Day Fourteen - Home

The final day of travel was quite smooth. As our plane pushed out of Seattle I was able to see Mounts Ranier and Hood resting on layers of cloud. From my seat, Rainer appeared almost touchable. The rest of the flight was spent catching up on politics and pop culture via the latest issue of Rolling Stone. I did wonder to myself what would happen if someone came to our planet with no reference for culture other than Rolling Stone. They would have quite the skewed outlook indeed.

We landed in Kansas City in the early evening and were back at Lloyd's an hour later. Completely worn out, yet famished, we sought out the only place the Northwest had been lacking: Buffalo Wild Wings. One final dinner together was followed by an evening of transferring photos and Seinfeld.

Early the next morning, I left Kansas City for home. I had much to think over having been gone for two weeks. Be sure many of these thoughts will continue to pop up on this blog in spite of the trip being officially over.

One of my favorite movies ever is Jaws. Not so much the parts of a giant fish eating tourists but the character development. Of all the great scenes this film has to offer, one that sticks out is an exchange between the characters played by Richard Dreyfuss and Roy Scheider as they swim back home, having sent the Great White to his doom by way of a conveniently placed oxygen tank. Sheider, the Chief of Police on Amity Island mentions to Dreyfuss, "I used to hate the water." In a half laugh of irony, his partner responds, "I can't imagine why."

Two weeks previous, as I was west bound on I-70, I recall thinking how much I hated driving through Missouri. Now that I was coming home, there was a sweetness to the drive.

From home,
Harvey.

Day Thirteen - Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

It is easily noted that Lloyd and I are in the home stretch of our trip. Today we aimlessly wandered through Seattle with little or no desire to become too involved. We passed through the market and were able to witness the world famous Pike's Fish Market where the employees are quite dynamic, throwing large gutted fish to one another. Another landmark we came upon was the location of the vary first Starbucks. As the line was outside and stretching down the street, we declined fancy coffee. Lunch was had at an authentic Irish pub called Fado'. Guinness BBQ wings, buffalo sandwiches and chips made for one of the best meals in two weeks.

We ventured down the road, frequenting the occasional bookstore. Over one block was Emerald City Guitars. Inside we found a collection of equipment not to be surpassed by any shop I've ever been in. The guitars were original collectors items ranging from a second year issue Strat for $45,000 to real vintage VOX amps to a 1965 D-18 Martin.

After leaving Emerald City, Lloyd and I decided it was time to find a place to get rid of several accumulated items which were unable to fly home including a cooler full of Dr. Pepper, a box of dry food, two outdoor folding chairs, and of course our speaker system from the car. We decided the baseball bat would be a bad idea to give away since it would upset the order and balance of things. The dry food went to a man laying on the sidewalk with a sign saying he was crippled and would sing for food. At a red light, Lloyd quickly jumped out of the car and delivered a large banana box full of crackers, nuts, granola, and assorted snacks to the bewildered man. We heard of a mission near the sports arena, so we drove in that direction, all the while looking for someone in need. The problem with Seattle is that most of it's down and out citizens aren't easily identifiable as in Chicago or San Francisco. At the same time, some of the city's more rustic looking gentlemen could be easily mistaken for a hobo or otherwise. Lloyd and I had to be sure. We rounded a corner near the mission and saw a large pile of odds and ends sitting in several grocery carts near the curb. We parked the car, looked around to see who might be observing us and quickly distributed our contribution.

We returned to the College Inn and both collapsed on our beds for a couple of hours. A couple of ironed shirts later as well as a short stint of Wikipedia-ing Reginald Vel Johnson and Jaleel White and we were arriving at Ray's Boathouse, a sea food restaurant of the highest quality in the Seattle area. We were seated near a large window with a stunning view overlooking the bay. The food, while quite expensive was very enjoyable. So far, I believe Seattle wins for best food in any city on this trip. After 17 wrong turns, Lloyd and I arrived back at the College Inn to close out the remainder of the evening.

Tomorrow, we board our flight back to Kansas City.

We have both agreed we won't be consuming any sliced deli meat for a while.

From Room 205 in Seattle,
H.

Day Twelve - Seattle 89

We left Boise, Idaho this morning for our last stretch of driving before we conclude Harvey & Lloyd Go West. Though the route was shorter than previous excursions, it seemed as if it would never end. Having already exhausted every musical, nutritional, conversational avenue, we were quite frankly, at the bottom of our bag of tricks. We trudged through Oregon along the Columbia River before finally entering Washington state. Making due at a road side Dairy Queen for lunch, I noticed a slight tendency of stalling between the both of us. As if we were both terrified of the inside of our car. After what seemed like days, we finally saw a sign that read: Seattle 89. I was so excited I would have done a victory dance had Chevy manufactured Malibu's a little larger. We finally had hope. Pushing on, we finally rolled into Seattle where we encountered rain for the first time in almost two weeks.

Our hotel for the next two nights is the College Inn in Seattle. As we pulled up to the front door, I could taste the apprehension between us both. The College Inn is located above Cafe Allegro in the Washington State University district. It is a European style hotel complete with shared restrooms and showers down the hall. Our room reminds us of an old apartment building used for late night stake outs for Chinese take-out eating detectives.

Having settled in as much as one can in this place, (which is actually growing on us now) we decided to seek out some dinner. I thought Italian sounded just right and so the search began. We found a place listed online called, Stella's. With a name like that, how could you go wrong? We drove around through the rain, vainly searching for a restaurant that has apparently been closed for some time. As we rounded the same corner for the fourth time, Lloyd mentioned seeing a spot that looked interesting a few blocks back. A few more tries at parking and we entered Mamma Melina's. The first thing I noticed was an old man singing opera while standing next to a much younger piano player. The lighting was dark and the tables were full. We were seated in a corner and making a long story short, we may have hit the jackpot for dining out with Mamma's. Turns out the singing guy is actually a local artist and genuine opera singer. He sang happy birthday to a nearby party followed by another number in his native tongue. The food was incredible and the atmosphere very comfortable.

