European Cuisine

I don't like food.

Well that's not entirely true, I just don't really like flavor all that much. I guess flavor isn't all that bad, but if given a choice I'd rather sit down with some fruit, vegetables, and a plate full of plain noodles. Which works great for me in America, but not so well in say anywhere else in the world.

This has the potential to spell disaster on a two month trip through Europe. Fortunately, I'm also a big fan of adventure and what's more adventurous than trying strange food in strange countries? Well, lots of things, actually. But it's still an adventure and one that has turned out well so far.

Yesterday we took a day trip to Toledo, an hour south of Madrid. At the crossroads of Muslim and Christian culture, the city been captured and recaptured countless time. This means that Toledo's architecture has has strange relics from very different background and it's amazing to see how the history of the city is intertwined with modern buildings. Watching a brand new Audi slowly squeeze down a medieval alley is something you'll definitely never see in America. And this is to say nothing of the incredible cathedral. It was a bit hard to get a feel for the cathedral from the outside (unless you were a long way away, but once inside the place was overwhelmingly beautiful. (and the rest of the Toledo pictures here).

But Toledo was also our first foray into Spanish cuisine. Famous for it's mazapán, a chalky, pasty, dessert that tastes exactly how it sounds: chalky and pasty. It wasn't terrible, but it's not a dessert I would ever willingly eat. But I could imagine children growing up eating mazapán could develop a sweet tooth for it. I'll stick with chocolate and cookies, though.

Arriving back in Madrid last night my sister and I headed out for some tapas, Spain's famous snack dishes. Avoiding the seafood dishes, I decided to start with a beginner plate: ham sausage slices soaked in a mildly spicy sauce. To eat you grab a slice of sausage, place it on a chunk of bread, and create a small open-faced sandwich. The end result was extremely tasty. Which is good news for me, there will be lots of tapas in the next month. And walking around Madrid at night was beautiful, we had a nearly full moon that light up the evening.

Today we headed out for a second day trip, this time up to Segovia. Segovia is famous for it's enormous aqueduct. It did not disappoint. Originally nine miles long, the 2500 remaining feet are still impressive. Built by the Romans over 2000 years ago (without any mortar!) this aqueduct stands high on my list of oldest things I've ever seen. We spent the better part of an hour walking around in the shadow of the aqueduct, climbing on it, and just in general just staring at. Of course, Segovia also has a cathedral, which Rick Steves aptly described as a very flamboyant display of gothic architecture.

And we had a chance to stop at one of Kelsey's favorite restaurants, Pan & Company. They sell small, cheap (and delicious!) sandwiches. It was a great small meal to keep us full until we could get back to Madrid... because waiting for us at Madrid was our next meal, Casa de Tortillas. Kelsey's favorite food in the entire world is a Spanish tortilla and, as it's name suggests, this place knows how to make a tortilla. We split a tortilla covered in a garlic mayo sauce for just $5 Euros.

We're now stuffed, happy, and exhausted for two day trips. Tomorrow we've got one more full day in Madrid (featuring two museums, a park, and a bullfight!) before we head off to Barcelona on Monday (when the "normal" part of my vacation starts).

We Must Be In Europe

I've been in Madrid for about 48 hours now and (of course) I'm already having a fantastic time. This is the first time I've traveled internationally and not really had any real plans. And it's a great way to travel. I've started both mornings with a meandering jog through town. This could be my new favorite way to explore a city. I cover a lot of ground and get to follow pretty much any whim I have. I've seen a lot of Madrid that I would have never normally see. I also get to see a lot of local stores and people, not just life around the major sections.

Anyway, two days is more than enough time to make some snap judgments about Madrid, Spain, and Europe as a whole. :) Stepping into Madrid airport, the first thing I noticed was the smell. The smell of smoke. How long has it been since I've been in a building where people can smoke indoors? A long, long time. The airport does have a "smoking room" but it's just a 10 foot by 10 foot booth in the middle of the terminal... the smoke escapes fairly easily. It's something I'll have to get used to here, everyone smokes in Spain. (I think this explains why I haven't seen ANYONE else out running in the morning yet. Sure smoking will take years off your life, but it keeps you thin!)

The other very obvious social difference is the way Europeans greet each other. Not content with just a handshake or a hug, the Spaniards always throw in a quick, two cheek kiss. I spent close to six hours in the Madrid airport (a story for another day) and I saw more kisses than I've seen in the rest of my life, combined. But I gotta say, I like it. Like all Americans, I'm a firm believe in having my own personal space, but a quick kiss on the cheek seems to set a friendly atmosphere from the get go.

On the fashion front, Madrid has been nothing short of fascinating. I'm happy to report that while the American mullet has been on the endangered species list since the early '90s, the European mullet is still alive and thriving. I've never seen so many variations on the standard mullet. I think I'll have to spend at least one day on a mullet safari; attempting to capture images of the mullet in it's natural environment. I'm not sure if Spaniards are comfortable with a tourist walking around taking pictures of the back of their head, so it will have to be a covert operation.

On the female side the (surprisingly disturbing) trend is the use of extremely sheer white pants or skirts. Usually worn in combination with a pair of brightly colored (and quite often patterned) skivvies, it's hard not to stare. And sadly, it usually means staring in terror. The sheer clothing phenomenon isn't limited to young, fit women (i.e. the ones that can get away with it). No, it's a non-discriminating fashion foul and is equally likely to appear on... well with out getting into too many details, let's just say that this is a risky look to pull off. If things go wrong they go very, very wrong.

The only thing I've failed at so far is in the picture taking department. What can I say, while I love looking at buildings and monuments, I'm not really interested taking pictures of them. You can find those pictures in any book. But today my sister and I are headed off to Toledo for a day trip. It's going to be my first medieval experience in Spain, I'm sure I'll be back tonight with a ton of corny pictures!

Airports and Planes

And we have liftoff!

My absolute least favorite part of traveling is ... well the traveling itself. It starts at the airport. The airport could be the most depressing place I know of (a quick review of my most painful memories reveals that no less than three of my top five bad memories involve an airport). On top of that, I'm convinced that the entire system is designed to test our ability to cope with society. Long, slow lines, screaming children and mind boggling "security" laws are enough to mentally destroy even the most patient traveler.

