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An Old World Town in a New World Region

In the U.S.A., we are quite accustomed to the seeing certain kinds of towns in certain parts of the country. Since cities were built earlier on the East Coast, we expect to see towns laid out like Boston, Annapolis, or Charleston. These cities tend to be a bit more challenging to navigate, as is particularly the case with Boston.

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By contrast, in the Western part of the country, we expect to see towns built more around automobile (or the automobile’s predecessor in the late 19^th Century, the horse drawn carriage). Cities like Phoenix, designed with driving in mind, have mostly straight-line roads, with suburban areas having windy subdivisions.

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This is what we have come to expect from towns in this part of the country. So, when I first looked at Santa Fe’s road network, I was quite surprised to see a city full of windy roads that resembled something I would expect to see along the East Coast, or in Europe.

Oddly enough, New Mexico is one of the oldest regions in the U.S., at least when it comes to architecture. The historical lineage is just different. New Mexico is home to over a hundred Native American Pueblos that date back to long before anyone associated with the United States of America would arrive. Many of them are still inhabited, with some having been inhabited for over 1000 years! This is quite a long time for this part of the world.

Santa Fe, New Mexico’s capitol city was founded originally as a Spanish colony in 1610, ten years before the Mayflower would come ashore in Massachusetts, and still retains much of its original Spanish style. In some ways, driving into New Mexico feels like entering a whole different region, fairly instantaneously. I first noticed this storm chasing in college. It was my first time in New Mexico, or Arizona. I was previously unaware of the prevalence of adobe style buildings in these two states, and was somewhat surprised to see how abruptly the styles of the building around me changed once I crossed the border from Texas into New Mexico.

Santa Fe appears to have retained much of its cultural heritage. Aware that New Mexico has a substantial Spanish history, I decided that it might be a good idea to check out a Spanish restaurant downtown.

Taberna came highly recommended by the staff at the hotel, and certainly did not disappoint. The food was excellent, and, on this particular evening, a performer named Jesus Bas performed for the customers. I sincerely, if only for a moment while sipping a glass of wine, tasting enchiladas, and hearing Spanish music, felt like I was in Spain. Well, at the very least, it made me want to go to Spain.

I decided to somewhat follow in the footsteps of one of the people who inspired me to start writing about my travels, Anthony Bourdaine. For those not familiar, he is a chef who eventually became the host of a series of food related travel shows. I watched a lot of his previous Travel Channel show No Reservations, where he did not just simply describe the food he was eating, he would also reflect upon the experience, what certain places made him feel like, and what historical context they can be placed in and such. His current show, which is actually a bit less food focused and more focused on the travel is called Parts Unknown. So, I was actually quite excited to see a souvenir shop actually called Parts Unknown. Additionally, the shop is located only a few doors down from one of the places Anthony Bourdaine visited on the Season 2 episode where he travels around New Mexico; the Five and Dime, a shop where he gets a Frito Chili Pie, a commonly served dish in New Mexico.

I did not end up getting the Frito Chili Pie, as there were a limited number of meals I could have here in Santa Fe. I mostly just looked around at the souvenirs available in this shop, which featured Santa Fe’s connection to one of my favorite aspects of American History, route 66 (although the route bypassed Santa Fe starting in 1937).

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I ended up going to a place called Horesman’s Haven, a small restaurant on the edge of Santa Fe famous for authentic New Mexican style food where Anthony Bourdaine was caught off guard by the level of spice in their green chili.

My chili was not quite as spicy, but still packed quite a punch. I am glad it did! Many people try to avoid spicy food while on vacation, to avoid experiencing an upset stomach while far from home. In this case, the level of spice was an important part of the experience. Life is meant to be experienced. Some people spend their entire lives trying to avoid bad outcomes. In my view this is a sure fire way to miss out on countless rewarding experiences. Bad outcomes are going to happen. We just need to manage them in our own way. Missing out on a whole bunch of experiences, and I am talking about things much more significant than one high quality meal, bears a much greater cost than the occasional unfavorable outcome.

I am guessing this is the attitude taken by the unexpectedly high number of people who make a living as an artist in this town. In the downtown part of Santa Fe, it seemed like half of all buildings house art galleries. Santa Fe is known for art galleries, but there seemed to be way more than is necessary to support a town of roughly 70,000 people, even if all of those people are wealthy and have dozens and dozens of pieces of artwork hanging from all of their walls.

Like New Mexico as a whole, Santa Fe appears to have an interesting set of values that does not fit neatly into one of the categories we have become familiar with. It is western, but also European. It is cowboy, but also quite diverse.

It is a state capital, but has a state capital building that looks nothing like any of the other ones I have seen across the country.

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It is the kind of place that erects historical markers dedicated to fiscal responsibility, an important, even if not flashy, achievement, and one that reflects the western values of personal responsibility.

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It is also a place that erects building dedicated to the memory horrible death marches in Europe.

It is both “old world”, and “new world”. It does what we all need to do, both in our own cities, and more importantly, individually. It combines old ideas with new ideas in a way that uniquely represents its individual identity.

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 2: Chico Hot Springs to Yellowstone’s Grant Villiage

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I was 43 miles into a 100 mile bike ride. I had already climbed over 1,000 feet from my starting location. I knew I had over 2,000 more vertical feet to climb before I would reach the high point of my day. The road mercilessly took a turn downhill. This was vertical height I had already worked hard to climb. I knew that somewhere down the road, I would once again have to climb this several hundred vertical feet that I was now descending. I sped up and continued down the road, already exhausted, knowing that I still had more than half my day left to go, both in terms of milage as well as vertical climb.

That was when I found myself going over a bridge, over the Gardner River. The views in all four directions, including downward were spectacular. Not only was I viewing all of the scenery in all directions, I was smelling it. I was feeling the air around me. It was at this moment that I realized that, despite how exhausted I already was, and despite how agonizing the steep hills I had in front of me were going to be, that all of this was worth it. The effort of pedaling harder than I had ever pedaled before, and enduring hours of pure pain was worth it to experience what I was experiencing on that day.

