The Windmill Posts

The Long Way Home to Myself

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  • The concert, in detail

    The concert, in detail

    Background

    Gorecki’s 3rd Symphony – The Symphony of Sorrowful Song, was performed in San Francisco on June 21st. This is the symphony I’ve listened to through Ketamine Therapy for years, and the perfect music for a rainy day. I have heard it streaming so very many times, but never live. My theory is that it features a female vocalist singing in Polish, which may be hard to find. That and it’s the ultimate downer in classical music. And that’s why performances are so rare.

    I thought about flying out, but that’s really stressful, takes forever, and rental cars are a hassle. So rather than take 5 hours to get there, I drove. Seven days to get there and, well, more than that to get home.

    Excited, to say the least. As a mental health exercise I wasn’t concerned that I wouldn’t like it, or that I’d break down sobbing, or maybe none of those. It’s that I would hear it and not care.
    Well, I cared. I kept myself awake through the Chopin and other pieces in the first half. And the introductions. But I really enjoyed the conductor’s explanation of the music in a way I never knew, and will now hear in the music.

    Before

    I needed to get a good night’s sleep, and I had no idea when I was going to get up. I wanted to be at the venue at noon, which is stupid early because they opened the line for the RSVP people (me) at 2:30. But I didn’t know if I was going to get there and there were going to be 300 people in sleeping bags and camp chairs already, or if I was going to wait that long and there were going to be nine people in total at the show.

    It was somewhere between that. Probably 20 in the RSVP line eventually. I got there, nobody has been waiting all night, but it’s in a public building. It’s this beautiful old building, and I ask the bored looking guard if I can just hang out. He even suggested I sit in the cafe area, as it was closed and there were a bunch of tables and chairs.That was great. Wisely I brought my laptop and worked on the blog.

    Waiting

    There was a long period of waiting and people milling about. Eventually they opened up the RSVP lines, there were people who were just scuttling in there as fast as they could to get in—in order to get a good spot. That just didn’t seem like classical music patron behavior. It was general admission, and in the end we probably filled the theater halfway. There were all kinds in line, from college kids to old folks. My favorite was the guy who couldn’t stop talking. And even when he wasn’t talking somehow he was.

    There were handicapped audience members in wheelchairs, and they were letting them in one at a time. One would roll up, they would escort them into the theater, and then come back out. And just when we thought we were going to be let in, another wheelchair rolls up. This went on for what seemed like forever, but sooner than later they opened our lines.

    I did not make any friends in line, but there was a nicely dressed older grumpy lady behind me who told me to move forward because she’s trying to compress the line. She’s trying to compress it? Is it her line? What’s going on here? And she looked cranky and like nobody liked her. So, that’s fine.

    Finally, we’re let in. I have no idea how to choose seats at a concert like this. I will often get as close as possible, but then miss being able to see half the orchestra. Some people clearly had opinions about where they were going to sit, and there was a fair bit of scrambling involved. This is why we usually have tickets, not GA. While waiting I appreciated the lyrics in English and Polish on the program, very cool.

    Art on the theater walls
    The Performance

    A bit of detail on the orchestra. They are a volunteer organization, so literally if you have a cello and you play cello, you can volunteer. I assume there are auditions. They have a seat system, so you can compete for first seat and so forth. For this symphony, they meet once every week for eight weeks. So basically, they had eight sessions to get it down. And I know that in between, everybody was working on their own parts on their own instruments and all that, but still, eight weeks seems really challenging. Even if everybody knows their part perfectly, to get everybody properly synchronized and to get it so the conductor is happy with the shape of it in general is a feat. That just blows my mind. For me it adds to this whole thing – the fact that this was not a professional group, but they really sounded so professional.

    Eventually the conductor came out, there’s all the clapping, and then there’s more clapping, and he says something, and then there’s more clapping, and so on. There was a lot of clapping. But he then eventually brought out the pianist, whose name I forgot but sounded familiar, and they did a piece by Chopin. He explained how Chopin was French, as his name sounds French. And that he loved Poland. Chopin went to Poland where he became more Polish than the Polish. It was fascinating to hear about the different conductors.

    Before the last piece, the conductor said, “Who’s ever heard of this composer?” And I halfway raised my hand, and then I looked around and nobody else had their hand raised except one guy in the back, apparently. And so I just kind of shrank it down, because my biggest fear was that the conductor was going to say, “What’s your favorite piece?” I don’t know! I don’t know any of his pieces. I know that I’ve known—that I’ve heard him, and I’ve listened to him. But that was a funny moment.

    And then they played, followed by the whole encore thing. And so the pianist came out and did another piece. And it—when he started, I was thinking, “I’m not prepared for this.” I was ready for this to be intermission and then my show. So, dude, you know, play a little bit faster. And it turned out that it was a very nice, very short piece. And of course then more clapping and all that.

    Intermission

    And then it was intermission, 20 minutes. And the woman next to me asked me a question about that composer and then she asked if I was a musician. I said, “No, I just know weird stuff like that sometimes.” And we got to chatting. She was there with her husband, who was on his phone the whole time, and he was bored as hell, you could tell. She was just very excited to be there, so I think she was happy to have me there to chat with.

    We talked about mostly music, but there was some life stuff in there, too. Talking about the kids, and something about how they grow up and move away. And I know they had kids, but they were really old, so I didn’t know how old the kids may be.

    So she had a lot of fun chatting with me. One of those people who can get your life story without you knowing it. I wish they had invited me out for drinks (ginger ale) because I would have enjoyed her life story, as well.

    The Piece

    The time had finally come. The conductor comes out with the woman who would sing and introduces her. I can’t remember her name, but everyone seemed impressed. Then the conductor gave a little talk. One of the things he talked about was the rise of this piece and of the London Sinfonietta. The excitement of selling a million CDs when it came out and all that. Also, I got a fourth pronunciation of the composer. I was really hoping to get there and have everybody be like “Górecki, Górecki, Górecki, Górecki.” But no, it was not the case. It was every variation you could on how to pronounce it. And I’m pretty sure everybody’s pronouncing it wrong. But what are you going to do? Mine is based on a video of the composer pronouncing it, so I hope he got it right.

    The conductor talked about it being a canon. And I wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but then he explained simply, which was wonderful. He said it was like “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” And what they would do is they have this little repetitious piece that started with the double bass, and so that’s like the deepest strings. They would do doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo or whatever their piece was. And when it was over, or I think even almost over, the next guy would pick it up and do the same thing. The first guy would continue playing. So then the third guy picks it up after the second guy, and so forth. So, with every added instrument, it added another layer to what was going on. And I could hear that so much better knowing what was going on.
    Now here’s the cool part: it goes from the double bass all the way to the violins. It’s all string. So it goes to the stand-up bass, and then it goes to the cello and then it goes to.. whatever’s in between, and finally they end up at the violins. By this time, everything’s going crazy because the others, every fifth time they did their little da-da-da-da-da-da-da, they would go up I think it was a fifth of an octave, so what happens there is your music gets bigger as it progresses. So, by the time the violins are just starting, the bass in the back are just rocking out. And so you have this incredible build. They bring it all back down to silence in a similar way, just backwards, followed by a single piano note.

    From those first bow strings pulled across the double bass all the way up to the violins, it was familiar music but with so much more life and vibrancy. It’s an experience I won’t forget, no matter how hard my brain tries. I enjoyed watching the orchestra play, and I was also impressed that as an all volunteer orchestra, they managed to nail it with one rehearsal a week for eight weeks!

    The vocalist was a pretty lady who looked like she enjoyed what she did. She had this great smile on her face in the lead-up, like she knew what was coming like nobody else did. And when she sang it was technically well done, but also with a volume of natural life in there that made it sound genuine. You just really tell she was excited to be there.

    When she stood up for her part. She spent a lot of time waiting for her turn to begin. She was enjoying it, and she was kind of doo-doo-ing along, almost like a little shuffle dance on the stage. But not too much because this is a very serious piece of music, so pay respect. When she kicked in she was amazing. I don’t normally like vocalists in my music, and so I was skeptical. She sang the part like everyone else I’ve heard do it. But there was something about it, maybe it was the live thing, but there was something about her just bringing this light and life to the music that wasn’t there before. Her parts were so strong, and so moving, and she was so natural and evocative.