Once airborne, things don't get much better. For those who don't know, I am not entirely comfortable putting my life in the hands of another. Yes, airline pilots are extremely talented and experienced, but that kind of logic is thrown out the window when I'm actually on the plane. The bottom line is that flying is a distinctly non-human trait. If we were supposed to fly we would have been given wings. Blatantly flaunting the air gods like this will not go unpunished forever.

I've flown a lot so I've become better at combating my irrational fear (or at least learning how to appear calm on the outside). But turbulence is still an extremely unpleasant experience. I'm usually okay for a certain amount of turbulence -- like some sort of turbulence meter. When the bumps first start I usually chuckle quietly to myself and think rational thoughts ("It's almost impossible for turbulence to take a plane down! The plane is only moving an inch or so max, that's hardly anything! It should be shaking more than that anyway!"). I also keep myself busy, intently reading the SkyMall magazine or something. But eventually my body starts to realize that the plane is, in fact, bouncing around and things start going down hill. And once the turbulence meter is full I'm officially a mess. I sit still, willing the plane to stop shaking and my heart actually starts pounding a little bit, which of course makes me a little clammy and even more uncomfortable.

Unfortunately for me, the flight from Seattle to Philadelphia was a pretty bumpy trip and I hit "stressed out Colin" at some point over Michigan. This meant I had zero tolerance for bumps on my flight to Madrid (and as an added bonus: bumpy flights while you're over the middle of the Atlantic ocean? No bueno!). So instead of enjoying some shuteye on the way over I spent 11 hours fighting the urge to scream and whimper like a 4 year old child. Good times.

But the flights had plenty of highlights too. The person to my left on the flight from Seattle to Philadelphia was from Spain and spoke no English. Watching her interact with the flight attendants gave me first glimpse into my life in Spain. It was not a pretty picture. :) However, she was able to ask me "Live Seattle?" and one other question that made me realize she knows infinitely more English than I know Spanish. She asked if I spoke Spanish and (after consulting my phrase book to find the word for sister) I responded "Oy hermana habla Espanol." She, unfortunately, didn't really understand me. It turns that "oy" isn't actually a word. It's my gross combination of "soy" ("I am") and "yo" ("I"). Not that "yo" would have been much better: "I sister speak Spanish?" Ugh, it's going an interesting linguistic month.

My second flight started off in a similar fashion. "Hola," the girl next to me said as I sat down. I responded with an hola as well, thinking "oh another flight of pointing at words in my translation book..." She then asked me something in Spanish, while grabbing a big bag and handing it to me. I assumed she asked me to put it up in the overhead compartment (which was correct!) so I said "sí" and put it away. 20 minutes later I was talking to the flight attendant (in English) and my isle-mate asks me afterwards, "Wait you're American?" Turns out she's American as well (we'll Hispanic, living in LA) and we were able to continue the flight in a language that we both understood...

So with that as my Spanish primer I'm now ready for Spain proper. I'm off the plane and I can't express how great it feels to be in Spain. No more planning, no more stressing, going out and doing things!

Here We Go Again!

Fifteen months ago I put life on pause, packed up my snowboard gear, and spent eight fantastic weeks in New Zealand and Australia. Tomorrow I'm setting sail again, this time for Europe! I'll be joining my sister for a month in Spain before venturing off in November to check out Morocco, England, and Iceland! There will be (of course) lots of great adventures, stories and pictures.

We're off to Madrid first, where my sister and I will spend a week with my cousin (who's spending a semester there for school). On October first we're moving into a small flat in Barcelona for a month. We haven't even left yet and I've already got a ton of things to talk about. Unfortunately that won't happen tonight. I've got a flight in 6 hours and I'm finally packed up and as ready as I'm always going to be.

So for now it's time for bed. I'll be in Madrid in two days, jet lagged and (hopefully) ready type some more. Until then!

Climbing Rainier

I've spent the last two weeks nursing my sore feet and slowly internalizing my trip to the top of Mt. Rainier and back. I had hoped that if I thought about things long enough I'd be able to conjure up a concise and cogent tale of my summit climb. Sadly, that's not going to happen. Climbing Mt. Rainier is a huge emotional and physical investment; I certainly don't have the literary skills required to adequately document the endeavor. But, as with everything else in life, I'll give it my best try. This post will be long, meandering, and quite possibly incoherent. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

Our journey to the summit begins on the (quickly melting) snowy slopes of Rainier, on Wednesday, September 5th. Our first day on Mt. Rainier was awesome. I haven't been to Rainier in a long, long time and was shocked to rediscover how breathtakingly beautiful the mountain is. Late August and September are especially spectacular as the snow has finally melted off the lower slopes, allowing the vibrant wildflowers to bloom. But we're not here to admire the flowers, we've got serious training to do!

We spent the day learning the essential mountaineering skills: hiking in crampons, performing self-arrests with our ice axes, and walking as team, roped up to the rest of the group. What this basically boils down to is a spending the day playing in the snow. Sliding around to practice self-arrests, kicking our feet around to practice walking with crampons, and all that good stuff. It's been nearly five months since I've seen the snow and, quite honestly, I've been missing it. Walking around in the slush reawakened my inner snow child who was very happy to see the white stuff again. I managed to resist the temptation to start a snowball fight but I may have snuck in a quick taste while no one was looking (and yes, I realize that the snow has been sitting there for the better part of 8 months, but I dug down a couple inches first where it's still clean!).

Aside from learning the mountaineering basics, this was also our first chance to size up the rest of the group. Teamed up with James and I are Phil from Chicago and (my personal favorite) the New Jersey boys: Bill, Nick and Joe. Naturally, Bill, Nick and Joe refer to each other as Billy, Nicky, and Joey. So far things look good. James and I are the youngest, but Phil competes in triathlons and the New Jersey crew has been training all summer. Our group is led by Alaina, a twenty-something mountaineer who has been leading groups on Rainier for three years. She also spent two years in the Indian Himalayas and five years on the US national rock climbing team! Needless to say, we're in capable hands.

