Full Circle

for the first time in ages, the rocky mountains were breath taking.
the journey home took me through the places i came to love as amanda and i traveled together, but also through the places i was most familiar with. for a long time, driving through the rockies is just what you do after visiting with marko- they became part of the 6 hour drive to moab, nothing more. but yesterday, when i saw the sharp jagged peaks of the huge mountain range, i couldn't help but smile. it was beautiful and i had forgotten.
i feel like my eyes are open again and are absorbing all the small details of the beauty that surrounds me each day.
so- i leave this segment of the journey only to begin a new one. amanda and i have finished traveling together, but (as amanda already mentioned) we have not quite finished the ceremony. it is a process that we will hopefully never complete. it is a process of change and movement and learning and teaching. it is constant. it is life.
amanda came on the trip looking for change and that is how the trip has ended for me. i didn't know what i was looking for when i started the trip. i just wanted to go on the road for the sake of being on the road, but it has turned out to be much more than that. now, being home, i realize i am not the same person i was when we left and that makes me happy. i feel at peace- like i am one step closer to the place where i am suppose to be.
my journey continues and as i come to a new fork in my path, i embrace it with the excitement of the unknown. life is good.
happy travels.

The End

Chelsea and I had an awesome time in Yosemite! The rain eventually stopped, the sun came out, and we moved out of our friends' house tent and into Camp 4, the notorious climbing campground. In Camp 4, we made approximately 438 new friends, and proceeded to do all kinds of fun things with all of these friends. I know I'm leaving out some stellar ones, but some things that come to mind are The Alcove Swing, the moonbow, and, well, climbing, of which I'm quite fond. The Alcove Swing is a 200 foot rope fixed to the wall above an alcove. You clip in and run off the ledge only to swing way out over space, catching big air, and a fantastic flying sensation. Chelsea was the first on this one, as I was busy being all, "Oh, I don't know..." But then I did it many times, and am uber-glad I did. We also got footage of our first swings. On later swings, we turned all about, upside-down and what-not, and had a grand time of it.

The moonbow is a like a small rainbow formed in the mist of Lower Yosemite Falls during a full moon. We wandered out to the bridge over the lower falls in the dark, got sprayed by the strong springtime falls, and could actually pick out the colors of the moonbow, which arced over the river. Amazing.

Climbing, was, well, climbing. Chelsea did a little, but mostly played with other friends. I'll let her fill you in on those activities, because I know she did a lot of fun stuff while I was clambering up rocks.

Overall, this last week together has been amazing, and yesterday morning, when Chelsea left, it was pretty sad. But it also felt, for me, like this trip was completed, and it was the right time.

So, what next? For me, I've been keeping an open mind throughout this trip. I started out with a complete lack of plans for after the trip. Shortly into the trip, I thought I might stay in Yosemite for a month or so afterwards, which has become the plan. All across the west, I saw all different options and opportunities appear, from job offers in an ice cream shop in Denver and a Mexican cafe in Escalante, Utah, to ideas of grad school or an internship with National Parks or working and living on an organic farm on the California coast.

Funny enough, all of these seemed like pretty good options. But what I've settled on for now is this plan: In Joshua Tree, I did some guide work for a local company. I really enjoyed the crew I was working for, and then found out that they worked right near Yosemite during the summer. So I asked about part-time work in the Eastern Sierra, and it looks like I'll at least pick up a few days of work. So right now, I'm settling in for a season in Yosemite. I'll drive out whenever there's work, and live here and read and climb and make new and awesome friends when there's not. And the first big move in my settling in? I just bought a cheap bike! I'm really excited about spending a season here, and about this next portion of my trip. And I'm happy to see how the transition, the growth, and the ceremony of the trip with Chelsea is not complete, because I've started realizing that it shouldn't be complete. I don't know what all I will learn on this portion of the journey, or who I'll be afterwards, but I'm excited to find out.

Thanks to everyone who was part of this trip, from the people who gave us their blessings from back home to the people we met and were taken in by along the way to the people who traced us on this map with this blog. And a super special thanks to Chelsea, because I probably wouldn't have had the courage for this trip without her, and even if I had, I would have missed out on a lot without her. It was a great trip, and the only thing I would have wished differently is that we could have picked up all the new friends along the way, just adding them to the car the way we added them to our address books and memories. Thanks to everyone, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Last Leg

Yeah, we got out of Portland a little late, but got out none the less. After so long of sitting in one place, it felt pretty good to just move. We drove east, along the lovely Columbia River, and just before turning south, we split north across a bridge and tagged Washington for our first times. Five minutes later, we were back in Oregon, moving south. We drove past Smith Rocks, a famous climbing area, waving as we went. I'll get back there sometime. And we ended the driving day trying to find out way through a dark thick snowstorm. We didn't want to have to set up the tent, so I figured I'd drive until there wasn't snow, and until I could see the sky again. That happened just north of the California border, and we pulled off and fell asleep under the stars. Then, in the middle of the night, we both woke up to fat wet snowflakes on our faces! In late April! Preposterous.

The next day, we just kept driving, putting down maybe the most miles in a day that we've done since Kansas. (I might have been a touch excited about the next destination.) That night, we slept right outside Yosemite, and I woke up to a beautiful morning and a strong feeling that our trip was almost over. As the sky changed from dark stained glass to airy soft blue, I pondered the process, how we'd gotten to this point, and what would happen next, and felt an overwhelming notion that everything is in it's place, playing out just like it's supposed to.

