The lost tribe of Winnebagos

I'm currently reading a history of the Native American people, "Bury my heart at Wounded Knee" by Dee Brown, an old classic, and I was interested to read that there was once an eastern tribe called Winnebagos. Well the humans are unfortunately all gone I believe but there is a new tribe of behemoths to carry their name forward. It is unceasingly amazing the size of some of these things - half of htem seem larger than my old apartment in Campderdown. The length and breadth of a bus, they have hydraulic 'rooms' that pop out of the sides when parked, automatic awnings and portable satellite dishes. And some then tow a car or SUV behind them, in addition to boats, canoes, bikes or trailers with goodness knows what else inside. How can people own so much stuff? How can people afford so much stuff? And how do they justify hauling it across a giant continent and back?

Evenings are amusing, as we sit outside in the soft evening air, by the fire, watching the starts, and from the RVs there's be the hum of air con and the flicker of a blue screen through the lace curtained window. Just like at home. A chacun son gout. To each their own I guess.

Wildness

Wildness. We all need a little bit of it in our lives. Being out in the wilderness, being dwarfed by surroundings formed by more powerful forces than you could ever fathom. Being conscious of how you move through the landscape, ever conscious of a very real predator (bears). It makes you feel so very alive.

As Robert Redford once said in describing his beloved Montana, "places that hold the power to feed our souls and inspire our being are few and far between".

A famous local author, Edward Abbey, wrote that "wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit". I cannot help but agree.

Greeting the new sun

Another early rise at Monument Valley to get some hopefully great photos. It was worth it. I need a new list of adjectives to describe everything on this trip. Too many beautiful, breathtaking, astounding, awe-inspiring and stupendous views to describe.

The light about half and hour before sunrise is magic and just cant be replicated in photoshop. The sky was my favourite shade of deepest, most luminous blue. The walls of the canyon where we were camping framed a perfect shot due east of the monuments silhouetted blackly against the rusty orange horizon.

Like a ruined castle, fantasticl crennelations hint at ancient stories untold. There is energy in the land here. You can feel that people have walked this land for a long time.

After the burning red disc leapt into the sky I stopped clicking and listened. The sound of silence. So loud it thunders in your ears. A sensation so rare in our busy, noisy world that it is to be treasured. I got so frustrated in Bryce Canyon as we were hauling ourselves back up the cliff, amidst a cacaphony of Italians who are incapable of being quiet when in large groups and completely ruined the unique experience of the pink and white canyon. You can talk anywhere but you cant get this kind of silence everywhere.

Salt Lake City

What can I say? It's an unusual place. The drive into the city was frightening and hilarious. We joined the I-89 heading south as we descended from Wyoming and Idaho. 4-5 lanes wide, each way, with everyone (trucks and semis included) overtaking me as I sat on the 65 mile per hour speed limit (about 110 km I think). And I was in the slow lane!

We needed to get right downtown to find out from the tourist office where we could camp, so Jen directed me to turn off on West 200 South, or something like that. We zagged up a few blocks to Main Street and started to wonder why it was just so quiet and low rise. We'd expected a little more from a state capital. Then we saw the post office - we were in Bountiful, the next town north of SLC, with practically identical street names and numbers to SLC which was still another couple of miles down the sameville freeway lined with forests of fast food joints and big box retailers. What can you do but laugh?

Two minutes in the TI office and I had an armul of maps and brochures. Ever the researcher. Campsite found and set up, Jen set off to find gas and a new cooler. 2 hours later she returned weary and distraught. Car incident no 3, the truck had broken down after making horrifying clunking noises. It was a long hot walk to the garage parking lot to collect the rest of our essentials - after a couple of days of rustic camping I was in definite need of a shower. Dinner was gleaned from Seven 11 as we were not about to haul all the cooking stuff back as well.

After the car was cleared of all problems on Tuesday morning, we headed into town for some errands and general exploring. The nearest camera shop was a scorching 20 minute walk from downtown which seemed to be totally devoid of everything except banks, LDS buildings and construction sites. According to the barman at the Beerhive, where I popped in for an afternoon refresher, 47 new buildings are going up in town. Impressive given the current economic climate. The city is eerily neat and colourfully planted with flowers. Every second male is in a white shirt with black trousers and a black name tag.

The shopping mall, with it's own main street, was much busier and livelier than downtown. It had misting devices over the pedestrian thoroughfare in a vain attempt to cool things down. I had Japanese for lunch in the food court, the only non mass produced chain option on offer. Whilst eating my lunch, with chopsticks, 2 different people walked (I could be rude and say waddled) by and commented, to my back I might add, "wow, you sure can eat with those real good". Strange on more than one level.