After a few hours on the mountain we're deemed "ready to climb" and head back to our bunk house for one more night of fitful sleep. Do I feel like a dependable mountaineer yet? Decidedly not. But could I stop myself if I slipped and fell? Eventually, yes. Besides, there's really on one way to learn: doing it when it matters. :)

Thursday morning finds us up early and ready to get started. Our goal for the day is camp Muir: 4.5 miles and 4500 vertical feet away. It's certainly not a debilitating hike, but with a 40 pound backpack, crampons, and extremely rigid mountaineering boots on it's no stroll through the park either.

(Aside: I just realized that I haven't talked about mountaineering boots yet. Mountaineering boots are NOT regular hiking boots. They need to be completely waterproof (obviously) and very, very rigid. The stiff boot allows crampons to be more effective. We ended up renting boots, which almost look like ski boots. We're also told to tie up the boots extremely loosely. Like loose enough that you can fit your entire hand between your shin and the front of the boot. If tied too tight the boots will slap into rub against your shin, resulting in the ultra painful phenomenon known as shin-bang. If wearing loose fitting ski boots to go hiking sounds strange to you, good! I'm glad I'm not alone. But aside from the extra weight, they were surprisingly comfortable on the way up. And back to the story!)

We left Paradise (the parking lot) at 10:00am, arriving at camp Muir a little after 4:00pm. The hike up was great. We got above the cloud level at around 8000 feet and I ended up hiking in shorts and a t-shirt. But once we hit camp Muir, I quickly realized that the rest of the trip wouldn't be quite as relaxing. It was announced that lights would be at the improbably-early hour of 6pm! And in the next two hours we needed to unpack for the night, prepare and eat dinner, change and then jump into bed. I sadly put my deck of cards back into my backpack; there would be no leisurely games on this trip.

We scurried around camp and two hours later I was stretched out in my sleeping bag. This leads to the next problem. Sure, getting in bed by 6pm is nice, but... how are we actually supposed to fall asleep? Not only is it just 6pm, but it's impossible not to be pumped up and simultaneously terrified of what the next day holds. Our guides just spent 15 minutes explaining (in great detail) what the next day would bring and it sounds... well terrifying. My mind is racing and my heart is pounding already. Fortunately, I have a secret weapon.

As we were going through our last minute preparations on training day we asked out guide for any tips about things to bring that wouldn't be mentioned on our checklist. She glanced around for a second and, seeing that no one was nearby, said, "I'm probably not supposed to encourage this, but if you go to the corner market they sell small, plastic, single servings of wine. One glass of wine will do wonders for you when you're at 10,000 feet." James and I, needing no further encouragement, both found a little extra room in our packs.

I'm happy to report the the wine helped settle my mind and heart. However, it was no defense against problem #2: spending the night in a wooden shack with 12 strangers. You would think that it wouldn't be that hard for people to relax and lay down, but there was a constant bustle. And not just sleeping bag noises! Between people getting up to go to the bathroom and the occasionally gassy outburst (yes, really!) it sounded like a zoo at night or something. I had ear plugs, but they were no match for the mass of humanity inside our shack.

After lying in my sleeping bag for what feels like hours I finally drift off a couple times. Which can mean only one thing: it must be time to get up! We're jolted awake at 11:30pm! We have exactly one hour to dress, pack, and eat. That is definitely not enough time when it's 11:30pm and you're operating on about one to two hours of sleep. The shack is a hive of activity, though and everyone manages to stumble out the door by 12:30. We're cold and tired, it's windy and dark out, but it's time to climb Rainier!

Aside from a little breeze it's a beautiful night. There are stars everywhere! We group up into teams of four (a guide plus three climbers) and move out. I start hiking with my head on a swivel, taking in the stars and the headlamps of the groups ahead of us on the trail. About 20 seconds outside of camp Muir I happen to take a look down and am greeted by the frightening sight of nothingness. Just in front of my foot is a small (say 6 inch wide) crevasse. Certainly not big enough fall into, but certainly big enough to step into. I point this out because from this point on I spent at least 95% of the time staring at my feet. I'm sure there are millions of things to see on Rainier, but I did not see most of them. From 12:30am until 1:00pm my universe consisted of my feet and the two feet in front of me.

Hiking by headlamp is an odd feeling. To me it felt like walking a dream. The world seemed to be in black and white. Well, mostly black. There is absolutely no light, save for the 20 or so headlamps emanating from the train of climbers. But the light from the headlamps doesn't do much to pierce the darkness, I can't see more than 15 feet in front of me. In fact, everyone on our rope team is about 20 feet apart and I can't see James, who's roped in just ahead of me.

But we trudge on, slowly, through the darkness. The plan is to hike for an hour then rest for 10 minutes. We'll repeat this for 7 hours, arriving on the summit around 8:00am. The first two hours are fairly uneventful. We have lost two of the three Jersey boys and Phil from Chicago, though. They decided that they were not ready for Mt. Rainier and elected to turn back. And it's hard to blame them. Hiking in the darkness is not for everyone. It's easy to look around and get scared. If you trip and fall you have no idea what you'll end up in. Again, another reason to keep your eyes on your feet. Also, I've heard that dying isn't fun either. And that's actually a possibility in the next section.

Hour three is where things get very interesting. We enter a section that the guides have dubbed the "no fall zone." What does that mean exactly? Don't fall. If you do you will probably die. Oh, and if someone else on you rope trips and falls you'll probably die too. There isn't enough time to react (and probably not enough room to perform a self-arrest on the trail anyway). We'll be climbing a 60 degree slope (steep!) on rock solid ice. The only silver-lining right now is that my rope team is now just me and our lead guide. So if I go down I've got no one to blame but myself.

Hour three lived up to hype. My heart would have been pounding, but it was absolutely paralyzed with fear. This section is firmly entrenched in the top 5 scariest moments of my life. I've made this comparison before, but this is infinitely more scary than bunjy jumping or sky diving. Those events take just a split second of insanity when you will yourself to jump off a bridge or plane. This, however, is a solid hour of heart-stopping fear. And once again, I survive by staring intently at my feet (noticing a theme yet?). Each step I take I have to kick the ice repeatedly, ensure I have strong purchase against the ice. This may have been one of the longest hours of my life.

However, the reward was sweet. Sunrise over Rainier is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen. Sadly we were still hiking just as the sun crashed over the eastern horizon, but watching as the snow around us slowly transformed into harsh redish hues was magnificent. We finally took a break as the sun continued to rise and I was able to take my favorite pictures of the trip.

