Madison, Wisconsin is
dominated by its university and state administration (its the state
capital of Wisconsin – I recently figured out that state capitals
far form being arbitrarily selected are in nearly every case chosen
for their central location in their state). These two industries are
symbolised by the two grandest buildings here: the Capitol building
that rivals Washington's in scale and splendour and the university
library; both are located on hills with buildings for government and
university radiating around them. Though Wisconsin enjoys or should I
say endures a Republican governor thanks in no small part to the rest
of the state with the exception of Milwaukee. In fact its a hot bed
of liberalism away from the Pacific and Atlantic coasts, serving as
home to a bunch of housing co-ops and more famously the site of the
occupation of the capitol building in response to the tragically
named Rep governor Scott Walker (I'll never listen to the Old Man's
Back Again in quite the same way) attempts to strip state employees
of their collective bargaining rights. All in all I'm thinking this
place sounds like my kind of town...
My friend and
post-graduate researcher Elena who I first met in Bolivia works here
and kindly offered to sort out accommodation for my stay here in one
of housing coops I mentioned earlier. My expectation was that I'd be
staying in a large shared apartment with maybe 6 or 7 residents,
who'd all be students of one sort or another. This proved to be
rather wide of the mark and after meeting Jeff (one of the co-op
members) on the University campus a brief walk took us to the
lakeside and the site of the co-operative. Its called Ambrosia and
houses around 30 souls, including three kids, students, former
students an apprentice welder and a couple of other folks who's
profession and status was unclear to me. The building was an old
Jewish women's home spread over five floors with shared spaces on
ground and basement and people's bedrooms on the rest. Though a
little ramshackle it was brimming with a character replete with
squeaky floor boards, mid-20th century pluming, residents
both former and current;s artworks and bric-a-brac furniture. Before
I settled in to my accommodation I successfully negotiated a
specially arranged meeting where the residents would determine
whether or not I would be welcomed as a “crasher” - a guest who
stays for a few days as opposed to a full on member and resident.
This meant sitting in front of a around 10 of the residents and
explaining who I am and what I do. Fortunately the questions didn't
seem to challenging and my status as a former banker may have caused
and intake of breath initially but my writing project set any worries
about a potential arch-capitalist in their midst at ease. Winning I
think the first election I've ever stood in I took up residence on
the fourth floor and set to work on a various strands of writing I'd
been struggling to find time to finish. Feeling a little like a
happier version of the man from the underground I enjoyed a very
productive if somewhat solitary and rather spartan couple of days
writing and taking walks around the windswept streets of Madison.
I wasn't a total recluse
and bookended my stay with some more social endeavours... On the
night of my arrival I joined some of the residents in visiting
another co-op house where a story telling evening was being held. The
theme was family and many interesting tales abound – though most
described family dynamics I couldn't quite relate to; reminding me
how different the american experience is to the UK. If anything it
made me feel a little short changed by some of my favourite writers
who are in the main north american writers of fiction who's stories
now seemed a little more run of the mill given their similarity to
some of the stories voiced here and perhaps my own increasing
familiarity with this vast country. The last day of my stay I met
with Elena who'd so kindly arranged for my stay. She'd been out of
town up until then at a wedding in Toronto, thankfully we managed to
spend some time before I left we meeting for coffee and a walk along
the banks of the lake. It was exciting to see her and share news of
our progress in our respective writings and research that seemed to
be progressing for both of us. I expect next time we meet we'll have
finished books to exchange – a tantalising thought if ever there
was one.
I spent my last night sat
around a fire with the other residents in the old living room. We'd
all enjoyed the nightly meal of vegetarian delights that are served
up everyday at 6pm (barring Sundays where a brunch is offered at 12
instead). The atmosphere was familial and though I'd been party to a
few gripes that I guess are inevitable when you have 30 people trying
to make democratic decisions on all aspects of day to day life
(inevitably people in the minority at one point or another are bound
to feel some frustration – its only human, I think?) much of what
they do makes a huge amount of sense to me. Each resident has around
5 hours of jobs a week leaving time to live, learn, procrastinate or
whatever. I made some good friends here and as with so many of my
stops of late I felt short of time and would hurry back if given the
opportunity. Still Chicago lay in wait and its bright lights and
co-ops couldn't wait any longer...
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Friday, 15 November 2013
15th November 2013
After leaving Neil and
Joel heading in the opposite direction back to Canada I caught yet
another greyhound bus to take me from Missoula to Billings to collect
my hire car. This was a pretty long journey that took most of the day
and by the time I got to Billings I was already pairing back my plans
to push on to Wyoming that night. Things deteriorated when I
discovered I'd actually booked my car for collection in Butte rather
than Billings 200 miles back from where I'd come. Thankfully the girl
at the desk was really kind and managed to arrange for me to hire a
different car to drive back to Butte to collect the car I should've
been driving without costing me too much. So back to Butte it was and
ever farther from my planned destination.
By the time I got the actual car I'd be driving east, a rather sleek black Nissan Altima complete with cruise control and a booking stereo with bluetooth connection for my iphone it was almost 11pm. My original plan for Wyoming was now well and truly up the spout and the best I could hope for was to make it back to Billings and making the trip to Wyoming the next day. This would take a further three hours and was made all the more difficult with the conditions throwing up pretty much every shitty bit of weather you could name: freezing fog, snow and icy roads. Somehow I managed to hold it all together and by around 2am I stopped at a motel just about 60 miles short of Billings.
The next day I'd given up on cursing my stupidity and feeling frustrated about loosing time to enjoy the different stops I'd plotted along my route (its hard to stay pissed off (even at yourself) when you're confronted with Montana). A new plan in mind I set off for that day's new final destination: Rapid City, South Dakota. Along the way I'd visit Devil's Tower – a 300 and something metre rock formation in Wyoming, buoyed by the knowledge the drive itself would offer ample opportunity to reflect on my trip, the book that's becoming ever more coherent and listen to music – loud; all while soaking up the wondrous landscapes of Montana and Wyoming that lay in wait.
