Backpacking Debut at Point Reyes
Saturday morning, Mosh got up before me, but that's to be expected. After getting some cereal and a bagel from the house kitchen, I went back to her room to talk about the plans for the day. We were heading to Point Reyes National Seashore for an overnight backpacking excursion. We each packed the things we needed, including some communal items, like a stove and the tent. I don't remember when we actually headed out, but it wasn't too early. It may have been around noon. I know the plan was for 1pm (to ensure getting to camp before dark), but we may have left early. We drove up to the Golden Gate Bridge, where we stopped so I could take touristy pictures and stamp my NPS passport. We also decided to get lunch at the café in the gift shop. We had a pleasant meal out on the pier, where I could see most of the bay. It was a lot smaller than I expected. Later, checking a map, I discovered it was considerably smaller than Lake Pontchartrain, which borders the northern edge of New Orleans. I used the lake as a frame of reference, and I expected the bay to be bigger, explaining my disconcertion. Is that a word? It was around this point that Mosh realized we had forgotten to pick up a second sleeping bag, back at school. Using her handy-dandy REI membership card, she called the nationwide number to find the nearest REI location (REI rents gear, including sleeping bags). Unfortunately, Mosh doesn't drive a lot, and she accordingly didn't feel pressure to keep a San Francisco map in her car.

We got lost. For a while. Eventually, we stopped at a convenience store, where the cashier couldn't point us in the right direction, and she was out of maps. Eventually, we were able to purchase a map, and we got the needed sleeping bag from REI.

We drove back to the Golden Gate Bridge, and I took some pictures from the car as we drove over the bridge. I acted as a reasonably competent navigator, until I fell asleep. But we made it to the trailhead parking lot safely. We were later than we'd planned, with the sleeping bag/aimless driving fiasco. But it was nice out, and immediately was able to spot some animals. There were some quadrupeds that thought were deer at first, but upon closer inspection, that didn't appear to be an accurate guess. They were all over the park, though. I also got a picture of some three(ish)-foot tall bird, looking like a dirty crane.

The walk in was alright, but you'll have to ask Mosh if I complained a lot. Clearly, I wouldn't continue to complain if I thought I was being excessive, so I can't accurately describe my behavior. It was starting to get dark as we approached the campsite, but the sky still glowed a faint, dark blue. Towards the end of the hike in, we started playing the "Geography Name Game," but we ended it when we got to the site (Glen Camp, I think). We got set up pretty quickly, and we got to work on dinner. On the way in, we munched on dried mangoes (a present from my mom's visit) and beef jerky (Oh Boy! Oberto, impulsively purchased at the REI), but we were ready for dinner. We boiled water for pasta as we shredded and/or chopped onions, peppers, and mushrooms. When the pasta was al dente, we softened the vegetables over the flame a bit, before adding it to the pasta pot, with some tomato paste. It was pretty awesome. We were full and feeling lazy, so we skipped washing the pots and bowls, and we just stashed them away before going to bed.

The next morning, I got up first, since I'm a lighter sleeper, I think. It was mostly because the sky was brightening, but I could also clearly hear some other campers in the area going about their morning business. I was feeling hungry, so I tried to remember what Mosh had shown me about the stove's operation so I could boil some of the pasta we hadn't gotten to. We still had some apples and trail mix, but I wanted something warm. I kind of got it going, but it didn't fully work until Mosh got up and did her magic. So we had plain pasta for breakfast. Just so I don't sound like a total user, I did wash the dishes from the previous night before she got up.

We packed up camp, and we headed to Arch Rock, which is a point on the coast. While I had been feeling pretty good the night before, I was starting to hurt that morning. My traps were a little sore, but not too bad. The main problem was by my hips. I don't think there were bruises, but actual muscle soreness. My butt was killing me, as well as the meat on the side, directly below the hips. I guess this means I was mostly carrying the weight of the pack on my hips, as I should have, but it made walking (and using all those muscles) kind of tiresome. My Complaining Quotient (CQ) was making a steady rise. Arch Rock was worth it, though. We did some exploring in the area, travelling a bit off the normal beaten path. We spotted some weird sea creatures, including something that resembled a flower, attached to a rock in the water, colored a striking iridescent green. It curiously contracted itself when we touched it.

Anyway, after taking in the view and taking the requisite pictures, we headed back toward the parking lot. Along the way, the arch of my right foot started to really ache, in addition to the pains I was already feeling. My CQ may have been through the roof. I tried not to, though. We also played more of the Geography Name Game. After having to name five or six countries, states, cities, rivers, or famous geographic formations that started with 'E,' I declared that the next time I had to name another 'E,' I would give up. And I did.