The rest of the hike up is an exercise in mental and physical endurance. The technical sections are distant memories and you're left with endless switchbacks and nothing but your own mind to keep you company. Fortunately for me, I enjoy my own company. Physically speaking, Mt. Rainier is probably the hardest thing I've ever done. But -- thankfully -- my training regimen provided me with more than enough oompf to get to the top. The altitude made breathing a little more difficult as well, but didn't any other affect on me. So all I'm left to do is hike. Slowly. I try to keep a steady beat with my feet, counting off the beat in my head.

And suddenly, we're at the top! Well, the top is a bit of a misnomer. The top of Rainier is a crater, with the edges being higher than the rest of the peak (as you can tell from our picture). Which means that while you're on top of the mountain, you can't actually see anything. Also, our "gentle breezes" of the early morning have turned into a full on wind storm. So while the temperature isn't all that low (around 20 degrees), the wind chill is significant. Of the 12 clients on this hike, 6 make it to the top (including 3 of our 6 person group). Although this sounded low, it's fairly typical. Wikipedia notes that "about half of the attempts are successful, with weather and conditioning being the most common reasons for failure."

Sadly, there isn't much to do on top of Mt. Rainier. And, as much as I wanted to appreciate my accomplishment, we were still only half way done. Having just completed a 7 hour hike we still had 8 more hours to go. And my mind was already thinking about the "no fall zone." What would that look like now that the sun was out? Would the wind die down before we got there?

The answers are: even more terrifying and no, the wind did not die down at all. If anything, it picked up. Twice we were forced to stop and lay against mountain as the winds were dangerously close to blowing us off the mountain. I also discovered the only thing I dislike more than hiking up a sheet of ice: climbing back down it. To ensure that your crampons stick into the ice you need to stomp each step into the snow. By the time we reached the no fall zone we'd be hiking for nearly 10 hours. Do you know what my legs did not feel like doing? Stomping down as hard as I could on every. single. step. I literally had this conversation with myself as my legs were burning: "I absolutely cannot take another stomp step down, my legs don't have the strength. However, if I don't stomp the step, I will probably slip on the ice and die. Okay, stomp steps it is!" In case you can't tell, I didn't like this section any better on the way back down.

Thankfully we were able to get back down to camp Muir without any incident. We arrived shortly before noon, nearly 12 hours after leaving. Arriving at Muir I finally started to feel like, "YES I climbed Mt. Rainier!" No more crevasses, no more ice sections of death, just 3 more hours of hiking and I'd be home free. It turns out that the hike down from Muir was the most painful part of the trip.

The 4.5 miles back down are just "power through" mode. We're walking fast, taking few breaks, and just trying to get back to Paradise so that we can get off our feet. But remember those loose mountaineering boots I mentioned? Well they are not good for going downhill, especially if you're going fast. My foot slides forward and back a good inch on every step, rubbing my soaking wet sock against. By the time we reached Paradise the bottom of each foot felt like one giant blister (and, much to my dismay, each foot was in fact a giant blister...). We arrived at Paradise a little after 4:30pm. Everyone was tired, sore, and just generally drained. Mt. Rainier gave every one of us all we could handle.

Was climbing Mt. Rainier worth everything? The price, the pain, the terrifying no fall zone that I'm sure took a couple years off my life? Absolutely. In fact, the pain and anguish help enhance the experience. This was, without a doubt, one of the craziest things I've done in my life. Would I do it again? Possibly. No, I definitely would, if the opportunity arose. Never again in three days though. 16 hours of hiking is just too much.

Whew! I told you that'd be incoherent. It's now approaching 2:00am. I know I lost my literary drive somewhere in that story, but I told myself I'd finish it in one sitting. So there we have have it. I've already thought of lots of stories and details that I forgot to mention, I'll just have to save them for another day.

Success!

I made it to the top! I've got so many stories I'd love to tell, but I'm still slowly absorbing the whole event. So no great stories yet (I'll get something posted this week), but I do have a few pictures uploaded.

Training for Rainier

I'm three days away from starting up Rainier and I can't wait to get started. Of course, climbing Mt. Rainier isn't just about the three day climb. Most of climbing Mt. Rainier is the training beforehand. RMI — our guides on Rainier — recommend a six month training window, minimum. I'm fairly certain that I'm in better shape than your average American, but I didn't know I was going to be climbing the mountain until the beginning of August so I've only had about a month of dedicated preparation time.

A compact time line has lead to a very aggressive training schedule, I've taken one to two days off per week, max. So while I feel like I've made the most of my time, there's still a nagging concern in the back of my mind that I'm not 100% physically prepared. But it's just two days of pain, right? How bad could it be?

There have been a couple of, um, "highlights" during my training. Mt. Rainier is essentially like climbing stairs for two days so I've spent a lot of time on the infamous Crestwood stairs (211 uneven, oddly sized railroad tie steps in Kirkland). I quickly discovered that there's really no good way to ease into doing stairs. After my first session on the stairs (1 hour with a 50 pound backpack on) I was unable to stand on my own. My legs were quivering so badly that I couldn't keep myself vertical without the aid of the railing. After a 15 minute recovery period I felt better and decided it was time to go home. I attempted to back my car out of the parking lot but I had absolutely zero fine motor control in my legs. They were shaking like mad as I tried to shift into reverse and I immediately stalled my poor car! Fortunately your muscles get used to the new form of punishment quickly and I'm happy to report that there have been no stalls since day one.

I've since upgraded from the stairs to a somewhat short but extremely steep hike just outside town. On my first trip out I didn't know exactly how far it was, but figured starting the hike at 7:00pm would give me plenty of time to get to the top and back before dusk (9:00pm). I arrived at the peak on schedule, at 8:00pm. After a quick victory lap around the summit and started my hike back down, figuring I should be back at my car by 8:45 at the latest. This is where I learned lesson number 2: hiking downhill is much, much slower when you're carrying a lot of weight. Hiking downhill is usually faster than going uphill and I was shocked to learn just how slow I ended up going when saddled with 50 extra pounds.