I'd made it to Billings an hour after breakfast and the fearsome weather of the previous night had given way to blue skies with high cirrus clouds streaked across its pale blue expanse. On turning towards the south soon after I left the by now familiar landscapes I'd enjoyed in Montana for the last few days and entered the county of Big Horn where that foolhardy killer of innocents and celebrated American Custer got his ass handed to him. I didn't feel much like stopping here regardless of schedule but the landscape with its baron simplicity and geological formations was instantly reminiscent of the westerns I'd watched as a boy and man. And as things would turn out this was to be the theme of the day as Big Horn gave way to Crow Country – a native america reservation where the countryside was pocked with some of the most dilapidated settlements I've ever seen. I found out later that its not a good idea to stop here if you're white as there is so much animosity about the Crow's plight. All I could think of at the time was the movie Jeremiah Johnstone where Robert Redford is pursued by the Crow through the mountains relentlessly to avenge the ancestors for his crime of walking through their sacred burial ground. Soon enough I was to see mountains such as those he was pursued through as I finally entered Wyoming. First through the Big Horn mountains, then high plains and desert. All with those majestic Rocky mountains making up the horizon to the south and west. I wondered how it must've felt for the first pioneers entering such unfamiliar lands, and the native americas finding these strangers with their guns and sense of entitlement but most of all I thought how I would have longed to be one of those people native or pioneer who was able to walk this land before roads and settlements of concrete and glass arrived...
I stopped in the little town of Sheridan, Wyoming for some lunch where the town is laid out along the same lines I imagine it was when originally settled with one long main street marking almost all of the settlement. It must've been the sight for at least a couple of duels and maybe even a heist of the Wells Fargo bank which completely authentic. I stopped in to a rather elegant restaurant and enjoyed friendly service from a wholesome Wyoming girl and stretched my legs a little before getting back on I-90 and making for Devil's Tower. I'd decided to visit Devil's Tower pretty late in the day but when you see a picture (I've included one below) of it you understand how otherworldly it is, and in my book that's a good enough reason to seek it out (you might also recognise it from the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind). By the time I arrived the sun was waning and cast its light across the fields of windswept wheat surrounding it a glistening blanket of gold against the imposing darkness of the leviathan. I was once more in a state of awe at the natural beauty here in the west. Back in the car I travelled onwards for another couple of hours coming down from the high plains past the historic town of Deadwood, arriving in Rapid City, South Dakota 600 miles under my belt for the day, craving for a deep restful sleep.
I got up early the next day and made my way to the Black Hills to visit Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse statues. Mount Rushmore was a little underwhelming, although it did peak my interest in the President I knew least about – Teddy Roosevelt. It inevitably suffered when held in comparison to the much grander albeit incomplete statue of Crazy Horse nearby that will when finished consume the entire mountain its cast from. Crazy Horse didn't win any prizes either when held in comparison to the Black Hills where both monuments lie. Forested and covered in snow these rolling hills were yet another inspirational aspect of the natural beauty in all its abundance that marks this part of the world.
By lunchtime I was on the road for my last stop of the day: the Badlands of South Dakota. These jagged rock formations are like nothing else and should be visited by everyone at least once if humanly possible. Their serrated forms rise out of the plains and have an ethereal feel that is quite unlike any other I've known. I know it seems strange to describe them as ethereal given their imposing nature and permanence but they felt like I'd dreamt or hallucinated their ghostly forms. Perhaps it was the blanket of snow that covered them or my own preconceptions I'm not sure? Either way it was definitely enhanced when a long eared owl flew in front of my windscreen no more than 2 feet away! After a couple of enchanted hours travelling this strange world I resumed my journey east and pushed on for Minneapolis arriving at midnight. This would give me the luxury of not driving the next day and 900 miles under my belt for the day on the straightest most uneventful roads I expect I'll ever see I was pleased of that.
The home of Prince didn't seem willing to give up any of its secrets to me in the day I had to explore so I decided to take a visit to the polar opposite of the co-operatives and wide open spaces that had dominated proceedings thus far and head to the biggest shopping mall in the northern hemisphere: The Mall of America. There's not much I can tell you about this place that you couldn't guess short of the fact it has a series of roller-coasters in the centre of the complex and is barring this bright spot marked by vast areas coloured grey, beige or magnolia. Feeling like I'd made a big mistake, especially as the only item on my shopping list (stamps) seemed to be the only thing they didn't sell in there I made my way to the cinema and was happily transported to a happier place watching the fabulous new movie by Alphonso Cuaron: Gravity. If you haven't seen it on the big screen please do so while you can its a thing of beauty.
The next day marked my last in the car which by now I'd grown rather fond of and only required a quick 4 hour drive to Madison, Wisconsin where I was scheduled to spend 4 days in a Housing Co-operative. I'll let you know about that in my next post...
By the time I got the actual car I'd be driving east, a rather sleek black Nissan Altima complete with cruise control and a booking stereo with bluetooth connection for my iphone it was almost 11pm. My original plan for Wyoming was now well and truly up the spout and the best I could hope for was to make it back to Billings and making the trip to Wyoming the next day. This would take a further three hours and was made all the more difficult with the conditions throwing up pretty much every shitty bit of weather you could name: freezing fog, snow and icy roads. Somehow I managed to hold it all together and by around 2am I stopped at a motel just about 60 miles short of Billings.
The next day I'd given up on cursing my stupidity and feeling frustrated about loosing time to enjoy the different stops I'd plotted along my route (its hard to stay pissed off (even at yourself) when you're confronted with Montana). A new plan in mind I set off for that day's new final destination: Rapid City, South Dakota. Along the way I'd visit Devil's Tower – a 300 and something metre rock formation in Wyoming, buoyed by the knowledge the drive itself would offer ample opportunity to reflect on my trip, the book that's becoming ever more coherent and listen to music – loud; all while soaking up the wondrous landscapes of Montana and Wyoming that lay in wait.