    The piece continued on through all of the familiar parts and changes, and I was just enjoying the moment, the music washing over me, and the sights and smells of the theater.
    And then it was over.

    Over

    I’m still working on how I feel about it. I was worried that I wouldn’t like it or I would dismiss it or I don’t know what I was worried about. But I didn’t feel like this was a slam dunk. I felt like it was going to be a hit or miss. But I really loved it.

    One can never tell how long they will hold the ember of joy in their heart. I suppose that’s part of what makes it special. My heart has been difficult to get that ember in there and kept lit for a few years now. But that day my heart was aflame and peaceful and happy. And it doesn’t matter how long it’s there, it’s that it was there at all that matters.

    I did not stick around after the performance to say anything to anybody because I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I kind of wanted to talk to the conductor, you know, tell him how far I’d come and how happy I was that it went well. But I knew that the waterworks would start, and I just didn’t want to do that. So I left happy.

  • Gunflint

    Thursday

    To Duluth

    At a quarter to seven on August 20th. I set the trip meter and headed north to the Gunflint Trail. It’s a near legendary Minnesota highway connecting the Superior coast to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area – BWCA for short. By the time I left it was a balmy 68 degrees, so it was gonna be a chilly time on the highway. But I’ve got gloves, I’ve got a scarf and eight layers. I’ll be great.

    Uh-oh

    Stopping at a rest stop to check the weather, the temperature went down to the high 50s.
    It’s a good thing I stopped because radar showed rain clouds directly. So, I put the top up, and continued on.

    That storm or rain moment should have been the only one of the weekend as far as I could tell by the forecast. Just cursed myself, but whatever. I’ll learn that later.

    I got out of town at 6:45 and the car computer said 12:06 for arrival at Bearskin Lake. I need to stop in Duluth for a prescription, lunch somewhere, and in general was dragging my feet.

    When I was little and we went to Duluth, as soon as you saw those giant granite rocks just embedded in the ground, you knew you were close. And it was a very exciting thing.

    I planned to take a bit of a long-cut. It looks like a short-cut on a map but it adds time since it’s a slower highway and passes through a bunch of towns.

    When you take a road like this, you know you’re going to stop or go through towns. And that’ll slow you down a bit. But it’s interesting to see the towns. Another little hiccup of these side highways is that you could get stuck behind a truck.

    And I got stuck behind a truck. Now the general rule though is that eventually that truck’ll turn off. If he was going anywhere of a distance, he’d be out on the big highway. I wasn’t so sure about this guy, but he was doing a fair speed, so I just hung out with him.

    It was still raining. Road’s wet. He’s throwing a lot of spray. There’s no way in the world I’m going to try and pass him. Okay, I passed the truck. It was just a very long clear area and I thought, why not? So, I floored it. I hit the kickdown and went flying past the truck.

    It was the oncoming truck that was most concerning, but I got into my lane, you know, somewhat well before he got there. I’m guessing he might have slowed down a little bit. I don’t know, but it was a very exciting moment.

    “The general rule is, if you use the kickdown, that’s a $5 bill. And I should explain what the kickdown is. A button under the accelerator. So when you floor it, it’s floored. But if you push a little bit more, you feel a click and that’s a button. And that makes the car go into sport mode, I guess the best way to put it. It shifts a lot faster. It in theory, changes some of the other factors of the car to make it sportier.

    But it also eats gas like nobody’s business. So you don’t use it very often, but it’s fun when you do.

    As I came over a rise for the long stretch of road ahead of me, nobody there, nobody behind me. And all of the trees, the pines and everything. It’s just a beautiful lonely road.

    Had the top up. Opened the windows, though. Fresh air and the feeling that you’re connected. Big rocks. It must be near Duluth.

    A sign announced 7.1 miles of what I’m calling wiggles. A few washout repairs made me comically bounce. But otherwise, it’s just the same old lovely twisty road from my past. I was going to go to the State Park interpretive center, office or whatever, and use a restroom but also just kind of check things out. I thought I might go over the swinging bridge, but I didn’t remember where or how far it was so I figured I’d find out about that at the center.

    Jay Cooke to Duluth

    First, I drove through the campground, suddenly nostalgic. The sites looked okay. They look close to each other, but not necessarily snoring close. But I’m just remembering all the times Dad and I came here when I was little and we camped in the camper. And I climbed rocks. I have no idea what else we did, but it was special.

    Once again, my concept of time is completely flawed. Because I got up so early, it is early now. So, the center or whatever is closed until 10, which is 40 minutes away Which is a bummer because I really wanted to go in there.

    The swinging bridge was cool, right by the headquarters. It didn’t really swing that much because it was just me, but you know, you could feel it sway. I got some good pictures and I got some good looking at water and rocks time.

    I’m trying to balance watching the time and enjoying the route. Putting the top down for the twisties. I saw my only deer for the trip. It looked pretty little. I was waiting for it to jump right out in front of me. But it didn’t. Jumped into the forest.

    Highway 23 is the one with all the wiggles on it. And I’ve got to say their estimations of speed for the curves are right on. When they say 20, it’s 20. I have been on this road with my father. I’ve been on this road with friends. I’ve been on this road on scooters. There are times when parts of the road have been washed out, so you can’t get to it. Other times like this, where it’s clearly been blacktopped in the last five years, though still pretty bumpy it’s quite smooth. I just love this road and this is as far as I found the very best twisties in Minnesota. Okay, I admit. I put it in sport mode. And everything was just more liquid. It was pretty cool. I wish I’d done it earlier.

    Duluth to Grand Marais

    You cannot go to Duluth without going to the Maritime Museum. It’s a law. They don’t enforce it, but they should. This is the best place to watch ships too. And oh look, gift shop open.

    Back on the highway, top down. 63 degrees. It feels warmer than that because I have the heater on. Seat warmers too. It is 30 minutes to Iona’s Beach, which apparently sings. We’ll see.

    Iona’s beach, trying to hear the music. But it’s not happening because the waves are too small. I heard a buzzing or a fuzzy fuzzy noise or stinging or buzzing. And it was the noise of the small pebbles having been raised by the water coming in, as the water goes out the pebbles settle back in because they hit each other. They make a noise.

    It’s a sizzling noise. In any case, the beach is a beautiful pink stoned. They’re all round and there are so many that look like they’d be good for rock skipping. It is a big curved beach leading to some beautiful cliffs with trees on them. And of course, a beautiful view of Lake Superior.

    Like walking on glass

    They did sizzle. I’m assuming that when the waves are bigger, it sounds more. They’re supposed to sound like singing with a high pitched noise.

    This beach was a nice diversion. It’s a little walk, although I take a longer walk because I went down the wrong path. First. It’s going through a conservation area, so there’s a lot of tree work being done and a lot, lot of tiny little flowers here and there that you come across. Like bright little things. Bright yellow or or daisy-like.

    Took a nap that amounted to probably about 10 minutes total, just to fight the heavy eyelids. Off I headed, I’m almost in Grand Marais and then it’s north to the wilds. Worth noting, it’s been raining for a long time and at times, it has been raining big and heavy. So, I was interested to see how wet things are up at our campground and if they got hit or not.

    Gunflint Trail

    There was no way in hell I was going to do the Gunflint Trail with the top up. So I did it with the top down. It wasn’t raining hard. It’s a little sprinkle here and there. Enough to keep the wipers busy. It’s a little chilly. It’s 58 degrees. So I have the heater on on my legs. I’m wearing shorts by the way. Adds to the atmosphere.

    And I had a scarf tied securely around my neck.

    The only thing left is the fact that I just got a haircut. So my head was a little chilly, and none of my hats are head-keeping-warm hats.

    And I was looking for a moose. I wanted to see a moose. It was actual raining. But will it could stop in 30 seconds. Or will it just keep going for the rest of the afternoon? That is the conundrum. I mean, I had 16 minutes to go. So I was just going to just drip it out.

    Camp

    I arrived to rain and decided the first thing I needed to do was put up a rain tarp, which I’d never done before. But I’d read enough on the internet that I was confident that I could do it. You just string it between two trees, put the tarp over it, secure the corners, Bob’s your narrator.

    Except, I only have one tree. And it’s a little birch bark tree. So I ended up making this angled abomination. It’s fairly taut, but I think if anybody came in and looked at it, they would be seriously questioning whether they should call someone to come help me.