Miles 44 and 45 would take forever, as I climbed up and out of the river valley and onto the Blacktail Deer Plateau in the Northern part of Yellowstone National Park. Knowing that I still had so much painful climbing left to go, once again “This Summer’s Gonna Hurt” by Maroon 5, a song that I had heard many times this year, and, like most Maroon 5 songs, catches in one’s head quite easily, popped into my head as I pondered the pain that I was enduring, as well as the pain that would come.

That morning, I woke up in Paradise Valley with a strange feeling. I was half worn out from my first day of cycling, but also felt ready to go. It is a feeling that people who cycle long distances probably experience quite frequently, but it was a feeling that I had not truly experienced before. Sure, I had undertaken multi-day tasks before, but never one like this, where in my head I knew I was about to tap into pretty much everything I have, physically, but I also knew that it would make for one of the most exciting days I’ve ever had.

On the way out of Paradise Valley, we encountered the only other cyclist we would encounter that day, an Austrian gentleman headed for the Grand Canyon. He was traveling fully self-contained, with all of his camping gear attached to his bike, and therefore taking it slower.

After turning back onto US-89 South towards Gardiner, we entered an area known as Yankee Jim Canyon. It is here where we started to see some rafters. Over the next few miles, we would wonder who was this “Yankee Jim” that this canyon was named after.

Unfortunately, even the signage along the highway, the signage that eluded to both history and Yankee Jim, did not tell me anything about who Yankee Jim was. After the trip, I did a full web search. Nothing. I still have no idea who was this man they call Yankee Jim. Maybe if I ever go to a Montana History Museum of some kind I’ll find out, but to this day, it remains a mystery.

Luckily, several miles up the road, as we approached Gardiner, there was a distraction. We encountered a place called Devil’s Slide, a uniquely shaped exposed area of red sedimentary rock that appears to lend itself to stupid, and potentially dangerous adolescent ideas. I am quite thankful that nobody turned it into a cheesy touristy site. There are enough overpriced alpine slides elsewhere in the West.

We stopped for Ice Cream just before noon in Gardiner, Montana, and stepped out into much hotter air as we entered Yellowstone National Park.

Back when I lived in Chicago, I never understood why advertisements for Montana tourism would feature images of Yellowstone National Park, which is primarily in Wyoming, with the phrase “Gateway to Yellowstone”. But, apparently, this was the original entrance to the National Park, and, when the park first opened up, the only way to get in. This structure right here, that I found myself riding under, was the first entrance ever created to the first National Park established.

And I knew the climb was coming, the first climb of the day, which would eventually take me past the 45th Parallel, into the State of Wyoming, and up to Mammoth Hot Springs, where I was now roughly 1000 feet higher than Gardiner.

But, it wasn’t just the climbs that made the ride exhausting. It was all of the other rolling hills I was not 100% expecting.

There are very few flat parts of Yellowstone National Park, and even the area between Mammoth Hot Springs and Tower Falls, which starts and ends at a similar elevation had many hills of different sizes. It was around there that I decided that I was in no hurry to get to the campsite. After all, I was in Yellowstone National Park, and in a part of the park I did not get to see the last time I visited. I was gonna see some stuff.

After having to climb back up out of the Gardiner River Valley, I took a look at the Undine Falls.

Unfortunately, I did not feel I had the energy to add a mile of hiking (round trip) to my day, and see the Wraith Falls.

But, I stopped several other times to enjoy the scenery along the Blacktail Deer Plateau, and even got a chance to see a blue-billed duck through some bincoulars.

In the middle of the afternoon, I reached one of Yellowstone’s more breathtaking, but underrated features, Tower Fall.

It was here I took a more lengthy break, as I knew ahead of me I had a climb tougher than any climb I had ever undertaken in my life. After that exhausting 30 mile stretch from Gardiner, up into the park and then over the plateau and all of the rolling hills, I would climb over 2000 feet, to the highest point of any road in Yellowstone; Dunraven Pass. But, it was here that I also realized that not only was I more than halfway through my trip overall (63 miles into today with 61 miles behind me yesterday), but I was now at a higher elevation than where I would end the trip (Jackson, Wyoming is at 6200 feet). In every sense of the phrase, I was more than halfway there.

The climb, 12 miles and almost 2600 feet in elevation gain, took me nearly two hours. It was exhausting, and intense. I pretty much had to stop every mile. Somewhere roughly halfway up the pass, I started to see some beautiful alpine flowers; yellow and purple.

But, signage told me that the presence of these wonderful flowers also signified that I was in Grizzly Bear territory.

So, it should not have been too much of a surprise to me that when I finally got to the top of the pass, after two long hours of huffing and puffing, I saw my first Grizzly Bear!

Just as I had realized 31 miles (and almost 3000 feet of net climbing) ago, when I was going over that breathtaking bridge over the Gardner River, all of the riding, all of the sweat, and all of the pain did have its reward. To be honest, it would have been more than worth all of the physical exertion without even seeing the bear. But, seriously, there was nothing like encountering this animal, so beautiful, so majestic, yet so dangerous and overwhelming, in the manner in which I did; from my bike, out in the open, yet at the top of a pass, knowing that if I needed to outrun it, I could by pedaling as hard as I could on the next downhill stretch.

By then, after hanging out with the bear for a little while, it was nearly 7 P.M. I had neither the energy, nor the remaining daylight to take the walk down to Yellowstone’s iconic Lower Falls. Luckily I saw those last time I was here, so I was glad to have taken the time to see the other waterfalls in the park.

The last real feature I visited that evening was Yellowstone’s Mud Volcano area.