I'd made it to Billings an hour after breakfast and the fearsome weather of the previous night had given way to blue skies with high cirrus clouds streaked across its pale blue expanse. On turning towards the south soon after I left the by now familiar landscapes I'd enjoyed in Montana for the last few days and entered the county of Big Horn where that foolhardy killer of innocents and celebrated American Custer got his ass handed to him. I didn't feel much like stopping here regardless of schedule but the landscape with its baron simplicity and geological formations was instantly reminiscent of the westerns I'd watched as a boy and man. And as things would turn out this was to be the theme of the day as Big Horn gave way to Crow Country – a native america reservation where the countryside was pocked with some of the most dilapidated settlements I've ever seen. I found out later that its not a good idea to stop here if you're white as there is so much animosity about the Crow's plight. All I could think of at the time was the movie Jeremiah Johnstone where Robert Redford is pursued by the Crow through the mountains relentlessly to avenge the ancestors for his crime of walking through their sacred burial ground. Soon enough I was to see mountains such as those he was pursued through as I finally entered Wyoming. First through the Big Horn mountains, then high plains and desert. All with those majestic Rocky mountains making up the horizon to the south and west. I wondered how it must've felt for the first pioneers entering such unfamiliar lands, and the native americas finding these strangers with their guns and sense of entitlement but most of all I thought how I would have longed to be one of those people native or pioneer who was able to walk this land before roads and settlements of concrete and glass arrived...
I stopped in the little town of Sheridan, Wyoming for some lunch where the town is laid out along the same lines I imagine it was when originally settled with one long main street marking almost all of the settlement. It must've been the sight for at least a couple of duels and maybe even a heist of the Wells Fargo bank which completely authentic. I stopped in to a rather elegant restaurant and enjoyed friendly service from a wholesome Wyoming girl and stretched my legs a little before getting back on I-90 and making for Devil's Tower. I'd decided to visit Devil's Tower pretty late in the day but when you see a picture (I've included one below) of it you understand how otherworldly it is, and in my book that's a good enough reason to seek it out (you might also recognise it from the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind). By the time I arrived the sun was waning and cast its light across the fields of windswept wheat surrounding it a glistening blanket of gold against the imposing darkness of the leviathan. I was once more in a state of awe at the natural beauty here in the west. Back in the car I travelled onwards for another couple of hours coming down from the high plains past the historic town of Deadwood, arriving in Rapid City, South Dakota 600 miles under my belt for the day, craving for a deep restful sleep.
I got up early the next day and made my way to the Black Hills to visit Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse statues. Mount Rushmore was a little underwhelming, although it did peak my interest in the President I knew least about – Teddy Roosevelt. It inevitably suffered when held in comparison to the much grander albeit incomplete statue of Crazy Horse nearby that will when finished consume the entire mountain its cast from. Crazy Horse didn't win any prizes either when held in comparison to the Black Hills where both monuments lie. Forested and covered in snow these rolling hills were yet another inspirational aspect of the natural beauty in all its abundance that marks this part of the world.
By lunchtime I was on the road for my last stop of the day: the Badlands of South Dakota. These jagged rock formations are like nothing else and should be visited by everyone at least once if humanly possible. Their serrated forms rise out of the plains and have an ethereal feel that is quite unlike any other I've known. I know it seems strange to describe them as ethereal given their imposing nature and permanence but they felt like I'd dreamt or hallucinated their ghostly forms. Perhaps it was the blanket of snow that covered them or my own preconceptions I'm not sure? Either way it was definitely enhanced when a long eared owl flew in front of my windscreen no more than 2 feet away! After a couple of enchanted hours travelling this strange world I resumed my journey east and pushed on for Minneapolis arriving at midnight. This would give me the luxury of not driving the next day and 900 miles under my belt for the day on the straightest most uneventful roads I expect I'll ever see I was pleased of that.
The home of Prince didn't seem willing to give up any of its secrets to me in the day I had to explore so I decided to take a visit to the polar opposite of the co-operatives and wide open spaces that had dominated proceedings thus far and head to the biggest shopping mall in the northern hemisphere: The Mall of America. There's not much I can tell you about this place that you couldn't guess short of the fact it has a series of roller-coasters in the centre of the complex and is barring this bright spot marked by vast areas coloured grey, beige or magnolia. Feeling like I'd made a big mistake, especially as the only item on my shopping list (stamps) seemed to be the only thing they didn't sell in there I made my way to the cinema and was happily transported to a happier place watching the fabulous new movie by Alphonso Cuaron: Gravity. If you haven't seen it on the big screen please do so while you can its a thing of beauty.
The next day marked my last in the car which by now I'd grown rather fond of and only required a quick 4 hour drive to Madison, Wisconsin where I was scheduled to spend 4 days in a Housing Co-operative. I'll let you know about that in my next post...
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
13th November 2013
My last post left off
just as Neil, Joel and I were leaving Nelson, British Columbia to
head for a road trip to Yellowstone park in Wyoming. Leaving Friday
afternoon we figured we'd be able to make it down as far as
Yellowstone by around midnight. That was to prove a little ambitious,
particularly given the inaccurate directions Google maps was to
provide. The first event of note happened as we reached the sleepy
border check-point around an hours drive south of Nelson.
The lone border officer was a friendly lady who somehow knew who Joel was but I suppose that's not too surprising when you consider he's the doctor in a pretty rural community. As it turns out her knowing Joel is probably the only reason we weren't detained... We were asked a number of pretty standard questions including whether we had any guns or knives. I chipped in that I had a small pen-knife which she was happy to confirm was perfectly acceptable, Neil however reported to having possession of a much larger hunting knife that he's bought in the US. On announcing this fact Neil rather naively produced the knife form his door pocket and unsheathed it no more than six inches from the officer's face! This definitely put a slightly more frosty complexion on things and as stated previously its my strong belief that our avoidance of detention was thanks to the good doctor's presence.
Our progress form there was relatively uneventful as we drove through first Washington, to Idaho and finally entering Montana. Driving in a large pick-up meant regular stops for gas punctuated our journey and the extent of my time in Idaho was a stop at a rundown garage where the locals had that classic boondocks appearance you'd expect (pot-bellies, flannel shirts, beards and caps). Just before entering Idaho we joined the I-90 (Interstate) that was to be the thoroughfare I'd follow pretty much all the way to Chicago over the next ten days.
