sights from the lobster boat with Steve and Nancy

prepare for picture overload

I finally got around to organizing some pictures. Here are a whole bunch...

Foggy coastal Maine. Then stormy coastal Maine.

Where do I Sign Up to Become a Green Mountain Boy?

Vermont is straight up incredible. Although housing is wicked expensive and jobs are a bit scarce, I really love this place. It's truly green everywhere.

Yesterday I hiked the Waterbury Trail up to Mt. Hunger and saw a 360-degree view of the state from 3500 feet. It was a vicious hike because it had been raining since the night before and the trail was basically a smaller-scale stream. I had to tuck my poles a couple of times so that I could use both hands to pull myself up some of the soaked boulder scrambles. I loved it. It made me a lot more tired than I remember, but I felt exhilarated when I got back to the van. As strange as it might be, this was the first hike of this Summer I did el lobo solo. Stephanie stayed at Amy and Pete's while I was out. I wish she could have seen the summit, but I was glad to move at my own pace for the jaunt. Selfish, aren't I?

We've been toying with the idea of settling in this state because it's so amazing. People in the crosswalks here have the right of way - NO MATTER WHAT. There is a really unique school in Warren, Vermont called Yestermorrow that teaches a bunch of courses on design combined with building. Most places focus on one or the other, but in this school, you learn design elements and then you build whatever it is you've designed. It's mostly for architects, landscape and furniture designers, but I think anyone would benefit from their courses.

Pete gave us the tour of his company, Magic Hat Brewing in Burlington this afternoon. It's pretty cool how this little brewery is growing. We sampled quite a few of their local offerings, so Pete had to drive us home :) Pete works in the lab making sure that each brew that's released for the public is top quality and won't degrade beyond a reasonable level during the life of the beer. He checked while he was in Michigan, and the Magic Hat beer he found was only two or three weeks old! That's pretty amazing if you check some of the other domestic brews that take 3 months to get to a shelf where we can buy them. I highly recommend this beer.

Well, the peeps are getting dinner ready, so I best be heading down to pitch in. Maybe we won't be leaving as soon as we planned...

green mountains outside the window

We made it to Vermont a couple days ago. We're here with Amy and Pete this week and then we're heading back. While they're at work, I think about my mixed feelings of being excited to go back to a place I know, to be productive, to make some money instead of just spending it...and I'm also a little worried because I think it will feel strange. I'm going to want to leap back in but I'll have to wait since we're going to fly to visit Camille on Lummi Island and then fly to Wilmington for the Morrill family get-together. (Isn't it crazy that a multi-city ticket flying from Grand Rapids to Seattle and then to Wilmington was cheaper than a ticket from Grand Rapids to Wilmington? With ridiculosity like that, it's a sure sign that we're supposed to go.) Anyway...it'll only be once we drive back to Michigan with Tim's folks, get my car at their house, and then drive the Civic again for the first time since May back over to Grand Rapids that we'll really stop. Stop, stop, stop. That will be the first week of October -- two months later than originally semi-imagined. But isn't that the way things go?

Today I answered Amy and Pete's phone and it happened to be her dad on the other end. Mark is a cool guy who I liked immediately when I met him at Amy's wedding. We chatted on the phone for about 15 minutes and he asked me the ever-burning question of what I was planning to do after the trip. He mentioned that he'd had the impression from hanging out with me and from hearing about me from Amy that I was a mix of practical and idealistic. It cracked me up a little bit so I had to tell him about the Practical Wonderer title for Fourth Sector. I hear these same things from smart people with insights about who I am, and it makes me feel a little comforted that maybe there is some continuity here...that I'm not just a big blob of contradictions and likes and dislikes, swirling around in an amorphous puddle of blather.