We left Mamma's and returned to the College Inn. I sat down and began to write this. Now I'm done with this post.

Almost Finished,
H.

A Few Quick Pictures

Day Eleven – Leaving Las Vegas, Estimated Drive Time: 11 Hours, 8 Minutes

(Written from the car en route)

Well, we’re on our way up to Idaho. The Great Basin Highway is basically a two lane road that rolls though absolute desolation. In fact, Lloyd and I would like to issue a public service announcement to those seeking perfect nothingness in the form of Nirvana, (the state of being, not the influential grunge band from the early 90s) it appears to be located just north of Hiko on Nevada State Route 318.

It’s hard to imagine anything at all living out here but we did see a chipmunk cross the highway a few miles back. The corridor of hills and small mountains in the distance stand in opposition to one another. In the east, the landscape is covered in shrubbery and the distant peaks are heavily peppered with trees. To the west, the mountains are more traditionally bare and sharp. Occasionally we come across areas of greener grass but for the most part, it is a menacing, bleached earth covered in patchy scrub brushes like an adolescent attempt at facial hair.

(The rest of the drive was something like this)

We’re still here…

And we’re still here…

“I think I just saw a dead body on the side of the road. Don’t cross the mob.”

Yes, we’re still here…

“Was that a woman driving with a bird in the passenger seat?”

(Silence)

Seinfeld

Hey, we're in Idaho.


We finally arrived at our hotel in Boise around 9:00. It is by far the nicest room of the trip. A large suit complete with a couch, large comfy beds, an easy chair and two sinks. The rest of the night was spent eating pizza and watching Jaws.

So far, I love Idaho.

Still Here,

Harvey

Day 10 – A Second Chance at Sin City

The journey back to Las Vegas from the Grand Canyon was as smooth and easy as our surroundings were jagged and hard. Having stretched every method of song choosing from the I-Pod library, we resorted to a new form of creativeness as not to burn out early. The morning began with “Goodnight Rose”, the opening track from the latest Ryan Adams album. I decided we should next listen to “Give My Love to Rose” by Johnny Cash since it had a common word in the title. And with that, we spent the rest of the drive rotating songs dependant upon their connectivity within the title. This method is actually enjoyable and made the time on the highway fly by.

Before entering Vegas we stopped by the Lake Mead Marina as I had promised Lloyd schools and schools of fish to behold near the docks. In past visits, the fish have been so plentiful and aggressive, there exist the illusion that one could walk across their backs. Sadly, since it’s the middle of the summer, only about a fifth of the usual population were present. I suppose since the high was 112 degrees on this day, the smarter ones were sticking to the deeper, cooler water.

The Stratosphere stands high above all other hotel casinos in Las Vegas. A slightly obvious nod to the Seattle Space Needle, it rises high into the Nevada sky topped off with a small amusement park. The lines for checking in we moving me where fast. Quite a few frustrated patrons stood not so patiently as the plasma screens in front of us promised hard bodied males, seductive vampiresses (lady vampires, not sure that’s a word) and celebrity impersonations. At one point a lady dropped a small cooler which spilled ice and water all across the marble floor. No sooner had this occurred, than an unaware young woman happened by and well you can probably figure out the rest.

We arrived at our room after an endless walk though the casino and called Binion’s Ranch Steak House to make reservations. Unfortunately for us, the earliest we could get in was 9:00 that night. Having heard it was a standard in classic Vegas dining, we decided to go ahead and wait it out until 9:00 for dinner.

Our table at Binion’s was near the window on the 24^th floor of the hotel. I decided to go with a Ribeye while Lloyd ordered the New York. Though slightly overcooked for our tastes, the steaks were actually quite good, especially when accompanied with Binion’s famous peppercorn sauce. Between salads, steaks, cabernet, and cheesecake, Lloyd and I accumulated a bill totaling $118 before tip. To date, Lloyd is the most expensive dinner date to ever accompany myself.

Having perfected gluttony incarnate, we slowly returned to our room at the Stratosphere where I made a feeble attempt at watching the Bourne Identity.

We have quite a drive up the Great Basin highway tomorrow. The goal is to land in Boise, Idaho sometime before sunset.

If no further posts occur by Thursday night, please send a search party.

One Last Time From Las Vegas,

Harvey

Day Nine – The Grand Canyon and other Assorted Details

During the short time we have been behind the wheel of Stacy, our beloved Malibu rental from Hertz, we have taken in quite a few iconic postcardish moments. I’ve put together an easily navigated list.

Seattle

• Space Needle
• Mt. Ranier
  
• Countless Evergreen Trees
  
• A Starbucks on every corner

Portland

• Waterfalls
• Columbia Gorge
• Powell’s Bookstore
• Mt. Hood

South of Portland

• Mt. St. Helens
• Coastal cliffs and heads (heads are the mammoth rocks in the surf)
• Sunset over the Pacific

Northern California

• Redwood Forest
• Historic Highway 1
• A very blue Pacific Ocean
• A Big Foot Store

San Francisco

• Golden Gate Bridge
  
• China Town
  
• Cable Cars
  
• Alcatraz
  
• Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39
  
• Museum of Modern Art
  

Central to Southern California

• Vineyards
  
• Mojave Desert
• Joshua Trees

Las Vegas Nevada

• The Strip (consisting of such landmarks as the Luxor, Caesar’s, The Bellagio, MGM Grand and more.)
• Fremont Street (old Vegas, consisting of the Plaza, 4 Queens, Binions and the Golden Nugget.)
• Lake Mead
• The Hoover Dam

In having taken it all in, it seems only right that the apex of our trip should put us at the most visited spot in America: The Grand Canyon.