Not long after passing the city of Butte Google advised us to make a turn towards the Mammoth, a small town at the north end of Yellowstone park. By now it was past midnight and Neil had been valiantly driving for almost eight hours. The road we followed become ever narrower and more remote and while ordinarily this may have rung alarm bells we were all tired and figured that Yellowstone was going to be pretty remote and rural but it was not to be, after 80kms we arrived in Mammoth but it turned out it was a private estate at the very end of the road we'd followed. The only thing for it was to turn back and retrace our steps. Eventually we got back on the I-90 but consulting a good old fashioned paper map we realised we'd only reach Yellowstone if we continued pretty much right through the night. Consensus was reached with little difficultly that we should take up a new plan and find lodgings in a motel as close to our current location as possible. That led to the village of Three Forks where we managed to wake the owner and secure a room complete with three double beds, leaving our final push to Yellowstone for the morning.
A goodnight's sleep, albeit short saw us all refreshed and raring to go, daylight also revealed a fresh fall of snow and the wide open expanses of Montana. Its called Big Sky Country and its for very good reason the drive down to Yellowstone took us down a wide open plain flanked by imposing snowy mountains to our left and right with azure skies and barely a soul to see. It was kind of like Scotland on very strong steroids. By early afternoon we reached the park and commenced a series of quick tours around various geyser basins, climaxing in most famous of them all old faithful. Though watching it blow was definitely a sight to see I think I was more struck by the alien landscape of [check map] that would be revealed as the wind would blow the steam to and fro.
As daylight shrank we got back in the pickup to make for the north-side of the park via Yellowstone lake that forms the centre of the park and roughly marks the caldera of the super volcano that created the otherworldly place. Ringed with mountains and filled with the bluest of blue water all enhanced by the setting sun. After the lake we made a quick pitstop at Yosemite Falls but by twilight had turned to very last vestige of dusk and we could make out no more that a silhouette of the falls. Leaving the park's north exit via the Rosevelt gate we arrived in the town of Gardiner where we found lodging in a very cosy little yellow wooden lodge. A few whiskies and a round or two of the Who Wants to be A Millionaire board game was about as much sa we could muster after a very unsatisfying deep fried meal in the only place in town that served food after 9pm.
The next day we returned to Yellowstone and went for a hike in the snow towards Electric peak a craggy mountain that marks the north-west corner of the park. Joel destroyed his feet with ill fitting shoes which curtailed out progress a little but kudos to him for soldiering through, his heals were literally right down to the flesh. On leaving the park we headed back towards the I-90 and Butte where a good nights rest would punctuate our parting.
I'm so pleased the guys joined me for the initial part of my larger trip road trip. Serving as a great way to get back into the rhythm of life on the road. Of course its also a great way to cement a new friendship and further cement an existing one and the trip fulfilled this role as well anyone could ever want.
The lone border officer was a friendly lady who somehow knew who Joel was but I suppose that's not too surprising when you consider he's the doctor in a pretty rural community. As it turns out her knowing Joel is probably the only reason we weren't detained... We were asked a number of pretty standard questions including whether we had any guns or knives. I chipped in that I had a small pen-knife which she was happy to confirm was perfectly acceptable, Neil however reported to having possession of a much larger hunting knife that he's bought in the US. On announcing this fact Neil rather naively produced the knife form his door pocket and unsheathed it no more than six inches from the officer's face! This definitely put a slightly more frosty complexion on things and as stated previously its my strong belief that our avoidance of detention was thanks to the good doctor's presence.
Our progress form there was relatively uneventful as we drove through first Washington, to Idaho and finally entering Montana. Driving in a large pick-up meant regular stops for gas punctuated our journey and the extent of my time in Idaho was a stop at a rundown garage where the locals had that classic boondocks appearance you'd expect (pot-bellies, flannel shirts, beards and caps). Just before entering Idaho we joined the I-90 (Interstate) that was to be the thoroughfare I'd follow pretty much all the way to Chicago over the next ten days.
Not long after passing the city of Butte Google advised us to make a turn towards the Mammoth, a small town at the north end of Yellowstone park. By now it was past midnight and Neil had been valiantly driving for almost eight hours. The road we followed become ever narrower and more remote and while ordinarily this may have rung alarm bells we were all tired and figured that Yellowstone was going to be pretty remote and rural but it was not to be, after 80kms we arrived in Mammoth but it turned out it was a private estate at the very end of the road we'd followed. The only thing for it was to turn back and retrace our steps. Eventually we got back on the I-90 but consulting a good old fashioned paper map we realised we'd only reach Yellowstone if we continued pretty much right through the night. Consensus was reached with little difficultly that we should take up a new plan and find lodgings in a motel as close to our current location as possible. That led to the village of Three Forks where we managed to wake the owner and secure a room complete with three double beds, leaving our final push to Yellowstone for the morning.
A goodnight's sleep, albeit short saw us all refreshed and raring to go, daylight also revealed a fresh fall of snow and the wide open expanses of Montana. Its called Big Sky Country and its for very good reason the drive down to Yellowstone took us down a wide open plain flanked by imposing snowy mountains to our left and right with azure skies and barely a soul to see. It was kind of like Scotland on very strong steroids. By early afternoon we reached the park and commenced a series of quick tours around various geyser basins, climaxing in most famous of them all old faithful. Though watching it blow was definitely a sight to see I think I was more struck by the alien landscape of [check map] that would be revealed as the wind would blow the steam to and fro.
As daylight shrank we got back in the pickup to make for the north-side of the park via Yellowstone lake that forms the centre of the park and roughly marks the caldera of the super volcano that created the otherworldly place. Ringed with mountains and filled with the bluest of blue water all enhanced by the setting sun. After the lake we made a quick pitstop at Yosemite Falls but by twilight had turned to very last vestige of dusk and we could make out no more that a silhouette of the falls. Leaving the park's north exit via the Rosevelt gate we arrived in the town of Gardiner where we found lodging in a very cosy little yellow wooden lodge. A few whiskies and a round or two of the Who Wants to be A Millionaire board game was about as much sa we could muster after a very unsatisfying deep fried meal in the only place in town that served food after 9pm.