There I stood, with the water bottle I had filled up something like 6 times that day, and I came to the realization of just how geothermal Yellowstone Park is. Like many of the geysers in the park, this “mud volcano” smelled like sulfur. In fact, it smelled kind of yucky. And, while I had spent most of the day looking at waterfalls, scenic river valleys, and finally those yellow and purple flowers, it is these types of features that make Yellowstone National Park unique. We do have waterfalls, canyons, river valleys and the like all over the west, including within an hour or so of home. All of these geothermal features … I cannot think of where else to see them! It almost felt like this park was built on sulfur.

After seeing an elk on the side of the road, near Yellowstone Lake, I reached the campground at Grant Village.

It had been, without a doubt, the toughest day of riding I had ever undertaken. Going into this trip, I knew it would be, so I was prepared. But, I was still pretty much without any residual energy at the end of the day. In fact, I was kind of acting like I was drunk. I guess my body had gone through an experience that some would consider “traumatic”, given how far I pushed myself. But, for me, it is how you grow as an individual, and it is how you gain confidence. I know that soon I will have to return to “regular life”. In “regular life”, there is competition, there is conflict, and there are things that are just plain hard. But, they become easier for those of us that are confident in ourselves. Accomplishments like these simply serve as a reminder to ourselves that we are awesome. In fact, I would love to market a bumper sticker that simply says “Smile, you are you, and you are awesome.” Or, something like that. There is probably a better, and catchier way to phrase that. But the point remains that experiences like these do remind us that we are often capable of more than we believe, and are told, that we are.

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 1: Bozeman to Chico Hot Springs

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There is no feeling like actually beginning something you had set out to do. Lots of people talk about what they would like to do, or think about what they will someday do. And, sure, anticipation is fun. But it certainly does not compare to that feeling you get when you actually start something major. For years I had been thinking about traveling long distances by bicycle. The idea of traveling a significant distance under my own power had always thrilled me. So, I read stories of others who had traveled by bicycle. I looked at bicycle travel routes, particularly from the Adventure Cycling Association. I bought the necessary equipment. I trained. And, finally, I planned an actual trip. Well, I decided to join my friend’s cross-country bike ride for a three day segment, from Bozeman, Montana to Jackson, Wyoming.

When I met up with my friend in Bozeman along his journey, Thursday, July 2nd finally became “Day 1”. They say that the journey of 1000 miles begins with one step. In my case, it begins with one pedal stroke. And, when I started to pedal, headed East out of town, I finally had a “Day 1” of my own. I was finally doing it. I was traveling by bike. What was once just an idea, something on a bucket list, had matured, first into detailed plans, and than into action!

The fact that I was finally on a bicycle journey of my own felt ever more real when I left town. After all, many people bike around town all the time. I had biked around town quite a bit earlier in the day- roughly 10 miles total. And, none of that really felt like I was actually on my way. It was when i departed from town that I truly achieved that “Day 1” feeling.

That feeling soon got complicated with another first, bicycling along an interstate highway. At the REI, I found out that the route I had originally intended on taking was not paved, leaving no other choice but to basically follow I-90 from Bozeman to Livingston; roughly 25 miles. Unfortunately, there is a five mile stretch where I-90 does not have a frontage road. This actually occurs quite frequently in the West, particularly in canyons. In many cases, there are no other roads in which to use to get from one town to another. And, for this reason, many Western states, unlike their Eastern counterparts, permit bicycling on Interstates.

The fact that it was completely legal for me to cycle down I-90 did not make it any less scary. In some sections, the shoulder width was not nearly as wide as they are on typical interstates. It felt like a mere 6 feet of distance separated the edge of the right lane and the guard rails, all on a road with a speed limit of 75! Needless to say, when we were able to exit the highway, I was relieved.

A couple of miles later, I had reached the top of what is referred to as Bozeman Pass, and completed the first climb of my trip. I did not take this climb too seriously. I stayed in my big gear the entire way up. For part of it, I was more concerned with 80 mile per hour traffic. But, when I looked down at what I had just climbed, after reading one of the many Lewis and Clark related information boards along this route, I realized that I had actually climbed a significant amount.

On the other side of the pass, I rapidly descended into Livingston, a town we would not spend too much time in.

We pretty much just took a bathroom break, filled up on water, and headed out, southbound, towards Yellowstone, or at least that is what pretty much all of the signs for Highway 89 south say as one heads out of town.

This road follows the Yellowstone River into an area known as Paradise Valley. This particular area was stunning to travel through. Paradise Valley is a wide river valley surrounded by mountain ranges on both sides. When one travels through this valley, particularly when they cross the Yellowstone and follow the less traveled MT-540/ East River Road, they cannot help but truly feel the solitude that this region offers.

One will often see a lone building, a lone animal, a lone boat on the river, and even a lone cyclist making the journey through the region. It is almost as if every single person, and every single animal came here to experience the solitude that is oh so elusive in their daily lives.

There were a lot of small climbs on East River Road, as the road periodically climbs up to an overlook of the river, only to descend back down towards the level of the river. It was also an overall gradual ascent, as we were headed upriver in the direction of Yellowstone National Park. I felt somewhat exhausted on this part of the ride despite the fact that I would only ride 61 miles on the day (and I had fresh legs). I wondered if I had burned myself out going over Bozeman Pass. Should I have taken it slower up that hill? I knew I had a really challenging day of riding ahead of me. Was I not pacing myself properly?

As the journey continued, and I approached the end of the day, I realized that I was not properly fueled. I had eaten a moderate lunch, as I had recently been trying to avoid unnecessary weight gain, which would have made this journey tougher. I had also not taken my water needs too seriously, not stopping for water too terribly frequently, as I was energized, excited about finally starting my journey, and my mind was filled with anticipation.

