarps.  Yulia stepped forward, so the two of us struck out. I drove past Healy AK without even noticing it and we ended up in the city of Anderson. As I look at Google Maps to assist my memory, the military base near Anderson looks suspicious. A large gravel mine, few barracks, and one heck of a radar array and some odd looking buildings, LINK. So the tarps, the poor navigation, and clandestine facilities aren't the point. The point is that I had the chance to share my whole messy story with Yulia. All the sin and my odd and resistant journey to Jesus. She asked probing questions and showed me grace when I named my sin and described who I was before Jesus. As an aside, I don't like to share my story, but I hate living in secret, so I pursue transparency, even though it feels like being stripped naked before a stranger as I hear the accusations echoing through the long abandoned corridors of my memory.  If I don't reject the lie against my identity in Jesus, then I spiral into despair.  But the truth is that I am forgiven, adopted, and cleansed and all my sins have been taken away.
So as Yulia (and Tina too) later told me my story sharing prompted them to share their own struggles and their own story.  Yulia is a woman who has been through hell, but knows her identity. I admitted I gritted my teeth as she shared, nothing gets me angry like foolish men who are dishonorable. So I eventually admitted my own folly as we looked at the map.  We swung back to Healy, bought two inexpensive tarps and roared back to Denali.
Nick had already been busy with some 550 cord (parachute line, and the exact same line that I used in my little picnic several weeks later). We ended up covering the picnic table and laying tarps under the tents. We had a lazy night as we cooked some of our beef in a A-1 and Ketchup sauce with some instant mashed potatoes.  We totally feasted on some s'mores.  We retired early-ish, and I tried to sleep again the the Traverse, but only managed a few hours.

Mount Adams We meet Again...For the First Time

Miles: 598.6
Miles Hiked: 13.1
Miles Glissaded: 3.5
Group Size: 10

I apologize for interrupting the Alaska account, but I just got back from Mount Adams (the same one I summitted twice in a week last summer) and it was a whale of a time! Well, it was more of a large volcano covered in loose ash, pumice, basalt, and ice; kinda less like a blubbery mammal.
So with 5 days notice on Facebook and The City, I got 9 other folks to join me on a summit attempt. I just got back from Alaska, so I didn't promote very well.
Matt and I left Seattle at 10:30AM on Friday after packing up. We pounded a Monster and Code Red and plunged into Eastern Washington, stopping only to marvel at a Super Wal-Mart. We arrived at the Ranger Station for the Gifford Pinchot National Forest at 4:30PM and got our fancy Human Waste Bags (you must pack out all your "contributions" from the national forest) and paid the $15 fee for all 10 folks.
On the access road out to the trail head, we pulled over and performed conflict resolution tests on an unsuspecting tree. My ears rang until after we got back from the hike.

After getting turned around, we finally got to Cold Springs Camp Ground and setup the tents. We spent an hour-and-a-half gathering wood and had a massive pile ready for when the 2nd and 3rd wave of hikers arrived. We then wandered off and decided that we had better use the axe we brought. So we tried to fell a dead tree. We tried 4 different trees and failed four times. This forest is not a tall forest, but rather a tough forest that is buried under snow 9 months out of the year. Conditions like this ensure that only trees with superior toughness survive, thus the cellulose fiber composition is particularly dense...At least that is what I told myself when I failed to fell the fourth tree. I am kind of like a Corgi, my torso is average size (except not), but I have itty-bitty legs; not unlike Ray William Johnson. Those proportions don't lend themselves to logging.

 So after failing, Matt and I lit the fire with a little "cheating juice". We then laid on the ground and watched 4 satellites sail across the sky and 3 meteorites burn their way across the moonless night. Once I knew the 2nd wave and 3rd wave folks were close I started the bacon...We cooked 8 pounds of bacon (1/2 a pound was lost in a friendly-fire event) and enjoyed every severely or moderately scorched piece. Mad props to Michael Frank, he totally rocked his bacon. The grease fire raged, but his came out perfect.