Happily back at the Visitors' Center (and the car), I got the needed passport stamp. We broke out the apples in celebration. Or at least I did, and Mosh indulged me. We were soon on our way, and I managed to spot new scenery I had slept through. We stopped at a café where Mosh had stopped on her Pacific Coast bike ride. She had been thoroughly impressed by their milkshakes. I didn't follow her advice, opting for chai and a bit of a pesto pasta salad, both of which were pretty subpar. I tried her butterscotch milkshake, though, and it was pretty awesome.

I fell asleep again, I think. We stopped in San Francisco to return the sleeping bag, but I think the trip back was otherwise uneventful. By early afternoon Sunday, we were back in her room, where we took turns checking email and passing out on her futon.
- posted by roger @ 1:58 AM (0) comments

 
Plane Karma
I'm in California. Specifically, I'm at Stanford, visiting Mosh. After I left work on Friday, I headed to the airport, as I had already packed. Being wary of traffic, I gave myself a fair amount of time, but I still made an attempt to listen to an AM radio station to get the traffic report. As I switched from my CD to the radio, I caught the tail end of a weather report. It wasn't followed by traffic, so I assumed that the traffic report was first. After listening to 50 minutes of people calling into a talk show, I heard no traffic report. 50 minutes! I hate the stupid radio. I should've just kept listening to my CDs.

I had some trouble finding a parking spot that wasn't on the top deck, where my car would've roasted, but otherwise things went smoothly. Except for the part where as I checked in, it was determined that my connecting flight (out of Denver) was already delayed. However, this did mean I would be less rushed, trying to worm my way through the terminal.

The flight to Denver was fairly full. But because I had booked my tickets so long ago, I was comfortably seated in my aisle seat. Shortly afterwards, however, a flight attendant asked me if I would be willing to switch seats. There was a man sitting next to me, and his wife (carrying their toddler) was seated immediately behind him. At first, they asked the man behind me (next to the woman) if he would be willing to move. He asked if the change would be to another aisle seat, but since the couple occupied two middle seats, it was clear that would not be the case. She asked me if I was willing to change, offering a free cocktail (the same offer was made to the man behind me), but she didn't wait for an answer, thankfully. I didn't want to change my seat, but I knew that if the request was made of me, I wouldn't be able to say no.

As more passengers loaded onto the flight, it was apparent their options for sitting next to each other were rapidly dwindling. I told them I would move into the woman's seat. Part of this was a good Samaritan move, but I was also motivated by the consideration that if the man behind me gave in first, I could conceivably have a kicking child behind me. I said it was likely I would sleep through the entire flight anyway (I had been up since 11pm), as I offered my seat.

I settled into the new seat, growing numb from my sleeplessness. I reasoned to myself that this was good karma, and that it didn't really matter if I was on the aisle. Besides, I had given up an aisle seat on a trans-Pacific flight before; this three-hour jaunt would be nothing. Still, as I sat there, I couldn't help letting my annoyance fester. There was a reason I booked my flight in February, and it wasn't just for good airfare; I wanted to make sure I got the seat I wanted. It was this couple's own fault that they had booked their ticket at such a time (or with such carelessness) that they weren't sitting next to each other. I shouldn't have had to relinquish the seat I deserved! And honestly, could they not stand to be apart for three short hours? Maybe that could be construed as endearing, but in my mind it was mostly pitiable and sad. The flight attendant, who had been elsewhere when I volunteered my seat, returned to the area, gently rubbed my shoulder in an grateful manner, and then offered me a beer. I thanked her but explained that I didn't drink; I wanted to be clear what a wonderful person I was, doing this out of the pure goodness of my heart.

The trans-Pacific flight had been different. In that case, it was a woman and her young child (perhaps around eight years of age) who were separated. I was sympathetic to the fact that it would be a long flight for the child to be trapped alone, bored to tears. And I could never say "no." I was the type of person who secretly hoped he would never be asked but would never refuse, if the request were made. The same applies to most transplant surgeries.

I managed to sleep for a short period of time, but I soon woke up, tense and yearning to land. Once we reached Denver, I saw that my connection was even further delayed. However, there was a flight to San Francisco (I was booked for San Jose) leaving in a few minutes. As I approached the gate counter, I asked about getting on the flight, hoping the karma I had just earned would have a quick turn-around. Unfortunately, it wasn't the case. So I had to kill another hour before getting onto my original flight. Thankfully, no one asked to change seats with me.