We went into Yosemite Valley, and Chelsea oogled all the gorgeous rock for the first time, while I oogled some of it like it was new, and some with the feeling of returning to some old friends. The Valley is an amazing place, just a few fruit trees short of most depictions of the Garden of Eden, when you look at it from above. We're hanging out with Ashley here, who we met in Joshua Tree earlier on the trip, and her boyfriend Alex, and just enjoying the area.

A final note: This trip, our trip, is scheduled to end one week from today.

Portland Wrap-Up

We came into Portland thinking we'd stay one night, maaaaaaybe two. I think it's been five now, and we just made an elaborate crepe brunch, it's 1pm, and we're still claiming that we're leaving today, "this morning" is what we say. We've been staying with Brady and Ian, who've been great hosts. While hanging out with them, we've gone to a killer dance party, met a lot of their great friends (including Tristan, Abe, Rose, and Wes, to name a few), went climbing at the local gym, watched an exciting Blazers basketball game (mostly exciting because of the amount of yelling coming from the couch-section), and eaten some darn good Vietnamese food. And while they were busy with their own lives, we got to enjoy the Outdoor Market, and Powell's City of Books (a used bookstore the size of a city block!!!)

It's been a really great time, and we've felt very welcomed and comfortable here, but, alas, the time has come. Today, the first day of real rain, we will slowly pack up, and start to head south again. The end of the trip is in sight, as Chelsea will meet up with Jordan near San Jose May 8th to head home. It seems so close!

Our last real stop will be Yosemite, where we will meet up with some friends we made in Joshua Tree a few weeks ago. I love Yosemite, and Chelsea's never been there, and we'll have a great crew to hang with, so it should be a blast. And after 3 months of hardly touching rock, I'm starting to get real fired up about the idea of granite. So, goodbye, Portland, and awesome Portland friends. Hello, Yosemite Valley, and new Yosemite friends (as well as old J-Tree friends).

The Best Things in Oregon are Free

We left the free hotel, drove north along the coast, and eventually ended up staying a little inland, in a National Forest, where we found an established campground that was actually no-pay. (Maybe a first on this trip.) It was chilly, and the air was damp, so when we saw the only other person there sitting by a fire, we quickly made friends. That night, Steve brought us wood from his fire, so we could have our own. And then, in the morning, he brought us his extra coffee. And then, by late morning, we were all bunched around his fire again, trying to thaw. He gave us a bunch of great suggestions for what to do in Portland, including an outdoor store, and I mentioned I might look for a tent there (as Chelsea's tent, along with Chelsea, will sadly be leaving me soon). Steve thought for a second, then went to his car, pulled out a little camping tent and threw it in my lap. That's right, a free tent. Flippin' awesome! He said he never used it anymore, and wanted to get rid of it anyways. I haven't set it up yet, but I'm really excited.

We left the campsite and drove somemore coast on Steve's suggestion, and ended up eating an entire crab, as well as some great local cheese and ice cream in Tillamook. Delicious! And then we went to Portland. Once in town, we went to the outdoor store and a used bookstore Steve had given us directions to, and enjoyed the good old free WiFi in the coffee shop until the girl at the counter started to close up shop and give us the 15 minute warning. At 10 minutes, she came around and offered us the coffee she was about to dump, and at 5 minutes, a couple of the pastries that were now officially "day-old." And by the time we were leaving, at 10 after, we had a whole bag of pastries, fancy juice drinks, and big smiles of gratitude. We didn't even get her name, but she was super nice and, this morning, as we eat our pastries, we're super grateful.

Finally, we dug out a torn sheet of paper from our travel notes, and dialed a number that had been scrawled by a fellow-camper in Joshua Tree about a month ago. After some very minimal interactions, Brady, a teacher on Spring Break with some teacher friends, had offered us a place to stay if we ever got to Portland. Now in Portland, we took down directions and wandered towards his place. He and his roommates are not only letting us stay here, but they've also been great in providing maps and directions to the things we should be doing (instead of internetting), and they aren't too shabby at being entertaining either.

So there you have it, more awesome free stuff in Oregon. We are loving it!

Hospitality from No Cal to Oregon

So, we're only a couple days out from the Edwards' house in Carmel, but several noteworthy things have come to pass. When we left the house, Ben, the middle-est kid, put us in touch with some of his friends up the coast just north of San Fran. So we just drove straight from one welcome home to another. Nick and Clark, the strangers up north who happened to know Ben, were completely hospitable and chatted and chilled with us for hours, both that night and the next morning. And in between that time, we slept marvelously on our complimentary futons. It was great.

The next morning, with great local suggestions from the boys, we continued north up the 1, enjoying gorgeous views of both ocean and redwoods, and the occasional secret local beach, thanks to Nick's directions. That night, we found ourselves in a grassy meadow campsite right over the water. Sure, we were dripping with sea air in the morning, but the sounds, the smells, the feel, made the wetness pretty well worth it.

The next day, we enjoyed some fun sights, with highlights including: the scenic alternative route called Avenue of the Giants (redwoods!!!), driving through a redwood, and seeing a giant Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. Now that's classy--I don't care who you are. Before we knew it, we were in Oregon, looking for sleep. We hadn't seen any legal-looking free camping since Arizona, so when we found a pulloff over the beach that didn't have no camping signs, we stopped. It didn't have camping signs either, but it didn't say not to, so we threw down on this beach in what appeared to be some Shipwreck Cove from a pirate story. The beach was smooth and flat, but treacherous 50-100 foot rocks stood out of the water like broken glass guarding the land. Very cool.