And then again, from other smart people whose opinions I trust, I get the same advice: chill out and don't take every bleeding thing so seriously. And if you can manage that, try having some fun too. Amy told me this over tea and a wonderful molasses crinkle at the Langdon Street Cafe in beautiful Montpelier. It's the same advice Camille gave me about a month ago, and I know plenty of other people have. Maybe the best way for me to take this advice right now is to stop all the worrying about whether or not I'll have it all figured out by the time we get to Grand Rapids, and whether or not I'm letting anyone or myself down by not knowing, or if I'll wreck my entire future by not knowing. Why are these things always easier said than done?

Anyway...I'm going to head down to the kick-ass co-op and get some risotto fixins for dinner tonight. I also need to pick up a small canvas at the local art store so that I can paint a picture to send back to Bear and Honey at the AT hostel we stayed at before leaving Maine and crossing the White Mountains in New Hampshire. (P.S. Now that I've seen them, I definitely want to do the Presidential hike through there on some future vacation.) I did a stupid thing and painted my first picture ever and then couldn't say no when asked to give it away. So now I have to pay for it and do an even stupider thing, which is paint and mail them a different one and ask for my other painting back. It's a long story, but I feel like a real moron about it.

swimming in the ocean!

Today I swam in the ocean for the first time. My legs are still salty slippery. Wee!

Thanks to all the commenters for boosting me up while I was down, by the way.

The sun came out the next day and I felt much better as I learned about jibs and tacks and mainsails and tillers and all kinds of other crazy sailing terminology that I've since forgot. Sailing = fun + confusion. Aside from the sweetness of the lesson, Tim and I were also able to stop while we were having fun. Ususally we blow right by fun and tire ourselves out and then start fighting. Woo hoo!

And, quickly, to elaborate on Tim's last post so Emmy Lou doesn't get all the credit, let me describe these four dogs because they are hil-ar-i-ous. Emmy is a beagle/rat terrier mix with a head slightly too small for her body. She's shy but extremely sweet once she gets over it. Dotty is a beagle mutt of some sort who I thought was too old to move and got suckered into pampering her until I got a leash out and she saw it and went insane. She also cannot avoid any puddle, no matter how big or how small. Shemya is a dog that looks like a pure black lab until she stands up, and then you can see that she's a mix with a basset hound. Looking at her is like looking at an optical illusion. So is listening to her: she snorts like a pig when she's on a walk. And then there's elegant looking Phoebe, a beautiful but unfortunate golden retriever who her own loving rescuer/owner has admitted "is no genetic prize." She's had 2 hip replacements; her first at 9 months. The dogs are a motley pack who sometimes sit on the couch and for no reason humans can understand, tip their noses to the ceiling and are lead by the beagles in howling at either the joy or the ennui of their lives.

And finally, the last thing I have to say on this super quick little post: no matter how calm the ocean looks, it's really not. All it takes for one to understand this is to get out on a dingy and try to drive in 4 foot waves to an old lobster boat that doesn't look trustworthy and sounds like it is going to fall apart outright when started.

I'm on a guest computer so I can't post the pictures from these extravaganzas, but I shall. We're with Alexa/Skywalker, one of the people that Tim/Sheriff walked the AT with. I've been getting to hear another side of the stories Tim has told. She also makes it sound like a chosen misery endured to figure something out about life, the universe, and everything (but I don't think that she came up with 42 after Katahdin).

It's time for a night with London Porter and Mint Newman-Os. After this weekend, it's to Vermont for a stay with Amy and Pete, and then we make the last leg back to our lake-locked, depression-enduring, four-seasoned, friend-and-family-filled, ham-on-bun-eating, auto-driven, deer-wandered homeland. Ah, Michigan.

Inertia

The sci-tech encyclopedia defines inertia as the property of matter which manifests itself as a resistance to any change in the motion of a body. Word.

I think I've hit that point where the forces that propel me down the road have balanced with those pulling us back home leaving me in a sort of state of paralysis. I feel the urge to go, but don't want to move at the same time. But this all varies with whatever environment is current, of course. If we're sleeping on the side of a road and haven't been clean in three days, my urge to move is quite strong. On the other hand, since we've been living with our friends, Steve and Nancy, in their beautifully comfortable home overlooking Penobscot Bay, we're a little more disinclined to budge.