When I arrived at Chico Hot Springs resort, I grabbed some of the beef jerky I had with me, and drank a good amount of water. I felt much better for it, and came to the realization that, on bike journeys, you need to take care of your body. On a bike trip, your body is your engine, not your bike. I’d always thought of the bike as being the vehicle that we use to get places when traveling by bike. I went to great lengths to ensure that my bike was properly prepared for this journey. On this day, I learned that our bodies, and particularly our need to be properly fueled and hydrated, probably need to be taken just as seriously.

After some time in the pool, we ate dinner at the resort. It was a bar/pub type of place. Upon being seated, the smell of chicken wings overwhelmed me, as they were being served to someone. I cannot even being to tell you how good that smelled to me after all that cycling today. Still, I restrained myself. This is a bicycle trip. It is not about the food.

I was fortunate enough to spend the evening in a nice cabin, where I would get plenty of rest for the next day, a day when I would take precautions to make sure I am properly fueled and hydrated, but a day where I would also take on the challenge of cycling in Yellowstone National Park.

Visiting the Past and the Future- Part 1

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It was an average day that I suddenly found myself in a strangely familiar place. Wednesday the 22nd of April is a day where most people are simply going about their daily routines, particularly in suburbia. But, on this day, I unexpectedly found myself headed west on 159th Street, entering the town of Homer Glen, Illinois. And, although I have not been here in nearly a decade, traveling this stretch of road brought back a flood of memories from my college years.

Homer Glen is just over an hour away from both my parents house and my University. I was never here for an extended period of time, nor did I come here on a regular basis. However, I had made several friends who were from this area, and ended up partaking in some social events here. There are plenty of other places I could go and encounter a similar amount of memories. However, this visit came unexpectedly, and on a trip where I am already visiting a plethora of places near and dear to me, from past chapters of my life. Maybe that is why the images from my past came back to me so powerfully.

Most of my memories from this place involve standard young people shit; drinking, debauchery, partying, etc. However, some of them involve some specific experiences that remind me of the way my life truly was. One summer evening, we had used a friend’s house in this area as a meeting point, as we had on several occasions, particularly in summer. We had all not see each other in around two months, which, for 20-year-olds used to being at college together all the time, seems like an eternity. As a result, we spent roughly 20 minutes taking pictures. I don’t even remember why we took so many pictures, but we did so until the one person with even less of an attention span than me finally had to put a stop to it. His exact words were “I love you guys, but we need to do something.”

Looking around, I eventually realized that I was not even really in the same place that I had remembered. At that time, the area between Orland Park and Lockport was called Homer Township. It would later be incorporated as the town of Homer Glen. Instead of the four-way stop signs I had seen throughout the area, signaled by red flashing lights in all directions, most intersections here now have full traffic signals. McDonald’s is now accompanied by a bunch of other establishments, and an extension of Interstate 355 has been built just to the west of town. So, although some of what I saw looked familiar, and brought back memories, there is not way to avoid clear evidence that this is now a completely different place than it was a decade ago.

One mistake I tend to make is to associate certain past experiences with a specific location. Periodically, I need reminders that when I think of a set of experiences from my past, I am really looking back to a “chapter” of my life, which, unfortunately, cannot be truly relived no matter how hard I try. College is a chapter of life, and one cannot return to this chapter of life by simply moving back to their college town. Even those who chose to stay in their college town enter a new chapter of their lives when they graduate, one that commonly involves either graduate school or their first “real job”.

Not only is this physical location fundamentally different from the place I had all of these experiences, but I also, unfortunately do not have the same relationship with some of the people I had these experiences with. The different physical surroundings right in front of my face serve as a clear reminder that the chapter of my life, with all of the memories that I am suddenly flashing through in my head at nearly lightning speed, is unequivocally over. AlI I can do is smile, and remember with fondness the small part of my life this place once played.

For the entire week, I have been visiting both the past and the future. We travel for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes for business, sometimes for relaxation, and sometimes for pleasure. Sometimes, we travel to places to attend specific events and visit specific people. And, while some trips are primarily about exploring places we have yet to be, and about having experiences we have yet to have, others are about places we have already been, people we already know, and experience we have already had. For me, this trip, which I will discuss more in Part 2, is turning out to be a hybrid. On this trip, I am trying as best I can to balance relaxation with activity. I am trying to visit as many people as possible, but also to have quality experiences, as opposed to simply rushing from one activity to the next. I am also, in a way, visiting both the past and the future, as I can see my life’s previous “chapters”, but also some of my life’s future “chapters” in the places I am going and the people I am seeing over the course of the week.

Christmastime in Breckenridge

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Last winter, I spent around a dozen days in Breckenridge, Colorado, including a week-long stay here in late February. Only a 90 minute drive from Denver, I feel quite comfortable coming up here on a day trip, without spending money on lodging, on a regular basis. To wake up, drive to Breckenridge, ski for six hours or so, and then drive back does not make for an overwhelmingly tiring day.

When traveling to a particular destination becomes as regular as this one has become for me, the lines become kind of blurred. In a physical sense, I am most definitely traveling. I prepare, I pack, and I get in a vehicle and go to a different location which is a non-trivial distance away. It is not a run of the mill trip to the grocery store or a neighbor’s house. However, there are a significant number of people who commute longer than 90 minutes each way to work every day. For them, a trip that takes at least as long as my trip to Breckenridge (when there isn’t bad traffic), has become routine. It is certainly not something that any of these commuters would categorize as “travel”. A trip up to Breckenridge for me is without a doubt more interesting and exciting than a 90 minute drive to work, but it is only slightly less routine. I know what to pack, I know what to expect, and I know where everything is. So, a trip like this straddles some kind of middle ground between what most would consider “travel”, and what most would consider just a part of life’s routine.

However, for many, Breckenridge is most definitely a highly sought after travel destination. In fact, according to a fairly recent Travel + Leisure article, Breckenridge is the second most visited North American ski resort, behind only Vail. And, since the printing of that particular article, the resort has actually gotten bigger, with the opening of a whole new section of the resort- Peak 6.