Next morning, as we laid all our sleeping stuff in the sun to dry for hours, we met some folks, Melvin and Donnie, who had camped in a completely decked out school bus in the same pulloff. They were friendly, and full of good suggestions for our northward wandering. As we talked, the topographic map sheets were utilized, the bus was toured, and, eventually, dinner was offered. That's right, our first morning in Oregon, the first people we meet offer us a home-cooked meal after our day of exploring. We spent the day checking out many of the places Mel suggested, and met a few other characters, one of whom claimed to be Cory Wells, from Three Dog Night. I'm not sure that he actually was, but that was still pretty cool. It's not every day you meet someone who claims to be from Three Dog Night.

Mel lives right off the 101, in North Bend, and by evening we were there just in time for a steak dinner with him and his wife, Barb. It was soooooooo good. Next, Mel took us out to some giant sand dunes near the coast in his Jeep, and took us on a pretty exciting Jeep tour, including some improbable looking (and feeling) hills, and a lot of sliding sideways. To top it off, Mel dropped us off at a hotel for the night, which he paid for, which is where we are now. A flippin' hotel to ourselves--how cool is that?! And, I must say, so far we are enjoying Oregon.

I-70 W

I just came across this poem that I wrote several years ago. Little did I know then that I-70 wouldn't even get me out of Utah before disappearing, but this still seems relevant.

I-70 W

I-70 West is a rite of passage
The dead silent whisper of the plains
Testing my will
It takes faith to cross Kansas
In the hope of wild mountains
To blow through desert flats
With the hope of rivers

In this religion
Some maps are sacred
And some are heretical
In this sect
I pray in mile markers
And cross myself
As we cross state lines
It is a belief to follow road signs
And the setting sun
Into the center of your windshield
To move ever onward
In hope of what you cannot see

Ceremony of Indirection

From LA, Chels and I rocked it up to San Jose and met up with her man, Jordan, and then picked up Jordan's mum from the airport. We all had a pretty fun weekend, that included San Francisco, Napa Valley, and hotels and hot tubs. It was a pretty cush weekend for us, and I think everyone had a good time. Chels can expand on the if she wants, but I'm going to skip on to right after San Jose, with us bookin' it back to J-Tree. That's right, more Josh. Why? you might ask. I would, too, as it's not exactly along the way... As we made our way north away from Josh, I ended up getting interested in a guide course in J-Tree, so when it came time, we left San Jose at what felt like the last possible minute (though it obviously wasn’t, because when we got to Joshua Tree again, I still had at least 6 hours to do some illegal sleeping before the actual course meeting time.) We woke up at dawn and got out of the site and ready for class. While Chelsea read and explored and established a legal camping spot for us, I met the other students, Sarah and John, and Dave, the instructor. What proceeded over the next several days was a lot of learning and a lot more fun. We were buddy-buddy by day 2, if not earlier, and enjoyed a lot of goofing off while trying not to kill eachother. And, as an added perk, outside of class, Chels and I continued to meet more great people.

After the course was up, I decided to take the rescue assessment, but not the course assessment—I’ll need a bit, or a lot, more study for that. But I did pass the rescue, and I have to give credit here to the fact that I wore a western pearl snap shirt with my Tombstone badge for the test. If nothing else, it at least made me a lot more confident. I should wear that all the time, I’ve decided.

After that, several of our friends had two days of course assessment, so while the gang was out performing, Chelsea, John, and I put together a top-notch Easter Eve Egg Hunt, complete with candy, cupcakes, beer, and eggs hidden in places only climbers should go. We had planned on the hunt happening in daylight, so when that day’s assessment didn’t wrap up until after dark, we were a little nervous as to how it would go. Our friends came through though, and everyone was enthusiastic and energetic in their headlamp hunt for plastic eggs and candy.

At this point, we probably should have hit the road, but then a friend offered me a day of guide work, so, instead, we stayed like 3 more days, and, to no one’s surprise, had a bunch more fun. The day of work went great, but for me the best parts were getting to climb and hang (sometimes simultaneously) with our new friends, and our last night’s activity… THE CHASM. And, yes, it’s every bit as dreadful as it sounds… not really though. But an uber amount of fun! At some point in our last days, Dave mentioned The Chasm, a fun tunneling adventure. At which point, Chelsea and I informed him he was going to give us the tour. Fortunately for him, he was OK with that, as Chels and I were super psyched and might have resorted to violence to get our way. Some additional information about The Chasm: good form requires that you do it at night and with no headlamps. So, on our last night, with a gang of about 6 other folks who’d never been to The Chasm, and Dave, with his whole two times having been there, at the head, we meandered into pitch darkness, single-file scrambling and crawling through passageways and tunnels through a massive pile of rocks. With a little care, we only ended up with minor scratches and bruises, a few kicks to the face in some compromising belly-crawling situations, and me with a sore throat from so much grunting through tight spaces and so much laughing. I didn’t want to leave J-Tree, because we just kept meeting wonderful new friends, but that was a perfect last night to wrap up that section of the trip. We slept like rocks in our cave (that's right, we slept in an awesome cool cave while in J-Tree!), and the next morning, slowly packed up, said our goodbyes, and rolled to the coast.

Hwy 1 treated us well, and we even managed to save some money when I decided I'd rather drive half the night than pay for a campsite. Well, it wasn't all thriftiness--I had the bug and wanted to be on the move, so it was nice to drive while Chels slept. The next morning, I parked at a beach at 6am (the earliest legal parking time) and while Chels remained passed out in the car, I watched the sun creep across the roundness of the world and onto shining wet sand. To take my mind off my frozen fingers and toes, I tried to memorize the way the reflection of the moon ran alongside me in the wet sand, and how the birds flew belly to belly in double flocks with their own mirrored selves. It didn't keep my digits warm, but I was alright with that.