We arrived in Williams, Arizona around 3:30, checked into the local Howard Johnson’s and quickly sped away to highway 64, the Gateway to the Canyon. As much of this drive has been, there were of course, constant changes of scenery, going from a very rocky Arizona interstate to a more subdued Kaibab National Park full of trees and shrubs. We pulled into a spot near Mather Point just inside the park entrance. We had yet to have eaten anything of substance at this point and had talked about making something from the cooler before seeing the canyon. Then I think the two of us must have caught a glimpse of the magnitude of where we were and lunch was put on hold.

As I neared the edge I caught my first real look at the vast landscape. It was as if the earth had opened up before us in an extended yawn. Layers and layers of rock and sediment carved out and shaped into unsurpassed beauty for the whole world to see. One could look left and then right and never really catch the endpoints. They just seem to blur and fade out of the range of the human eye. After a few long looks from different points, we climbed the steps back to the parking lot. It was refreshing to see the eyes of those passing us towards their own first look at the canyon lit up in wonder and awe.

Lloyd and I drove to a few more points before finally settling just behind Bright Angel Lodge to catch a once in a lifetime sunset. The real show isn’t how the horizon strangles the sun but rather the resulting burning created by the afterglow. During the day, the canyon’s depth plays tricks on your eyes with all the patchy shadows sprinkled across the floor. When the sun finally sets, the colors become more even and the canyon goes from a noisy rock star to a sleeping child. Most visitors become more quiet and reverent as they take in the burning red cliffs.

That said, I can’t describe it any more**. You really have to experience the canyon and my feeble attempts to put such beauty into words only mocks it’s grandeur.

We returned to Williams just as the sun had all but given up hope. We found a Mexican restaurant called Pancho McGuilicuddy’s and decided to give it a shot. While the food and service was disappointingly bland, Lloyd and I did enjoy the guitar slinging cowboy who serenaded the dinner guests with everything from Marty Robbins to Johnny Cash to The Band. We closed out of Pancho’s and drove out into the middle of nowhere to get a look at the stars from the desert. In the absence of much of any distant glowing city, they were more brilliant and plentiful here than in most places on the planet. Once ones eyes could adjust, more and more distant lights began to emerge. This trip has definitely had a recurring theme of witnessing the grand spectrum of the world. It is true that we are indeed small.

Tomorrow we return to Las Vegas for a taste of civilization before we embark on Route 93 through Nevada, also known as America’s Loneliest Highway. Armed with a cooler full of Gatorade and lunchmeat, two I-Pods worth of songs, and 3 gallons of water in the trunk, Lloyd and I are finally starting to turn towards home.

Always,
H.

**For further reading on the Grand Canyon, see Donald Miller’s, Through Painted Deserts.

Reflections

It all started early this morning at a 24 hour Laundromat in Vegas. A weeks worth of traveling had accumulated quite the collection of dirty laundry and being at the halfway point of our trip, I felt it was time to remedy that. It was 7:00 in the morning and already 90 degrees. I had asked Lloyd if he wanted to come along but his gesture of rolling over in his bed and muttering incoherence spoke for itself. Once downstairs, I pushed my way through an already busy casino area at the Excalibur. It's not often one gets to witness fellas downing Coronas and Bud Lites at such an early hour. Anyway, a few buttons pushed into Alice our GPS and I arrived at my destination. Once the quarters were all deposited and vending machine boxes of Tide were dispensed, I was able to sit down and for the first time reflect on the trip so far. We have covered so much ground in such little time. I'm still amazed at all of the geographical, climate and cultural changes we've crossed in just 2200 miles.

The northwest is one of the most easy going and refreshing parts of the world I've ever been to. Every direction you look is painted in a rolling, lush, evergreen tone. If the Atlantic Ocean is beautiful by its grace, surely the Pacific is by its power. The coastal cliffs provide a barricade for the sea as its rolling white tides daily pummel the shore. The rocks that shoot up out of the surf stand isolated like small mountains, taunting the relentless aggression of the Northern Pacific.

The snow capped mountains in the distance, such as Ranier, Hood, and St. Helens stand like a distant observer, puzzled at the civilizations that have cut roads and highways through the once undisturbed landscape. Waterfalls, canyons, and rives required millions of years to tear their way through to existence while the open road has staked its claim in just a short century. Still, the citizens of the northwest seem quite concerned with preserving as much as possible the beauty that is their home. Furthermore, they have been some of the most friendly folks we've met on this trip.

The redwood trees of Northern California are some of the largest living organisms on the planet. The sheer size is breathtaking and surreal as most trees this large are usually seen in prehistoric films. The redwood trees are soft and often hollowed out at their base. While most remain upright, quite a number have fallen over and lay still like sleeping giants not to be disturbed.

Once we we're out of the forest, we were once again driving along the coast. Only this time the ocean was a much brighter blue than in the north. There was also much more development along these highways with an eternity of signs prophesying an abundance of tourist traps in our future. The cliffs along the coast were even higher than the ones in Oregon. While traveling down historic Highway 1, we were constantly changing direction and elevation as the road is like a 300 mile snake, lying still along the sea.

The city of San Francisco is a sometimes grid, sometimes catacomb of streets, neighborhoods, and districts. The wharf area looking out over the bay is a circus town full of restaurants, boat rides, sea lions and one very bad magician. The whole area smells like fish with everyone from street vendors to five star restaurant offering clam chowder and crab legs. The evenings are actually quite chilly as wind from the bay funnels through the city streets.