    So now all I had to do is set up camp. And I needed to find firewood before they stop selling firewood. So I made that my next priority. Scored some at a nearby lodge. But my car was absolute chaos. I had taken things out and in the rain and out of the rain and there’s just stuff everywhere. So, that’ll be a chore for later.

    Oops

    So, I looked at my phone just for fun, knowing it wouldn’t work up there. But it worked in Grand Marais. I looked and realized I had a therapy appointment from 4:00 to 5:00. And my therapist is a little twitchy right now. So my not calling could send out the National Guard. So, here I go, driving back to Grand Marais. At least I’ve got firewood.

    Got back to signal and sent the appropriate messages and confirmations, and headed back up to camp. Third run on the Gunflint for the day. Oh, and coming down there was an I can’t see anything deluge.

    I was so worried about the rain and my equipment, tarp, etc. but the woods were dry.

    It’s no surprise, but so many of these vehicles have canoes or kayaks on top of them. That’s kind of neat to see.

    Camp

    So the time was 5:38, but there was something about the clouds. It just feels darker. Darker than normal. Like, I’m thinking, oh no, I should have made dinner because it’s going to be dark soon. But it’s in theory not going to be dark soon. It’s just dark. It’s the rain.

    Dulcinea in the sun
    Wood
    This jar of bungie cords is load bearing.

    Chair is assembled. Tent is up. Tarp remained up through rain.

    My next step had to do with food, because I was hungry. But I also have a Subway leftover from lunch. I kind of wanted to eat the Subway instead of making food. But that’s kind of not the point.

    In which I try to roast a weenie and end up eating a subway.

    They tell you not to pick wood from the forest. And yet they give you a bundle of logs. I tried splitting one with the axe, but it didn’t really go that well. Don’t worry, I have big yellow gloves that protect me with leather. I ended up going with one fire stick, which was intended, and a couple small pieces.

    The prediction is for heavy rains, but also the possibility of hail of some sort and some size. So that would be a lot of fun. I don’t know if I would want to be under the tarp or in the car watching it get smashed. Certainly not the tent. I don’t think that would hold up any big hail. I don’t think that tarp would either. Car it would be. Did not end up seeing hail.

    Of course this guarantees that this fire will be roaring 15 minutes. Technically, the fire’s still starting. But I’m eating a Subway sandwich now.”

    Tarp at night. So proud.
    Campfire waning

    Friday

    Camp

    This whole part of the state is either an actual International Dark Zone, or next to one. So last night I set an alarm for 2 and got out of the tent to look for stars. If I saw clear starry skies, I was going to go down to the boat landing, as that’s where the sky is most open, over the lake. Unfortunately, it was too cloudy for stars. It was extremely dark out, and quiet.

    It’s really quite beautiful here. And at night it was dead silent. But during the day, it’s the constant noise of jets. That doesn’t quite get you out of the real world.

    I had a heads up from my only real source of information. Forget the Internet, Weather Radio is where it’s at! Doesn’t matter if you have cel coverage, it’ll just read out the weather and forecasts for the area in a funky robot voice. It’s pretty cool.

    This morning I was going to make breakfast. Egg in a hole. You cut a hole in the middle of a piece of bread, drop some butter in a pan, crack the egg in the middle and cook. I made a test one the previous weekend and it was great.

    Eggs. Forgotten. Cheese, forgotten. Kind of put the damper on everything. Well, I have bacon. I have bread. And I am going to fry the bacon and then I’m going to kind of fry the bread in the bacon grease. Cholesterol, here I come. The end result was somewhat intense, but okay. I figured I needed something, in order to power my day.

    Because today I was going to attempt to summit Eagle Mountain!

    Mooooose?

    But first, moose! I went to the “moose viewing area,” an official National Forest stop. It’s a half mile hike to and from. For a total of 1 mile. Nobody mentioned the elevation, which I found slightly challenging. Weather is cool, high 50’s. Clammy, very humid. Which seems to make it cooler.

    And what I call pin cushion rain. Not enough to count. But enough to consider. Two groups coming out of the moose viewing area. Didn’t sound like there are moose down there right now, but you never know. And it’s amazing how they’ve made this trail so that it is literally going to be uphill both ways. But it’s not snowing. Got to the moose platform and I don’t see any moose. I have my binocular with me though, so that was smart. That meant I could have a better view of not seeing moose. There are an awful lot of birds that aren’t actually there. Just like I see a lot of mosquitoes that aren’t there.

    It is a satisfying trip so far. Even though it’s raining, I’m learning how to camp in the rain. Even if I haven’t seen a moose yet, I was going to keep trying.

    Famous Abandoned Car
    You can see why one might think this is a moose
    Helpful graffitti

    Now on a foot that kinda hurts, and having gone up a slight grade and gone out of breath, I’m going to go climb a mountain. Well, a “mountain” that has an elevation gain of 550 feet.

    There is awesome rock at the parking lot for the Moose Viewing area that looks just like a moose’s butt. It’s totally coincidental, but you know, you spend so long looking for something, you’re going to find it somewhere.

    Climbing Eagle Mountain

    I started to groove on the rain a little bit. On a gravel road zero dust is being kicked up. It’s keeping the mosquitoes at bay a bit. And it’s keeps it nice and cool so that it’s not too much on a hike. Hopefully it also discourages people from coming out.

    I also hoped against hope that on some of the open stretches I might see a moose. But that’s not necessarily on the list of have-tos.

    Really the goal was just get up, get to the top, take a picture, get down. And anything else is cake. I left the trail head at 11:37. In theory, three miles there would be an hour, and the same back, but that would be if I was walking on pavement and perfectly healthy. So I’ll be home for dinner. I was not wrong. I was back on the road by 4.

    BWCA border sign

    I spent much of the hike looking down because of roots and rocks when I would much rather be looking around at scenery. The trail was described as “easy,” with the first two miles flat and straightforward hiking. Except there were a ton of roots and rounded rocks. I was very glad to have my hiking stick. I was at REI with a $30 coupon. I really don’t like how poles look. Like you’re cross country skiing but there is no snow. I know they serve a purpose but still.. I saw a single hiking pole with a cool cork grip, right at waist height (adjustable.) I know my limitations when it comes to balance and coordination, so I thought this might help. It was also super cheap and on sale. Foreshadowing: I will absolutely get a better one.

    Boardwalks of Eagle Mountain

    I used it a bit like a cane, but also like a third limb, enabling me to get through areas of rock and root without falling down. I think it literally saved my life a few times, and for sure kept me from biffing it dozens of times.

    I could describe my sights and feelings on the way, but the summary is this:

    • Much introspection
    • Beautiful scenery, ranging from bright green forest with fairly flat dirt path, to twisting paths of rock and root that took careful maneuvering.
    • Some internal profanities
    • More than a bit of worrying I bit off more than I could chew
    • An appreciation for the Boundary Waters
    • Other hikers from geared up (with hiking poles) middle aged folk to kids who looked like they were just out walking around. No special shoes, maybe a water bottle, no backpack.
    • Grumpiness that those kids are going to do this hike like it’s nothing, and I’m going to be chugging tylenol tomorrow for the pain
    • Consideration of the fact that I’m hiking a hard 6 miles when usually I can’t do more than 2 hours of anything at home.
    • The excitement of ticking off a bucket list item: CLIMBING EAGLE MOUNTAIN!
    Scary stump
    Split sign at the base
    Pretty lake
    Scary plant.
    Reflections on reaching the summit of Eagle Mountain.

    It was fun. It was challenging. Far more challenging than I thought. But if I didn’t have my stick, I would have been done after half a mile. It was a good third leg, third arm. Besides, hearing people behind and in front of me all the time. The people I did see were very nice. And when going uphill, no matter where you are, you ask how far, their answer is about a half a mile. I don’t think they’re doing it to be mean. I think they’re just confused, given the terrain. The last “half mile” was rocks, and most of the 550 foot rise. Which I had a better appreciation for. I found the vista and took pictures, because the plaque itself is up in the woods, where there’s no view.