The next day we returned to Yellowstone and went for a hike in the snow towards Electric peak a craggy mountain that marks the north-west corner of the park. Joel destroyed his feet with ill fitting shoes which curtailed out progress a little but kudos to him for soldiering through, his heals were literally right down to the flesh. On leaving the park we headed back towards the I-90 and Butte where a good nights rest would punctuate our parting.
I'm so pleased the guys joined me for the initial part of my larger trip road trip. Serving as a great way to get back into the rhythm of life on the road. Of course its also a great way to cement a new friendship and further cement an existing one and the trip fulfilled this role as well anyone could ever want.
Monday, 11 November 2013
11th November 2013
Its been a while since my
last post in Vancouver. Since then I've travelled across the wide
open spaces of Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota and find myself in a
co-operative home in Madison, Wisconsin. Before embarking on this
epic voyage I stopped in Nelson, British Columbia. Its a kind of
sleepy little ski town nestled in the Kootenay mountains with a west
coast vibe thanks to the influx of Vietnam draft dodgers who arrived
in the late 60 and early 70.
This stop was a little different to most of my chosen destinations as the draw lay not in the co-operatives, landscapes or culture but three dear friends from my hometown of Penicuik who've moved here with their families over the course of the last 10 years or so. The draw for each of them is Nelson's situation – an eight hour drive inland from Vancouver it enjoys some of the most prodigious snow falls of anywhere in the world, not only that its all powder. I'm no skier but from what I gather this is pretty much as good as it can get. Furthermore its low profile compared to better know ski-destinations means the locals are able to enjoy the abundant fresh powder without having to compete with tourists. Unlike my friends the thought of all this snow doesn't fill me with the same kind of excitement and its arrival could've been a serious obstacle to the rest of my trip – thankfully it held off until just after I left.
Paul, Neil and Dave (my hometown friends) have built wonderful lives for themselves and their families out here. And after almost 4 years without seeing Neil and only a couple of fleeting meetings with Dave and Paul over the same time period back in the UK it was truly wonderful to spend 10 blissful days hanging out with them all.
Nelson itself lies at the foot of a tree covered valley where deep green pines and golden larch cover the steep slopes and mark autumn's slow progress towards winter. Neil has found gainful employment working for a local festival called Shambala and most days I'd drive round to meet him for lunch, sampling a different eatery on nearly every occasion. Finding a different place to lunch over the course of 10 days might seem surprising if you consider that Nelson's population is less than 10,000. However, the draft dodgers brought their very own industry with them from California and that industry is pot growing. I suppose it lies beneath the surface to some extent but one of the consequences of its existence is the relatively high disposable income the locals enjoy. This is of course usually cash that is best spent in restaurants, bars or stores. They also brought some other economic institutions with them one of which is the Kootenay Co-op where I was able to hold a wonderful interview with its marketing manager, Jocelyn.
All three of my friends own big pick-up trucks and they were kind enough to let me use them whenever I needed. And even though I'm not sure I really needed to use them, nor if I actually approve of these vast gas guzzling machines I cannot deny that I loved cruising around town in a Dodge Ram with a 5.8 litre V8 hemi. I'm a little unshaved right now even by my poorly groomed standards and in possession of a baseball cap so I'm pretty sure to any passers by I looked just like the real deal. It was a trip.
Short of spending time with my friends, their partners and wonderful kids I was able to do a little exploring outside of town. A particular highlight was a trip we all made to an old growth forest of fir trees and pines where I was assured there would be at least some chance of an encounter with a grizzly bear. Sadly (or perhaps not) we didn't find any bears but the forest was magical and if I was a bear I'd be pretty damn pleased to call it home. Afterwards I headed to a hot springs with Dave and his clan. Never having been to a hot springs I didn't really know what to expect and even though it wasn't what I pictured the reality was every bit as good as I could have wished for. The springs themselves were located in caves you could swim into and lie floating in a dark warm corner with the waters gently soothing and relaxing every last muscle, joint and ligament in your body. The effects were so profound two hours passed as if it was the a blink of an eye.
Paul – a civil engineer lives a little further out of town in a home he and his family moved to around a year ago. When I say home I'm neglecting to mention the 16 acres of forested land it sits within. His wife Jana is making use of the space by indulging her passion for horses and much of their time of late has been spent making provision for their four legged friends. However, winter is approaching and time is therefore running out to finish the various projects they've got going on, chief among them a huge carport – more of a bard to my mind that will accommodate the horse trailer. I'm no builder and was happy to leave this more technical work to Dave and Paul who are eminently more qualified than I. That said I've always enjoyed a spot of straight forward manual labour and made myself as helpful as I could by filling in a trench that was dug out to accommodate a power supply for the new hot-tub. There's something very satisfying and relaxing about simple manual labour and by the end of the day my back may have smarted a little but the cable was buried and the trench filled. Sadly the hot-tub wasn't quite ready to go before I departed but its one more reason to come back in the future.
I was really sad to leave Nelson, I could've quite happily stayed in its warm embrace for a long, long time but the plan is the plan and I still hadn't made too much of a dent in my traverse to the east coast. Happily I didn't leave empty handed as Neil and his friend Joel decided they'd come with me for a road trip to Yellowstone park. So Friday night after Neil finished work we loaded his pick up and the three of us set off south and east looking for adventure and some of the wonder that part of the world has always tantalised me with...