We then moved on to the beach at San Simeon, and I had a well-deserved nap in the sand, sleeping bag and all, while Chelsea read and flew kites. When I woke up, I dove into a wave in the cold ocean, shivered myself dry, and then proceded to get sand everywhere when I sprawled out on the beach for a few more hours. And just in case my dreads didn't look like sandy licorice just yet (which they did), Chelsea buried me alive in the nice warm sand. We had a super great time of it, and topped off the day by rolling up to Carmel and having dinner and staying with some friends of my family, the Edwards. This translates to mean that we ate an amazing home-made meal, followed by chocolate cake and ice cream, watched Survivor, had good conversation, and, yes, enjoyed some WiFi.

That brings us up to date on activity. The trip has been amazing so far, and today, as we coasted alongside the ocean, I felt alive and vital, and the immense beauty of the world was undeniable. I couldn't quit being grateful for all the amazing new friends I've made. With several of them, I've daydreamed about stuffing them in the car so that we wouldn't have to part, and to some of them I've offered genuine invitations to join in. No takers yet, but we do have a lot of new phone numbers, and several people we will make a point to stay in touch with. I also feel so grateful to be on this trip with Chelsea, and as we continue to not kill eachother, I realize how good of friends we are, and, incidently, how hard it will be to exist in different cars, let alone different cities, after this trip. I can't imagine this adventure with anyone else.

I'm reading the book Ceremony by Leslie Marmon-Silko right now, and I realize how much I'd hoped that this trip would be like a healing ceremony for me, as I'm coming out of a hard break-up as well as some unhealthy self-protective habits. Right now, I'm pretty happy to say that the ceremony is going well. I feel good, alive, and free, and even though part of me always wants to just tuck back into the comfort of the known, a larger part of me is falling in love with the amazing capacity for beauty in the unknown. The band Old Crow Medicine Show has a great lyric, "We're all in this thing together, walking the line between faith and fear." I keep thinking about that line as I feel myself leaning farther and farther from fear, and it feels great. It feels alive and changing and unpredictable, and, much to my surprise, that feels alright.

So Cal, Baby!

The last bit of Tucson, right before we left, was perhaps the most awesome, as we were introduced to a new dessert. How could anything top new dessert?! What Dalton and Julie and their roommate Kit showed us was a Mexican dessert called raspados. Amazing! It's several layers of fluffy shaved ice, fruit and real fruit syrup of your choosing, and ice cream (if you want it), with a bit of sweetened condensed milk squirted on top. Soooooo very very good that now I intend to look up raspados places before we leave So Cal.

After Tucson, we booked it up to Flagstaff to get our Route 66 on. I was looking for a place on the old road where my dad at my age and on a similar road-trip got into a head-on collision. He knew it was somewhere near Kingman, AZ, so we kept our eyes open for what often gets referred to as Dead Man's Curve. Apparently, the western Arizona portion of old 66 was infamous for its narrow, steep, and winding nature. I've read that there were many accidents in that area. Immediately around Kingman, however, we didn't see anything worthy of the name. But as it got dark, and we neared Oatman, AZ (an old ghost town near the border and way off of I40), we could imagine a few wrecks. The road narrowed and we were reduced to 30mph maximum, not by speed limit signs, but by the road itself. Switchbacks and guard-rail-less drop-offs resembled what I'd seen in the old Route 66 books, and so I assumed it was somewhere around there that my dad had such a personal encounter with the old road. However, it was dark, and I was being especially careful not to have my own encounter, and so we got no pictures.

After that, we finished a day of 66 travel at a noted travel stop, The Wagon Wheel, in Needles, CA. We had a late dinner there and enjoyed there classic trucker menu. Apparently, the place has been serving for a while, and we enjoyed the whole feel.

The next day, I woke up next to the car and rolled onto my belly to see one of the tires looking a bit chubby. We decided to fill it up at the next gas station, and by the time we rolled into Amboy (located in the middle of nowhere in the desert), it was well nigh flat. So we stopped at Roy's, and old 66 motel and gas station, and about the only thing in town, and took the tire off, wiggled a screw out of it, and started moving towards plugging it when a local rolled up and took over the operation. Within the hour, we were heading south towards Joshua Tree National Park, and when we rolled into town there, we were perhaps more flat than the first time, but got all patched up and back in good shape at a tire shop, and went into the Park.

We were meeting some friends there, Carissa, her boyfriend Karl, and her brother and friends, and we got to climb and play all weekend. I also got to do a day of work for a guide service I'd talked to out there, so that was really cool as well. After Carissa and her gang left, we had a few more nights in the park, and, though we greatly enjoyed being with friends, we also enjoyed the solitude of being back on our own afterwards. We really did, but that didn't keep up from making new friends, almost immediately--friends with great music taste, talent, and instruments. We spent probably 5 hours of one of our last nights sitting around the campfire with several surfer/skater/climbers from Orange County who played steel guitar, acoustic guitar, cajon, and harmonica to Dylan, Neil Young, Paul Simon, Old Crow Medicine Show, Felice Brothers, The Beetles, and anything else that was super great and not pop. They had great voices, too, though we did our best to out-sing them, if only in volume. Of course, we didn't succeed, but we gave it a good effort. Some of them even offered us a place to stay in Orange County, and we might later get some surf lessons from one of them! I'm psyched.