Despite its size, it is actually fairly easy to get around the resort. Each peak on the resort labelled numerically, and both the ski lifts and trails are labelled quite clearly.

A variety of great trails, and panoramic views, already existed before the opening of Peak 6.

Peak 6 added something unique; essentially intermediate level skiing in a wide open area above the tree line.

Even with Peak 6 rising to 12,300 feet, the highest point on the mountain is still the top of Imperial Express.

At 12,840 feet, the very top of the mountain it often gets quite windy. In fact, this part of the resort gets closed quite frequently due to high winds, even on some perfectly sunny days. If there are relatively strong winds at any of the other parts of the mountain, I will often have no desire to come up here, and deal with even stronger wind at this elevation. Luckily for us, Saturday was a relatively calm day, making it an ideal time to head to this part of the mountain. For anyone that can handle the more challenging terrain up here, I would recommend making a trip to the top of the resort at least once on a calmer day, as there are very few places where you can overlook a ski area from above as you can here.

In addition to the popular ski resort, Breckenridge is a pretty vibrant town, especially during ski season, and one that I greatly appreciate. Main Street, which is lined with shops, restaurants, and even nightlife, is a mere two blocks from the ski resort’s main Gondola parking. Numerous condos line the roads that offshoot from Park Avenue, providing many visitors with places to stay within walking distance of both the ski lifts and Main Street!

In addition, the town is fairly unique. Surrounding nearly every other ski resort I have visited is a ski village that was built primarily to serve the ski resort. These villages are typically pedestrian-only areas (usually buses can come in) that lie between the main parking lot and the ski resort. Since these towns were built around the ski resorts, they typically have all of the amenities that anyone on a ski trip would need, often including numerous hotels and ski shops. However, Breckenridge, having existed long before the ski resort, offers the experience of a ski town that has the layout, and feel, of a normal town. It feels a bit less like one is visiting a resort village, and more like one is visiting a town that happens to have an incredibly popular ski resort next to it.

With the lighting of the Christmas tree Saturday night, Breckenridge “officially” kicked off the Christmas season. For many, the Christmas season has already begun. In fact, some do not even wait until Thanksgiving to begin preparing for Christmas. However, now, for better or worse, the season has kicked into full gear.

On the drive back Sunday, after another nearly full day of skiing, some lamented that it was time to return to “normal life”. But, did we ever really leave our “normal lives”? All of us involved in this trip live in Denver, and ski up in the mountains quite regularly, carrying season passes to multiple resorts. Having skied 22 days last winter, 18 the year prior, and with the expectation of skiing nearly as frequently this winter, I feel as if last weekend, I was simply enjoying a funner part of my “normal life”. And, this Christmas, I can be thankful that something as fun and enjoyable as skiing in Breckenridge is not a “vacation” or “travel” from which I will return from, but a part of the cadence that represents my “normal life” in its’ current state.

Saint John; Virgin Islands

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Saint John Island is one of the most remote places within the United States. A part of the United States Virgin Islands territory, it’s year-round population is a meager 4200 people. It can only be accessed via ferry or boat. For mainlanders, Saint John can be accessed by a 20 minute ferry ride, after a half hour cab ride from the airport on nearby Saint Thomas. The flying time to Saint Thomas is listed as roughly three hours from the nearest major airport in the mainland; Miami, Florida. Therefore, the minimum travel time for any mainlander is four hours. For most, the journey is much longer.

I spent my time on Saint John primarily in two places; Cruz Bay, which is the main population center on the island, and Caneel Bay, a resort about ten minutes farther up the coast of the island.

Cruz Bay is where the ferry from Saint Thomas first arrives. It is the first place any visitor to this island sees. It is Saint John’s front door, it’s first impression. And it doesn’t disappoint. The ocean here is as stunning and picturesque as anywhere I could possibly imagine. In fact, even at some of the best kept lakes in the United States, I have never seen water this magically blue.

Upon arrival to Cruz Bay on the ferry, one immediately sees a plethora of tourist accommodations. To the left is the Virgin Islands National Park Visitor Center. In front are the beaches, boats and restaurants.

A tourist that walks up the road straight in front of them (road names are not obvious here) will encounter a road lined with bars and restaurants that obviously cater to those not from the Islands. Walking along this street in the evening, rather than traditional Caribbean music, one will hear the likes of Jimmy Buffet, modern American pop, and a surprising amount of Country-Western music. And, a vast majority of the proprietors and patrons of any of these restaurants are obviously tourists or those who moved here from the mainland to work tourism related jobs.

Most of the residents of this island are black (or Afro-Caribbean). Although this did not really surprise me, I still wonder how this came to be, as I had never really been taught about the history of the Caribbean Islands beyond the arrival of Christopher Columbus in 1492 and the subsequent voyages to the “New World” that the news of this voyage inspired.

However, when I look around me, and take a couple of trips to less touristy parts of the Island, where one can see a better representation of how those native to Saint John live, I can’t help but have the present rather than the past on my mind.

How do the lives of those that live here year round differ from our own?

How do they feel about being a part of the United States? And, more specifically, how do they feel about their status as a U.S. territory (and not a state)? We commonly hear about issues regarding Puerto Rico’s similar status, and the razor thin margin between those who support and those who oppose statehood. But, we never really hear much about the U.S. Virgin Islands’ status and how it impacts the people here.

Most importantly, how do they feel about us, and our presence here? Do they debate the economic impact of tourism vs. the cultural disruption that it causes? Do they ponder the fact that within the mainland part of the U.S., we have places like Catalina, Key West and South Padre, places where many of us could theoretically get a similar experience without invading their island?

Ultimately, are they fighting for their identities, their culture, or are they enjoying the economic benefit of our presence, as well as their association with the United States of America? When we think of the Caribbean, we often think of pop icons, including Bob Marley, but also more recent pop icons from the region, such as Daddy Yankee and Sean Kingston. The music produced by these artists take us to the pristine tropical oceans of the Caribbean, if nowhere else but in our minds.