The drive from San Francisco to Las Vegas is like the ever changing weather in Illinois. For a while, we were surrounded by thousands of acres of vineyards on either side of the highway. This eventually mutated into golden rolling hills chasing us for miles. To the outskirts stood the questionable mountains. Not always so grand as to be defined as such nor so meager as hills. They were the social outcasts of purple majesty overlooking fruited plains in the north. Like a scavenger, keeping its distance for a time, waiting for any signs of death, these ranges zoomed in and out of our periphery for miles. As we passed though the Mojave desert, we caught scattered glimpses of angry Joshua trees, mocking travelers with their contorted expressions. The closer we came to Nevada, the more traditional the carved out mountains became. Sharp edges, layers of slopes, dazzling peaks of a consistent grayish, reddish, brown leaned in close as we passed through their bellies.

No sooner had we crossed the state line than the highway became a side show of hotels, casinos, gift shops and amusement parks. All standing isolated in the desolate wasteland, false gods of the ensuing Mecca known as the strip. Hotels and casinos featuring tributes to every culture known and not known to man. Demonstrations of man's ability to create and self destruct. Magicians, comedians, and showgirls are promised to all via billions of watts of electric power. Romanesque archways and pillars, Egyptian pyramids and obelisks, Medieval castles and even scale replicas of Paris and New York City; when the aliens invade this planet, they're going to be quite confused at the space-time collision that occurred in southern Nevada.

All of this has brought me to the present, watching partially wet laundry tumble and chase itself in a coin operated dryer. So far, our trip has taken us to more places in just over a week than most people see in a life time. In gaining some perspective on the world and taking something away other than postcards and dirty laundry, I am pondering the immensity of this planet as I've really only seen about 8 percent of it now. I am overwhelmed, not only by the overload of beauty these eyes have beheld but the grace that follows us every step we take. This grace that found me in central Illinois and has chased me all the way to Vegas. The grace that provides paths and strength and points of escape when necessary.

This city is a wonder working marvel with a deep undertone of worlds of sadness without end. Finding the bottom of the bottle and realizing there was nothing there to begin with. While the lights, bells and whistles of the dog and pony show seek to mask the despair, one can breath it in like the fresh mountain air of Portland. That which everyone seeks and finds with all their hearts is given freely, leaving the empty feeling of having passionately focused their affections on mere trinkets. What was supposed to deliver has failed miserably and therefore, we must construct more in order to create for ourselves newer pursuits. Though the lights never shut down, every shift has to go home and face themselves without the adornments. To shower and try to wash away the day though another is only hours away.

This city... Oh, wait, you thought I was talking about Las Vegas.

I think my clothes are dry now.


Permanently Pressed,
H.

Mid Point

For a few photos of our trip, go to: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/album.php?aid=139701&id=504510343


More to come soon.

From Howard Johnson in Williams, AZ,
Harvey

Day Eight - Viva Las Vegas or Elvis and All of His Freinds - Part One

So this one is gonna be pretty straight forward. We left San Francisco and it was 62 degrees. We arrived in Las Vegas and it reached 106. During our drive through the Mojave Desert we saw very little besides mountains, hills, Joshua Trees and Truck Stops. We also barely missed a car accident when a Honda Fit, which was two cars ahead of us, spun out of control and spun around and slammed head first into the guard rail in the median going full speed. The highway was covered in a cloud of dust, dirt and rocks everywhere. Fortunately for us, we were able to steer clear of it and emerge with only a few scratches on the car.

We also had a less the stellar meal at Carl's Jr. That'll teach us to eat fast food on the road.

We arrived in Vegas with only an hour to spare before having dinner with my family at Sam's Town. After a haphazard attempt at ironing a shirt, we drove across town and arrived at one of the city's older coastal casinos. Inside was a buffet of enormity, serving everything from Italian to American to Mexican to Asian to everything in between. After a few hours with my family, Lloyd and I made our way to Downtown Las Vegas to witness the Fremont Experience. It is the world's largest overhead screen that stretches three city blocks. The show was mostly a big commercial for all that Vegas has to offer.

From there, we returned to our home, The Excalibur where, after spending 9 hours in a car, we crashed.

There we no doubt be more to tell of our adventures in Sin City as we will be returning after our trip to the Grand Canyon.

From the Road,
Harvey

Day Seven - The San Francisco Treat

Today we embarked upon some fast paced city living. Enter, San Francisco. We began our day by purchasing an all day pass for all public transit and with that, Lloyd and I began our exploration of the Bay City by entering into the market in China Town.

San Francisco's China Town district is the oldest and largest Asian district in America. Countless shops, some with ancient Shinto temple decor while others were simply storefronts, selling everything from disposable cameras to Buddha busts and statues to fresh fruit to knick knacks.

We crossed a street at the end of China Town and found ourselves in the Italian district. Lunch was had at an authentic Italian deli called, Molinari's. Our Salame (spelled in the Italian fashion) were the best we've had on this trip so far, and believe me, we've consumed some sandwiches on this trip.

From there we hoofed it towards the world famous Fisherman's Wharf. It was what one would expect, actually very similar to Navy Pier in Chicago with the exception of a large Sea Lion population loitering the harbor. From our spot we we're able to catch a fairly decent view of Alcatraz. We continued through our tour , stopping at an old retired submarine, Maritime ship, and a museum of the history of coin operated games and puzzles.