After that, we finished 66, wrapping it up at the Santa Monica Pier, meaning we finally made it to the ocean. I called up Justin, an old friend I'd met in Springfield several years ago, and we stayed with him a few nights at his home in Agoura Hills, CA, northwest of LA and about 8 miles from the coast. He and his family have welcomed us marvelously, and we've had a great time. Justin even got to climb with us a little in Malibu, and--the super neat thing--there was even a low-budget movie being filmed at the crag while we were there! It was super great, because there was a dinosaur, and people falling off cliffs and pretentious directors yelling for us to be quiet. Seriously, we loved it.

And, after climbing and movie-shoot voyeuring, we had a good time with Justin's church youth group and got a local dumpster tour from Zam, a girl my age who helps lead the youth group. Overall, we've had a stupendous time here. But right now, we're packing up to roll north. Do you know the way to San Jose? Because we've got at least one friend there.

for my post, i decided to do a photo entry. although amanda is working diligently to update the photos, i am going to put some of my favorite photos together to tell you all the story of what we have been up to since arriving at the grand canyon.

we made loads of friends hiking down into the grand canyon. it was so awesome!



the top photo is the first group of friends we made. they were a super nice group and we were very glad to have met them.
the photo bellow is of our spring break friends. they let us crash in their campsite for a night and were super fun company. we ended up hiking out of the canyon with them too, which made it a much easier hike, and dare i say... enjoyable? they were a fantastic group. we had many good laughs in their company.





the above poster was on the bus we took back to our car after hiking out. luckily, we don't look like that guy, otherwise we could have been in trouble.

after leaving the grand canyon, we went to las vegas and had a swell time. the pirate show was amazing and we had lots of energy, making the city a very fun place for the two nights we spent there.

once we left vegas, we began our weird route east - which took us through navajo nation and gave us a new traveling buddy for a while.



when amanda and i first heard about the stray puppy that had been left at the navajo jewelery stand, we both thought "oh, no. we can't have a dog traveling with us, let alone a puppy." an hour later, however, we were thinking differently.
kayenta, which was the name she ended up with, wiggled her way over to me. her little body was all matted with desert sand and dread locks- i could not help myself when i got the scissors and comb out of the car and began working on her coat. before long i had a huge baggy full of dog hair and we had a puppy. we promptly found dog food for her and watched her little body squirm with delight as the food hit her belly. while we drove, she slept soundly on the floor board and when we camped, she stayed right at our heals. she was a great companion.



kayenta traveled with us for four days before fate had its way and gave kayenta a real home (months before we were planning on finding one for her). we were camping right outside of santa fe and had some super people camping next to us. we were all cooking marshmallows on the fire and kayenta was sleeping in the tent. i went and grabbed her to keep me warm and to meet our new friends. when one of the guys, john, saw her he said that he would love to take her home and we said if he was serious, we would like for her to have a good home. so, john ended up with a puppy and kayenta ended up with a good owner who would be able to give her a home.
although we only had her for four days, it felt so much longer. saying goodbye to her was very difficult for me. i think that due to the nature of our trip and the lack of time, it seemed like a much longer time. but, goodbyes are usually not an easy thing.
she slept in our tent with us for the last time that night and in the morning i woke up to the little ratters stepping over my face to crawl in my sleeping bag with me. we couldn't have asked for a better friend for the time we had her.
the guy on the left is her new owner.



after departing from kayenta and santa fe, we hit route 66 and traveled with style.





DINOSAURS AND GIANT RABBITS!!!
(see, mom, i told you we rode a rabbit!)



after standing on a corner in winslow, arizona (such a fine sight to see)
WE WENT TO TOMBSTONE!
i got my picture taken with doc holliday and wyatt earp! and morgan and virgil earp too!

standing on allen street in tombstone. we are lookin' sooo good.



amanda with wyatt and doc. such gentlemen. they were actually walking away from us when amanda and i stopped to stare with awe. my smile was so big they stopped and turned around and said 'why, hello' and then we got our picture taken with them. best ever.



then, after we saw the shoot out at the OK Corral, we got our photos taken with morgan and virgil earp. i was so happy, but my eyes were red, puffy, and watery- not from being overwhelmed by their presence... it was allergies. unfortunately the whole shoot out and sometime afterward it looked like i was crying.



tombstone was probably one of my favorite parts of the trip so far. my cheeks hurt really bad from smiling so much and everyone kept looking at me and asking where we were from, as if that would tell them why we were so happy and excited. it was super. super duper, in fact.

over and out,
chelsea

East by South West (say what?!)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. We haven't updated in forever. What can I say? We're busy people. There's a lot of road out there and only two of us, so take it easy!

OK, now that that's all straightened out, there's a lot of updating that needs doing. Now that Chelsea has picked her topics, I'm left to try to make our posts somehow cohesive. But, since I can't really see how, I'm just leaving this pretty much as it is. I believe I last left you at the rim of the Grand Canyon, with us about to fall in. Well, in we went, indeed, and back out again. But it was gorgeous, and warm in there, and I loved being with my river so much that we stayed at extra night in the lovely canyon, despite possible run-ins with the Law.

Next, as you might tell from our new blog playlist, we high-tailed it to Vegas. Yeah, I know, we're not the "party in Vegas!" sort, but my friend, Susie, from Washington was there with a hotel room a block off the strip, so we spent two nights living' it up, sleeping in a fancy-pants, 35th floor hotel room, with complimentary valet parking and a pool on the roof. Now where I come from, that's fancy. We got to climb in Red Rocks with one of Susie's friends, Alan, one day, and spent an evening walking the strip and saw the pirate show outside the Treasure Island Casino! OK, for a pirate show, there was definitely a lot of sexual innuendo, but there was also fire and a ship sinking, so all in all, I think everyone left happy.