    Heading back was hard. I was exhausted. Coming down the mountain I took a spill going down some wet granite rocks. So now my left wrist is a swollen and painful to move. Big right big toe has a blister on it, will solve with my first aid kit in the car. (Pays to plan!) And I will go change my shirt and socks at the car because I have everything with me. Then I will go into town to an air conditioned grocery market and buy supplies for dinner. Oddly enough, I had just a tiny bit of connectivity on my phone at the top of the mountain, but didn’t notice till later. Glad that Facebook notification got through.

    Me and my cane
    Camp

    What could be better than two zebra cakes by the fire? Two Zagnuts in the car. There’s a miracle I found them, but I did. I’m in a mood though.

    I got the fire lit and now I just want to put it out. I got the sandwiches made and I just didn’t want to eat ’em. I got to the top of the mountain and I didn’t know why.

    Sometimes I just don’t know about anything.

    The walk back was so hard. The walk up was so hard. I should feel a sense of accomplishment and I really don’t know. That was on my bucket list. That was like near the top of my bucket list. And I’m just tired. I’m wobbling around on creaky feet and my muscles are sore and tomorrow they’re going to be even more sore. I’m going to go look at a thing that makes magnetic compasses mess up and I’m not going to know why I did that.

    This is all just to say I’m tired, need sleep, and tomorrow will be better.

    Saturday

    Here’s where you get some relief. The voice recorder I use for notes died. So this day is going to be hopefully a bit quicker to write. Up with coffee and a Zebra Cake for breakfast.

    Drove allllll the way up to the very end of the Gunflint trail. Went to a museum about the area, saw some cool boats, and a documentary on the trail. They had no magnets in their gift shop. Drove around and looked at some resorts, boat landings (to see the lake) and even saw a lake that contained the international border, so the opposite shore was Canada.

    Coffee
    End of the Trail sign
    North Country Trail marker
    “Easy” terrain
    Magnetic Rock
    Like a dream
    Magnetic Rock
    Museum Canoes

    WIth an “easy” 3 mile round trip hike, you can get to a giant rock thing that confuses compasses. Those were three miles that didn’t feel very easy. The rock was interesting, but didn’t seem to be drawing in metal, but kids. So many kids. So I sat a bit of a ways off and ate my lunch waiting for it to quiet down. Eventually they all left, one small girl offering me a snakeskin she found. I said no thank you. Nice of her to offer. Took some pictures and headed out. Many lovely vistas, similar experience to yesterday.

    Got back to camp and made beans ‘n weenies. They were quite good. I had RC Cola in a very cold cooler from the store in town, and had another fire that didn’t last. That was ok, as I was heading out for “dusk” as I understood it, in order to go look for a moose. At the Moose Viewing Station. By the time I got there is was quite dark. I stood by the lake listening for giant mammals – I would take any at this point. But what I got was a quiet and a stillness that was eerie. But it was amazingly beautiful, quiet, still. The stars started to come out, along with the mosquitos, but not too many of either. Walking back was full dark but slow and calm. A good way to end a day.

    The other side of the lake is Canada!
    Beans ‘n Weenies – the most successful meal of the trip!

    Sunday

    Last night was cold. The car said it was 37 degrees, but that was an hour after the sun started up. I am guessing it dropped to below freezing. I had taken down the tarp the previous night, and all of the rope survived! Rolled up nicely and ready for use again some time. Packed camp in record slow time, and headed out. The East Bearskin Lake Campground served me well, and I highly recommend it.

    With a Latte from Grand Marais in hand, I was in the mood to burn miles. I really wanted to get home. From Grand Marais to Little Marais, then Ely, Cloquet, Rush City (for a Burger King Whopper hankering) and finally home by 2 something.

    Overall it was a good trip. I had a number of physical and mental challenges, some simply annoying, and others extremely frustrating. But at no point did I need my “emergency pills” and I managed to do more distance than I ever thought. I walked 38,981 steps, which may equal almost 18 miles. That’s 10.6 lengths of the Golden Gate Bridge.

    I learned how to put up a rain fly, survive in the rain, didn’t see a moose, climbed a “mountain” and walked on a singing beach at apparently intermission. But I gained the confidence in all of those too. Actually, climbing Eagle Mountain checks the “highest point in the state” and sitting at the waters edge of Lake Superior checks the “lowest point in the state” too.

    I am still sore and walking on tender feet and legs, but my wrist is back to 99.9% just time. I am happy to be home and even happier to finish this travelogue.

    And now, back to the irregularly scheduled “Dulcinea” trip…

  • Attention Readers!

    We now interrupt your irregularly scheduled travelogue for a quick side quest. I recently (yesterday) went on a trip up the Gunflint trail, so…

    My voice recorder crapped out, so I had to write it up super quick while I remembered it.

  • San Francisco, a day in the city

    San Francisco, a day in the city

    Got to my favorite hotel on the planet, checked in, got a great parking spot. A weekend in the summer in any large city means crowds and few parking spots. So I left the can in the hotel spot for the weekend. A bummer because I love driving in San Francisco.

    Went to my room, freshened up, and pinged my friend Z to set up a meeting. I had connected with Z when she contacted me through one of my other blogs, and we’d been penpals for years – maybe a decade – until we finally met last year on the big trip. So I like to check in and say hi whenever I’m in town now.

    She’s a great lady, and certainly not boring. She was dressed in cheetah pants, a bucket hat, purple, and a cool retro jacket. Not retro like you find in a shop, but retro like you keep wearing until it comes back. She shares her California experiences and I get jealous. And I share my mental issues and she’s very supportive. Last time she led me on a walk through the hills by her house – she talks of them often, and they’re beautiful.

    I’m generally a failure at eating, so I let her decide and she took me to a Mediterranean place up by the Castro. This sounds so lame when I write it, but we took the city bus from Cow Hollow up to the Castro, and I’d never been on a San Francisco bus before. It was pretty normal except for one thing. The first ⅔ or more of the bus were handicap seats only, and the back was jam packed. Z offered the idea that they don’t check often, so I could snag the back row of protected seats. When I sat down I realized how long I had been standing, and how much it had taken out of me. So I said I was legally disabled, so I would defend my use of the seat. None of the other 12+ seats were taken. Although the fact that the crowd was showing that much respect to the zones made me think they do check often. Or maybe the bus driver does.

    In any case it felt a bit like the scene in Johnny Dangerously (go see it) where they pull into a handicap parking spot and the lackey says “these are for the handicapped” to which Johnny replies “I am handicapped, I’m psychotic.”

    By the time we got there, I was feeling better but on getting up I felt light headed and lousy on my feet, so I was again thankful for the break. After some more walking we ended up at the restaurant. I was really concerned that I wouldn’t know what I would find palatable.  Like I said, I’m a picky eater.  Got some kebabs that were out of this world and at least sampled the rest of the things on my plate.  The yellow rice was just dreamy!  Note to my close friends: Can of Coke, not fountain.

    We wandered the Castro a bit, but it was a weekend night and the shops were closing at 6:30, so we missed most of them.  I’m guessing it gets rowdy and the shop owners don’t want the hassle of drunk shoppers.  I don’t blame them.  We saw a window with a bunch of great Ken dolls, and the location of Harvey Milk’s camera shop.

    The former location of Harvey Milk’s camera shop
    Orphan Andy’s – a famous joint in the Castro
    A window full of Ken-like dolls. NSFW if you squint hard enough

    We walked the Castro people watching and chatting.  She shared her theory on why we sabotage ourselves, it was a good theory.  I have a similar one, but hers had some interesting perspectives I hadn’t thought of before.  It was nice just sitting and chatting, especially in one of my favorite places on the planet.

    While we were just sitting there in the square at the top of the Castro, people-watching and chatting.  In front of us was one of those big metal giant street cars. They’re not really cars anymore, they’re more like street trucks. One of those went rolling by and then another one was behind it. And I said I would really like to ride one of those, since they’re just like ours back home in the 40s.  That was a kind of a bucket list item for me. She pointed out that it was headed for Pier 39, so let’s just do it. She was all excited because she wanted to go to the Musée Mécanique down there.  The train/tram/trolley ride was a bit underwhelming, but still fun.

    Eventually we made it to Pier 39 and got off to find a sea of people.  Standard Saturday tourists, but a bit jarring.  Z wanted to get there before it closed, so we hurried through the crowd.  We made it with plenty of time.  I couldn’t remember if I’d been there before, but I can’t imagine how I would have missed it.