We retired with a little wine, and I starred at the tent's ceiling for 5 hours until it was time to wake up, but the insomnia gave me a nice opportunity to pray through some stuff.
Saturday morning we hit the trail at 7:37AM (after pictures and my little overview of the route). We made great time up to Echo Bowl (with the non-existent wind the echos were particularly good) and shouted "Echo!, Are you ready to Rumble?!, 'Merica, A British Tar!" for a while.
Nick set his own pace and nine of us jumped ahead to rest at Lunch Counter (9025ft). Joel found a Tungsten wedding ring sitting in the wind shelter. Either some recently divorced dude chucked it or a raven snagged the shiny "Ring of Power" off a rock while someone was applying sunscreen.
Once we broke the break, I was the first one on the slog-slope. Now let me tell you about this slope. It is nasty. It is cruel and it is mean. In about 1.5 miles of travel, you gain about 1,950 feet on slippery compacted snow and ice. You are completely exposed to the wind and the glare off the pure china-white combined with the noon-day radiance usually come together to fry, freeze, and exhaust even the most avid hikers. For a sub-par hiking pretender like myself this slope destroyed me. Now let me brag on God, he totally hooked all nine of us up, there was NO WIND!. Seriously none, I cannot emphasize how rare that is especially at 11,000ft (3,352m for my British cousins).
So even though I left first, I arrived 3rd to last. I was wrecked by that slope. Greg and Melissa decided to enjoy a lovely nap at Piker's Peak instead of summitting, I can't blame them, the windless false summit at 11,657ft might be the most romantic place in North America to spend an hour-and-a-half visiting with your beloved.

The story with the name for the false summit is kinda like those demotivational posters you might have seen.  Nick's favorite is this one:

7 of use tried for the summit and we all made it. Matt gave me some kind encouragement as he passed, and I really needed it. On the last 900ft from the valley between the false summit and the true summit I became enraged. Some freakin' joke of a man was cussing out his wife (or girl friend, or sister).  He started swearing at here after they had passed me and were 300ft below and descending. Man I get so angry when a man rages at a woman. He was blatantly violating 1 Peter 3:7 (a verse I have been meditating for a few weeks), he showed no honor and was not understanding. I'm not gonna lie, I prayed that 1 Peter 3:7b come true for that piece of...  Imprecatory prayers, wow. Man, nothing gets my back up like violence (physical or verbal) directed at a woman.
Anyways, I was dead last up to the summit (and nearly dead). I was at least 10 minutes behind every onle else (my concept of time was skewed because I was totally focused on making the next step and trying to slow my heart-rate down). I prayed for God to give me the grace of reaching the summit, but more importantly for His will to be done.  But God came through and totally hooked me up (Oh, the Gatorage "GU" gell is a crock, it didn't have any noticeable effect on me). At the 12,281ft top there was a infinitesimal amount of wind, maybe 2 mph.  That is unheard of!  Both of my previous summit here were greeted with bone-chilling 20-35mph wind gusts with a minimum of 15mph sustained. Again it was an unparalleled day to summit.  There were NO clouds only haze on the horizon allowing an unrestricted 360 degree view of Rainier, St.Helens, Hood, and Jefferson peaks.
At the top, the other guys were crazy gracious waiting for me before taking THE summit pics.  Apparently, their tradition is the "Skin Shot" at the top of whatever they climb. It's not a bad tradition to start for Volcano Summits.

As soon as it was time to partake of the summit toast (1oz of Mango Rum, 1oz of Coconut Rum, 2oz of Courvoisier VSOP Cognac (my favorite was the cognac, mmm mmm)), Matt Behr led us in a rousing manly rendition of Doxology:

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow!
Praise Him All Creatures Here Below,
Praise Him Above All Heavenly Hosts!
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost!

The tradition of the summit toast is longstanding for Nick and I. Man, I missed him up there. His knee was just not willing to let him summit. There is just something right about a little alcohol to celebrate the assent to a peak.
All 9 of us sledded down in record time.  I went from 11,657ft to 9,754ft traveling 1.2 miles in 8 minutes!!! All sliding down a 28% grade. It was a blast!