We caught our first rail car ride over to Pier 1 where a Pirate festival was taking place. From there we ventured back over near China Town and up the world's steepest hill to the top of Coit Tower. I have to say, it's not really worth the effort. After looking around for a couple of minutes we walked down the word's longest staircase and boarded a bus to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Inside we beheld four floors oil paintings, sculptures, and exhibits from the thought provoking to the very odd to the obviously absurd. Picasso, Pollack, and Dali were all present as well as a photographic display by Lee Miller. Also intriguing was a Chinese art display of Mao sleeping in a sea of dinosaurs. In the cafe, I grabbed a chocolate chip cookie for some energy and hopped on another bus en route to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Lloyd and I were able to catch a bit of entertainment by a few frustrated locals who were unable to get off the bus at their desired stop. Many profanities and slurs were sent to the driver from the back of the bus over the heads of a bewildered German family. At the entrance to the bridge, Lloyd, myself and German family made our way to the center of one of America's most well known works of architecture. The mammoth orange cables and I-beams stretching across the tumultuous bay vibrated often as countless automobiles passed by. A few pictures here and there, a couple of bus changes later and Lloyd and I put the finishing touches on our day in San Francisco, courtesy of local favorite, Tommy's Joynt. Fresh carved roast beef, mashed potatoes, and over one hundred beers to choose from, Lloyd and I looked back on our day in San Francisco with great satisfaction.

Tomorrow we roll into Vegas. For myself, it will almost be like coming home.

From San Francisco,
Harvey

Day Six - The Long and Winding Road

The morning air was as cold as the ground was hard. Lloyd and I packed up the campsite into the trunk of our faithful Malibu known as Stacy and bid farewell to Jedediah Smith Redwood Forest. The rest of the day has been monotonously intriguing. Since the interstate seemed a less entertaining drive, we decided a scenic route would be the better decision. Route 101 through northern California is for the most part park after park of Giant Redwoods. After a couple of hours we connected with the world famous California State Highway 1 and from there things turned (and turned and turned and turned) for the worse.

The next 200 miles of road was a continuous winding road that spun out of control into every direction and every elevation. While pretty enough for the most part, 7 hours later it was exhausting as Lloyd pretty much steered us through the same pattern over and over again:

• Left downhill
• 180 back uphill
• Left uphill
• Left downhill

We followed this pattern hundreds of times until finally, when all hope seemed lost, we spotted a sign connecting us once again with U.S. 101. Having completed his portion of highway driving, Lloyd handed the wheel over and I finished out the remaining portion into San Francisco, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge in the process which afforded myself all the pleasure on the planet.

Upon arriving at the Hotel Monarch, Lloyd and I ventured down the street for some Thai food. On our way we were greeted by some local color who serenaded us with the theme from The Jefferson's, ("The beans don't burn on the grill"). Not really being a regular connoisseur of Thai, I pretty much let Lloyd do the ordering. Not surprisingly I was pretty happy with his choice. Tomorrow we see what the city has in store for us.

H.

Postscript - there were a few bright sides to our drive including Mitch Hedberg, driving through a giant tree and seeing the town, Bodega Bay where Alfred Hitchcock filmed The Birds.

For those of you anxiously awaiting, I'm sure Lloyd has more photos to follow soon.

Day Five - Lessons Learned

We awoke Thursday morning in the land of Giants. The night before, having arrived ill equipped for camping of any sort, I 'm not sure Lloyd and I realized the magnitude of where we were. Road weary and frustrated by our lack of light, we had simply thrown up a tent and faded out. As I struggled out of the zipper the next morning, I realized I was dwarfed by an army of California Redwoods. And though impressive enough, nothing compared to what was waiting for us just across the river.

As we hiked the two mile Haouchi trail, we continued to see trees wider than most cars and taller than most city structures. Having completed our first trail, we then ventured in the other direction where we found even more trees of enormity, some of them twice the size in comparison to the largest ones on the Haouchi trail.

We returned to our camp site and decided to go into Crescent City for dinner. King's Pizza won our hearts with their heavily topped crust full of all things imaginable. A quick trip to the local Wal-Mart for fire building supplies and before we knew it, we were back at our campsite, strumming aimlessly on the guitar and watching each log closely as it burned to ashes. As I drifted off for a second night under the watchful eye of the wooden mammoths, I mulled over a few lessons learned:

• Always carry a flashlight.
• Like manna, only take enough roast beef for one day.
• State Park Showers take quarters.
• Never eat at Denny's. No matter how hungry you think you are.
• Sasquai (SASS-KWY) is the plural of Sasquatch
• God made big trees and small people and bears in between.

Kindest Regards,
Harvey

Day Four - Life Finds a Way

In the film, Jurassic Park we learn from Jeff Goldblum’s character that “life finds a way.” He was of course referring to the way a species of dinosaurs cloned only as females were able to reproduce. Life finds a way. The first three days of our trip, while invigorating, were somewhat frustrating due to the lack of I-pod music. Between the two of us, Lloyd and myself have well over 7000 songs on our pocket entertainment systems. That said, we feel the west coast deserves to hear a few selected tracks. The main problem has been with that there are so many radio stations, our FM transmitter purchased from Wal-Mart in Renton has been little or no use. Occasionally, if one contorts their body in the correct position while holding the I-Pod and transmitter exactly 19 inches apart, a song may be played with only minimal static. On Wednesday morning, Lloyd and I upped the ante as we left Wal-Mart with a set of external computer speakers complete with a desktop subwoofer. We have forsaken all notions of the car’s system and outfitted our ride with the “HL-9000”. Having faced our obstacle and overcome, I like to think that we are a modern day example of adaptation. Also included is a splitter for our I-pods that we may rotate songs during our drive. Having finally suited ourselves with a proper audio system, we began our descent through Oregon via coastal Highway 101.