I'm still waiting for the karmic return on that 10+ hour flight.
- posted by roger @ 1:13 AM (0) comments

 
Itinerary: Stanford, CA
05-21-04 MSY-DEN-SJC
05-22-04 Golden Gate Bridge, Point Reyes National Seashore
05-23-04 Arch Rock, Palo Alto
05-24-04 Stanford
05-25-04 SJC-DEN-MSY
- posted by roger @ 1:12 AM (0) comments

 
A Final Look
I had a great time in Vegas, but I was ready to return to more familiar settings by the end of the week. I didn't feel compelled to kiss the ground or anything, but I was happy to be driving my own vehicle.

That last night, Friday, I stayed up gambling until around 5am (my flight wasn't until a bit after 12pm). I took a shower after I got back to my room (Motel 6, where we stayed after the return to Las Vegas), and then I decided to call Delta and see if there was a better flight back. I was supposed to go through Atlanta, which made absolutely no sense. Actually, the rep who took my phone call believed it was the most direct route. Is it not common knowledge that Atlanta is not between Las Vegas and New Orleans? Anyway, she got me onto a flight through Dallas, but it was leaving LV around 7:45am, which was only two hours away (after showering and all). But I packed my things, and I made it alright. The walk through DFW was a bit lengthy, and by the time I got to my gate, they were already boarding.

Turns out Las Vegas was both a good and bad place to quit smoking. It was good in that it deviated from my normal work week schedule, so I didn't think about cigarettes as often as usual. I'm used to having a cigarette when I wake up and when I get back from work. And I usually have one before I shower to turn in. But since my daily activities were unpredictable and not locked into a schedule, they just didn't cross my mind. Unfortunately, LV is one of the most cigarette-friendly places that I've been to, in the US. Smoking is allowed in almost every indoor setting. Aside from the free drinks, cocktail waitresses also bring cigarettes (that's one of the great things about table gambling; the waitresses bring you whatever you want for free, as long as you keep tipping; I tried a Red Bull for the first time). Eventually, I gave in, and I did smoke. I cheated a lot during the week. But instead of just admitting defeat, like last time, I'm still trying. I'm taking it as a "lost the battle, but I haven't lost the war" situation. So cold turkey didn't work for me, so what? I've committed myself into a continual quitting mode, until I'm done for good.

Overall, I enjoyed the MGM Grand immensely. It was a nice room (though I was only there to sleep), and I liked the atmosphere of the casino. I'm almost ready to say that's the hotel I want to return to next time I'm in Vegas, but my brother's suggested trying out more before I really decide. He's suggested Mandalay Bay and the Hard Rock. I know, my initial reaction to Hard Rock was all "ew," but from personal experience, it does appear to be packed with a fairly young crowd.

If you ever find yourself in Flagstaff (for some weird reason), I heartily support Inn Suites. They're right on Route 66, or whatever the major roadway is. For about $60, we got two adjoining rooms, each with a king-sized bed (maybe queen-sized; I don't know mattress sizes). The included breakfast was pretty crappy, though. Best part? FREE INTERNET ACCESS! I almost cried. No, I didn't. But I was pretty excited. It wasn't just because it was free free free! but because I didn't have to go through the trouble of trying to find some place in town to get connected. I can't wait until the entire country goes WiFi. Why not? Of course, by the time that happens, I'm sure I'll have convinced myself to buy a laptop.

I really have no idea how to end this entry.
- posted by roger @ 4:28 AM (0) comments

 
Almost Your Sugar Daddy
So you know how I was down $200, but kept a $100 chip in my pocket? Eventually, I decided to head back to the Pai Gow table with it. But instead of at the $25 table, I sat at the $10, since I figured my $100 would last longer that way. After a bit of playing, I was broke. I was down to maybe $2.50. At this point, I almost walked away, trying to learn my lesson. Impulsively, however, I pulled the only cash I had in my wallet, which was two five-dollar bills. I put it down as my bet.

Hours upon hours later, my last effort cash turned into over $600. It helped that I'd been playing the bonus bet, since I sat there long enough to be dealt two four-of-a-kind hands. Eventually, my dad woke up to an empty hotel room (around dawn) and gave my brother (who was at the table with me) a call on his cell phone. He didn't make us leave, but it was clear that he thought it'd be a good idea to call it a night. My brother and I both left the table in the black, each with our own $500 chip. Man, that sucker felt good.