This stop was a little different to most of my chosen destinations as the draw lay not in the co-operatives, landscapes or culture but three dear friends from my hometown of Penicuik who've moved here with their families over the course of the last 10 years or so. The draw for each of them is Nelson's situation – an eight hour drive inland from Vancouver it enjoys some of the most prodigious snow falls of anywhere in the world, not only that its all powder. I'm no skier but from what I gather this is pretty much as good as it can get. Furthermore its low profile compared to better know ski-destinations means the locals are able to enjoy the abundant fresh powder without having to compete with tourists. Unlike my friends the thought of all this snow doesn't fill me with the same kind of excitement and its arrival could've been a serious obstacle to the rest of my trip – thankfully it held off until just after I left.
Paul, Neil and Dave (my hometown friends) have built wonderful lives for themselves and their families out here. And after almost 4 years without seeing Neil and only a couple of fleeting meetings with Dave and Paul over the same time period back in the UK it was truly wonderful to spend 10 blissful days hanging out with them all.
Nelson itself lies at the foot of a tree covered valley where deep green pines and golden larch cover the steep slopes and mark autumn's slow progress towards winter. Neil has found gainful employment working for a local festival called Shambala and most days I'd drive round to meet him for lunch, sampling a different eatery on nearly every occasion. Finding a different place to lunch over the course of 10 days might seem surprising if you consider that Nelson's population is less than 10,000. However, the draft dodgers brought their very own industry with them from California and that industry is pot growing. I suppose it lies beneath the surface to some extent but one of the consequences of its existence is the relatively high disposable income the locals enjoy. This is of course usually cash that is best spent in restaurants, bars or stores. They also brought some other economic institutions with them one of which is the Kootenay Co-op where I was able to hold a wonderful interview with its marketing manager, Jocelyn.
All three of my friends own big pick-up trucks and they were kind enough to let me use them whenever I needed. And even though I'm not sure I really needed to use them, nor if I actually approve of these vast gas guzzling machines I cannot deny that I loved cruising around town in a Dodge Ram with a 5.8 litre V8 hemi. I'm a little unshaved right now even by my poorly groomed standards and in possession of a baseball cap so I'm pretty sure to any passers by I looked just like the real deal. It was a trip.
Short of spending time with my friends, their partners and wonderful kids I was able to do a little exploring outside of town. A particular highlight was a trip we all made to an old growth forest of fir trees and pines where I was assured there would be at least some chance of an encounter with a grizzly bear. Sadly (or perhaps not) we didn't find any bears but the forest was magical and if I was a bear I'd be pretty damn pleased to call it home. Afterwards I headed to a hot springs with Dave and his clan. Never having been to a hot springs I didn't really know what to expect and even though it wasn't what I pictured the reality was every bit as good as I could have wished for. The springs themselves were located in caves you could swim into and lie floating in a dark warm corner with the waters gently soothing and relaxing every last muscle, joint and ligament in your body. The effects were so profound two hours passed as if it was the a blink of an eye.
Paul – a civil engineer lives a little further out of town in a home he and his family moved to around a year ago. When I say home I'm neglecting to mention the 16 acres of forested land it sits within. His wife Jana is making use of the space by indulging her passion for horses and much of their time of late has been spent making provision for their four legged friends. However, winter is approaching and time is therefore running out to finish the various projects they've got going on, chief among them a huge carport – more of a bard to my mind that will accommodate the horse trailer. I'm no builder and was happy to leave this more technical work to Dave and Paul who are eminently more qualified than I. That said I've always enjoyed a spot of straight forward manual labour and made myself as helpful as I could by filling in a trench that was dug out to accommodate a power supply for the new hot-tub. There's something very satisfying and relaxing about simple manual labour and by the end of the day my back may have smarted a little but the cable was buried and the trench filled. Sadly the hot-tub wasn't quite ready to go before I departed but its one more reason to come back in the future.
I was really sad to leave Nelson, I could've quite happily stayed in its warm embrace for a long, long time but the plan is the plan and I still hadn't made too much of a dent in my traverse to the east coast. Happily I didn't leave empty handed as Neil and his friend Joel decided they'd come with me for a road trip to Yellowstone park. So Friday night after Neil finished work we loaded his pick up and the three of us set off south and east looking for adventure and some of the wonder that part of the world has always tantalised me with...
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
22nd October 2013
I arrived last night in
the town Nelson, British Columbia around 400 miles inland from
Vancouver after leaving Seattle on Thursday, heading north to Canada
once more via Greyhound for three action packed days in Vancouver. As
per usual I arrived at night, but for the first time in all my
travels I'd managed to arrange to do a bit of couch surfing – for
the uninitiated this is a website that lets you find people in
different locations around the world who have a spare bed or sofa
they are willing to have guests come and stay on. In my case Rey
Torres who replied to my application as my focus on co-operatives
peaked his interest being an employee of the biggest Credit Union
(co-operative bank) in Canada.
On arrival I was warmly welcomed by Rey along with his friend Miguel and served my first home cooked meal of this trip; a rather delicious marinated pork chop and Chinese vegetables. After dinner we sat down and began to get to know one another and much to our shared delight we discovered a we were both burners! Granted Rey is a rather more seasoned burner than I having attended the last nine in a row but whether its one or nine it all still counts.
On Friday I got up and made a trip to downtown Vancouver where I found more helpful people than a worldwide convention of Samaritans. Whether it was to give directions, serve me a coffee, or sort out my laundry every single person I met here was warm, generous and only to happy to go the extra mile. The city reflects this with clean streets and lots of smiling faces despite the fog bound conditions that endured for pretty much my entire stay. Later I met with Roy Symonds and his wife Roy's an old friend who I haven't seen since we left school which makes it a cool eighteen years who's been living out here for the last four or five. He like most round these parts loves the outdoor life and took me for a hike up the Grouse Grind – a very steep climb up a mountainside that takes you up to the top of Grouse ski resort immediately north of the city. It climbs to around 3,500 ft in no time at all with most of the trail consisting of hefty stone steps sometimes as much as three foot high a time. Even before we'd started the climb we'd come high enough to get above the clouds, although no views were forthcoming until we reached the summit after 90 minutes of panting (on my part at any rate) and clambering thanks to the pine trees covering the steeply sloping face of the mountain. When we did make to the top the views across the cloud covered city to Vancouver island in the west and south towards the Rockies and in particular the snowy peak of Mount Baker back in Washington state were sensational. Appreciation all aided in no small part by the conveniently located lodge with bar serving up some fine BC beer. In the night I went to a burner party with Rey and met with my buddy Adrian who lives and works in Vancouver. He and I have now managed to meet three times on three separate continents (South Africa, Peru and now Canada) in the last year and it looks as though we'll meet again in India come next February!