After our wild times in the city, we meandered our way back east and through the Navajo Nation to Mesa Verde, and then down to Santa Fe. And from there, we hooked up with Route 66, and eased on over to Winslow, Arizona, where, yes, we mandatorily stood on a corner, and in fact, THE corner, as they do have one designated for such use. I was really digging the sites and getting my kicks along America's Main Street as we saw neat-O old motels (including the tepees!), rode an oversized jack-rabbit, and shopped some fun stores. Just imagine, if you can, Chelsea and I weaving I40 with the rugged remnants of 66, while having a full volume sing-along to Leaving on a Jet Plane as done by Peter, Paul, and Mary. Now, it's just like you're there with us.

Finally, we rolled south, south, and more south, until we came well nigh to the border and stopped in Tombstone, Arizona. I don't know if y'all have seen the movie Tombstone, but it's awesome, and so is the town, and you should see both. Now. We had so much fun in that town, on account that one street is marked off as a historical landmark, and everybody's dressed like Wyatt Earp and we even had our pictures taken with some fellows claiming to be Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. They looked the part, and killed some conniving cowboys in a shootout near the OK Corral, so I'm pretty well convinced. And I love that town. And I got me a Tombstone Marshal badge, and some 6-guns, and I love that town. I was all, "Wyatt, I am rolling!" Only I didn't say that, because we were busy grinning ear-to-ear in the glow of our heroes. Glorious.

After we got the heart to finally leave Tombstone, we spent a few days climbing in the nearby climbing area called Cochise Stronghold. It's a beautiful area, consisting of an outcropping of gray granite mounds, highlighted with lime-green lichen, jutting 500 feet out of a healthy and pristine high desert plain. When we walked the hour between our camp spot and the rock, we walked through knee high tan grasses, that whispered constantly in the wind and blew in gentle waves around us. As I walked, I'd open my hands to feel the soft bristly blowing motion of the grasses. When several healthy gorgeous horses appeared, I realized we were in a cheesy painting on a 12-year-old girl's wall. But here's the thing about cheesy paintings--when you're in them, they're actually quite beautiful, and for a moment, you can see why someone would enjoy that image. Still, no excuse for hanging them on your wall, but it sure was nice.

Finally, for real this time, we're now in Tucson. But wait--how'd that happen? Oh, right. We met some really friendly climbers at Cochise. Some of them gave us route information for the climbing (as we had no information, and were completely dependent on running into someone who did), and some of them, Joolie and Dalton, offered us a place to stay after talking to us for 5 minutes. So that's where we are now, enjoying the in of doors for the first time since Vegas, and looking forward to showers, which will be the first since, uh, Moab. Hmmm. That was a while ago... It's probably a good thing Chelsea and I both have allergy-debilitated noses.

Overall, the trip has been going swimmingly. In our lack of plans, so many beautiful things have unfolded, things that we would not and could not have made happen. In the same way that conceptualizing God shrinks Him down to a size that fits in our heads, it is seeming that over-planning and controlling our situations brings life down to a dwarfed version of itself, something only as big as our own limited imaginations. I'm excited and pleased to watch as undirected wandering unfolds in benevolent and wonderful ways, leading us to see beautiful new places we'd never heard of, and and to have meaningful interactions with amazing and lovely strangers. I can see life growing, expanding like inhalation, into something staggeringly more vast than I'd imagined. And that makes sense, because my imagination isn't really that vast at all, and I'd always assumed that life existed beyond, well, me. But I guess sometimes it takes a little something different to see that.

So, that's my version of a quick update. In my defense, it is under 12 pages (which hardly seems a good thing, and I can't believe y'all are going to let Chelsea get away with all those pictures. Chelsea, that will NOT fly in a college course!)

I really hope that life is surprising and new and unexpected for you as much as it's been for me of late, and I'd like to invite you into my cheesy painting by encouraging you to let go of something. I know, that's vague, and even cheesier than a painting of ponies in a field, but I'm really starting to think that the more that we control, the less we get in return. And that little feeling of safety, aside from probably being false, comes at a really high cost. And so, instead of my usual fare of snuggling in small safe places, I want to run into the walls of my comfort zone like a padded room, bowing the walls and expanding it with each collision. And, despite a few bruises, I am really grateful for the chance.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Moab to the Grand

I'm pretty sure I'm going to leave something awesome out, but at least I know it. So here it goes anyway, pressing on to summarize the last few weeks, despite the absurdity of my efforts!

It should be also known, to start out with, that nearly every day during this portion of the trip, Chelsea said at one time or another, "This is the best day ever!" As for me, every night when we were going to bed, I tended to say something along the line of, "I'm going to stay here forever." (I realize that might not be the most forward-moving thinking, but stagnancy is my weakness--a weakness which I have to overcome every time we move the car.) With that in mind, here's what went down.

OK, Moab. I was super-happy to be in Moab, because, unlike for Chelsea, that actually is home to me, at least for the last couple years. I had this list of people I wanted to see, even though we were only there for the week, and, surprisingly, I got to see almost everyone, and, even more surprising, I had meaningful interactions with most of them. (Not just the "Hi! I'm in town! Bye!" interaction.) Among other awesome events, we got to climb at Indian Creek with some friends, and, with my old roommate, Pete, we got to mountain bike the Slick Rock practice loop, climb a tower, and hike around a bunch. It was superb.

I finally had to drag myself out of town, because if I didn't, I was sure I'd never leave. William Least Heat Moon has some good quotes about how comfort effects the traveler's will that I'll try to edit into this post later.

Next, we booked it down to the Needles District of Canyonlands, where we hiked 11 miles round-trip to see the confluence of the Colorado and Green Rivers. I've wanted to see it for years, and so it was quite fulfilling to finally do it. It was a gorgeous hike, too, and we even got our first sun-burns of the year--in early March! (That's pretty early for us hill-folk.)