    It’s more of an arcade than a museum.  But a bizarre, dream world arcade.  You can go from the video game Defender, to an old tin based mechanical airplane flying game. Next to that skeeball and then some giant modern video game.  There were throwback games like Pac Man, and antique games that were little more than an animated joke.

    Old movies and skee ball!

    Z was giddy.  I think we both put on our smiley faces, and they’re convincing enough.  But she was smiling like a little kid in a candy shop.

    For those of us who can’t make that happiness show, much less have it, it’s really cool to see someone so excited and happy.  Lit up like the pinball machines around us..  

    She was playing Skee-Ball, and I said “Can I take your picture doing this? Because it’s insane. You’re just, you know, having so much fun.” And so she let me do that, and that was cool.

    We go outside and it’s all classic muscle cars, like, street style. Some restored truly to their correct year, and others that have been  pimped up a bit. (Also, I saw the ocean!)

    We wandered around looking at all the cars.  I’m pretty sure it was all the cars. She loved that. She did want to see every car— and she talked to so many people, and we met this guy who was clearly pretty drunk, but he was so chill. We were talking about clubs and you got to do your hobbies if you have a hobby — or are in a club — I compared it to my scooter group, which I’m sure, gained tons of respect from him. But I talked about going across states with the scooters, and about the group really being a hardcore riders.  I said, “Those are friends that I made till death.” And I’m sure that that’s kind of similar for you. We also talked about intergroup politics and hassles, but really I think we both appreciated different passions.

    I finally noticed the ocean
    Z gets to check out a car
    When a modern SUV bumps into a classic car, things get ugly
    But not as ugly as this thing, whatever it is.
    Welcome to the 80’s!

    I did not fit in there. I was dressed about as white boy as you can get, but that’s okay. Everybody was, nobody made fun of me, everybody was nice.  For as much as I didn’t fit in, Z did.  She was popping around from car to car, talking with the owners, and from what I could tell she knew what she was talking about.  It made me realize that she may be a very close friend, but I didn’t really know that much about her, outside of our shared experiences.  So it shouldn’t have been a surprise she was so into the cars – because I had nothing to make me think she wouldn’t.  I thought it was great to see new perspectives.  

    After the cars she said “It’s a mile and a half. Do you want to walk it or do you want to get an Uber?” I did not feel like I was going to get Uber shamed, but I also felt like there was a push for a walk, so we did. We walked from Pier 39 up to the motels. She was staying in a similar one up by mine.  It wasn’t really that bad of a walk, and I totally remember Ira and I doing it multiple times because we were staying at the Del Sol, it was CVS Market Watch, we had a lot of free time. So, we went to Fisherman’s Wharf—Wharf and Alcatraz. Old work friend, you don’t need to understand that.

    We said goodbye and parted ways.  A long day of driving wore me out, but an afternoon of exploring the city revitalized me.  And wore me out.

    I don’t know why San Francisco does this to me but it makes me want to go home. But it also wants me to stay forever. Pretty sure that’s what love feels like.

    “Every man should be allowed to love two cities, his own and San Francisco.”

    Gene Fowler
  • Road

    Road

    Having just crossed another state line, with a side quest to see the Donner location, I am finally entering California. The goal.  I’ve spent five days crossing over half the country getting here as fast as possible, blowing past some interesting sights.  I’ll come back to those some day.

    The landscape is instantly shifting into more dramatic rocky canyons, interesting hills and mountains and other rugged land.  I just can’t help thinking of the Donner party and those that came before and after.  Taking wagons with wooden wheels across this terrain must have been a nightmare.  And that’s just the flat stuff.  Taking passes, who knows how well developed they were or even existed.  I know the Donners ended up cutting their own path for a time.

    The number of people who crossed our country, from those who had no tracks to follow all the way up to the modern immigrants who had completely different problems.  It’s hard to be an American.

    The hills themselves are covered in grass, but the grass dies pretty early on in the summer.  So if you show up in February, it’s all plush and beautiful and green.  It’s not February though. So what we have is the dead grass mountains.  There’s shrubbery, some of which is dead or dormant. There are also trees, which typically aren’t dead. I don’t know what kind they are. It could be Eucalyptus for all I know. And when I say dead I mean they’re in a seasonal state where they look dead but aren’t.

    Between hills, quite often there’s a creek or a river or something that cuts through them. Today there have been a number of signs warning about it being a gusty crossing. Some of them even have windsocks to let you know which direction and how strong.  So, I put my top up and my air conditioner on and turned my vehicle into a boring car. 

    I actually looked it up on the internet to see if I should have my top down or up. I thought it would be down because then the gusts would go right over you and you’re less of a thing that could get gusted.  Apparently, top up is better because the wind will go over you in a way that the car was designed.  I guess I was just impressed there were roads with windsocks. 

    An interesting thing about the passes I’ve gone over so far is that I have very rarely popped my ears on them.  When I lived in Hawaii, going over the Pali mountains involved standard switchbacks and some tunnels, and they were generally quite lovely. I used to play with my ears when I crossed these mountains. I would keep my mouth open, but close my mouth in the back you get this super cool popping sensation when you go over the hill.

    Upon entering California, I realized I needed gas. I stopped (or tried to stop) at a Sinclair but it was next to a resort casino. Much like the inside of a casino, they decided the parking lots should be confusing enough to trap you.  But eventually I found my way out of the blacktop forest.  It was like an IKEA where they really wanted you to see everything they had to offer and made the path through everything more like a maze with one direction to go.

    From there, it was a matter of getting on I-80 and crossing quite a few passes. At some point it was 68 degrees. Quite a drop!  I should have had the constant altimeter on just to know how high we were on those passes, but it was pretty high. The ears popped. It was pretty good.

    Not shown: The Bay Bridge traffic my car GPS wanted to play in.

    My car doesn’t do live traffic on the GPS.  So when I punched in the address of the hotel in San Francisco, the car said “Oh, no problem, just take the Bay Bridge!”

    Google maps, however, said “You should go way out of your way and go over the Golden Gate Bridge.  Which I was totally fine with.  The traffic on the east side of San Francisco was just dark scary colors on the map.  My route took 30 minutes off the ETA and a much prettier drive.

    I haven’t been to San Francisco yet, but I gotta say I haven’t seen any level of aggressive driving here or anywhere like Minneapolis has.

    I’m going to say that 80 is the loneliest highway.  Because it’s full of cars. We’re all here, but we’re all here alone.  We’re all here but we’re all separate and lonely. Waiting for this traffic to move.

    It’s funny, most people would consider 50 in the middle of nowhere to be boring. But I actually find this to be far more boring, because it’s all just the same stuff you see everywhere. None of it’s unique and it’s just all there making everything look the same.

    Eventually, I drove through the Robin Williams tunnel and burst out upon the Golden Gate Bridge..

  • Lunch with the Donners

    Lunch with the Donners

    Just north of Truckee California you can find the Donner Camp Picnic Ground.  Yes, that’s right. A sort of memorial to those who starved, where you can eat.  It’s just past the border into California from Nevada.  My intent was to go there for lunch, ideally with some sort of rib meal.   The McDonalds in Truckee didn’t have the McRib, so that plan was on the ropes.  I spent the night in Reno and headed out early.  I neglected to shoot a man just to watch him die.

    So Dunkin Donuts it was.  I drank my Latte and ate a pink donut where the Donner party starved and did what they had to in order to survive.

    Near the picnic tables, I saw a sign warning against interacting with any mammal.  Because they all potentially had the plague. Yeah, the actual plague.

    They just can’t catch a break in this place.

    I walked the third of a mile interpretive trail, which was interesting.

    I overheard a tour group in which one lady said “Georgina or and George Donner were the last two left here.  And then she said, did they die?” And the guides answer was, without trying to be funny,  that yes, they both died. But then following it up with what the wife did for the rest of her life and writing books and stuff like that. So, it’s true. They did die. They just didn’t die there in the story.

    This image gets a caption just because the other two had one. Enjoy!
    This just made me want to snuggle up with a squirrel or marmot or whatever.
    This was an area where they stated the party may have stayed. But they just weren’t sure. (So why say anything?)

    I got back to my car and then I drove away and got on the highway for California. 

    The rejected featured image shown below. AI of course.