Our trip of a few months is nearing its completion as we head a little further Down East to visit one of my trail buddies, Skywalker, and then on back to Vermont to Amy and Pete's place. After that, it's back to Michigan for us and I think we'll be ready. But for the past few days, we've loved our time in Lincolnville with Steve and Nancy. We've walked four dogs, sailed boats, motored an ex-lobster boat across the bay, eaten amazing gourmet meals and generally lounged like Emmy Lou, above.

She's eye-balling me now like she can tell I typed her name, so I guess that means we'll be off for a walk shortly. I think we're going to try to stop by the Windsor Chair Company which is just around the corner. I hear the shop's for sale if anyone out there is looking to build some furniture...

in Lincolnville, Maine

I got some lip from BozoByker yesterday for not having posted in the last 10 days. I guess I feel a little bad, but I think, Dad, that only you and Mom are reading this thing. Isn't it always the way that when everybody else loses interest, at least your parents are still keeping track?

I've been waiting to get to Maine since we started the trip. It's been this mysterious geography that has captured my imagination and, in all honesty, kept me committed to continuing our travels because I didn't want to end the trip without getting here. Isn't it always the way that when you yearn for something you don't know for so long, it's not what you had pictured? It reminds me of a quote that I read a while ago in Yoga Journal that is true but a bit depressing if you take it too far: "Without hope there is no disappointment." I guess it's not that Maine isn't cool, but it's been grey and cold since we got here a few days ago and we've been in places people love to come for vacation during the busiest tourist time of the year.

Since we crossed back into the east, I've been doing a lot less writing in general. Despite the rockiness of our start and figuring out how we were going to do this trip, it seems like we took our time a lot more in the west and had many more days to ourselves. The eastern part of our trip, thankfully, is a lot more about visiting people. Even with all of the pain that it seems a lot of people are going through in their lives, we've had a spectacular time seeing friends and family. I don't think if we hadn't taken this trip that I would ever have gotten to spend the kind of time with some of Tim's friends that I have. For the people we've seen, the eastern half has been worth it.

But I have to say--because I'm me and I can't not say it--that the east is not hospitable to the wind-born traveler the way the west is. Towns here padlock their water pumps and don't have nearly as many public toilets (or secret little squat spots) as the west does. It's ironic that through Nevada and Utah we never really had an issue with water, yet in ocean front Connecticut we got seriously dehydrated. People notice if you aren't showered that morning. The traffic is unbearable. And the beautiful ocean scenery is now available only for the highest bidder. I despise our country's lack of thought about the Commons and about public land, and I equally despise the general populace's lack of responsibility that has fostered the idea that everything needs to be locked down when not in use. It's been a kick in the teeth to wander back into civilization and be reminded that I live in a country in which people are always concerned most about themselves...and that I'm probably infected with the disease too.

I guess I'm homesick. I had such a great time playing with the nieces and nephew, hanging out in Katie and Jacob's full house in South Carolina. Ahhh...a full house and a family nested together in noisy, joyful domesticity! I didn't want to leave, except I knew that by leaving it meant that I'd be back in some place I would be able to get around in without a prayer and a map sooner than if I didn't. As the rain poured down in a storm blown in by the Atlantic today, I sat in Steve and Nancy's house up on a hill in Maine, sipping tea and looking out at the weather instead of being in it. Ahhh...the peace of a quiet, furnished kitchen!

I can't think of a good way to wrap this up. I'm just a little blue today, like the weather.

And, just for the record: no, I haven't figured out yet what I want to do for a job. I'm guessing it'll be a while yet.

A blast from way back...