We then set out the find the Robber's Roost, a hideout along the Outlaw trail that was frequented by Butch Cassidy and Sundance. Had we driven straight there, it would have been just 35 miles on dirt roads to get there. However, we got properly mixed up, saw some wild burros (the only herd with paints in Utah), ran into a really nice and helpful park ranger reincarnation of Ed Abbey, and then found our way to the actual Roost, clocking in over 80 miles and many hours on dirt roads. It was sooooo worth it. What's left is an old chimney in a small clearing of a low and wide canyon. We laid our sleeping bags out in front of the hearth, and ate and slept beneath the stars, completely alone. We could have stayed there for at least a week without ever seeing anyone, and most likely a month or more.

After enjoying and exploring the Roost area all morning, we moved on, rolling and tumbling towards the Grand Canyon. We were also thinking to eat at a nice cafe if we saw one, which ended up being Georgie's in Escalante, Utah. We had a fantastic Mexican dinner there, and some good conversation with Georgie, a lovely woman who single-handedly ran the show and touted tales of her days at Haight-Ashbury. We enjoyed her stories, and at the end of the meal, when we asked about camping nearby, she offered us the room above the cafe! We had to take it--it was just too perfect. According to all my research--mainly Kerouacian--this is what's supposed to happen on road-trips. I just didn't figure it really would. We ended up staying two nights, and hanging out a little with Georgie and her drum-making friend, Kevin, and got to eat plenty more good food, including home-made cookies, along the way. Getting invited into a stranger's home was everything I dreamed it would be, minus being murdered in our sleep, and, again, we'd found another place that it was sure hard to leave.

Finally, we've made our way through Navajo Nation and down to the Grand Canyon. It's friggin' cold here (13 farhenheit last night), and we're planning to hike down to the bottom tomorrow (where it's warmer). I've got a friend trying to lure me west to Vegas (which is also warmer) for some climbing after we hike back out, but we also want to head Mesa Verde way (east), so as usual, the next step, or even cardinal direction, is up in the air.

**One final bit of trivia, which I think connects the start and end of this post nicely: At the end of Thelma and Louise, they are supposed to be at the Grand Canyon. In fact, they are actually filming in the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands, in Moab. There it is. Enjoy your useless information--I've got plenty of it.

Limping into Moab

Rain began steadily hitting the windshield as we pulled away from Keith and Christel's home in Montrose. On the road again, but this time we were heading towards a place we are both familiar with. Moab. Moab is a comforting place- it is one of those places that feels like home to me, even though I have only made a few short visits there. We took a southern route into Moab, one that neither of us had taken before. Soon we pulled away from the mountains and the sage brush surrounded us. The rain was making a deep fog from in a canyon just off the highway, so, naturally, we pulled over to take photos. The smell of the damp sage brush was so wonderful and safe feeling. It made me think of the times I longed to visit Moab. To escape the commitments of school and head west to see my friends. I would listen to a mix CD Amanda made for my first trip to Moab, what was her third trip, over and over. It was the only thing that would make my feet stand still and stay in Springfield for the remaining weeks of what I felt was prison at times.
The land slowly morphed more and more into the land of the red, the land of the warm desert, the land with dumpster diving and adventure around every corner, with great towers and vibrant natural color in every direction. This is where we are. This is where we are going. I could not help but let my mind slip into memories. Amanda and I were returning to the place that was becoming more and more a place of magic, in my mind.
We got to a small town called LaSal, population 15. It is not even an hour outside of the place we were headed. Amanda felt it was an appropriate time for a routine tire check, before rolling into town. The tires on my side were as solid as the day they were made, this was not the case for one of the tires on Amanda's side. It turns out there was a reason for the seemingly routine check. We had a flat - and we changed it (meaning Amanda changed it and I watched to make sure she did a good job).
And so it was, we limped into Moab with a spare tire on the rear and a pride in our hearts. What a better town to limp into?

Stacy, this one's for you.

From Video for Stacy

"I LOVE YOU, STACY!" - Amanda

"I love you, Stacy, but I am not going to drink water upside down to prove my love. We are beyond that." - Chelsea

Amanda's Explanation: Keith dared me to try drinking water upside-down, which I refused heartily. Then he drank red wine over a white pillow while standing on his head. So, of course, I had to try it--the easy way though, with water, and hanging from my legs.

From the Denver to the Grave (and from the snow to the rock)

OK, a lot has happened, so I'll get right to the business. Firstly, we wrapped up our Denver business with some good times with good friends. We spent some wonderful time with Mike (the drummer) and his lady-friend, Bethany. (We'd only just met Bethany at the show, and she brought us Valentines and gifts-- awesome!!) And we also spent some good time with one of my old friends from Missouri, Jessie Lang, and her husband, Kurt. (I realize she now has his last name, but she's pretty permanently a Lang to me.) I hadn't seen her in several years, and it was so much fun to see how little the years of separation had actually separated us.

Next, the graveyard shift. We headed west, and just outside of Denver is a very tempting sign for Buffalo Bill's Grave. I've always wanted to go up there, and I've always driven past it. But this is road-trippery, so we wandered on up. Apparently, I knew nothing about Buffalo Bill, because I was pretty sure he was an outlaw or something cool, but the little bits we picked up about him in the gift shop conveyed that he was more of an all-star indian-killer who worked for the man. I was feeling unimpressed, and, anyways, his grave was a side-show, complete with a gift shop much more peopled than the actual grave. Among the gift shop business, we read a book mark about Doc Holliday, who, thanks to Val Kilmer, impresses us way more. While reading the book mark summary of Doc's life and death, I imagined that Doc's grave wouldn't be a show, but a quiet place on a hill, peaceful and alone.