However, it is these pop icons that appear to represent the dichotomy of the possible responses that seem plausible given the current situation of those that live in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Marley, from his lyrics, considered himself part of a struggle for the culture and identity of himself and his people. But modern pop stars like Kingston appear to be simply enjoying the economic benefit of their stardom, much of which comes from the U.S. and the western world that Marley rallies against.

Although there is a lot more to any one person’s life that what we witness through the media, Kingston and Co. do appear to be thoroughly enjoying their lives.

After multiple nights of partying, I lay exhausted on Scott Beach, the finest beach on Caneel Bay resort. I watch the boaters and snorkelers go by. Some even tell me that it was here, in the clear waters of the Caribbean, that they had one of the best snorkeling experiences of their lives. They did so by being willing to visit a place a little bit out of the way, a place where the people, the culture, and the way of life are different than their own.

That is when it occurred to me that the world is full of people who are different from me. The world is full of people who look different, act different, have different customs, beliefs, values, and different ways of understanding the world. We can either learn to live with different types of people, and try to relate to them as best as we can, or we can accept the limitations that go along with confining ourselves to people with sufficient similarities to ourselves.

In practice, we all implore somewhat of a combination of the two strategies; accepting some differences but trying to stay away from others. However, there are some that believe that in an increasingly connected world, the future belongs to those that can bridge the gap between different cultures. I am not sure if I inherently believe that the ability to bridge cultural gaps is a prerequisite for success in the 21st Century, as many people have built fortunes designing products that largely cater to one segment of society. However, when I watch people enjoy Saint John Island, and watch videos by Kingston and other similar artists, I see firsthand the benefits of being able to relate to those with different backgrounds and ways than my own.

Saying Goodbye to a Travel Partner

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This week, it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to a travel partner that has been with me for over a decade; my 1997 Chevrolet Malibu. After showing signs of weakness for several years, it’s performance just recently started declining rapidly, to the point where it can no longer be driven with any degree of confidence. At its age, it would be quite difficult to justify spending any more money on repairs. After holding on to this vehicle, potentially longer than I should have, it is finally time to say goodbye, and time to move on.

To some people, a car is just a car. It is just simply a tool for one to get from place to place, just like any of the other pieces of machinery they own. Obviously, those that lease new cars every three years do not get attached to their vehicles, preferring to always have the latest in technology. And, there is no clear reason to have any kind of emotional attachment to a mechanical object with no thoughts or emotions of its own.

However, as someone who loves to travel (and is addicted to being in motion), I cannot help but be extremely sad to know that I have taken my last drive inside this vehicle. The feeling of being inside this car, and being behind the wheel is one that I had become so accustomed to, it almost felt like second nature. For some time, it felt like a place I really belonged, and there was definitely a year or two in there when I felt more at home inside this car than the places where I actually lived.

When I purchased this vehicle, I was still in college, and longing for the independence associated with having a car of my own that I can drive at will, at any time I wish, and to any place I wish. Like any guy that has not turned 21 yet (and even many who have), I thought that having my own car would make me more interesting, more popular, and more desirable. I had somehow thought that having my own car would help fill one of the missing pieces of my life.

The year before I bought my own car, I had been using many different cars to get places. Some belonged to family members, some belonged to friends at college. But, all were different. None were mine. I did not really become particularly accustomed to the specific dimensions, specific quirks, and optimal use of any of those vehicles. That, of course, changed when I bought my first car. It was my first major purchase as a young adult. For the first time in my life, I could call something major my own!

In a way, the story of my first car is the story of my own coming of age. However, coming of age also means a fairly rapid rate of change and significant turmoil. Most young adults experience a significant amount of turmoil in their lives as they go through college, start their careers, try to establish themselves as adults, and determine kind of person they were destined to be.

My vehicle saw me through the transition to graduate school, several career related disappointments (or setbacks), numerous relationship related fumbles, lots of really crazy travel, lots of adventures, and even some lewd behaviors I am not proud of. It was also the setting of some of the more significant discussions I had with trusted friends, in which we would attempt to navigate some of the situations that puzzle young adults, and ponder our futures as they were unfolding in front of us.

Traveling not only provides adventures, stories, places to be, things to do, and ways in which to see the people I care about, and take part in activities I love, but it also provides an outlet. Often when I feel frustrated, disappointed, or short-changed by life, I just need to go somewhere, get a change of scenery, and get a fresh perspective. I did a significant amount of traveling well before I decided to start writing this blog, and took some major road trips. In a way, I did exactly as the commercials at the time told me, I saw the U.S.A. in my Chevrolet.

I knew this day would eventually come. In fact, it came significantly later than I had expected. Over the years, I became increasingly interested in bicycling, and subsequently moved to the City of Chicago, where significantly less miles are driven in day-to-day life. So, despite my car being 17 years old, it reached 150,000 miles only a few months ago (now at 151K).

Still, as I struggled to get this car started for it’s last spin, I felt a sadness that was tough to explain. I’d look at the car, and think of all of these memories, all that I had done, all that I had gone through, and how my years of coming of age shaped me into who I am, for better or for worse.

Life should never stop being an adventure. I shared many of my adventures in the Midwest with my Mailbu. There was no better car for all of those nights cruising on Dundee Road, those days passing people on the right on the Chicago Skyway, racing down I-65, or looking for tornadoes in Iowa. Now that I live in Colorado, I am having completely different kinds of adventures. And, although I am sad to have lost a travel partner that suited me well for a long time, I have been provided with an opportunity to find a new travel partner that is quite suited for the adventures I am destined to have in this part of the world.

This morning I purchased a brand new Mazda CX-5, which may just be my travel partner for the next decade to come (or more). With high clearance and all wheel drive, it is well suited for the State of Colorado. With a little more pep to the engine than many of the other vehicles in it’s class, it also suits who I am.