Being up an overall $300 (minus $20 I pissed away at a slot machine), I was in a good mood for the trip. This happened before we left for the Grand Canyon. With my new-found cash, I justified buying souvenirs whenever I felt like it. My most exciting purchase was a "National Parks Passport." They're small spiral notebooks, with spaces for cancellation stamps, like a regular passport. Most of the 350+ sites maintained by the NPS have little inkpads and stamps at their Visitor Centers for you to stamp your "passport." It's a new goal to visit every single one of these sites. Unfortunately, even if I average five per year, that's at least 70 frickin' years. But I can try. I got five on this past trip (Lake Mead, Grand Canyon, Wupatki, Sunset Crater Volcano, and Walnut Canyon), and I can pick up a few in the Gulf Coast and Atlanta regions in the next few months. I'm going to try to pick up 50 stamps in the next two years or so.

I also got an annual pass to the national parks, which is a rather stupid program. Usually, when something like an annual pass is sold to some attraction, the idea is that for some people, it will be an extraordinary deal. But you hope that even more people won't use the pass nearly enough to make it worthwhile. What the NPS does, however, is offer you a chance to put old receipts up against the purchase of an annual pass. Between the three of us, my dad, my brother, and I paid $40 in entrance fees. So at the last site, I put in an extra $10 to get the annual pass. The way this system is designed, you never need to anticipatorily purchase the pass, but instead wait for your fees to reach $50. So you never spend more than $50 a year, and you only spend it when the value of the pass is totally apparent. I like the National Park Service and its philosophy, but they're just being stupid here.

I also got a guide to all of the NPS's sites, so I can better plan in the future my trips.

Anyway, after we returned to Las Vegas, I kept gambling. And I lost my earnings. First I just lost $200, but bolstered by previous efforts, I threw in that extra $100. It was not long for this earth. So I left Las Vegas at scratch, but I had a great time. And I definitely left remembering the feeling of being down $200 dollars. I think it's okay to feel stupid for losing, as long as you never gamble beyond your means, and you only go gambling infrequently. I don't mean infrequently while you're at the casino, but just don't go to the casino very often. If you asked me before the trip if I could spare $200, I would've said 'no.' But if I really needed to, I could've tightened my belt. And it would've been worth it, because Vegas is one hell of a town.
- posted by roger @ 9:43 PM (0) comments

 
A Different Hole in the Ground
So after the volcano, we went to Wupatki National Monument (okay, technically we went before, but I forgot to mention it earlier, and I'm taking a creative license), where my brother and I discovered the joy of a blowhole (their term, not mine). Apparently, there's some underground, mysteriously-large cave. And due to temperature and pressure differences, the cave blows air through this approximately one square foot hole. Well, depending on the circumstances, it sometimes sucks in air. Anyway, we played with the hole by trying to float objects atop the rushing column of air. We got some fairly large rocks to sail across. What I mean is that we would gently toss (relatively flat) rocks horizontally into the air's path, and it would continue coasting, as if gravity had been temporarily suspended. Since it's hard to convey the size of these rocks, let's just say that when we threw a penny on there, it zoomed skyward. It was like an evil hairdryer. Except really cold.

After spending a night in Flagstaff (another destination to mark off the ol' Rand-McNally), we went to another canyon, though much smaller in size. It's suspected that the Wupatki might've actually moved to this canyon, after a bad eruption from the volcano (fourteen miles from the blowhole) rendered the ground nearly infertile. That's right, three NPS sites, near to each other, all very much related. Pretty cool.

We drove back to Las Vegas (about five hours, excluding stops). We didn't do much besides get dinner and see a show. And then my dad told me about how many years ago, he was excited about being able to pay for a trip for his parents to visit the US, and he brought both of them (that means my grandmother) and my mom to a topless show in Vegas. Yeah, you can definitely learn something new, every day.

The next morning, my brother and my dad caught their flights out of Vegas. I found myself really, really bored. So after getting up around 1pm, I decided to shop. In Las vegas, the options are pretty much to watch a show, gamble money, or spend money. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But since I didn't have a car (my brother returned the rental), it was a long walk to the mall we had passed earlier in the week. According to Mapquest, it was about 2.5 miles. And I made stops along the way. The entire trip was about four hours, and the only time I was sitting was at the McDonald's on the way back. But I found a nice pair of khakis at Banana. The bad part is I also took in a shirt to try on with the pants (I sometimes do this, as what I'm wearing into the stores often won't match what I'm trying on, so I can't get a realistic picture of how the clothes will look, unless I bring along something that matches it). And man, the shirt was perfect. It was cut perfectly for my shoulders, which rarely happens. So I had to buy the shirt. I'm a moron. I got the pants, too, since my khakis have been a bit ill-fitting. They're great for standing around, looking cool, but when I sit? Let's just say there's some uncomfortable bunching.

And now that you're all uncomfortable, I'll leave you, so that the last image in your head lingers.
- posted by roger @ 11:17 PM (0) comments