    Six people in a forest holding pink-frosted donuts
    Six rugged forest dwellers share brightly frosted donuts among the trees.
  • Breaking Down My Travel Stories: From Nevada to Colorado*

    Breaking Down My Travel Stories: From Nevada to Colorado*

    In the past I posted every day, so every date had a page. When I was doing it live that was fine. But with the delays I’ve created, that doesn’t quite work. So it was breaking it up into states. Which is fine if you’re glancing off Wyoming for half a day. But I just had to split Nevada, and probably could have split it again into thirds.

    And now California. I drove to San Francisco. I had a great afternoon with a friend that included vintage video games, impromptu street rod gatherings, and an awesome restaurant. I went to a concert. I rode in a Waymo. I went to Big Sur, Bixby Bridge, crossed another desert. And then spent three day at Yosemite, with too many things to list. A drive over an elusive mountain pass and I’m done.

    So you see that can’t be one page. And breaking it apart like Nevada might work. But I have an idea. Partly due to too much content, partly due to the fact that I’m experiencing mental health issues that prevent me from writing, and partly because I need a way to knock out smaller chunks and make progress that way.

    So I think I’ll be telling stories. They’ll be mostly chronological. They’ll be just as interesting as before. And some of those stories might just be the recollection of crossing a desert or mountain pass. But ideally this is all going to result in more posts, more often, in bite sized chunks, and give you readers more opportunity to comment on posts.

    That commenting part is a really good idea, you should consider it! (Except my sister, she’s a dependable commenter already!

    * Yes, there’s more after Colorado. Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, Minnesota. But they’re somewhat boring, so..

  • Nevada Kedavra, Part 2

    Nevada Kedavra, Part 2

    Welcome to Nevada

    The hills are a little bit sharper or more defined and the trees or bushes are tall fir trees. So, it’s almost forest-like but not quite. It’s still hills. The landscape changes completely. Instantly, it feels like. More mountains, different colors. Or maybe it’s just the time change playing tricks on my mind. The sign says “Welcome to Nevada. The Silver State.” And then right underneath it, it says “The Loneliest Road in America.” Can’t wait to drive it!

    Just past the Utah/Nevada border , there is a little place called the Border Inn Casino. Gas station, casino, and little general store type place. Slot machines as soon as you walk in – welcome to Nevada!

    I got gas, that’s great. I go inside to get a nice cold Coke or something like it. I was so looking forward to a super cold beverage.

    Inside, there was a sign that said “freezer’s broken down, nothing’s cold, take what you want.” I took that as free warm freezer goods for all. But I took a Dr. Pepper and she charged me for it. So that was weird. Being the only gas in forever, I’m sure she rakes in the cash, but that was my donation.

    It was definitely one of those strange desert locations that you see in movies. The doors didn’t quite work. On the outside, the windows and door and covered in mirror to reflect the sun. But it looked weird when you’re going in.

    Along with my warm Dr. Pepper, I got a chocolate crunch bar. When I got to my car, I sat down and I ate it immediately because it was going to liquidate within minutes. I had a Butterfinger in the cooking bin that I was constantly craving. But I’m going to need a freezer, it’s melted and unmelted half a dozen times.

    Passed a sign for low flying aircraft. Crop dusters, I assume. I’m looking for airplanes, but I probably wouldn’t see it until the last second. (Foreshadowing!)

    There are salt flats here and there, some larger than others. On the map it’s a lake, but out here it’s shining white salt. Very pretty! And it’s got little dust tornadoes going on it.

    The Nevada desert is just basin and range, basin and range, over and over.
    You climb a mountain, you drive across a flat plain, you climb another mountain.
    It’s rhythmic.

    A typical pass starts by starting to climb a bit. The sagebrush gets a little thicker, and the temperature drops just a fraction as you get higher. Still hot though. Went over Sacramento Pass, Elev. 7,154 feet. The view looking back down into the valley is incredible. Just vast, empty space. And then you’re down in another massive flat.

    Pulled off the main highway onto a smaller, narrower back road. The traffic dropped to absolute zero instantly. Just me, the car, and the open desert plain. The road begins to wind and climb sharply as I approach a mountain pass. The drop-offs on the right side are incredible, looking straight down into the desert floor below. From the top I can see the destination town shimmering on the horizon now through the heat haze. Still a ways off, but it’s good to see signs of a checkpoint coming into view.

    Finally made it to Ely. Pulling into town now. An old mining town, lots of character. Ready to stretch my legs and get out of the sun for a bit.

    Health

    I’m staying hydrated, or at least trying to. Water instead of pop (ice cold Coke trumps hot water from the car.) Although I keep getting this weird feeling in my mouth, and it’s not like dry mouth. It feels like it’s folding in on itself. When I get that weird feeling, I take a drink of water, even a small drink will take care of it. That usually reminds me to drink another bottle of water. And after a long day of going over mountains, one good guzzle out of a water bottle and your ears pop. So, double duty!

    Now, sun. So, I think I’m okay. No headaches, sweating just fine. As for sunburn, my knees are moving past the burn and going tan nicely. My arms are turning into these beautiful “I live in Palm Springs” golden brown kinda thing. Unfortunately, they also have the wrinkles of Hume Cronyn Cronyn and all of the old people in the movie Cocoon.pre-Cocoon. I spray up often, knees and legs, arms and hands, neck and back. My UV hat seems to work, no burn or anything on top of my head. I do feel like I’m basting myself when I apply sunscreen.

    Found my ring! It was in the tomorrow bag. I guess I just had to wait until the next day. Still no sign of my clip magnet.

    I was recently checked out and my lungs got an A1 rating from my GP. I haven’t had much in the way of breathing difficulties, but I feel it now and again. Just a bit thin, out of breath a bit sooner. We’ll see what Yosemite brings. That could be a completely different story.

    Oh, the phone changed time zones automatically but the car didn’t. So now I have two different times. This is going to confuse me for the rest of the day.

    Scenery and Animals

    “I’m always disappointed to see a house in the middle of a desert. I wanted it to be empty desolation.” Just passed another completely abandoned building. Looks like an old gas station from the fifties left out to rust and warp in the elements. I also passed an old, abandoned mining head-frame sitting out on a hillside. It looks completely weathered and rusted, a literal skeleton from the gold rush era just left behind.

    The road is just tracking dead straight toward these mountains. It’s beautiful but hypnotic. I can see the mountains of Death Valley shimmering on the horizon through the heat haze. It looks incredibly vast and unforgiving from this distance.

    Driving a convertible out here is amazing, but the wind noise is intense. Pulled off to the side for a second just to check the map and stretch. The scale of this landscape is just hard to process when you’re moving through it. But when you’re stopped, the silence sneaks in and everything is amplified. Not just the quiet sounds of the desert, but the heat and the scenery.

    Every once in a while there will be another windmill farm. These massive windmills off in the distance look like giant sentinels spinning slowly against the desert sky. It’s quite striking.

    Saw a small herd of pronghorn antelope crossing the plain to my left. They move incredibly fast, even just at a casual trot. Also encountered a tiny lizard darting across the road. Sadly, I had to pick a sparrow or some other kind of bird out of my grill. I’d never hit a bird before, and was heartbroken when I didn’t see it clear the car.

    Weather

    It had been a partly cloudy and then just mostly cloudy day. Far over the mountains or between us and them, are these clouds that look like they could be rain clouds. But I didn’t see any rain coming out of the bottom. It would have been interesting to go through a a quick rain storm in the desert to be able to see if you smell petrichor or something completely different. Ideally not getting flooded and swooped away. I enjoy going through thunderstorms when I’m going over a pass. It gives it that extra spicy feeling.

    The heat out here is intense. 85 degrees with sun can be horrifying. But 95 degrees without sun is just kind of hot. It surprised me the desert heat has less to do with temperature and more to do with the sun. It beats down so hard. It bounces right off the asphalt, creating that wavy distortion look on the road ahead.The car thermometer read a hundred and twelve degrees, and the wind feels like a giant hair dryer blowing straight into the cabin.

    The wind picks up and shows its anger often. It howls past the windshield. I was worried I would have to put the top up if it got any wilder. I could see dust blowing across the road far ahead. Looked like that dust storm warning wasn’t kidding around. The wind would swirl and kick up columns of dust off the valley floor. They look like mini tornadoes dancing across the flats. It creates these massive columns of spinning dust that look like small tornadoes dancing across the desert. I’ll get to know those better in a bit.