Mountain Climbing Ain't for the Faint Hearted

Lake Solitude. Grand Teton National Park. Sounds idyllic. It had been recommended to us by a lady we were talking to in the hot springs at Bozeman. Near the shores of Lake Jenny the trails were pretty crowded, even little peple can clamber up a bit of the mountainside, but pretty sonn it all quietened down and for the rest of the day we saw no more than 2 dozen people. Considering all the cars in the parking lots and the number of people in our campsite alone, that's quite remarkable. It was good to have a few people on the trail so there was enough noise and movement to keep the bears at bay.

Our way wound along the Canyon Valley, with 10,000ft high granite walls towering above us. We criss crossed tumultuous mountain streams, roaring, churning, roiling, boiling stream, so joyously dancing that it almost made you wish you could be a water molecule, just for a day, to win the full sensation of it. Following the streams up with your eyes led to cascading waterfalls ribboning the mountainsides, melting straight from the blue white glaciers hanging far above us.

Meadows of waving grasses flecked with wildflowers contrasted dramatically with the evere grante peaks above. Red indian paintbrushes, purple mountain bells, yellow, pink, white and blue, with tiny, unseen birds singing joyously.

The only serious wildlife spotting was a couple of moose across the creek, from a distance but enough to see their splendid antler spreads. Also saw a couple of yellow bellied marmots (kind of like beavers) and tiny pikas (mouse like) scampering about in the high rocky morraines deposited by the last glacier.

The haul up to the lake (at 9035ft) was lung bustingly tough but worth it to soak up the grandeur of the sheer encircling walls with the thin ragged ridge line up higher again and the roar of hidden waterfalls pouring down from giant hanging glaciers. Our stone weary feet were temorarily revived by a soaking in the snow melted waters. It was however a long, long trudge back down to the bottom again. It took a moose burger and local brew to revive me!

Yellowstone

We were excited about going to Yellowstone. World's first national park (purportedly), iconic American location, 'charismatic megafauna' (as the Lonely Planet sells it). Who wouldnt be thrilled?

We got up early to drive the 80 miles or so from Bozeman to get to a campground early enough to grab a spot. Unfortunately even by 10am all were full in the first two grounds we went to. Happily we found a lovely spot amongst the shady pines on strawberry vine covered grass near Indian Creek in the north of the park.

A drive to see some of the geothermal activity one day and a hike the next we thought. Well the round trip on the 'Grand Loop' as they call it was nice but just not as spectacular as we were expecting. Because of all the volcanic activity the soil is aparently not that great so the forests are practically a monoculture of lodgepole pines. A huge fire in 1988 burnt great swathes of the forest which is still slowly recovering, resulting in a landscape that is not that pretty. Having said that, bubbling mud pots, steaming mountainsides and spurting geysers were quite amazing to see (and pungent to smell).

We weren't going to the famous Grand Canyon on this trip but Yellowstone's Grand Canyon was a nice substitute. I'd been worried as to what the crowds would be like in mid summer, and certainly at Old Faithful there were probably about 1000 people waiting to see water and steam spurt out of the ground. There were a few traffic build ups but that was more due to buffalo leisurely strolling across the road than an excess of vehicles. The LP had said that if you go more than 100 feet from a car park you'll have the place to yourself and indeed we did.

The GC was narrow, with walls of yellow, red and pink rock dropping steeply downto an emerald green and foamy white river tearing its way east. The views along the rim as we wound through the pine forest were spectacular. Eventually turning away, we climbed up through forest, past a lily pad strangled lake to a moonscape of barren grey mud flats with bubbling ponds and then suddenly into lush green meadows sprinkled with wildflowers, more reminiscent of Switzerland than the heart of America. All in all an astonishing array of landscape types in close proximity to each other. Lovely but Yellowstone just didnt capture our hearts they way Glacier had and The Grand Tetons were about to.

View from the top of the world

Waking up to bird song and crisp mountain air is always a perfect start to the day in my opinion. Bagels toasted over a woodfire for breakfast, watched by squirrels having their own feast at the top of a spruce tree.

Lining the highway leading into Glacier National Park we passed "fur trading posts" peddling overpriced souvenirs and last chance saloons where we probably would have had a good chance of drinking with all the Harley Davidson rider we've been seeing (do they know that they ALL dress the same!). Everyone has trucks here and our little CRV doesnt even rate compared to the size of most of them.