As we wandered further west, I began processing a little more of that single paragraph about Doc. It had also mentioned that he died in Glenwood Springs but nothing of the burial site. We were about to go right through Glenwood, so we decided to stop in and ask around. We ended up in a used gear shop, and I asked the bike shop guy the awkward question, "So, what do you know about Doc Holliday?" Much to my surprise, the guy went into an amazingly insightful lecture summarizing all of Doc's interactions with the town, culminating in the directions to his grave, a couple minutes away. Ten minutes of snowy trail later, we were up on a quiet, desolate, snow-covered hill above town, looking at Doc's grave, among other couple-hundred year-old graves in the old cemetary. It was perfect. We left him some sunflowers that Chelsea had gotten as a Valentine's gift.

Next stop, Chelsea's uncle, Mike, on a mesa near Hotchkiss, CO, and his friend, Jim, who lives right by the Powderhorn Ski Resort. They both live in lovely homes, and I loved getting to meet them, and their fun friends, all of whom are vibrant and funny and warm. During this time, we spent two days at Powderhorn (with me boarding and Chelsea skiing), and one of those days, Mike and Jim and their friends, Paula, Jane, and Stan, got to come out with us. They are all super expert on the snow, but were still awesomely patient and encouraging with us. We both got a lot better in that one day, and Paula even dragged me onto my first blacks, where she encouraged me while I butt-bumped my way down moguls. This sounds unpleasant, but it was actually great, because I started to try some new and scary things, instead of just being pretty comfy on blues.

Finally, we made our way over to Montrose, CO, where we are now, to see my friends, Keith and Christel. They are climbers, and among other fun things, they have a fun horizontal rope ladder in their family room. So I've spent much of the weekend in what I call the monkey-house, reclining and swinging and tangling myself in the ladder. I think I might be part lemur, now that I realize that the most comfy seat in the house for me is squatted up there in the monkey-house. Our other events included gorgeous rock climbing in nearby Escalante Canyon, several hours in some hot springs in Ouray, and various stupid human tricks and challenges around the house. Now, Keith is about to head out for work on Monday, and Chelsea and I are about to move on west.

Let's Daaaaaaaance! (Special thanks to Evan, Alicia, Izzy, and a slow day in Denver.)

I am a 26 year old 18 year old, or the night I used a fake ID

Here is the story... because I feel it must be told.
Amanda has a friend in Denver who is a fantastic drummer, his name is Mike. Mike was playing at a local bar. The bar has an age limit of 21 to enter. I am 18 and therefore could not go. Since I could not accompany Amanda to the show, she began to look for other dates. After being turned down a few times, she asked our friends Evan and Alicia to accompany her. Alicia has a friend with an extra ID I could borrow. We look alike, enough, anyway. After hearing the line up of the concert, I wanted to go and was willing to use an alias. As we were preparing to leave, Amanda realized her ID was locked in her car which was located in Golden. We had two tricky entries now, Amanda with no ID and me with a fake one. It went smoothly, though. I was able to glide in with no hassle and Amanda was able to get Mike to vouch for her. Because I don't drink, there was no problem after entering and the next three and a half hours were filled with wonderful music - making it worth the risk of being turned away. Each band was phenomenal; it was easily the best show I had seen in some time. I was really glad to be able to attend. It is not something I would do again, necessarily, but it was a good first experience.

In other news, WE FILMED A DANCE TO FOOTLOOSE TODAY! Super!

A trail into the Wilderness

"A final detail: on the morning of my departure, I had seen thirty-eight Blood Moons, an age that carries its own madness and futility. With a nearly desperate sense of isolation and a growing suspicion that I lived in an alien land, I took to the open road in search of places where change did not mean ruin and where time and men and deeds connected."
-William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways

I was telling my friend Catherine about how I felt things coming together in unexpected ways--ways that are making leaving easier, neater, tidier. Ways that are making Home something that can propel me onward, rather than drag me back. She said it was as though God was sweeping the brush and snow off of the little trail leading into the wilderness. And her description, that vision, has settled in my mind like I plan on settling in my car--with will and supplies enough to last me quite a while.

The thing is, this seemingly average metaphor is actually a really accurate description. I can't see anything ahead of me accept this wilderness. And this patch of cleared trail. And the unbending fact that if I want to move forward, I have to do so without knowing what happens next.

For me, despite what appears to be an adventurous flair, change has always been bad. Not that things haven't ever changed for the good. But, to me, the character of change has always been not just a mischievous one, but a villainous one. Someone that brings death and loss. Someone I'd avoid even if he owed me money. Even if it was a lot of money. I just don't like the guy.

I guess, with this trip, I've had enough change that I realize the need for more. And it may be silly--at least in a past time, I would have argued so--but I really feel like this trip is part of that change, a catalyst, or, to be more metaphorically accurate, a trail, luring and leading me into the unknown.

So, again from Blue Highways, one more quote for the road.

"Maybe the road could provide a therapy through observation of the ordinary and obvious, a means whereby the outer eye opens an inner one. STOP, LOOK, LISTEN, the old railroad crossing signs warned. Whitman calls it 'the profound lesson of reception.'

New ways of seeing can disclose new things: the radio telescope revealed quasars and pulsars, and the scanning electron microscope showed the whiskers of the dust mite. But turn the question around: Do new things make for new ways of seeing?"

Some Places We Want to Go

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