We're staying near Bryson City with Jen and Derek, great friends from when I was living in Boyne City building boats for Van Dam Woodcraft, working at the Red Mesa Grill and Dave's Boot Shop (Dave and Lynne's awesome old fashioned low-tech high-end footwear shop in Petoskey - proof that you don't need a website to have a thriving business). Derek, Jen and I've been reminiscing about cardboard sled races, donkey basketball, Jen vacuuming the front yard, Derek and me scaring the pants off of trick-or-treaters, kicking the hack during breaks at the boat shop and walking for ice cream at the DQ. I realized what a bummer it was that we get together once a year and talk about all the old great memories and that we're not together enough anymore to create as many more funny stories as we'd like - especially some new ones that include Stephanie. Life moves wicked fast, friends.

Here are some shots from the olden days: Derek and me sanding. Sometimes we would spend several 10-hour days in a row doing nothing but sanding. Oy. Notice Derek using the Bosch 1293D half-sheet sander. I tried to teach him how to use it properly and he gives me a hard time for it every time we see each other...





Here's me with my pet monkey, Derek while we were rolling his boat:

Denver photos finally in!

Here are a couple of shots from our moonlight ride in Denver. From fore to background, that's Stuart, Charlie and Jim goofing off...


...and you know these other two cycle monkeys.

Hell, Heaven, and the Doctor in North Carolina

We arrived in the Smoky Mountains last Friday, and found a stretch of the Appalachian Trail to hike then next day by Fontana Dam. We were going to do a good day hike on it, but 2 wasps' nests caused a panic attack (for guess who) and ended our hike after a mile. I still did get to see an AT shelter, and got to imagine Tim laying there all sweaty and stinky with his trail buddies. It felt like the ghost of his old self was kind of hanging around, poking at the man standing there with me saying, "You know you want to do this again..." I could see it...he had his secretive smile on and twitching eyebrows that are a dead giveaway.

We ended up finding a decent campground at Deep Creek, where all the locals and some other Southerners go to tube down the creek and spend a week eating S'mores, hot dogs, and Budweiser. We decided we'd stick with our grub but were not going to miss the local tubing adventure. We had an awesome time floating around, hooting and hollering like a couple of idiots, and getting dumped out of our tubes. I suppose we had it so easy that we needed something to make us a little miserable.

So we decided to spend our last day before heading to Derek and Jen's place in the hills around Bryson City doing an overnight backpacking trip. Like dutiful little backpackers, we went to ask a ranger about the trails we'd picked out. The most helpful information he gave us was a raised eyebrow and a caution that copperheads are mean, and then sent us on our way. I suppose maybe we could have read more into the eyebrow but as it happened, we didn't. Our first day was going to be 7.8 miles on the Noland Divide Trail, cutting off onto Pole Creek Road Trail once we were deep in the Smokies for another 3.3 before coming to one of the designated backcountry sites just a few paces down our last trail turn onto Deep Creek Trail. We'd spend the night and then hike out the 7 or so miles back to the car.

It seemed strenuous but reasonable, so we loaded up our ridiculously heavy packs and set off (really, who packs PB in a glass jar, carries four apples and potatoes and onions and a zucchini and all kinds of water-laden crap into the woods?). Being a divide, we knew Noland would require some uphill walking since we'd be on a ridge most of the time. We started going uphill. A mile in I had my first hot-spot on my left heel, which we taped. Another mile in and a hornet scare later, I had my right heel taped, but not before blistering was averted. I was quite pleased then to think that there were 1500 bears in the Smokies, all of whom loved to eat wasp and hornet nests. Bring them out! I'd rather see a black bear than a wasp nest any day. The afternoon was hot and waterless and as we kept trudging, we began to notice that we had not taken one flat step since the beginning. The day ended up being utter hell, and I asked Tim at one point when we were supposed to start having fun or be rewarded for our work with a beautiful vista, and he couldn't answer. We climbed over 2,000 feet for all 7.8 miles until after 5 in the afternoon. We still had 3.3 miles to go to get to the campsite, and we were worried about getting there and getting set up before dark.