The road through Glacier is called the "Going to the Sun Road" which I think is one of the prettiest names around. Happily RVs are banned in summer and the park runs regular shuttles in cute little red vintage open air busses which keeps the, shall we say more cautious drivers, off the road, freeing it up for us to cruise and photograph at will.

Starting off with a crystal clear blue lake and thick lush forests of spruce and cedar, the journey just improved with every turn of the road as more and more towering granite peaks were revealed. There really aren't words to adequately convey the awe inspiring majesty and drama of these solid, jagged walls and graceful sweeping green valleys streaked with white ribbons and swirls of melting glaciers and streams.

Montana's slogan is the 'Big Sky Country' and it's not just marketing propaganda. Even when ringed by mountainous peaks there's still more sky than you can point a camera at.

The next day we hiked up to Iceberg Lake. It was the first time I've hiked at any kind of significant altitude and I defintely felt it. Fortunately the view kept us inspired the whole way up, and then all the way back down again as it all looked new again in the afternoon light.

Once again words fail me, so I'll just add some images. Saw a moose with a fabulous head of antlers wallowing in a pond but was too far away to get a great photo of him.

The road trip commences

Jen picked me up in central Seattle. So strange but so natural to see each other again after 6 months. We got out of town as fast as we could in Betty Boy, her neat midnight blue Hinda CRV that was our road tripping machine. Pamela, the GPS guidance lady, encouraged us gently through the labyrinth of snaking concrete freeways. A short burst through mountains and forests and we were at our first, and highly anticipated destination. Roslyn, Washington. Not on many a mpa, this tiny former mining town, now heritage listed, was the fil set for one of my favourite tv series, Northern Exposure, set in the fictional Cicely, Alaska. A quaint little town of neat wooden houses nestled in a green valley amidst thick pine forests, Main St was about 3 blocks long. But it was all there! The storefronts are filled with regular businesses, but they still look the same as when the show was filmed 15-20 years ago. Chris-in-the morning's KBHR radio station has been preserved in the window of an antique store. But most importantly, the heart of the tow, the Brick, looked exactly right! Actually Washington's oldest tavern, it has a proud history in it's own right, including the back bar which was importat all the wasy from England.

The interior layout was completely different from the tv show, but cosy and characterful nonetheless and served golden beers from the local brewery and hearty meals that were too big to finish.

We had an afternoon snakc and a pint before going on s troll around town and then returned for dinner. LOcal kids playing baseball and old shacks with yards full of cars and metal sculptures showed that it was a real place. The tiny weatherboard theatre was even showing Harry Potter on the very day of release. Slightly more connected than Cicely, Alaska was.

Changing vocabulary

I first went to the EMP when grunge was still an essential ingredient in my life and I thought it would always be that way. Now I only listen to those old albums for nostalgia and I notice I am critical of Frank Gehry's astonishing building in a way I never was 10 years ago. How our vocabulary shifts and changes. Does a building really need to crumple?

Paddling with the Senses

I woke up in Seattle to a white city swirling with mist. Didn't let it stop my plans though so I grabbed the requisite Starbucks and hopped on the "water taxi" (really a ferry in my opinion) to West Seattle. Got myself kitted out with a super nice sea kayak and paddled off into the mist. The deep reverberating booming of the fog horns on the giant containerships coming through Puget Sound and the thundering of unseen planes above added a new dimension to the experience.

The water was cold and rich, with fantastical bright orange jellyfish creatures ghosting around. The harbour seals weren't out playing but a swooping bald headed eagle being pursued by tiny persistent starlings made my morning.

The fog started drawing away as I pulled back onto the beach offering tantalising glimpses of the wall of downtown high rises, towering above the two storey freeway which cuts the city off fromt eh water. Even from across the bay you could hear the persistent roar of traffic.

A bookstore covering a whole city block!!

As I've already mentioned, Portland has great coffee, great beer and great urban planning (admittedly not on the outskirts) and the great outdoors. Anyone who knows me would be thinking how happy Nik must be! But throw in a book store (www.powells.com) that covers an entire city block (and has a coffeeshop where they encourage you to take books and browse) and can you imagine my excitement?!

A space the size of my apartment just filled with travel books. More literature than you could read in several lifetimes. Non-fiction section spanning topics you'd never realised could be interesting. Oh and they have the second hand books in with the new so there are some beautiful old hard back gems just waiting to be discovered. I was never much for candy but this was my metaphorical equivalent! I want to read them all and I want it now!

I have to say I was remarkably restrained but that is largely because my backpack was full of camping gear and I had a couple of public transport legs ahead of me that made my travelling library a logistical improbability. Might have been funny to see me tottering down to the Union Pacific Station with a tower of books stacked above my head!