And here is my destroyed Sled:

We hustled down the mountain and we saw this beautiful sunset near the base.

I was feeling like crap from the False Summit all the way down.  I had vertigo, nausea (but I held it in), blurred vision, very little lung capacity (I was coughing like a chain smoker if I took too deep of a breath), and a plaguing cramp on the inside of my left quad.  I kept praying the formal and pietistic supplication "Dad Fix it!" Yeah, if you guys heard how I pray you'd totally roll your eyes and shake your heads. We got to the campsite after dark and quickly packed up for the return trip to Seattle. We all shook hands and agreed the hike totally kicked tail.
Matt, Nick, and I all hit up a truck stop for some food and Nick had to drive back to Seattle, I was in no condition to drive. For the second night in a row I didn't sleep only shut my eyes and lost myself in the morass of my mind and semi-stochastic musings of what God's will may be. Some kind words kept returning to mind, "Love God and do whatever you please" -Augustine. Yeah but you don't understand, if I actually trust that whatever God's will is will be accomplished when I delight in him first, then I don't have any control over the course of events....*wink... sarcasm and conviction go hand in hand*
So the three of us hit Seattle around 4:35AM, and I was showered and in bed by 6:20AM...only to get up at 7:35AM to get to church.  Right now it is 12:45AM the next day And I have slept 1.75 hours out of the last 66.25 hours.  I may be considered "sleep deprived". Pftt! That's nothing, my personal best was 87.5 hours of continuous consciousness, and the last 8 hours of that I drove from Oregon to Seattle along the Coast. Um bragging about not sleeping, now it should be obvious why the Bible has nothing positive to say about young men. Not one thing. But you say what about 1 John 2:14?!  Well young men are strong (well most of them are, the pictures above rule me out of this category). So the young men can be terrorists...that's not necessarily a complement.
Ooh one more thing to crowd this already sesquipedalian mess of a blog post.  In church the Holy Spirit totally used my fatigue by opening my mind/gut to this amazing little song my Kelsey Bernheisel. I don't even know the name of the song but here are some quotes excerpted: "We are broken, shipwrecked in the storm" "Father you set us free" "Father you are our hope" "Jesus you are all we have" "Father come and fill us up take our idols".  I know without the lyric sheet these seem pretty generic, but it meant something to me and broke me up inside.
Um I think that's all I want to type. Typos are all intentional. Yes even that one that's still bothering you.
Random Pictures Without Explanation:

 This spastic writer thanks Rodrigo Y Gabriel for their invaluable riffs and harmonies which contributed to the overall tempo of key strokes.

Longest Bike Ride

Miles Run:122.9

Miles Biked:129.09

Miles Hiked:8.70
Total Miles:260.69
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:104
Summit Team:7
Aspirin Tablets:42

My week has been fun. My work, which is in a secret location, has been very varied and allowed me to share a little bit of the Gospel with my not-yet-Christian friends. I even got to build a library system for a pastor with a 1,600 volume library. Hopefully in two weeks his entire library will be digitized.

I even went on my longest bike ride yet from my house in West Seattle to the new Shoreline Campus of Mars Hill (25.7 miles). The first event at Shoreline's new home was a lecture/sermon by Sam Storms in the topic of spiritual warfare. The talk was awesome (check it out at http://bit.ly/fame6u). Their facility is amazing. It seats 357 people with additional overflow rooms. Their children's space is huge with plenty of space to grow. Donald bought me teriyaki; that was soo kind and soo amazing, I was blown away by his generosity. Charlie and Lacey gave me a ride all the way back to West Seattle. Then I hade the highlight of my entire day! The back door was wide open at 10:30PM. I got to do a room by room clearing drill! So much fun.

The downside of the week is that my summit team is in decline. I lost my guide, who has been to the top; he is no longer able to lead us up Mt. Rainier. So unless I can find a new leader, our team has no first-hand knowledge of what lies above Camp Muir. I know only 40% of the route. I cannot lead this team in good conscience up to the top. So if no leader emerges, I will have to call off this adventure again. That means a fourth failed season.