As soon as we turned onto Pole Creek Road Trail, the trail went downhill hard - we were descending to the stream, of course. After going up for almost 8 miles, my legs were so jelly-like and wobbly that I had serious trouble planting my feet properly. We weaved in and out of the stream, crossing over slippery mossy rocks. I slipped several times and Tim fell once. Honestly, I felt like crying but knew anything other than walking as fast as possible would deter me from my bed.

We finally made it to the campground where bear lines were already hung (yay!). We got naked immediately and jumped into the stream and then started hanging out our clothes, setting up the tent, and cooking food. As I cooked, spilling fuel all over the ground, and Tim set up the tent, I kept hearing noises off in the distance. I was already exhausted and anxious, and when the thunderclap finally came that had been too far to really pinpoint, I'd had it. I lost my appetite and got nauseous just as a storm rolled in. Tim took off all his clothes and walked around eating in his raincoat as we tried to get our packcovers on our food and smelly items hung up on the bear lines. Because I couldn't eat, we had almost an entire dinner left over that we somehow had to get off the ground. Tim used two binder clips through a mesh bag to hook onto the line, and we said "to hell with it!" and crawled into the tents just as the rain started to pour. From 9 PM until 2 AM it rained hard, with lots of thunder and lightning. Sleep was semi-futile despite fatigue and a bunch of trail horses and their riders thundered by early in the morning to get us up anyway.

When we crawled out of the tent and I went to take the food down, the binder clips were hanging onto literally one thread of mesh, and it fell off into my hands. It's a miracle it didn't come down in the night and attract a big ol' hungry bear. I retaped my heels and two toes that were blistered and we set off for a muggy 7 mile walk. Both of us were in agony. Our feet hurt, our hip belts hurt, and Tim's shoulders hurt from the combination of tubing and packing. It was utter misery. Why, oh why, is this something we do for recreation?

Just as we were getting to the end of the trail, we started walking through packs of butterflies. Tiny blue moths fluttered around our heads, yellow monarchs fluttered in front of us, and these beautiful black butterflies with irridescent blue back wings dazzled us. It was an amazing spectacle. As we got closer to the campground, the trail comes up on where all the tubers put in the creek. We got some pretty funny looks, probably because of our funny smell. It's so nuts to smell the scent of clean, sun-screened human when you've been sweating your ass off for the last day and a half in a muggy forest. Tim reported that the most funny looks were from younger girls and women toward me. I'm not sure what that means, but at that point, all I really cared about was taking my boots off and stripping off whatever of my clothes I could without getting a citation and jumping into the creek.

When we got back the creek was so, so cold on our hot bodies. We sat down in the creek amidst vacationing families and church buses in our underwear and felt a kind of heavenly rapture I've only experienced after hiking - when the pack is off, when the boots are off and you know you don't have to put them on again...when you know an ice cream cone is within reach and a shower and dry clothes and deodorant and a toilet...when your butt is on the bottom of the river and your feet aren't supporting anything, and the water on them is cold, cold, cold. There's nothing like it. It's like emerging out of the pit of hell into a bliss you've been dreaming about for miles and it's just as good if not better than you imagined -- something which I find to rarely be the case.

I'm not sure if that makes it worth it...I'm just really glad not all backpacking trips are that intense.

We're now in Derek and Jen's house, where I've been doting on Dr. Kensington, a sweet kitty cat who I loved the second I laid eyes on him. The new puppy, Inge, doesn't seem to like us all that much. When we got here yesterday, they weren't home yet from errand running, so I laid out my towel and fell instantly asleep while the Dr. purred next to me. When they got home, Derek told us that his neighbor had called him on his cell phone, reporting that there were 2 people in the yard and to see if he needed to come out and shoot some warning shots to scare us off. We're out of the Smokies, but apparently we won't be out of the woods for a while.

At any rate, we're established as bonafide visitors so no one should shoot at us for the rest of our stay here. I think I may wander down to the garden and see if some beans are ready for picking.