The drive began as a winding path through the thickest parts of the state’s coastal forest. While the drive afforded an attractive view, it was somewhat claustrophobic as the shade and trees closed us in from open sky or water. We stopped by the Umpqua Lighthouse to get our first view of the Pacific Ocean. I had forgotten the awkwardness of walking on sand since I haven’t seen the ocean in almost four years. Leaving shoes and cell phone behind I stepped toward the shore as the water ran across my feet and ankles. I was surprised at how freezing it was. I had been to the Atlantic in Cape Cod, which is fairly cold but noting as intensely frigid as the Northern Pacific. After lunch overlooking the sea, we took back to the open road and continued south.

Now there are certain laws in nature such as gravity, thermodynamics and whatnot. There are laws for boys as well. First, if there is a girl within a fifty foot radius, we will take to showing off like a Labrador to water. Of the many laws I could list, the one pertinent to this story is that if there is something in the area that is even remotely climbable, we will make an attempt. As we were passing though Port Orford we were suddenly given a glimpse of stunning ocean view. Near the beach below were dozens enormous rocks jutting up out of the sea while the tide slammed hard against them. Near the shore was one steep monster that probably stretched forty or fifty feet above the ocean that looked somewhat accessible by foot. We climbed to the top and stood near the edge getting an impressive view of the coast. Apparently, nine settlers fought valiantly from this spot back in the day as we later found out the rock was actually named Battle Rock.

We continued on our drive, glancing out the windows at the beautiful coastal regions passing by. Then we turned a corner and everything opened up. Before us stood Mount Humbug and just to our right was one of the most breathtaking sights on this trip so far. It was becoming later in the day and as such the tide was intensely increasing. The rocks in the coves had doubled in size and the ocean tide was launching a full on assault against their bases. In a small cove lay a pile of dead trees, brittle and white having been bleached by the sun. From a distance it looked like the remains of an ancient prehistoric sea monster having found it’s final resting place. The sun was only moments from touchdown so we decided to wait it out. I was surprised by how fast it sinks once it hits the water. Like a ship whose hull has been breeched, she was swallowed by the sea in a matter of moments. The glow over the western horizon was a brilliant pink and blue and white.

I can only speak for myself at this point but my senses were overwhelmed and heavy. My spirit was in awe of everything that had enveloped in the past hour. I feel like my heart was vulnerable and something resembling worship was raging inside. As we continued our ride I decided to kick on Rich Mullins', “World As Best As I Can Remember It Vol. I”. It played out almost until we arrived at our destination at the Jedediah Smith Redwood Forest.

Before I fell asleep that night I made sure to tell Him thank-you. Not only for getting us here safely, but for also allowing me to take in all this beauty in such little time. So much has been so heavy as of late. Ultimately, a separation of some wheat and chaff is in order. And life finds a way.

Day Three - Ascending

The great thing about being on the road with Lloyd is the lack of any obligation to anything at all. We're kind of free to move at our own pace. As such, when presented with the option of interstate or scenic route this morning, we chose the latter.

The Columbia Gorge stretches for miles along the river between Washington and Oregon. Rigid cliffs stand like sentries guarding the river banks. The sky was a hazy overcast, lightly covering the tops of the green landscapes with a light hovering mist. We took a winding road up to an area of state parks and finally arrived at Multnomah Falls. It is a 560 ft waterfall cascading over a mossy cliff face. It was a wonderful sight. Legend has it that an Indian princess threw herself to her death from the top of the falls in order to appease the Great Spirit as there was an epidemic disease spreading throughout the camp. Today, they say if you look close enough as the water moves down the cliff, you can see her face in the water. Unfortunately for myself, I was unable to see this phenomenon. Either the princess is on vacation as well or she had a stony, mossy face.

Of course, once we arrived at the falls we were obligated to make the one mile ascent to the top. As Lloyd was busy taking photos I decided to get a head start. Starting out it wasn't so bad. The grade was easy going and the walk was beautiful. But one mile uphill isn't to be toyed with lightly. About half way up it was time to ditch my sweatshirt, take a swig of water, grab some gum and kick it into high gear. By the time I reached the top my lungs were on fire as were my legs. I finally arrived at the look out point. It was a great view where one could take in miles of scenery. I enjoyed watching others arrive as worn out as I was expressing great relief in their eyes. The descent was much more pleasant and it felt good to encourage others as they "followed in your footsteps." Upon reaching the bottom I stopped by the snack bar and enjoyed a twist cone in celebration of my hike. Lloyd arrived an hour later having remained at the top to take photographs of masterpiece potential I'm sure. He knows a lot about photography. He explained it all to me while eating lunch today but the only thing I remember now from that moment is getting stung by a bee on my foot.

We returned to our room, showered, and left for the Portland Zoo for an evening with Emmy Lou Harris. It was quite a pleasant time as the residents of Portland approach concert going far different than those who attend shows at Riverport. It seemed everyone had acquired their wardrobe from L.L. Bean. While most concert goers in the Midwest feed off of nachos and Miller-Lite, our new friends consumed bottle after bottle of red and white wines. The show was great though the first half of it was somewhat frustrating since our seats were as far back as you could go. I had also forgotten my hoodie and while July is typically the hottest month of the year, it was 65 degrees out. By sunset I was freezing so I ventured forward to purchase a coffee drink. I noticed many people were gathered near the stage and not being asked to move so Lloyd and I did likewise. We definitely enjoyed Emmy Lou and and company from there. She closed out and we returned to our abode but not before stopping for a late night dinner at Muchas Gracias, a 24 hour Mexican restaurant.

In the three days we have been on the road I have felt the anticipation of a certain redemption taking place. It is surely coming. I am reminded of Langston Hughes' poetry of a dream differed.