So where does this extra time down leave me at 9:00pm? Not at the bottom, I can tell you that much. It was so dark that I couldn't really even see the trail anymore. Desperate for a source of light I pull out my cell phone and use that to illuminate my path. However it gets so dark that I really can't see a thing. I end up taking 2 or 3 steps at a time and then stopping to sweep my cell phone around, looking for some sign of a path. Not a well designed plan.

It gets so bad that I even ponder calling home. I run through the conversation through my head: "Hi mom! It's dark and I'm still on the trail and I can't see where I'm going. Can you and dad drive out here with a couple of flashlights and come rescue me?!" That's a phone call I wasn't looking forward to making. Fortunately, just as things start start looking hopeless, I smell a very powerful and wonderfully familiar scent: the stench of a pit-house bathroom! That can mean only one thing: I'm very close to the trail head. Much like Tucan Sam, I follow my nose and and am able to successfully navigate the final couple hundred feet to the parking lot. That's the first (and hopefully last) time I've been thankful for the stinky sanitation of overused trail heads.

Speaking of sanitation, have I discussed how that works on Mt. Rainier yet? Maybe that's a story for another day... Today was my last big training hike: a 6 hour monster trek through the Cascades that has left my entire body exhausted. But do I feel like I could do it again tomorrow, if it meant getting to the top of Mt. Rainier? Absolutely yes! I think I'm ready, but there's only one way to know for sure. :)

Mt. Rainier

25 years ago — shortly after my second birthday — my parents climbed Mt. Rainier together. Somewhere along the way my dad took a stunning picture of my mom, alone on the mountain, slowly traversing a glacier, high above the cloud level. That picture has been hanging in the hallway by my room ever since (give or take a couple years). Every morning for nearly 20 years I've been greeted by Mt. Rainier as I stumble downstairs to breakfast. The image has slowly worked it's way into my mind to the point that subconsciously I knew some day I would climb Rainier. I wasn't sure when, but I knew it would happen.

Well, "some day" turns out to be next Wednesday! Once I decided to stay in Seattle for the summer, I realized that (a) I was still in decent from snowboarding for 8 months and (b) I had no idea when I'd have another free summer in Seattle. I naively called up a couple of guided ascent companies to see what dates were free. It turns out that climbing Rainier is fairly popular (duh!) and you need to book dates in February! Fortunately they have a waiting list that I quickly signed up for and about a month ago I got a happy call telling me that there was room for two. So on next Wednesday my friend James and I begin our ascent up mountain.

So what exactly does a climb up Rainier involve? I'm glad you asked. In our case, climbing Rainier is a three day event. Well two days, actually; the first day we spend training near base camp, covering details like "what can I do to help prevent myself from dying?" We begin hiking around 9am on day two, climbing from Paradise (5,400 feet) to Camp Muir (10,060 feet). The 4.5 mile hike will take us most of the day — hiking in snow is slow.

After a restless "night" at Camp Muir, we're roused at an ungodly hour (around 2am) for our final ascent. We climb in darkness and (hopefully) reach the summit at 14,410 feet shortly after sunrise. After enjoying our time on top of the world, we slowly begin our descent back, pausing briefly at Camp Muir on our way back down to the bottom. All told we'll spend something like 14 hours hiking on the third day. And, no matter how I spin it, that's a lot of hiking. This will definitely be the most I've spent to have my ass thoroughly kicked.

So that's the gist of it. Mt. Rainier is an extremely difficult and somewhat frightening task, but it is a once in a life time opportunity. And I can't wait to get started.

Lounging

Question: what does an international man of leisure do when he needs to recharge? Answer: he spends the summer back at home. I can't say that my life plans ever included being jobless and living at my parents' house at age 27, but that's just the way things go sometimes. And you know what? I'm extremely happy with the way things have turned out so far. I've mentioned it before, but Seattle is still one of my favorite places in the world. The only real downside is that a summer in Seattle hasn't been the most exciting summer ever, so I haven't had much of an excuse to blog. Well that and the fact that we've had the rainiest August ever...

Anyway, fall is quickly approaching, which means it's time to dust off my traveling boots and see where the gods of travel take me. After my adventures last year I promised myself that this year I'd (a) leave the country at least once and (b) voluntarily make myself fear for my life.

You're probably wondering why, oh why would I want to make myself fear for my life? The answer is that I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I feared for my life last year when I went bungee jumping and sky diving. Now they stand as two highlights from 2006 and I'm sure that's not a fluke. But there's only one way to find out for sure.

I'm happy to report that I've got plans plans achieve both resolutions this fall. And, as one would expect, exciting adventures means that I'll have exciting stories to tell, which means I'll have a reason to start telling you all about it.

So ready or not, here we go!

And We're Back!

It's been nearly a month since my last post; the blog break has been nice. I'm finally back in Seattle; I arrived last Thursday at 3:30am. The last month has been great. I'm not sure there's anything worth mentioning, but I'll give a quick run down of everything that I've been up to.

The drive from Phoenix to Las Vegas was pretty easy. There must be some sort of Airforce base in northern Arizona because I saw a ton of military aircrafts. That helped keep the drive interesting. I also made a stop at the Hoover Dam (and took a couple pictures). As expected, the dam was huge, impressive, and definitely worth the stop. But you wouldn't believe how many people I met in Las Vegas who said they wish they could visit the dam. Do they not realize it's a 40 minute shuttle ride out there? If you really want to see it, then go see it! :)

Anyway, the weekend in Las Vegas was fantastic. It's the first time I'd seen Jordan in well over a year. Parties, sun, weddings, losing money... all the essentials. No pictures, though. :) Actually, I put my camera away after the Hoover dam and haven't pulled it back out since. Guess that means my road trip was officially over at that point.

After Vegas I spent some time in the bay area, which is still one of the greatest places in the world. And you always learn something new there. I mean, did you know that America now celebrates "Indigenous People's Day"? I didn't know that either, but it's a valid holiday for parking meters. It turns out that Indigenous People's Day is actually the politically correct version of Columbus Day. How much money do you think they spent changing all the parking meters?