I am considering soloing Rainier. I cannot endanger my team. But I am in the best shape of my life and I will be more-than ready for a summit. I know a secret campground at Camp Muir which will enable me to avoid the Ranger checkpoint. I can then cross Cathedral Gap onto the razer ice field on Ingram Glacier. After traversing the steep field, I can scramble up Disappointment Cleaver to the longest 2 miles of my life as I work up to the Caldera. Then circle to the true summit.

I can do this alone. But if anything goes wrong, if I slip, if I get disoriented, if the volcano produces nasty lenticular clouds or storms I might not come back because there will be no one to help me.

I can't invite someone else to join me on this journey. I can't ensure their safety.

Oh and Easter is only two weeks away! 20,000 people will come to Qwest Field on April 24th 500 will be baptized, the biggest church service in the history of the Pacific Northwest! Come. It will be amazing!

Page-Rank and Page

Miles Run:122.9

Miles Biked:103.39

Miles Hiked:8.70
Total Miles:234.99
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:104
Summit Team:8
Aspirin Tablets:42

I'm over my sickness, feeling better.

I have started reading The Google Story by Vise and Malseed about the first six years of Google Inc. The company was begun by two Stanford grad students who sought to create a better way to gather information from the seemingly endless Internet. Their system used popularity as expressed by total number of links made to a given website and also a ranking of the importance of a website determined by the total number of links made to that website. Existing search engines were good at collecting keyword associations and reporting them to users. Google's usefulness came from it automatic ability to place the most relevant search results at the top of what is reported to a user. Now what is required to properly rank every single website on the entire World Wide Web? Two things, continuous automatic web crawling of every website on the internet and multiple complete backups of the entire Internet. The Entire Internet!

Google maintains these records.

So Larry Page and Sergey Brin, the Google Founders, focused single-mindedly on creating this search engine and refining it. They brew through tens of millions of venture capital dollars with minimal focus on monetizing their amazing technology. Their first step to make Google profitable was to license their search to other big Internet companies. They had marginal success, but then the world of advertising opened to Google's consciousness. Their simple text only target ads that directly relate to the search results reported to the searcher. This shift in focus and specific verifiable ads allowed advertisers to spend money to garner attention to a product/service that lead to sales and also made Google madly profitable.

Soon afterward, Larry and Sergey became billionaires and shifted Google from a privately held company to the biggest IPO in Silicon Valley's history. That's as far as I gotten. It's a good read, check it out.

Last night I went on a little hike on a dark and rainy night...and 9 other people came with me. So what does that say about them...Or me? It was cold and everyone got soaked, but they seemed to have fun which was the whole point. I got another 4 bricks up to Tiger Mt. It was really fun.

Miles Run:50.74
Miles Biked:85.99
Total Miles:136.73
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:140
Summit Team:8.55
Aspirin Tablets:42
*for each round trip only the upward steps are counted

Today was pretty great. Aside from all the running. I ran out to Lincoln Park, after sleeping in on my day off. Right down on the Puget Sound the wind was fast and furious. With a high of 33 degrees and a sustained wind of 18 miles per hour, the temperature left something to be desired, but the sun was out and that makes all the difference when you live in Seattle. When I came to the Coleman Saltwater Pool, I took a brief break to do some more dynamic stretching after the 1.3 mile warm-up. Just as I was about to resume, I looked out into the Sound and saw two harbor seals about 25 meters out playing in the white caps. Probably a mother and her adolescent pup.

Just think about it. About 11-ish billion folks have been around since the year 4,000BC. So out of all of them, I get the privilege to sleep in late, turn on my MP3 player, fill a water bottle, grab two pre-packaged bags of trail mix, run some miles to prepare for the hike of a life-time up a giant mountain, oh and by the way I get to stand and watch two seals playing in a scene that can only ever be described as beauty-incarnate. Damn! Thank you God! How did I get the honor to live such a life? What good thing did I do to be rewarded with this? Nothing.
WHY?! I know women who have lived in torment for years; they get horror, and I get sunshine?! I know a man who will never walk again, lives in ever-present fear, and whose worst nightmare is going to bed because when he does he will have even worse nightmares. And I get to run (complaining when I do nonetheless).
Where is the fairness? Why am I not justly given a sentence of suffering, hunger, destitution, and the like?
Man, I am so freakin' blessed. God has been amazing to me.