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun...
Or does it explode.

Tomorrow we leave for California where we will camp out in the Giant Redwood forest.


Kindest Regards,
Harvey

Day Two - Getting Started

Upon leaving the Seattle area it became evident that the problem of not having a way to listen to our I-Pods is becoming increasingly annoying. Just when the vibe of a song starts to kick in, it is lost in a sea of static.

Anyhow, we started our day at the Safeway Grocery Store where we purchased food for our trip including my new favorite road food, Ranier Cherries. We eventually arrived at the sight of Mt. St. Helens where we observed the decapitated mountain from a lookout point. After a short stop at the museum we continued to Portland where we are staying at another Guest House Motel. This one is a little less stellar but it'll work.

After a bit of down time, we ventured to Downtown Portland. On the way we were able to see a magnificent Mt. Hood in the distance. We took a short river walk where we were stopped by a British girl who claimed to be part of a radio show and wanted to question us about virtual reality. After fumbling through some "answers" we kind of lost ourselves getting back to our car. We then sought out our only obligation for the evening, Powell's Books. It is a wonder unlike anything I have every seen. A full city block, four stories of over one million new and used books including many first editions and rare collections. We spent several hours hacking our way through jungles of paperbacks, hardcovers, reference, fiction, philosophical and otherwise. While Lloyd was being swallowed by the philosophy section, I ventured over to the historical and U.S. war area. There, while looking over their Civil War collection I was asked by a bystander if I knew much about said war since he was taking a class pertinent to it. Being from Springfield, Illinois I was only happy to point this guy in the right direction. It was nice to finally have some personal interaction with someone out here.

After reconvening with Lloyd we decided it was time to make our exit and find some dinner. This turned out to be a local pub known as Blitz. After a couple of good sandwiches, fries and otherwise, my friend and I returned to our motel where I finished my Humanities final.

H.

Images - Day 1

Day One - We Have Arrived

We both arrived safely at the Seattle Tacoma Airport yesterday morning. Wasting little time, we picked up our bags, had a slight delay at the Hertz rental counter and soon found ourselves in a parking garage with our only other friend for the next two weeks: a Chevy Malibu. She is gray. Not silver mind you, yet not battleship gray either. She is Chevy-Gray. Not pretty, not ugly. We have named this new friend of ours (yes there was much reluctance from the other party involved) Malibu Stacy.

As we checked the car over it became apparent that there was one item missing from this vehicle: an auxiliary input (or a way to plug in our I-Pods.) No worries, we threw our bags into the trunk and ventured out to the open road. Washington is an awe inspiring state with mountainous regions layering the horizon and legions of evergreens scattered here and there. We ventured over to the Seattle center where we found a festival known as "A Bite of Seattle" occurring. Tents and vendors selling everything from smoked salmon to chocolate covered fruit to Jesus were lining the streets in every direction.

After taking a few pictures and eating lunch, Lloyd and I made our way to Seattle's iconic Space Needle. The view at the top is incredible as you can see seaplanes landing in the harbor, a distant Mt. Ranier and an oddly colored museum below.

Upon leaving downtown we checked into the Guest House Suites in Renton and found dinner at nearby Vince's where I trusted Lloyd to order toppings appropriate for pizza. Pepperoncini's are actually decent with black olives and sausage.

We closed out day one with the Dark Knight.

I'm sure there will be much more to say of our first hours in the Pacific Northwest but I must say goodnight for now.

Always,
Harvey

Striking Out * or * The Pessimist

Blogspot just ate my post...I will attempt a brief reconstruction.

I've just completed the transfer of all of my CDs to the iPod. I swore the day would never come, but here I am, 2105 songs digitally loaded and ready to go. My head should have found its way to a pillow some number of hours ago, but there was plenty still to be done: bags to pack, an apartment to clean, and a head-clearing walk to take.

The two weeks away will be good for me. Not that Kansas City has been bad. It's actually been quite good to me these last few months. I feel like I have a trajectory now. My hope for my time on the coast, then, is that I am able to build up a little momentum. To gain a little bit more perspective that I otherwise wouldn't be able to gain in the busy workaday world. I'm vacationing--vacating--but only spatially. The last thing I want to do is leave my heart and my head unattended for two weeks only to come back and forget what it is that I'm supposed to be doing, or who it is that I'm supposed to be.

As an aide in being deliberate about my time, I'll be keeping a few old friends (mostly dead) in tow...Madeleine L'Engle, writing about her marriage...Gerard Manley Hopkins and George Herbert, two men who stand out quietly amongst the greatest poets of Christendom (and Hopkins as one of poetry's best minor poets) writing about God, man, death, life, and everything in between...Flannery O'Connor with her twisted tales of unexpected grace...and G.K. Chesterton, with his ruminations on romance and redemption, Orthodoxy. It is from that work that I've drawn some inspiration lately. I will leave you with a (somewhat lengthy...apologies...) quote and a few thoughts:

What is the matter with the pessimist? I think it can be stated by saying that he is the cosmic anti-patriot. And what is the matter with the anti-patriot? I think it can be stated, without undue bitterness, by saying that he is the candid friend. And what is the matter with the candid friend? There we strike the rock of real life and immutable human nature.