And finally it was time to come home. Having done the 13 hour trek from Seattle to San Francisco once before I had sworn to never, ever attempt a one day drive again. But I ended up hanging out in SF one day too long and was forced to pull a 2:00pm to 3:00am drive to Seattle. But I was in good form. I feel like the whole road trip was all preparation and this last drive was my final test. I passed with flying colors. Well it was actually a terrifying drive. I picked up a couple more boxes of stuff in SF which meant that my car was absolutely packed to the gills. It was, in my opinion, an impressive engineering to repack my car with those two additional boxes. My car was so packed, in fact, that I couldn't see anything out the right side. Couldn't see the blind spot, couldn't use my mirror, couldn't even look out the passenger window. Merging to the right felt like a game of Russian Roulette. I'd put my indicator on, wait for a few seconds, then slowly merge over, listening for the sound of a horn. Fortunately there were no accidents (that I know of, at least!)...

And now I'm back in Seattle. Jordan's wedding last weekend was definitely worth the drive up for; it was beautiful. And the weather over the weekend was probably 4 of the nicest days I've ever seen in Seattle. It was one of the best weekends I've had in a while and I'm now in a bit of a post-wedding funk. Well, post-road trip funk actually. Jordan's wedding was the last thing on my calendar and now I'm just ... free. A year ago I think I would have been terrified to be in this position, but I'm very okay with it now.

I don't know how long I can stay like this; when I'll break down rejoin the real world, but I'm happily planning out my next fantasy trip. I may not be all over the world right now, but I'll be back there soon enough. And I'm confident that my life will still be an adventure. And as long as I've got adventures to live, I've got stories to share. So this blog isn't going anywhere quite yet.

Wrapping it Up

It's time to start heading home. My body is telling me I've done enough driving for one trip; I'm ready to sit in one place for a few days. Fortunately, Phoenix is my next stop and I'll be able to stay there for a short while. El Paso, Juarez, and Las Cruces have come and gone without too much excitement. Here's a couple highlights:

Juarez, Mexico is like any other border town I've been in: run down, dirty, and without much to see. But the intercountry bus is called the "Border Jumper" so for that reason alone I had to go for the ride. Once in Mexico I immediately took a wrong turn and got myself lost for a good 30 minutes. After refinding my bearings I finally stumbled back across the border a couple hours later (a quick note about the border: the "mighty" Rio Grande is little more than a stream at this point. Having watched the river grow on my drive through Colorado and New Mexico, it's sad to see it reduced to such a shadow of itself).

Radio in New Mexico and Texas is definitely not what I had anticipated. I was expecting the plethora of country and Mexican stations, but I wasn't ready for the incredible number of religious ones. It even has an influence on non-religious radio stations. On the drive out of Las Cruces today I was listening to a rock song with a chorus of "This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race." But that's not the way it comes out here. Instead it's "This ain't a scene, it's a ---damn arms race." Now I've got no problem with radio stations bleeping out things, but just the word "god"? Why not bleep the whole word at that point? I dunno, it just seems a little weird to me.

Another fun tidbit on the radio is the cattle and raw food report. Directly after the stock report they cut to a second report detailing the prices of everything from steer and heifers to corn and beans. And it all goes by way faster than I can listen to. It's really something else.

On the way back from the White Sands Sand Dunes I made an impromptu detour to the White Sands Missile Range. This turned out to be a great detour. The missile range is one of the most successful in the world and was the site of the first atomic explosion as well as America's first rocket to reach space. Anyway the museum is small but packed full of historical information. They also have a large collection of old and used rockets from previous tests. While walking among the missiles I added a new item to my "things to do before I die" list: see a rocket launch in Cape Canaveral.

And that's pretty much it for now. I'm in Silver City, Utah, getting ready for a long drive up to Phoenix tomorrow.

Roswell and Carlsbad

Roswell is pretty much what I was expecting it to be: a small town capitalizing on the fact that it was near some strange events in the 1940s. Oh, and as I discovered while approaching the town, Roswell is also the self-proclaimed "Dairy Capital of the Southwest." The town has a few nice touches, like alien eye'd lampposts, but for the most part it doesn't look like anything has been updated since the 1970s. Even the "official" Roswell alien museum and research center is little more than a collection of old newspaper clippings and cheesy props. But it was a fun stop and walking around town was better than admiring the big-city "charm" of Albuquerque.

After a few days of motel living I was determined to find a place to camp out for the evening. So on my way to Carlsbad I pulled into a little state park and set up for the evening. Things were looking good: the sun was shining, I was set up at a lake side site, and I was ready for a relaxing evening outside.

Things went well enough until around 2:00am when I was jolted awake by what felt like 4 men attempting to pull my tent over. The sunny evening had turned into a brutally windy night. As I lay in my sleeping bag attempting to hold the tent in one piece, I noticed the right side of my tent was lighting up: lightning was coming. Despite the strong winds the lightning moved in slowly. It finally settled in overhead for the night around 2:30am. Bolts were easily going off every 2 to 3 seconds; the sky was so bright that I had to put my pillow over my eyes to try and get some sleep.

Of course, shortly after the lightning the skies opened up and my tent was pelted by rain. At this point there was no way I could sleep; all I could do was lie around and wait for the storm to end... Which it didn't. Around 8:00am the rain finally subsided enough for me to venture out of the tent. Everything was soaked but I managed to get packed up and jumped into my car in about 5 minutes. I drove into Carlsbad where I was introduced to the flash floods of southern New Mexico. The streets were covered in 1 to 2 feet of water. I was afraid to keep going through town, but more afraid to stop, worried that I might flood something if I spent too much time in the water. Turning on the radio confirmed it: nearly all of southern New Mexico was under a flood watch. Fortunately I made it through town and down to the Carlsbad caverns without any major hitches.

With that excitement out of the way I was free to explore the Carlsbad caverns for the day. The caverns are spectacular. And, of course, taking pictures in the dark doesn't do much good, but I still took a bunch. The highlight of the trip was a ranger guided tour through the King's Palace. At one point we turn off all the lights to experience "absolute" darkness. I thought it was even cooler when we turned off everything but his single candle lantern. With just one lantern lit you get a sense as to what the caves looked like to the original explorers. It was hauntingly relaxing to only be able to see a few feet. Stalagmites, stalactites, and columns appeared and disappeared as he waved his lantern around.

After the Carlsbad caverns I was planning on staying at the nearby Guadalupe National Park for another day, but the floods, rain, and wind caused me to make a bee-line for El Paso. I'm going to find sun at some point in this trip!