Maybe these vehicles are just simply vehicles, inanimate objects built by humans. Or maybe I had a loyal travel companion that selflessly determined that it had become time to step aside for another- one that suits where I now am a bit better.

Takeaways from My Fall Road Trip

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This image provides a basic outline of where I went on my fall road trip. I did end up deviating from this path a bit, but it still provides a good reference regarding the places I visited, and the length of time I was out of town- roughly two weeks when the time I spent in Chicago is factored in.

This was the kind of trip where all of the pieces of the puzzle came together quite nicely. I knew I wanted to take a road trip this fall. First of all, for those of us that live in Colorado and take advantage of the outdoor activities the state has to offer, it is the ideal time of year to take a road trip. The season for summer activities has come to an end, but the main ski season has not yet begun. So, basically leaving Colorado in the autumn (or the spring) has the lowest opportunity cost.

More importantly though, I knew I wanted to take advantage of the spare time I have right now while I have it. Life gets hectic sometimes, and when people get bogged down in day-to-day lives it becomes much more difficult to pull off a journey. I hear a lot of people discuss trips they would like to take “someday”, or “when the situation is right”. Unfortunately, sometimes years go by, with one situation after another coming up, and people lament the trip they never got to take. This is why I was actually quite thrilled to hear that a couple of my friends back in Chicago were planning a trip to Ireland this coming spring, even if it means they are less likely to visit me here in Colorado later in the year.

I never seem to run out of travel ideas. In fact, I could probably make a list of 100 places I want to visit in only a few minutes. So, for me, the picture is quite different than it is for many others, who just have that one place they want to go to. Instead of just making a plan and executing it, to visit that one place, I just need to take advantage of opportunities as they come my way, and keep coming up with new ideas for places to go within the realm of the resources given to me. This means accepting that unless that weird long-haired guy whose picture I saw at the Museum of Science and Industry successfully develops immortality, I will most likely go to my grave with at least a few places I wanted to visit, and a few things I wanted to do, that I did not get around to. Knowing that I am taking advantage of opportunities, trying new things, and getting creative about a bunch of things makes this fact substantially easier to accept. I know taking this kind of trip and visiting people on a whim like this is more than most people do with their spare time. In fact, some may consider me odd for this, but most people I described this trip to, and saw on the trip gave me overwhelmingly positive responses.

This trip also gave me what I needed during what has turned out to be a frustrating year for me. It actually reminds me of the theme song to the show Cheers, which explains the reason the show’s characters go to the same bar over and over again. “Sometimes you wanna go, where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.” This is why I was quite fortunate to have had the timing on visiting all of the people I visited along the way work out (given everyone’s schedules, especially on weekdays) so that I could go to every single stop I planned to go to in this two week period.

Being new in a city whose culture and social scene ended up being more significantly different than anticipated can be a rough experience. While I advocate fully embracing new experiences, sometimes we take comfort in being around people where we know where we stand, and being in familiar places. I moved on, but I wanted to see many of the people that still mean something to me. I do see friendships wither away as people move to new cities and get too carried away with their day-to-day lives to keep in touch. So, it was quite fitting that the ONE time I had Chinese food, on this entire two week excursion, I got this fortune cookie.

This trip confirmed this fact for me. Reflecting on the experiences I had visiting everyone, I can safely say that all of the people I saw on this trip are still my friends, despite how long (in some cases over 10 years), it has been since we have lived in the same town. I know this because the experiences I had were not limited to simply reminiscing and catching up, as sometimes does occur with “old friends”. While I did reminisce, and catch up with all of the people I saw, new experiences were created as well. This includes getting a 5-year-old addicted to The Fox music video, a plethora of jokes at the expense of Kanye West and Justin Bieber (is there an ocean bigger than Kanye West’s ego?), more crazy party antics, but also some heart-to-heart talks about real stuff, the kind of stuff that people only talk about with people they trust.

I designed this trip to have a mixture of the new and the familiar. Chicago is very familiar to me, and so is Maryland, but I had never been to the Smoky Mountains, or Gettysburg, before, and have limited experience in places like Virginia and Kentucky. Now that I am back in town, I will inevitably have some conversations with people about my trip. When I give people the “highlights”, experiences like the Smoky Mountains and Gettysburg will most definitely come up, as well as the craziness that was last weekend in Chicago. However, the more I reflect on the trip, the more I realize that what meant the most to me were some of the more simple things, like the ridiculous jokes and games. One of the people I reconnected with in Maryland actually remembered last seeing me over three years ago, at a party in Chicago. She recalled me describing abstract art as looking like a “raccoon having a period” while intoxicated. Some of the best memories we have are of thing that weren’t planned. I planned out my road trip, the timing, routes, and everything, but many of the things I will remember from this trip were not planned, but just as memorable.

Perhaps the greatest display of friendship on my road trip is the fact that on the entire trip I actually only paid for one hotel room! I am truly grateful to everyone who let me stay over at their places. Some of these overnights were even on weeknights, which are always a lot tougher, and some even took some time off of work. That was a lot of money saved, but more importantly, it was also a better experience. Being alone in a hotel room can be refreshing occasionally, but is also quite boring, and not an experience I cannot have at home from time to time. Being around my friends was a lot more fun.

My greatest takeaway from this trip is actually something I had already known, but lost sight of over the past several months or so.

— Be Yourself —

Pure and simple, yet a major lesson we all have to relearn from time to time. There are many situations in the adult world where we are trying to impress people for one reason or another. We are often times either told by others to not be who we truly are out of fear of being rejected, or lose confidence in who we truly are due to rejection. We will often find ourselves considering how to “reinvent” ourselves to make better impression on others. However, reflecting on some personal experiences, both recent and in the distant past, I realized that my odds are almost always a lot better when I do behave in a manner that comes naturally to me, as opposed to when I hold back, or try to conform to what is expected of me.