Saturday morning marked the start of a conference on the New Economy. For those not in the know it can best be described as an ecosystem of institutions and business models that aim to democratise and empower all members of society, ensuring natural and human resources are deployed and consumed equitably and sustainably. If that still sounds a little nebulous, lets just say its there are lots of co-operatives engaged in this area and its therefore a great place to link up and learn about some really cool stuff for the book I'm currently researching / writing. The conference itself was located on Glanville island sitting under the main bridge that takes you downtown from southern Vancouver. Until its recent conversion the the island was the location for most of the fishing industry's processing plants (Much like Seattle this is a watery city and boats of all sorts be it container ships or pleasure cruisers line the bays and inlets around the city). Nowadays the old industrial buildings on the island are filled with farmers markets, hotels, restaurants and artisanal shops of all descriptions. Some remnants of its industrial part do remain intact with a working concrete plant tucked to one side of the island. I won't go into the details of the conference suffice it to say I learnt about a heck of a lot of cool and innovative stuff going on in Vancouver co-operatives and made a half dozen really good contacts (if you're really interested I've got an article on the conference I'll be putting up on a new website in the not too distant).
Saturday night Rey took me along to see a friend of his Jazz orchestra at SFU in Gastown, the oldest part of Vancouver. To my delight the band turned out to be comprised of some the best jazz musicians in Canada and their performance (a tribute to Kenny Wheeler – Canadian trumpet and composing jazz legend who lives in London) included a world premiere of a new Kenny Wheeler piece. The music as it has the potential to do transported me to a different world with its complex harmonics and pwerful horn section. And the flugel horn player who took up the lead more often than not played with a tone and control that was something you have to see and hear to believe.
Sunday was my last day in Vancouver and the conference. Rey who'd been so kind right through my trip and in three days become a good friend threw a little dinner party in the evening where he served up Lamb shanks, red wine and good company. And that was the end of my three action packed days in home of the Canucks. Not sure when I'll be back but I look forward to spending more time here, its got an easy charm all of its own and I can understand why everyone seems so damn happy to be there.
On arrival I was warmly welcomed by Rey along with his friend Miguel and served my first home cooked meal of this trip; a rather delicious marinated pork chop and Chinese vegetables. After dinner we sat down and began to get to know one another and much to our shared delight we discovered a we were both burners! Granted Rey is a rather more seasoned burner than I having attended the last nine in a row but whether its one or nine it all still counts.
On Friday I got up and made a trip to downtown Vancouver where I found more helpful people than a worldwide convention of Samaritans. Whether it was to give directions, serve me a coffee, or sort out my laundry every single person I met here was warm, generous and only to happy to go the extra mile. The city reflects this with clean streets and lots of smiling faces despite the fog bound conditions that endured for pretty much my entire stay. Later I met with Roy Symonds and his wife Roy's an old friend who I haven't seen since we left school which makes it a cool eighteen years who's been living out here for the last four or five. He like most round these parts loves the outdoor life and took me for a hike up the Grouse Grind – a very steep climb up a mountainside that takes you up to the top of Grouse ski resort immediately north of the city. It climbs to around 3,500 ft in no time at all with most of the trail consisting of hefty stone steps sometimes as much as three foot high a time. Even before we'd started the climb we'd come high enough to get above the clouds, although no views were forthcoming until we reached the summit after 90 minutes of panting (on my part at any rate) and clambering thanks to the pine trees covering the steeply sloping face of the mountain. When we did make to the top the views across the cloud covered city to Vancouver island in the west and south towards the Rockies and in particular the snowy peak of Mount Baker back in Washington state were sensational. Appreciation all aided in no small part by the conveniently located lodge with bar serving up some fine BC beer. In the night I went to a burner party with Rey and met with my buddy Adrian who lives and works in Vancouver. He and I have now managed to meet three times on three separate continents (South Africa, Peru and now Canada) in the last year and it looks as though we'll meet again in India come next February!
Saturday morning marked the start of a conference on the New Economy. For those not in the know it can best be described as an ecosystem of institutions and business models that aim to democratise and empower all members of society, ensuring natural and human resources are deployed and consumed equitably and sustainably. If that still sounds a little nebulous, lets just say its there are lots of co-operatives engaged in this area and its therefore a great place to link up and learn about some really cool stuff for the book I'm currently researching / writing. The conference itself was located on Glanville island sitting under the main bridge that takes you downtown from southern Vancouver. Until its recent conversion the the island was the location for most of the fishing industry's processing plants (Much like Seattle this is a watery city and boats of all sorts be it container ships or pleasure cruisers line the bays and inlets around the city). Nowadays the old industrial buildings on the island are filled with farmers markets, hotels, restaurants and artisanal shops of all descriptions. Some remnants of its industrial part do remain intact with a working concrete plant tucked to one side of the island. I won't go into the details of the conference suffice it to say I learnt about a heck of a lot of cool and innovative stuff going on in Vancouver co-operatives and made a half dozen really good contacts (if you're really interested I've got an article on the conference I'll be putting up on a new website in the not too distant).
Saturday night Rey took me along to see a friend of his Jazz orchestra at SFU in Gastown, the oldest part of Vancouver. To my delight the band turned out to be comprised of some the best jazz musicians in Canada and their performance (a tribute to Kenny Wheeler – Canadian trumpet and composing jazz legend who lives in London) included a world premiere of a new Kenny Wheeler piece. The music as it has the potential to do transported me to a different world with its complex harmonics and pwerful horn section. And the flugel horn player who took up the lead more often than not played with a tone and control that was something you have to see and hear to believe.