I venture to say that what is bad in the candid friend is simply that he is not candid. He is keeping something back -- his own gloomy pleasure in saying unpleasant things. He has a secret desire to hurt, not merely to help. This is certainly, I think, what makes a certain sort of anti-patriot irritating to healthy citizens. I do not speak (of course) of the anti-patriotism which only irritates feverish stockbrokers and gushing actresses; that is only patriotism speaking plainly. A man who says that no patriot should attack the Boer War until it is over is not worth answering intelligently; he is saying that no good son should warn his mother off a cliff until she has fallen over it. But there is an anti-patriot who honestly angers honest men, and the explanation of him is, I think, what I have suggested: he is the uncandid candid friend; the man who says, "I am sorry to say we are ruined," and is not sorry at all. And he may be said, without rhetoric, to be a traitor; for he is using that ugly knowledge which was allowed him to strengthen the army, to discourage people from joining it. Because he is allowed to be pessimistic as a military adviser he is being pessimistic as a recruiting sergeant. Just in the same way the pessimist (who is the cosmic anti-patriot) uses the freedom that life allows to her counsellors to lure away the people from her flag. Granted that he states only facts, it is still essential to know what are his emotions, what is his motive. It may be that twelve hundred men in Tottenham are down with smallpox; but we want to know whether this is stated by some great philosopher who wants to curse the gods, or only by some common clergyman who wants to help the men.

Long-winded though he may be, Mr. Chesterton makes a valid point. We walk through this world and life with the choice to love it (as a man might love his wife) and defend it and fight for its betterment. When we stand and face the horrors of the world--and face them we will--we must make a decision. We must take those cold hard facts and either declare with a perverse pleasure that we are doomed, or set our faces like flint toward redemption and get to work. The data won't decide for us: we must make the choice.

With that, I'm off to bed. Hopefully future posts will gravitate toward the...lighter?

All the best,

Lloyd

Day Zero

• Breakfast with McDonalds
• Last minute shopping with Target
• Hugs good-bye with Laura
• I-55 with Outkast and Ravi
• I-70 with George Lopez and Bob Seger
• Wii and cookies with Jon and Rebecca
• I-435 with Rich and ACDC
• Oklahoma Joe's with Skoog
• Humanities final with Dylan
• Walk with Dylan and Skoog

And so it lingers past midnight and neither one of us has any interest towards going to bed.

Tomorrow we see the Emerald City

To OZ

Affectionately Yours,
Harvey

Sincerly, Harvey

I don't remember exactly how this trip began to gestate from zygotic to heartbeat and brainwaves. I do remember ordering tickets and reserving a rental car in January. My inbox told me so. Since then, my friend Lloyd and I have worked tirelessly to create the trip presented in the last post. So far, the longest drive I myself have completed in one sitting is from Springfield, IL to Amarillo, TX which was about 850 miles. We left at 1:00 in the morning and arrived sometime around 7:00 the next evening. Though none of our distances are quite this long, we are doing several long segments including 570 miles from San Francisco to Las Vegas and what could soon come to be known as the suicidal trek of 630 miles from Vegas to Boise, Idaho straight up the eastern half of Nevada. In spite of this, I am beyond desperate for the weekend to arrive that we may begin our quest. Aside from clothing and a small fortune to blow on gas, I have a few personal goals accompanying me on this trip.

• Stand in the Pacific Ocean
• Read a book of the Bible
• Read something I've put off reading
• Listen to an abundance of music, much that I have neglected lately
• See the stars from the desert
• Write
• Meet interesting characters
• See the Golden Gate Bridge
• See the Grand Canyon, possibly see the sunset over
• Not get raped or killed i.e., Deliverance or The Hills Have Eyes
• Get rained on in Seattle
• See big trees
• Experience Fremont in Vegas

I see that I need to be at work in 15 minutes.

One week.

Itinerary

Just to give an idea to the waiting world of just where our adventures will take us, I give you our itinerary. How this all pans out remains to be scene.

Total Distance: 3033.26 miles
Total Time: 48.0 hours 39 minutes

All of this is to be accomplished in two weeks.

July 20
Seattle, WA - Avg. Gas Price = $4.30

July 21, 22
Portland, OR - Avg. Gas Price = $4.15

July 23, 24
Gasquet, CA - Avg. Gas Price = $4.78
Jedediah Smith Redwood Forrest

July 25, 26
San Francisco, CA - Avg. Gas Price = $4.50

July 27
Las Vegas, NV - Avg. Gas Price = $4.15

July 28
Williams, AZ - Avg. Gas Price = $4.20
South Rim Grand Canyon

July 29
Las Vegas, NV

July 30
Boise, ID - Avg. Gas Price = $4.10

July 31, August 1, 2
Seattle, WA

One Week Out

We are one week away from our flight to Seattle. Hours of planning, hundreds of [RE] e-mails passed back and forth over weeks at a time, pennies saved and earned, several trips to the VISA card kiosk at the mall are finally culminating into the long anticipated trip which has come to be known as Harvey and Lloyd Go West. I myself still have two finals, three papers, and five shifts left before I begin my trek to Kansas City which is sort of my own personal prequel, my Hobbit if you will to the great trilogy sure to follow. In the midst of frenzied anticipation, I have basically resided myself to a state of affluence. Society will be lucky if I even acknowledge her obligatory passing smile over the next five days. I am so focused on leaving I'm practically already gone.

The Rules (I)

1. Should a Mexican man found in the desert, bleeding and dying in the cab of a pickup truck which appears to have been involved in a drug-deal gone bad, start begging for 'agua,' under NO circumstances--no matter how tortured a conscience--is there to be any returning to the scene with said agua.

2. There is to be no picking up of hitchhikers on any lonely Nevada highways. This applies especially but not exclusively to busty, scantily-clad hitchhikers walking away from broken-down Hondas made in the mid-1980's.

Everything in its Right Place

• Determine duration and dates of trip: Check (Dec. '07)
• Reserve airline tickets and car rental: Check (Jan. '08)
• Make abortive attempt at planning details of trip and purchase tickets to Radiohead in St. Louis instead: Check (Mar. '08)

So far, so good...