No matter what reason you want to make a good impression on someone, your best bet will always be to be who you really are. Any relationship, of any kind, based on a false persona is a poor fit that will not last in the long run. I believe we are all generally better of without them. Time spent continuing to try to impress people who want a different version of you will often prevent you from finding the people, the jobs, or the situation that are truly the right fit for you.

Back on the Reservation

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A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit an Indian Reservation for the first time in my life. I learned quite a bit from that visit. I learned that these reservations do not look like many of us imagine them to. I also concluded that our history is complicated. I do not have a good understanding regarding why relations between us and the Native Americans progressed the way they did, and it would be disingenuous for me to take a position on these issues. However, I did see people in need due to their circumstances.

There are some things universal about helping out those in need. Contrary to some people’s belief, helping out those in need is not dependent on ideology, wealth, or status. It is only loosely dependent on what someone believes about the person (or people) they are helping. Caring parents will often bail out their children with financial or housing support even if they believe their child had been lazy, stupid, or malicious in the behavior that led them into trouble.

In my belief, in order to be genuine in helping someone out, there are two necessary conditions.

There must not be coercion. This one is obvious, being forced to help someone out, or forcing somebody else to help someone out is not genuine charity.
There must be no expectation of a reward. This includes not only a monetary reward, but also the guy who does charity work and then starts telling girls at the bar about it to help him get lucky. Or, likewise, anyone that hopes for any praise or increase in status from their charity work. To be fair, rewards can come. But they have to not be the reason for it.

For this reason, I was hesitant about writing about this in my blog. It could come across that I am trying to show off that I did charity work. I am really just trying to explain the reason I went back to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, as it is one of the poorest places in the country. But, you have no real way of knowing that for sure. Maybe I could have left this whole part out.

The Pine Ridge Indian Reservation is in Southwestern South Dakota, with it’s southern border being the Nebraska/South Dakota border. So, as soon as we entered South Dakota, we were on the reservation. Last week, this area got an unexpected early season blizzard. In the Black Hills, to the north, some places got over 40″ of snow. This is something that rarely ever occurs in mid-winter in this part of the country, let alone in early October. Pine Ridge, more on the southern flank of this storm, got about 12″, still a lot, and the evidence of this snowstorm could still be seen.

The task yesterday was tiling, and we put up tiling like the one pictured above at a couple of houses in this neighborhood in Pine Ridge. So, just like the day before, I learned a new activity. In fact, I continued on the theme of expanding my comfort zone, as over the course of the day I became comfortable using machinery that initially intimidated me.

Spending an entire day on the reservation, I made a couple of observations I hadn’t last time (when I was only there for the morning). Last time I felt that the reservation may have just as poor as some of the dispirited urban neighborhoods I had previously observed, but not as dangerous. However, I was only there for the morning, which tends to be the least dangerous time of day. I noticed this hole in the window of one of the homes I helped work on.

This hole in the window may just be more evidence that the area is poor and do not have the resources to repair such a thing. Still, I wonder who it got there. Stray bullets from gang related activity tends to be one of the biggest fears one has about visiting poor neighborhoods in the United States. Either way, I am not about to go ask the homeowner how this happened- that would be rude.

I was also quite astonished by the number of stray dogs in the neighborhood. All day long, I encountered stray dogs just wandering up and down the street. I recall one of my former co-workers in Chicago telling me that stray dogs were common on the south side, but I have no idea what that meant. Occasionally I would see a stray dog in my neighborhood, but usually there was someone there to call animal control, or try to find them a shelter. Here they were everywhere, wandering in and out of people’s yards, sometimes getting into people’s trash, and even pooping in the yard (which I was lucky to avoid). I guess I just wonder why there is a different attitude towards dogs here than what I am used to.

The return trip also gave me an unexpected surprise; the quintessential Nebraska experience. For me, this means thunderstorms and steak. On the return trip southbound across the Nebraska Panhandle, we encountered a series of really fun storms, with lots of lightning.

Thunderstorms are my favorite type of weather, at least from an observers point of view. There really is nothing like the raw, natural power of these storms. I also love the differentiation within the storms, and how abruptly things change inside a thunderstorm. With the heavy rain, frequent lightning, hail, and abrupt wind changes, there is so much to see. There is so much going on I feel like I can make a diagram like those Xs and Os the football commentators make. It is the weather phenomenon for people who love to see all things energetic.

It is also the weather phenomenon for people who love efficiency. Seattle and Kansas City average about the same amount of annual precipitation (37-38″). However, in Seattle, precipitation occurs 155 days per year, while in Kansas City, precipitation only occurs 104 days per year. Kansas City achieves the same result with 41 more rain-free days. In addition, many days with thunderstorms are mostly sunny for large sections of the day, with the exception of the hour or two when the storms are rolling through. Overall, many more productive hours. For me, it is the long, humid day, followed by the abrupt thunderstorm that makes the Great Plains what it is.

We stopped at a steakhouse called Cantu’s in the town of Bridgeport, NE right after we finished rolling through the storms. The place is right on highway 385, the main street through the center of town. I have many times stopped at random places I encounter on the main streets of towns while driving through. I really like doing this because it gives me a sense of what makes that town unique to every other town I have ever been to, something I won’t get by eating at a chain restaurant.

Of course, I have had a variety of experiences, ranging from great to horrible at restaurants like this. However, when on the Great Plains, particularly in areas near a lot of ranches, I’ve have mostly good experiences with steakhouses. The trend definitely continued today. I really enjoyed my sirloin steak at Cantu’s.

The Action Story

Learning about the world and about ourselves through travel and experiences

Tag Archives: travel

An Old World Town in a New World Region

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 2: Chico Hot Springs to Yellowstone’s Grant Villiage

July 2015 Bicycle Journey Day 1: Bozeman to Chico Hot Springs

Christmastime in Breckenridge

Saint John; Virgin Islands

Saying Goodbye to a Travel Partner

Back on the Reservation