Dangit, every once in a while the Ghost opens my eyes to the life I live and blows me away.

Pictures. Here is some fresh content! First off a picture from Monday night when I went for my longest run yet: 6.38 miles.

When I started, there was just the mildest hint of snow in the air and bare wet pavement. After an hour, I was still 2.5 miles from home and all the sidewalks were totally white. It was about 24 degrees, and I was glad for the balaclava.
As promised, here are some pics of the stairs and one video of what the view from the top is. When Rainier comes, I intend to show the very same thing.





With that, I bid you all long days and pleasant nights.

Danger Ahead - This is Gonna Be Sweet

Miles: 9956.2
Gallons Burned: 327.7
Caffeinated Drinks: 63
Gigabytes of Pictures: 27.1

Nick (who flew in to DC and will fly out of NYC) and I will be leaving DC on Friday night and hitting New York City at about 6:00am Saturday after a quick stay at a motel.
Just one little problem...more like a fun new adventure (AD-VENTCHA for those who know me well). There is a new storm front in process that is slated to drop 12-15 inches on New Jersey and Eastern New York. So we'll be dodging flakes while you are all snug in your beds. Keep us both in your hearts and on Saturday we'll be eating some fine New York Pizza.
All the hippie-references I have seen in here in DC made me think of this fun picture I took in Pensacola:

Eight Keys in a Chain

Miles: 9376.3
Gallons Burned: 323.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 55
Gigabytes of Pictures: 24.9

I was reading Don Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years", and he quoted Steve Pressfield who said that a writer must push through the resistance that he faces when trying to write. The bigger the resistance, the more important the story. Not to say that this blog post is world changing, but I really am not in the mood/state of mind to write. So here goes.
More about Florida:
I woke up at Flamingo Everglades at 7am and started south towards Key Largo the first of the hundreds of small dots that stretch 175 miles into the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. The drive was great and I was impressed with the sheer extent of all the causeways so much like a concrete belt keeping them from floating away.

As soon as I hit Key West, I drove around getting feel for the place. When I hit the intersection of Elizabeth and Fleming, I saw and grabbed an open parking space in front of the public library. I walked without any direction, just people watching, until I wandered west to lands end and the entry of Fort Zachary Taylor Historic SP. I had no idea what the park was like, but lots of cars were going in, so I figured why not. So I paid $2.50 (as a pedestrian!) and walked the 1/3 of a mile to the park. This is what I found:

To get a map of where this is click HERE.
I swam in the water that was 69 degrees. Apparently, that is cold for this area! The sun was out and it was 70 degrees (21C), so I guess my farewell to the sun in the Everglades was premature. I was right on the division between the Gulf's waters and the Atlantic. But at this beach I was technically in the Atlantic. This is my first time swimming in the Atlantic, I kinda guess that the rest of it isn't this warm.
I spoke with Charlie from Ontario while riding the waves. He is one of the many snow birds who live the 6 winter months in Florida. He told me a little of the history of Key West. There was a mayor of the city named Charles "Sonny" McCoy who water skied all the way from Key West to Cuba on Sept. 10, 1978. He was a crazy man who was escorted into Havana Harbor by a pair of Soviet-made gun boats. That means he made 105 miles behind a speed boat.
Today the town is the usual mix of tourist traps, bars, clubs, sand and mom-N'-pop restaurants.
After enjoying 2.5 hours in the water and on the beach, I showered off, toweled down, and headed back to town. Once back into town, I saw this rare and sweet BMW X6 M:

I walked to the southern end of Duval Street and recorded this:

The storm was building and you can see the waves are picking up. The only thing was, I didn't know there was going to be a storm, let alone a full blown mini-tropical storm.
By this time, I was feeling hungry. Being so close to Cuba, I felt like I ought to try the local cuisine. As the first rain drops started to fall, I walked north on Duval until I saw a tiny sign pointing to El Meson de Pepe, a family owned restaurant that has been open for 20 years. I really enjoyed the feel of the place, and I asked to be seated near the open square in the back near the Mariachi band. Right after I ordered the heavy rain started and the band quit. The spray came in and hit me in the face as the wind roared and put out the candle on my table. People rushed in to seek shelter and a man at the adjacent table told me that the storm had been forecast for days, and the wind was supposed to gust to 80 miles per hour (129 kph)! This is what it was like:

You can't get a good feel from the storm but it's the best I could do.
Anyways, as I dodged rain blasts, I ate this great meal:


I ordered the Completa de Caballo Grande, Pepe's Homemade Sangria, and some Key Lime Pie. The main course was a sampler of classic Cuban fare. First there was Lechon Asado which is roasted pork marinated in cumin-"mojo" sauce. Then I had Ropa Vieja which is shredded beef stewed with fresh tomatoes, green peppers, onions and red wine; it is translated as "old clothes" (Lili please correct me if I got that wrong). The third item was spicy Picadillo, ground beef steeped in sofrito, olives, capers, and raisins. This was the best of the three main courses. I think the sofrito was the key ingredient. Complementing the meal was a pleasant light Sangria. I admit that I was full, but I promised Eric from Pensacola that I'd have Key Lime Pie on the keys, so I put my pride/good sense aside and dug in. I got only half way through the pie and was feeling pretty good. All in all, the meal was great, the ambiance was great, and the service was great. So I tipped well (No to say that I normally don't tip well) and started walking back to my car though the rain.
The streets were flooded and occasional people ran in the shadows dodging the rain. Police in pairs were sipping coffee under the cover of awnings and chatting quietly. The night was dark and I was feeling good. Just to be clear, I had one glass of Sangria. Just one. There is less alcohol in a glass of Sangria than in a glass of Merlot. Yet my head began to swirl. I felt hot, stumbled, and my vision became clouded. As I leaned against a brick building, I felt my stomach rise. I barely made it to a trash can before I puked the entire meal. A patrol man looked at me suspiciously. After, I felt better. I walked another 20 steps and suddenly found that there was still another half of the meal to lose. So I "washed" the sidewalk in Puréed Ropa Vieja.
Eventually I made it back to the car feeling terrible. I don't know if it was the food, some stomach bug, my pre-meal dehydration, the sudden transition from eating to my ever-brisk walking pace, or just some inexplicable random event. I decided to take a nap from 8pm to 11pm in my car. Afterward, I felt marginally better.
My 9 hours on Key West were fun despite the unfortunate end.
Next time I'll tell you about another Floridian experience...

Louisiana Bayous

Miles:5425.9
Gallons Burned: 185.82
Caffeinated Drinks: 34

I'm sitting half a mile pass an oil refinery on a two lane road frequented by hunters with shotguns and fishers with graphite rods. As the engine idles, powering this netbook, I look out at egrets, pelicans, and dozens of other unidentifiable birds. It's overcast and the trees sit out in the bayous looking like the masts of sunken galleons that have been locked in ice.

I can smell my steak searing on the stove under cover of bacon, and "I think to myself what a wonderful world". Um actually...I just had that great song pop into my head.
In truth, what I have been thinking about all day is a family's feeling of loss when they came back to see their house destroyed by the storm surge. The entrepreneur who put 30 years into his hardware store, building it piece by piece and defeating all opponents, only to have it scattered and laid waste by hundred-mile-an-hour winds. Even after 4 years the wounds in this community are blatantly evident. Whole neighborhood's with no one but rats for tenants. Wrecked shrimp boats dragged unceremoniously from highways and left to rot in the ditches. Behind each rotting house, car, business, and boat was a man's dream, a goal, possibly a life's pursuit. All gone, all "meaningless."