New Mexico

A quick update from Roswell, New Mexico. Things in New Mexico haven't been quite as awesome as I imagined. Starting with my snowy morning in Cortez, CO I made a little detour out to the Four Corners. I wasn't really expecting much, but was still completely underwhelmed by the monument. But I did get to run around in four states. Tragically, though, the Four Corners will be remembered as the place where my camera finally succumbed to the battle damage it received at the Great Sand Dunes. As I was lining up a picture of myself lying in all four states the camera made an ugly sound. I tried all the usually tricks (smacking the camera into my thigh, blowing on the lens as if it were an old school Nintendo cartridge), but it was all for not. Which means you don't get to see me sprawled out across four states. It also means my pictures of the Anasazi ruins from Aztec, New Mexico were captured on $3 Walmart disposable camera.

Fortunately Albuquerque was my next destination and I was able to find a replacement for the rest of the trip. While I was in Albuquerque I stopped by some more petroglyphs, which were also not all that impressive. I've come to the conclusion that petroglyphs are, for the most part, just 1000 year old graffiti. I'm sure the Indians had fun doodling in the rock, but they would probably laugh at us if they saw us hunched over the rocks, intently studying the remains.

Aside from having some old graffiti lying around, Albuquerque is pretty much like any other big city. Fortunately I stumbled across the 'historic downtown' section while I was looking for a Radio Shack. It's actually a nice couple blocks of older buildings that are now packed with tourist shops and stuff. My previous stops at Pueblo ruins taught me that the locals were master weavers so I though it'd be nice to get a locally woven plate. The first store had a bunch of them that were the right size and price ($10), but had a big tag that proudly declared "Handcrafted in Pakistan." Nice! I finally found some authentic Indian woven bowls, but they started at about $150. Maybe I should just get a Pakistani one and take the tag off...

Two more things and I'll be off. First, I'm still waiting for a full day of sun. The snow in Colorado actually followed me all the way down to Albuquerque. Listening to the forecast as I pulled out of town included snow flurries over night (and 3 - 5 inches of snow in Santa Fe!). If things don't get sunny by the time I hit Carlsbad I'm gonna get very suspicious of this whole "desert" thing.

And secondly, I know New Mexico is relatively uninhabited, but would it kill the government to add a few more campgrounds? As far as I can tell (by looking at maps) there are essentially no places to camp between Albuquerque and Roswell. Sure I could have climbed up into the mountains and looked for a place, but I wasn't convinced that the roads were drivable. Instead I had to go straight to Roswell yesterday; not the most exciting drive in the world. But I'm here now and it's time to go find some aliens!

Spring in Colorado

I'm certainly glad I decided to stay inside last night. I woke up to a beautifully snowy morning here in Cortez, Colorado. I'm not sure how long it's going to last (or how far south the storm stretches), but this road trip waits for now one. Maybe I'll get to see the Four Corners covered in snow.

Mesa Verde

I'm supposed to be camping somewhere in New Mexico right now. Instead I only made it about 60 miles, a small trek from Durango to Cortez, Colorado. The culprit? A little national park called Monte Verde, where I ended up spending most of the day. True to its name, Mesa Verde is a large, lush mesa in southwestern Colorado. But you don't visit Mesa Verde for the scenery. You visit because to check out the ancient cliff dwellings of the Puebleans.

The ruins are amazing and it's easy to wander around for a full day. There's one house that you can explore on your own and two others that can only be accessed with a NPS guide. They've even got a two mile hike out to some petroglyphs (quick note about them: they're quite uninspiring. So much so that I didn't mind blocking half of them with my ugly mug. In fact I originally walked right past them on my hike). The guided hikes highlighted the day. Most impressive is the Balcony House. The entrance is an interesting 35 foot ladder climb up and the climb out is even more tricky. Once actually up in the ruins, it's hard to imagine living life on the edge like that. It's really an awesome experience all around and my small detour into the park quickly turned into an all day event. You can check out all of my pictures over here.

So I pulled into Cortez around 7:45pm tonight. And with the forecast including both a tornado warning and a snow advisory I decided I'd enjoy life a little more if I stayed in a motel. Am I a bit of a wuss? Probably. But I'll wake up tomorrow morning warm, not covered in snow, and ready to make my way down to New Mexico.

Oh, and I almost forgot about the highlight of the evening. After checking into my Econo-Lodge I meandered downtown and ended up at the Main Street Brewery: another place to try a local drink and watch some basketball. As I perused the appetizer menu I was shocked to see the world famous Rocky Mountain Oyster. After confirming that it was indeed authentic I was compelled to complete my Colorado experience by trying some. I won't go into too many details, but the final verdict is that it's okay. It doesn't taste like chicken (like the bartender claimed), but it was completely edible. However, I'm not sure I'll be having it again. I think I'd rather have chicken...

Mesa Arch!

I was just browsing through my pictures and I realized I completely forgot to upload my shots of the Mesa Arch (in Canyonlands) at sunrise. This is what I got up at 5:40am for! They're a little repetitive, but I think some of them came out pretty well. It was beautiful to watch the sun slowly warm the underside of the mesa.

In the Shadows of the Rockies

As planned, I've spent the last couple of days in Colorado. I was actually planning to stay even longer, but clouds, thunder and rain have been chasing me all over Colorado. Aside from trying to outrun the storm, the drive from Grand Junction to the Great Sand Dunes was pretty uneventful. I made a brief detour through Colorado National Park which (as expected) was like southern Utah, only not as great. And the rain didn't help.

I also happened to be passing through Gunnison, Colorado. My dad noted that (due to it's unique location in the Rockies) the town one of the coldest places in America. That alone makes it a destination for me. I pulled into the visitor center and told them that I was passing through and looking for anything interesting. To my disappointment the best she could do was suggest I drive 45 minutes to a "pretty lake." She also told me (much to my shock) that it was another 6 hours to the Great Sand Dunes. Of course it turned out to only be another 2.5 hours... Thanks Gunnison visitor center!