    Great Basin National Park

    Great Basin National Park is renowned for having some of the darkest, clearest night skies in the contiguous United States. Earning a Gold-tier International Dark Sky Park designation, it offers naked-eye views of the Milky Way, galaxies, and over 6,000 stars, thanks to its high elevation, low humidity, and isolation from major cities.

    Gray Cliffs

    I just didn’t have enough time there. Seeing the several ancient bristlecone pine groves took hours of hiking (to altitude no less) and the Lehman caves took more time than I had too. I did however, do the three loops at the Gray Cliffs. Checking out the camp sites, they were okay but nothing special. The darkness was a big draw for me, but since the campgrounds had been full when I was planning the trip, I wouldn’t be directly in the dark zone at Ward Mountain. From my research though, it sounded like I would be just on the edge, and would be able to get much of the benefit. For that adventure, read on below.

    I was surprised at the number of national parks and monuments that didn’t take the passport or charge anything for entrance. I could have sworn Giant Basin had a price tag on it.

    Ward Mountain Campground

    Finding it

    Before I left Ely, I stopped to fill the tank. (Half a tank is an empty tank!). I also got a car wash. I have a picture from the day I left home. I was having trouble with the tire valve covers and took a picture. The tire was so clean and shiny you could almost see your face in it. And now the poor girl is dusty like the surface of the moon. The car’s official color is “Moonwalk grey,” after all. It wasn’t just the dust. My windshield and the bodies, the endless bodies spread across it.

    My goal was the Ward Mountain campground. If you look on google maps, it looks obvious. But the campground is at something like the top of the road’s summit, where the road straightens out. Vehicles can get up to 70 mph again. So passing the campground entrance is a fleeting thing.

    Campsite trees
    Campsite trees

    I had my phone’s GPS directing me as well as the car’s GPS. Usually the car is set to the end of day and the phone set to the next stop. But somehow I knew it was going to be a tricky location, so I thought I’d let them duke it out. They were actually in agreement, which is a scary sign. But the dot flew past and I couldn’t see the sign. So I pulled over to think about my next move.

    I didn’t think it would be wise to do a three-point turn on the top of a pass where people are doing 70 miles an hour. ]So, of course, what I decided to do instead was a three-point turn on the top of a crossing where people are going 70 miles an hour, it was fine. Not that busy after all. Watching the dot and looking for the sign I found the road to the campground, simple cuts in the brush, not a lot of warning.

    And my phantom people are all waiting in their vehicle. Apparently, they have a freaking car now.

    Checking in

    Running up the washboard road I pull up to the check-in bulletin board. The instructions were pretty straightforward. Take an envelope, put your money in it, and write your information on it. Then drop it in the box. Except they were out of envelopes. And writing instruments. And a drop box. To compound the issue I Reserved and paid online. I spent a lot of time reading it, trying to figure out just what the heck is going on. In the end, I found that it really wanted you to put your confirmation number from signing up on a piece of paper on your number at your campsite. Problem solved.

    I had a site number but didn’t know which loop. I took loop A and the numbers were too high. Went to loop B and it started one below mine, and as I drove through, they went down. So where was my spot? Right at the end, totally out of order. Worked for me!

    The site

    The campground is at 7,400 feet, just a thousand feet higher, but I felt it. Putting up the tent felt like a hold-up. “Nobody move!” “Put your hands in the air” to catch your breath. I was feeling the altitude and would stop to take a break

    The site itself was gravel, with a picnic table, fire pit, the usual components. There was a space on the ground that looked to be 15’x10′ and lined with 2x4s. Nt sure if it was fine gravel or actual rocks. I had a suspicion there might be actual dirt or sand underneath. This was the pad for the tent. I took out a stake and found out that it goes into the ground with the mallet quite easily. I’d never set up on rocks before! It was a nice site, bushes and trees keeping it private but not claustrophobic.

    The campground wasn’t too crowded, but there were a few sites taken. But all I heard was a pickup once, and nothing from any neighbors. Actually, I haven’t been to a single campsite or hotel where I couldn’t hear almost constant vehicle noise. It was almost like everyone was hiding from each other. So, so quiet – it was wonderful! Well worth the $12. Nobody was having campfires – I can’t remember what the fire status was, but I’m pretty sure it was red. One of the positives of not having fires around is that you don’t have the campfire smell in your clothes. Which was good because I didn’t really want to roll into the hotels smelling like summer camp.

    That night I heard owls hooting and coyotes howling. Perfect

    I wish I had more pictures of the campground and site. Over time, they all tend to blend together. They were all unique and interesting campgrounds in their own way, though.

    The darkness

    “Stars so bright, you can see the lines between them for the constellations”

    I went to see the stars tonight. It was a challenge staying up. Not so much a challenge being awake that late, but finding things to do. It allowed me to catch up on writing, working on the blog, and sorting out some pictures. At some point, I got the time zones confused, or rather my laptop did. I thought it was 10:30 and I got excited, ready to think about going and then I looked and it was actually 9:30.

    I was going to these beehive-shaped charcoal ovens from late 1800’s. The rangers at Great Basin had recommended them, as they never close and they’re remote enough to enjoy the darkness. Unfortunately, stars come out at night, which means night driving. I’m not that thrilled about driving at night because the headlights are so bright. I have some special sunglasses that help cut the brightness and white light. I was curious about doing the twisties down the hill through the pass. Speed limit 70 means traffic is really cruising, but since it was somewhat late, traffic was light. Going down the hill, these trucks are going up the hill with halogen bright super lights.
    When they’re blinding you, I do what I do in the snow, and that’s look at one of the lines on the road, and you just follow that explicitly until it’s clear.

    Looking at the map, there are three locations with these beehive ovens and I’m not sure which one to target. Luckily I picked the right now, and a mile or two of washboard road and I was there.

    I pull in, trying to be cool by just running with my fog lights. Got my red light headlamp on to keep night vision. And then when I turn the car off and open the door I get the standard dinging and lights going on and all sorts of non-coolness. Fumbled it all off and started over. I grabbed my blanket and headed out. I think there may have been a fee box but I couldn’t find it. I didn’t guess they would be towing at midnight.

    The charcoal cookers, kilns, were beehive shaped and something like 40 feet tall. Walking into the first one, the bugs were really bad. But they weren’t landing on me. And they seemed too big. That was when I figured out they were bats. Hundreds of bats. I didn’t get past the entrance and didn’t go into any of the other ovens. Crazy!

    I took my blanket and I went to all the way down to the end of the path and I laid it down. I laid down and I looked at the stars. They were bright. I could see airplanes very, very high up. I couldn’t see any satellites as far as I knew. But it was very pretty. Though I might feel like I was a little underwhelmed.

    The people in the parking lot finally came down the path to see the ovens. They have a nice bright flashlight, and when they shone it down the path, it caught me. An old man laying on a blanket at the end of the path. I would have found that creepy. I immediately popped up and rolled up my blanket and decided I’d had plenty of stars. By the time I got back to the parking lot, they were long gone. Oops.

    Heading out

    I woke up early, which was becoming a trend. No time to waste, I began packing up the tent and all of the other equipment. The tent, footprint, chair were all covered in an extremely fine gray dust. This would not be the last time everything found a new color of dust. Everything packed up just fine, but both the camping bin and the cooking bin were closed easily. Which was not normal. I think I had just used enough things and arranged everything which evened out things just enough.

    It looks like a mess, but everything has a place for use. Gotta be efficient in a MINI

    Hopping in the car, I check my travel software. First, I take the final destination for the day and send it to the car via app. Then I set the phone GPS to the next destination. This is often a coffee shop. This system lets me know how my end of day ETA is shaping up as well as my next stop.

    The sky was completely clear and I was well rested for another day of adventure!

    On the road

    Traffic has not been that bad. I haven’t really seen any trucks except at Ward Pass. There is light cars traffic. And then of course, you’re seeing a ton of pick up trucks. They’re all white, all of them have logos, they’re all different logos. You have no idea if they’re law enforcement or BLM or somebody’s gardening company.

    I stopped at McDonald’s to get coffee and juice and a biscuit. The lady made a lot of great comments about my car. We chatted a little bit and that was awesome. I haven’t had a lot of interpersonal connection this trip.