So Portland, all told, is pretty cool. Benefits of a small city perhaps. It's out of the spotlight so it has been able to create a real character and authenticity that many larger cities fail to achieve in their attempt to please everyone. A fate not uncommon to humans also!

Spirit restored

Sunday was a little gray and rainy, but after a lazy start with coffee and breakfast at the local bakery, we heade dout to the Columbia River Gorge (by car this time, it was a little too far for bikes) and hiked up along Eagle Creek, a narrow path carved out of the moutainside, winding up along a narrow gorge, trhough scented pine forests. The mist and rain rolling in only added to the atmosphere of complete andutter restorative wilderness. The perfect antidote to city stress. It was a fairly popular trail so didn't see much wildlife, but was very chuffed to see a couple of osprey hunting for their fish supper along the river as we drove back.

I love to bike

I've never been much of a cyclist. I sold my bike when i was 12 to buy books and apart from the occassional tourist pedal on free city bikes, I've not been on 2 wheels much for the last few decades. But when in Rome etc and Portland is definitely a city in which cycling is as close to a religion as possible.
Bike "boulevards" parallel the main roads on quieter side streets, bike lanes are wide and clearly marked and take into consideration parked and turning cars. Bascially, even for a scardey cat like me it was easy and fun to get around. And such freedom of the city you get! After an essential coffee stop for a locally roasted brew, we cycled downtown to graze at the farmers markets - fresh picked berries, speciality cheeses, organic wines; browse at the craft markets and then headed up to a street fair on Mississippi. The whole street was blocked off as far as you could see. Funky bands, groovy arts and crafts, mouth watering food and a local brew pub (with the fabulous name Amnesia!) jsut beckoning us in. Saw some great community projects in the area, including a recycling store which, amongst other things, offers demolition services to building sites so they can reclaim all the reusable old fittings - aisles of beautiful old doors and windows, washbasins, you name it. My dad would love it! It's all not-for profit, provides employment and training for disadvantaged people and has become a catalyst for regeneration and new start ups in the neighbourhood. Sustainability doesn't need to be a bad word!
The cycle home became the start of the brew pub tour. We only made it to the door of Whidmans as I was distracted by some murals up the road and we ended up sneaking in on the tail end of a ghost tour. Eveyone (except us) had little remote control like devices with winking green and red lights that apparently informed you when paranormal hot spots were around. Grisly murders of "ladies of the night" vied with lonely sailors and jealous lovers for top billing!
Free wheeling down the hill in the late golden sun, we detoured via the up and coming east industrial area which seems like Soho in New York might have been 50 years ago. The Green Dragon called our name and I have to say he brews the best pale ale I've ever had. the bre pub was casual and understated and I cant understand why we dont have them in Oz. Has VB killed our collective good taste?
Onwards and uphill to the aptly named Hoptown for yet another fine ale and a good pizza (both organic no less). And we're not talking a tiny, hole in the wall joint here either - this place was the size of Newtown's Malborough! Bring on the chemical free world.

And as a footnote, here's a good rave for Portland from Planetizen http://www.planetizen.com/node/40171

It's all in the neighbourhood

Portland is a very liveable kind of town. Praised in case studies when I was at uni for its integrated transport developments and walkability. The tourist borchure I picked up at the airport advertised "beer, books and bikes" as the essence of the city on the first page. This was clearly a town that was meant for me!
My friend Sarah, a transport planner, picked me up from the airport and gave me the run down on all things geeky and planning related on the way back to the cute little purple wooden duplex house she and her husband shre with Canyon the tail-less cat. Leafy green backyard with veggies and herbs it was a pleasant shock tot he system to sit outside drinking wine and eating organic local cheese til late at night after the brisk Sydney nights of late. Dinner supplies were obtained only a short walk away, down tree shaded streets lined with pretty, colourful wooden houses with residents of all ages ebjoying their evening on the front porch. no fences or walls closed everyone off into their own little worlds and many journeys were broek to stop and chat.
The "grocery store" was a marvel - predominantly organic, locally sourced and as unprocessed as possible, the choice was extensive, the staff present, cheereful and helpful and only recycled brown paper carrier bags were on offer.
The whole area has a relaxed suburban feel to it, but was able to support frequent low key clusters of cafes, wine bars, bakeries and restaurants. free wi-fi everywhere and not a chain store in sight.

The countdown begins

One week today and I'll be on a plane to San Francisco. I cant wait to be on the road again.