Quickly putting Gunnison in my rear view mirror, I made a beeline for the Great Sand Dunes. I pulled in a little after 5:00pm and was greeted by some cold rain showers. I quickly set up my tent, jumped inside and didn't leave the tent again until 9:00am the next morning. Fortunately, the weather had taken a pleasant turn overnight. And the rain the night before was actually good for my next event: snowboarding the Great Sand Dunes.

The Great Sand Dunes are the largest in country, at a height of over 700 feet. For me, 700 feet sounded like a small price to pay for sandboarding. I quickly learned otherwise. Hiking up sand dunes is hard (of course), but it's really, really hard when you're wearing your snowboard boots and dragging your snowboard along with you. And ("duh" #2), you don't get 700 straight feet of vertical. It's 50 feet up, 20 down, 60 feet up, 40 feet down, etc. So you spend 15 minutes dragging your board up and you're rewarded with 5 seconds of "boarding."

And boarding makes it sound like I was actually doing something. In reality you can't actually turn and you don't go very fast, so all I was doing was pointing downhill and wishing I was on the snow. :) But it was worth trying once and all the kids loved watching me.

Oh, and did I mention that it was windy? It was probably the windiest place I've ever been. Here's a picture I was trying to take of me about to go riding, but all you can see is wind blown sand. I managed to get a slightly better picture of me on my board, but it was a struggle. The wind and sand gets everywhere, it was surprisingly frustrating trying to get things done up there. And, checking with visitor center, the winds were bring in more clouds, more rain, and maybe even some snow! Which meant it was time for me to get the hell out of the Rockies.

While driving I was shocked (and way too excited) when I saw my first real life tumbleweed. Just like on Loony Toons! Actually, it wasn't "a tumbleweed," it was more like a heard. They seemed to cross the road in packs, kind of like gazelles crossing a river in Africa. Strength in numbers. Oh, and I was filling up at a gas station when I heard a loud "mooo!" right behind me. I turned around to find myself eye-to-eye with a trailer full of cows. This are just things you don't see in Seattle or San Francisco. :)

So I packed up yesterday and moved southwest, towards the Four Corners. I drove through a little town called Durango, which ended up catching my eye. I'm a sucker for small towns with nice downtown districts. Well that's a bit of a lie. I'm a sucker for a local brewery that's showing the basketball playoffs and has live music. Even the locals were there! Sadly the weather is still chasing me, they're now forecasting snow in Durango tonight! But I'll be in New Mexico tonight, I'm ready to go find some desert heat.

Google Tried To Kill Me

Well that wasn't how things were supposed to start. Apparently Utah didn't want me to leave. If you look at the Google Maps directions from Park City, UT to Grand Junction, CO it includes a nifty little shortcut to get from US-40 to US-6. What it doesn't tell you is that shortly after you pass the Strawberry Reservoir the paved road ends. So I'm happily driving along, cruising along at about 30 MPH on the dirt road. Slowly the road starts getting steeper and narrow until it's a one lane road and I've dropped down to second gear. Things aren't feeling quite right at this point, but it's supposed to be an adventure, right?

Now snow is now clinging to the side of the road (I'm still something like 8,000 feet above the sea, the snow hasn't completely melted yet), turning the dirt road into a muddy road. There are even a few puddles of very slushy snow left on the road, which causes my car to slide a little as I pass over it. I come around a corner to find the road completely covered in snow. I only manage to make it about 20 feet before the car comes to stop, unable to push through the slushy snow any further. "Fantastic," I think, "Google's little detour just added 45 minutes to my drive time today." I ease the car into reverse and slowly back down the snow. Unfortunately the snow is so slushy that as I'm backing up the car slowly slides left. And then the car stops moving. I've slid into some thicker snow and I can't go backwards any further. I try heading back up the hill but my tires (all 4 of them) just spin. I'm completely stuck. I can't even open the driver's door because the snow is up above it.

I'm 20 miles from any sign of civilization with no cell phone coverage and my heart starts to pound a little harder. I manage to climb over my stuff in the passenger seat and climb out that door to take stock of the situation. "I can probably hike/run 20 miles today to get back to the main road today," I think, "and I've got a sleeping bag and tent in my car that I could carry with me."

But that's not really what I want to do. My first plan of attack is to try to dig my car out. Looking for some sort of shovel I end up pulling my snowboard out and using that as a huge spade. The snow is super hard on top and super slushy below. It's hard to break through and then a lot of work to move. But I frantically clear the snow around the tires away and try backing up again. The car slides a few feet and gets stuck again.

I'm happy, though, my method will work. I get the snowboard back out and start clearing snow out all over the place. I create a little path all the way out of the snow and, thankfully, am able to navigate myself back down it on to (somewhat) firm mud. Of course, I'm not out of the woods yet. I've got to back myself down a one lane road until I can find a place to turn around. And my car is full of stuff so I can't use the rear view mirror. I ever so slowly backed myself down a few hundred feet until I found a wider turn and managed to get the front of my car pointed the right direction again.

20 miles later I'm back on the main highway and back on track to hit Grand Junction. As I calm down a little bit I actually end up kicking myself for not getting a picture of me digging my car out with a snowboard. It would have been a great picture. But I was in survival mode at the time and it never really occurred to me to get my camera out. But I did make road trip rule #1: never drive on a road that doesn't get at least one other visitor a day. Had I got stuck (or if my car had slid off the road), it could have been weeks before another car stupidly ventured up there too.

So yeah, the adventure has certainly begun. I'm just hoping that the rest of it won't be quite as adventurous.

Road Trippin': Take 2

I'm frantically running around my apartment (and town) trying to get ready for tomorrow. I just finalized the list of places I'd like to go and it's ambitious. I'm not even sure how long it'll take at this point. Even though I just pulled off a nearly flawless trip to southern Utah I'm pretty nervous about this one. A lot of things need to fall into place correctly. Okay, that's all the time I have for this; pack to packing and stressing!

Road Trip: Southern Utah!

I'm back from a successful trip through southern Utah. While I was on the road I had some time to keep my blog up today. Looking back now it's way too wordy, but it's too late now! They're posted in reverse chronolgical order so I'd recommend scrolling down and starting at 'Road Trippin': Utah' and working your way back up. If you want to skip my blabber you can just check out the pictures.

No time to chat today though. I've got to pack everything up and get ready to head out tomorrow for road trip #2.