Back.
Last time I tried to post was in Fiji, where my blog was promptly censored by the govt. True story, no access from anywhere in Fiji. Must not have liked the comment about the uniforms. There are several good stories to tell from Fiji, but as I am feeling contrary I think I will hold them for a later post and instead cover the last six weeks or so.
Leaving Fiji gave me all of one day in Dunedin to settle my affairs, clean the house I have been sitting, say goodbye to the dogs I have been watching, check in with my advisors (remember, I am theoretically in college), say sayonara to my NZ-based friends, and catch a flight for S.F. Saying goodbye to the dogs was the hardest bit, as you can't be jocular or decptive to a dog. They don't care, they just look at you as if to say "why?". Luckily none of my stuff was left in the house for them to destroy, but I will miss them both. I will also miss the trampoline, and the concept of the house being warm (a reality I completely missed). Housesitting is a strange life in such ways.
So after a few hurried goodbyes, a late night at The Bog, and promises to catch up in Feb all around I jumped on yet another flight. Air New Zealand continues to impress. On-time, decent food, functional entertainment, and no one trying to detonate things in their underwear. At least that I noticed. When not drunk the Kiwis are a generally quiet people, so perhaps something unobtrusive was going on in someone's knickers, but as long as it doesn't bother me, c'est la vie. Oh yeah, and at the Auckland airport I bought an Economist and while throwing out the reader reply cards I noticed a contest...50 words or less on Obama's Nobel with the winner getting a case of wine. I scrawled a haiku of sorts and dropped it in the post bin.
To California, arriving before I left due to the wonders of the time zone system. Nice thing about this 13 hour flight is that it only crosses 3-5 time zones (dependent upon daylight savings variations) so the jet lag isn't too horrendous. Meeting Karen in Rohnert Park, over at Downtown's place, but have to pick up the car first. As we were planning a month on the road in winter in the Mountain West I asked for a 4-wheel drive. What do they give me? A brand new (192 miles) Dodge Absurdo-Truck. These beasts are single-handedly responsible for the disappearance of Saab and the sale of Volvo to the Chinese. They are very fun to drive, however, especially when you can abuse a new rig and hand it back. Really gives you some room to, ahem, test its limits a bit.
Over to DT's and finally back with my bride. What can I say about a woman who tolerates my wanderings with good humour and even participates in mad dashes like this little tour? The same goes for friends and family who facilitate my travels, particular DT and the Stebner/Fineman Axis. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I suppose I could do it without you, but I can guarantee I wouldn't want to (Is there a gramatical rule about using I four times in the same sentence? Maybe something in the DSM-IV?).
Northern California never pales. In the space of a few days we go out wine tasting around Sonoma County, have two great communal dinners, and manage to be around for Viv's 39th birthday party. Viv has a life-force that attracts high-grade freaks and Family like Jupiter attracts moons. Her party was in a beautiful little 5-room hotel/bar/bistro in Tom Waits hiding-place-of-choice and featured those souls that managed to survive and thrive post-Dead, and others from similar paths. The inventor of kayak-fishing, one of the principals of likely the best run medical dispensary in California, varied musical figures; a cross-section of Sonoma County biota. Very good times. This leaves out playing muscle in a speed-freak lovers' spat and other sundry adventures.
We then head east across US 50. I much prefer this route to the purgatory of I-80, not just for the scenery but the emptiness. Truck does well at 110 in a valley in which I counted 28 miles without a single slight angle in the road. One day I will take a few weeks and really explore all the nooks of this area, up till now I have just hit the literal hot-spots. A night in Eureka, or Austin; I have spent enough nights in both that I can no longer tell one Best Western from another. Up in the morning and off to see the family in SLC.
Thanksgiving with my folks is the putative reason for the trip, and doesn't disappoint. Mom is doing very well and Dad maintains though he works too hard. More of the next generation inbound, as per a surprise announcement at dinner, and once the shock passes all are well pleased. My sister throws a good party, as does my brother. Ending the night with the extended McLanes in the former frat house just gives T-day the extra twist necessary to make it real. Then to Zombieland at Brewvies.
My folks then rented the Presidential at their time-share in St. George. Very plush, totally unnecessary, and very sweet of them. So how do we repay them? Go exploring up past Kolob Canyon, with my Dad driving the very urban Subaru and Mike in his SUV, and enjoy one of those jaunts where you just keep hoping the road will improve around the corner. It doesn't, but it might around the next bend. Well, let's try this way around the lake then. Hmmm, no.
End result-furious Mom, hunkered down Daniel, mud-covered Subaru. Aaah, family outings. Damn pretty though, Zions never disappoints.
Karen and I at Zions...
The Brothers Barbatus.
Wow, just met a guy with the longest arm-hair I've ever seen. I'm talking collie-coat length. Weird. But I digress.
From St. George we head north to Elsinore, where Libbie and Justin Zenger continue to lead a low-cost, low-impact life on a small farm with two boys, William and Arthur. No TV, boys that have chores at 3 and 6 years old, a yard full of complicated and slightly dangerous things that need doing. The kids are going to be good people. It is nice to see some folks still doing it right.