    I didn’t have a freezer or a cooler, but I felt like buying a bag of ice. For one thing, wrap my phone in it so it doesn’t overheat. I was having a real problem with a black phone mounted on the dash in the hot sun, charging most of the time. These all add up to the phone overheating every few hours.

    Just crossed another cattle guard. I think that’s the third one in the last twenty miles. Keeps you awake, if nothing else. There is nothing like taking a cattle guard at 70 miles an hour.

    The navigation just updated and it tells me that my destination has moved. It does this once in a blue moon. What does that mean? Did the city move? Did the destination move? Or did I just get the wrong address in the first place? Let’s hope it’s the last one.

    Pulled over

    Driving down the loneliest highway in America, highway 50. Yes, it’s lonely because there are very few towns on it. But good lord I had plenty of other vehicles to chat with. Not like it was crowded, but it wasn’t empty and desolate.

    I’m cruising down one of the straight stretches and see flashing red and blue lights, and another vehicle. The closer I get I realize the police or whomever are in the middle of the road. I start to wonder what is going on because it didn’t seem normal. I slow down and eventually come to a stop. I’m thinking if there’s a gunfight I don’t want to be right there to enjoy it. One of the two cop cars comes up the highway at me, slows down and says “I’m going to need you to pull fully off the road. Oversize load.”

    I’m in a MINI Cooper. What part of oversize can you interpret from my size? Sure I have camping stuff etc. but nothing it sticking out. When I look back to see if he’s turning around to come give me a ticket for being oversized, I see he didn’t turn around. He’s going on and apparently doing the same thing to everyone. Clearly it’s a sting. They’re pulling everyone over for oversize loads and then looking for drugs?

    And then I saw more lights down the road – yellow this time – and a large orange object. It was a truck pulling a massive trailer. It said “oversize load” and I felt like an idiot. The lady in the car in front of me was out of her car ready to take pictures, so I got out to apply another layer of basting butter, er, sunscreen. I miss the photo of the oversized thing, but it was just a big gray box.

    Once it passed, we all hopped in our cars like the race flag had shown up again, and we were off!

    Going to California

    Stayed in a hotel in Reno last night and it was exactly what I needed. A couple of nice showers, air conditioning, nearby fast food, and the sounds of the (small) city.

    The transition from Nevada to California is pretty severe. The hills are a little bit sharper or more defined and the trees or bushes are tall fir trees. So, it’s almost forest-like but not quite. It’s still hills. But we’re in the westernmost state of the trip!

    If you can believe it, the next pass through Nevada will be much more exciting!

  • Nevada Kedavra, Part 1

    Nevada Kedavra, Part 1

    Beauty of the desert

    Beyond my original destination, a large part of this trip is about beauty. That can be in the shape of a classic that old Volkswagen Microbus or the vastness of the loneliness and the searing heat.

    Finding the beauty in the desert is less about getting used to it or having it become a background. It’s more of an acceptance of it and a connection with it. Everything may not excite and astound me as much as the first time I saw it. But it does in different ways, different experiences and unusual adventures. I felt a really great positive influence from the environment. The hills, the shrubs, trees and mountains. So many different colors of rock, ground, gravel, and anything else they can throw at you.

    “I am officially in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing but sagebrush and horizon in every single direction. It is both incredibly beautiful and slightly terrifying.“

    There is an incredible sense of timelessness out here. The mountains look exactly the same as they did a thousand years ago, and probably how they’ll look a thousand years from now. There’s a strange comfort in how completely isolated it is out here. No service, no traffic, just the open road and the sound of the wind.

    Some other amazing things I encountered:

    • My first night I heard an owl hooting.
    • I am genuinely surprised by how much life there actually is out here if you keep your eyes peeled. I just saw a hawk resting on a fence post scanning the brush.
    • A massive canyon opening up to my right side. The rock layers are perfectly defined in shades of red, orange, and deep brown. It looks like a miniature Grand Canyon right along the route.
    • A salt flat that stretches out for miles, completely flat and white, reflecting the sun like a sheet of ice.
    • There are these huge Joshua trees scattered all over the landscape here. They have incredibly bizarre, twisted branches reaching up. It feels like driving through a Dr. Seuss book.
    • Woke up early to catch the sunrise over the basin. The colors shifting across the rocks from deep purple to bright gold—absolutely worth waking up early for.
    • The mountain directly ahead of me is massive. It looks like it has snow on top, which seems crazy given the temperature down here. Must be Wheeler Peak.
    A driver’s dream!

    Loneliest road in America

    “The loneliest road in America, Highway 50. Here we go.”

    In a 1986 Life magazine article, a writer branded it “The Loneliest Road in America” due to its extreme isolation, vast stretches of empty desert, mountain passes, and a severe lack of gas stations or civilization for over 100 miles. The article infamously warned readers that there were “no points of interest” and advised travelers to bring survival skills.

    In planning the trip I had already sketched out following that path, but once I read about it’s legend, I was all in. With today’s modern conveniences like air conditioning, GPS, and door dash (I hear they’re investing in deserts soon) we don’t need any of those survival skills. Honestly, you don’t really need the GPS, because it’s a straight line with few offshoots. It’s so lonely the adopt-a-highway signs are often very blank.

    So far the loneliest road has not been that lonely. I can usually see a car in front of or behind me or both. I’ve only had to pass, well, actually, I’m not sure I had to pass anybody. The time I was behind the motor home, I pulled off to take the top down after the car wash. (Oh yeah, I got a car wash in the last big city) The other time was following motorcyclists and I figured I was going to have to pass them. But then we hit Eureka and they stopped because they required a road beer apparently.

    But now, I am in a 70 mph zone. And I’ve got a guy going 56 miles an hour. I have no idea where he’s going. But if the country rule applies they’re going to pull off soon, eventually. The country rule of course being no matter who it is or what they looks like look like, If they’re on a country highway, they’re not likely long distance drivers and they’re going to turn sooner than later. So if the country rule applies here, this guy’s going to pull off any second. Coming up to another pass though, so I doubt it. But after the pass, I shall swerve him and pass.

    The Nevada desert, on a map, is a truly lonely thing. Highway 50 looks almost as boring as it can get. It just doesn’t make sense, but my experience both going west now, and east later, was wonderful. It was nowhere near lonely, for better or worse. And it contained some amazing views and experiences. If I were ever to “go desert” as a family member worried, I think it would be Nevada. But that’s not going to happen any time soon. Maybe after a few more visits..

    Continued in Part 2..

    Seemingly endless repetition – unless you slow down and look closer
    This will come up later, but I had never heard of a Marmot before, I’m pretty sure
    Leaving Utah Behind!
    Rocinante, freshly cleaned and ready to get dusty in the desert!

  • Home, sweet home!

    Home, sweet home!

    Well, after 6,300 miles, 16 state borders crossed, 17 souvenir magnets, 18 sleeps, 1 ocean, half a dozen deserts, too many mountains to count, and one UPF 50+ sun protection panama hat – I’m home!

    Remote for Scale

    Wait, what? Weren’t I just in California? Yes, it looks like that. By the time I got to California I got behind in transcribing my recordings and started to flounder in posts. And that’s where it sat. Since then, every time I’ve been in a hotel I’ve been working with (no kidding) an AI system to transcribe the recordings and help me organize them so I can stitch them into a proper narrative. Gemini helped immensely, and now I’ve a great system for future trips. And if I haven’t covered it, I have a small (thumb sized) recorder that I have on a lanyard so at any moment I can speak a note or memory into it. Originally for dealing with memory issues, it’s turned out to be a great travel note taker.

    Beautiful, remote, and a 10 ms ping!

    I also didn’t consider the fact that over half my overnights were camping, and wouldn’t have electricity, internet coverage, or even somewhere comfortable to type! Although there was a campground in Colorado that was 10,000 feet up a mountain that had the strongest and clearest 5G signal I’ve ever seen! It was surrounded by ski resorts and apparently a high class clientele expects high class cell coverage!

    My task from here on out is a bit of post-trip therapy. By going over the notes and typing my story, it’ll hopefully help cement the memories and let me enjoy them in the future. If you’d like, you can ignore this post and imagine I’m still on the road. I’ll do my best to be timely!

    The header image is my backup pocket tool! Oh I missed it so!