This volunteer fire department still uses their old partially collapsed building.
When I use the word "meaningless", I use it as Solomon used it. Meaningless is used over 30 times in his book Ecclesiastes and is selected to show how finite and how brief life, achievements, and pursuits really are. Perhaps "vapor" is a better term. The dude actually opens his book with: "Meaningless, meaningless all is meaningless." His publisher must have been an imbecile. You don't start like that! Who would want to read past that?
Well...I guess I am rather undiscriminating. Anyway, he lived it up: master of wealth, master of sex, master of political power, master of a nation, and master of reputation. His freaking house was way bigger and more elaborate than the one they built to God. He had a posse and a harem. And then he has the gall to write this book at the end of his life and say, "Meaningless, meaningless, all is meaningless." (He does eventually close the book with an answer to life's meaninglessness, you can read it for yourself if you want.)
I haven't lived very long; I haven't seen the deepest horrors of this world. Looking at the devastation here in the Ninth Ward and the Mississippi River delta, I think he's right. Life is a vapor, before I know it I'll be dead and all my achievements and pursuits (even my name and any memory that I even existed) will all be forgotten.
So now that you are all sad and (now a quick quote from one of the funniest guys I have ever met) "have a bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and a gun in the other, wondering if you should end it all right here", what do you do?
Solomon answer: "nothing is better for you than to eat and drink and enjoy the good of your labor."
So I come back to where I started. Steak! Wow I love steak. It's so tasty and good, the rare/medium rare tender goodness just calls out to me. I wish I weren't driving back to New Orleans after this otherwise, I would totally pop open a bottle of Washington state cabernet and enjoy a glass with my steak. Eat my friends, drink too, enjoy your life because you don't have long to live.

After Galveston's Thunder

Miles: 5418.0
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35

I really am enjoying this meal at Pere Antoine's, so I thought I'd continue to blog.
However First I must discuss the great food I am enjoying:
I ordered and am now enjoying the New Orleans Sampler:
Seafood Jambalaya - rich and smoky with fantastic sausage and big shrimp
Red Beans and Rice - a New Orleans classic with a surprisingly multifaceted flavor.
Shrimp Creole - Sweet with a strong suggestion of lemon
Gumbo fairly plain, so I added some Tabasco (having just been at the factory I felt obligated)
Mango Margarita (Sauza Gold, Cruzan Mango, Grand Marnier, and sweet and Sour mix) - Grand Marnier's citrus comes through first, then there is a mid palate bite of tequila and finally a smooth finish of fruit (vaguely mango)
Bread Pudding - Smells of wonderful cinnamon, the frosting is not frosting but rather a sweet cream sauce, the chunks of orange are excellent as are those of kiwi.

The meal was fairly priced and excellent with a pleasant yet empty ambiance.
While I am savoring the last of my bread pudding, how about I tell you the story of Galveston?

In Galveston's Gray Thunder both of my sleeping bags, my pillow, and my boots were soaked. And my tent (containing all the aforementioned and a cylinder of propane and my cook stove) was overturned and 25 feet from where I left it. In frustration and (I'll admit it!) more than a little unrighteous anger, I disassembled everything and shoved it into garbage bags.
Right now all is laying out to dry on a bench back at the campsite at Bayou Segnette State Park.
After leaving Galveston, I drove north toward Nacogdoches TX where my awesome cousin Shelby attends Steve Austin University. But before I got there I ran into this along the freeway:

My exact 1.1 second mental analysis was as follows "Knife shop...hmm, wait along the highway!? I'm in Texas...hmm. Dude I HAVE to stop and check this out." So I slowed dangerously from 67mph to 0 on the gravel shoulder of the highway. I will neither conform or deny the alleged purchase of anything in said establishment. Only if you really know me (and Lili knows what I would do in a Texas highway knife store) can you say if I bought anything (You already know I am "cheap").
So after that, I made it up to Nacogdoches and took Shelby out to some Chinese food. I ate their version of Singapore Fried Noodles, LAME. But the time was well spent with my cousin. Me, being an awkward conversationalist, tried not to be too weird, but only Shelby can speak to that. I hadn't seen her in over 10 years and we traded stories of high school experience and unusual friends.
After biding her goodnight, I looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:40pm. I decided to push it a little and run for Louisiana. Kinda bad idea. I made the 300 miles in 7 hours (including the time I spent in a closed McDonalds parking lot stealing WiFi to find a place to stay for the night).
As I drove East on I-10 I saw a blessed sign "Welcome Center Next right, 24 hour security provided". Wow, I was so excited. I slept in their parking lot.
As an aside, sleep is important (in case you never guessed). I remember when I had a particularly terrible period of insomnia, 84 hours without sleep. And I drove 5 hours home on the tail-end of the sleep-cation. During the Joshua Tree and "Pass" in-car nights, I slept sitting up in the car seat. The result was periods of no more than 1 hour of sleep and a lot of "clock watching". That night I used every ounce of my B.S. and M.A. degrees and all the accumulated knowledge of my 23 years on Earth to notice: if I sleep sideways (across both front seats) in the car, I can actually be comfortable! It totally worked!
Well I guess that wasn't an aside. More like a conclusion. Next time Avery Island.

Gray Thunder

Miles: 5518.0
Gallons Burned: 188.6
Caffeinated Drinks: 35

New Orleans has been great, so great that I "lost" a whole day. It's not as bad as it sounds. I just was totally convinced that Sunday was Saturday...either that or last night I slept for 29 hours instead of 5.
Anyways, I'm sitting in the Pere Antoine Restaurant enjoying some fine creole food and a fine Mango Margarita (I'll discuss that in detail later). Sunday is relatively calm in the French Quarter (except for the rabid Saints fanatics) fewer people in the streets and the beads are thrown with less regularity. Now that all my clothes and almost all my shoes are dry, I've been thinking about Galveston TX.

I arrived at Galveston Island State Park early in the day (having only driven from nearby San Antonio). The park was dead; there were only 6 RVs in 65 sites (of course there were no tents). All the facilities had been upgraded recently causing me to suspect a rebuild after Hurricane Ike. My campsite was about 3 feet above the Ocean making the whole park subject to the storm surge which accompanies a hurricane. Man this margarita is good... Oh yeah Galveston!
No not yet...
My absolute favorite beverage is Grand Marnier Cognac, which as it so happens is in my Margarita. It snaps as soon as you imbibe it. When you swirl it in your mouth you then are overwhelmed by the citrus essence and the smoothness of the alcohol. After you swallow GM, you are left with a neat finish with no harsh aftertaste, just the rolling ease of gentile l'orange. Hmm...Thanks Dave. Seriously you Da man. I had GM for the first time in Dave's kitchen back in Michigan as he offered several options to educate my palate. Ever since, GM has been my drink of choice.
Okay, Okay back to Galveston:
I setup the tent and went into town as the rain started. I obliviously drove out to the peninsula, then through town, and out to the sea wall. Meanwhile, the storm began in earnest. I updated the blog, returned emails, and called someone all while my poor second tent languished under the assault of a thunderstorm.
While this unobserved carnage occurred, I watched the surfers battle the waves, right next to the brake-water. This reminded me of an old Emo Phillips joke about surfers crashing against rocks. You'd think, "if I was a cool surfer dude, why wouldn't I surf on a sandy beach" (only 1 mile away)? But I am a chess player, not a surfer dude.

Remember I'm standing out on a break-water and the surfers are about 20 feet away from the jagged granite boulders!
I am standing at the end of this while taking the video above:

The next day I drove around Galveston again munching on a Whataburger, but this time with an eye for history and storm damage. It's amazing how much you miss when you don't take your time.



The city was hit with Ike's hundred mile-an-hour winds leaving millions of dollars in damage. State-wide the storm did over $12 billion in havoc and the insurance companies cried (according to the radio news stations).
I enjoyed the Victorian house, however my favorite architectural style is Art Deco. Just so you know when I get to New York City my fascination with the beauty of buildings will likely overshadow all.
Another odd observation: The storm destroyed the breakwaters in Galveston, so While I was there they were building new ones using huge pink granite boulders. The quality of the granite was excellent (counter-top grade), yet they were tossing it into the Gulf of Mexico...
Next time I move onto Louisiana.