Spend the night at Capitol Reef, get up and into the park before sunrise, and drive the rest of the day through gorgeousness and gorgeosity, aside from that bit where you first enter SE Colorado, right up to Isaac and Kristen's place up in Creede. 10,000 feet in the Colorado Rockies with a storm threatening the whole time. Perfect.
Three days with more high quality friends. Loving, mellow, still a bit in shock from Albequerque; they treat us right and feed us like crazy. I gained some significant amount of weight on this trip which I don't even want to quantify. Worth it to stagger around the cabin committing carbicide with good folk. The steam shower was pretty sweet too.
Left in the middle of the Great Storm Of Six Weeks Ago which put record amounts of snow all over the damn place. We drove through that mother over some pretty questionable passes throughout western CO before crossing the border and giving up the fight in Vernal, UT. At least we had Absurdo-Truck. Isaac and Kristen had to get home in a Prius.
Vernal to SLC, meh.
Is there anyone out there whom I have not mentioned my chops to? Karen's idea, they eventually took best of show in Choptober, which is the second strange award I have won recently. The first was for the Obama haiku, remember the Obama haiku? For some unknowable reason my NZ Vodafone sim-carded iPhone worked for about 20 miles in the CO Rockies, unlike everywhere else in North America. Just long enough to let me retrieve a message from the Economist that my jottings had won a case of fine NZ Pinot Noir. Take that, talented people. The award-winning chops were approaching their end by this time, however, as I was tired of eating them and curious if I still had a definable chin. Plus my Mom wanted to see my face. So in SLC I had a straight razor shave (new experience) after which my brother Michael did not recognize me (the t-shirt eventually gave it away), brother Daniel stated that at 25 years old he had never seen me bare faced, my Mom screamed, Karen grumped, and my Dad didn't notice. We covered the range well.
One night in SLC and we head north to Wendell, ID. A night with JC and Candace at their ranch, some of my favorite relatives and always a good place to hang. Candace cooks like a demon (in a good way) and JC is one of the most charismatic guys I have ever met. Straight out of some lost piece of Cormac's. Fed well, once again, and stuffed with new knowledge about the Kilgrow clan and our role in the Danites and Avenging Angels we set ou the next morning for Spokane, with a side trip to Boise.
Boise never held much for me, but having met the Earwickers in NZ (yeah, they've heard the jokes) I was fortunate enough to meet them and their new project for lunch as we passed through. Nyah is beautiful, no surprise there, and her folks are as gracious as ever. Good to finally have a lure to Boisetown.
Up to Spokane to spend time with Karen's Dad and his partner, Marsha. This doesn't happen often, but it should. Whatever Ed does, he does intently. Spokane doesn't do much for me but it is a worthy trade to see these folks. To balance the cosmic scales we also dropped by Karen's aunt and her husband in Richland. They are as spiritual as Ed is practical. Good cooks as well. Actually, pretty much everybody this trip has been a good cook. Not that I am complaining, it is just easy to fall into a Orson Wellesian track in such company.
Down to Portland to see our comrade from nursing school, Jen. I would go to see Jen anywhere, even Indiana. The fact that she is in a place as vivaciously odd as Portland is merely gilt. A town selling Nyquil donuts, with the country's best bookstore, and which even designs the underside of its bridges with semi-apocalyptic elegance:
And, of course, the 24 Hour Church of Elvis (yes, I started the sentence with 'and'. I am uncomfortable with it too, but the Economist has started to do it. To which my mother would respond 'if the Economist jumped off of a cliff...' and I must say that, yeah, I'd probably follow, so long as my subscription was paid up and they keep sending me wine. I could not buy the big E in Fiji and I went into such withdrawl that I found a Kiwi chain of coffee shops and went around Suva stealing their copies. Really.):
From Portland we head back to Hood River to say goodbye to our European friends who had decided to cut their multi-year stay in North Am a bit short. Sorry to see them go but hard to have sympathy for someone leaving to spend a year in the south of France. I suspect they shall see me sooner than they expect.
Stopped at the Treesort just outside of Cave Junction, OR for the night. found this place online and I wish I had young children to take. I can't adequately describe how neat this spot is. A series of unique treehouses scattered in a grove of evergreens. We spent the night 40+ feet up in a snug little cabin with a very comfy bed, a working water system, a tree growing through the center of the room, and a Pacific NW windstorm to rock us violently to sleep. That was cool. Even mas cool, however, was the complex of ziplines, platforms, netted climbbing complexes for kids, rope swings, river pools, and yurts, saloons, cavalry forts, pirate ships, and everything else you can hope for scattered in the trees connected by bridges. Really, this place was designed with the insanely juvenile or agressively novelty-seeking in mind. Take my word for it, you will not be disappointed.
http://treehouses.com/
From there it was back down the coast for more days of patient hedonism in No Cal with the usual suspects.
Then to Anchortown to hang with the boys and get them their Christmas socks. Snowed in for an extra day, which gave me enough time to get in a catfight with the Front Desk of the Captain Cook. They have already apologized.
Now I sit in Nome, having returned from my first village trip in a year, and slowly catching my breath. 5,000 miles and a whole raft of other statistics later. Horrible, no?
And that's what I did on my summer vacation.
Enjoy your New Year, and listen to The Eastern , they'll make you smile. How many people can do that anymore?
posted by John Ryan McLane @ 9:28 PM
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