Sunday was my last day in Vancouver and the conference. Rey who'd been so kind right through my trip and in three days become a good friend threw a little dinner party in the evening where he served up Lamb shanks, red wine and good company. And that was the end of my three action packed days in home of the Canucks. Not sure when I'll be back but I look forward to spending more time here, its got an easy charm all of its own and I can understand why everyone seems so damn happy to be there.
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
16th October 2013
I'm writing this blog
sitting in the Twedes diner in North Bend perhaps better known as the
RR diner in Twin Peaks. I guess this is as close to a pilgrimage as
it comes for an atheist like me? While Twedes interior may not be
quite as enchanting as it was on the show nor the waitress quite as
sexy as Shelly Johnson I'm definitely feeling a little tingly. I
travelled here by bus from Seattle this morning and my plan is to
walk around and see the a few of the sites and sounds that are so
familiar to a Twin Peaks fan like me.
Since my last post I've left Eugene behind and arrived in Seattle on route to Vancouver before I finally kiss the Pacific coast goodbye and start my journey across the continent to the bright lights of New York city. I spent my last couple of days in Eugene being a little more social than the earlier part of my stay and sampled a few of the local wares, not least of all the beer. Eugene and more generally the northwest (Oregon and Washington states) enjoy the perfect conditions to grow hops and there are more breweries operating in these parts than anywhere else in the world. Eugene a relatively small city has more than three breweries all offering a vast range of beers. Last Thursday I visited the Ninkasi brewery (apparently she was the Sumerian goddess of beer) where there is a shiny new tasting room attached to the brewery and its full range of regular and one off beers are available.
Eugene not only provided me with delicious beer it also perhaps more surprisingly served up some of the best pizza I've ever eaten in a restaurant called Sizzle Pie. Its located in the heart of downtown just opposite Ken Kessey of The Merry Pranksters fame (see Tom Wolfe's – Electric Kool Aid Acid Test if you're not sure who he or the Pranksters were). They offer slices, salads or entire pizzas who's proportions are on a par with the restaurant's tables. As well as pizza I enjoyed a visit to a Japanese cocktail bar and restaurant who served up great octopus and Japanese mules (not sure what goes into this cocktail but it was spicy, sharp and delicious).
I arrived in Seattle late Sunday night under cover of darkness which appears to be my default mode of entry into nearly every city I visit. Monday revealed a clean and spacious town with far fewer homeless than I'd grown accustomed to in San Francisco and Eugene. My hostel is close to the waterfront in the Belltown district (not saying much in such a watery city where the Puget sound and associated waterways weave between the city street). It feels like an industrious sort of place and is home to some of the biggest names in business, Boeing, Microsoft and Starbucks to name but a few. It also marks the base of operations for the USA's northern Pacific fishing fleet who can be assured of shelter from the stormy winters in the sound. This in turn explain the number of seafood restaurants I've spotted around here and the burly looking guys wearing flannel shirts who an American guy I was speaking with in a nearby dive bar explained were fisherman.
Yesterday I visited the EMP (Experience Music Project) – a huge museum for contemporary music that was paid for by Paul Allen of Microsoft fame (or is that infamy?) designed by Frank Geary (he of the Guggenheim in Bilbao). Its located just beneath the space needle so finding it wasn't a problem. I believe the exhibitions change around a little but happily the four on offer yesterday were all phenomenal. The first order of business was the Jimi Hendrix exhibit. I'd heard thorough the grapevine Allen had originally commissioned the museum to serve as a Hendrix museum but his family who control his estate refused. I'm not sure if this is myth or reality – either way I was happy they had an exhibit official or not. The exhibition basically told the story of Jimi's time in London where he first became a star. It succeeded in transporting me to the Swinging London with its mixture of artefacts (can I call a guitar form 1967 an artefact?) and interactive audio-visual pieces. There were of course the obligatory smashed guitars as well as a few in better repair and standing next to them you do feel a sense of being closer to Jimi. The same goes for Kurt Cobain who's biography was detailed in an even more comprehensive manner in the exhibition on grunge and the Seattle music scene that was in part curated by Chris Novacek formerly of Nirvana. I know both Kurt and Jimi are members of the 27 club but there was something much more somber about Cobain's history. Perhaps its just that stark reality of blowing your brains out with a shotgun as opposed to choking inadvertently on your own vomit? Or maybe its the music each made? I'm really not sure. The two remaining exhibitions – The Hall of Guitars and an area upstairs where you can play guitar, bass, drums and keyboards – scratch DJ or produce a Eurythmics track provided some lighter entertainment. All tolled I spent around four hours in there, a time I think bettered only by the Met in NYC in my history of museum going. And if you ever get to Seattle you have to check it out.
I'm going to have slice of cherry pie now before heading over to the Great Northern hotel and the location of the Twin Peaks title credits vista. Tomorrow its Vancouver where once again I'll arrive in the dark of night, unless of course Bob gets me (TP fans only)...
Since my last post I've left Eugene behind and arrived in Seattle on route to Vancouver before I finally kiss the Pacific coast goodbye and start my journey across the continent to the bright lights of New York city. I spent my last couple of days in Eugene being a little more social than the earlier part of my stay and sampled a few of the local wares, not least of all the beer. Eugene and more generally the northwest (Oregon and Washington states) enjoy the perfect conditions to grow hops and there are more breweries operating in these parts than anywhere else in the world. Eugene a relatively small city has more than three breweries all offering a vast range of beers. Last Thursday I visited the Ninkasi brewery (apparently she was the Sumerian goddess of beer) where there is a shiny new tasting room attached to the brewery and its full range of regular and one off beers are available.
Eugene not only provided me with delicious beer it also perhaps more surprisingly served up some of the best pizza I've ever eaten in a restaurant called Sizzle Pie. Its located in the heart of downtown just opposite Ken Kessey of The Merry Pranksters fame (see Tom Wolfe's – Electric Kool Aid Acid Test if you're not sure who he or the Pranksters were). They offer slices, salads or entire pizzas who's proportions are on a par with the restaurant's tables. As well as pizza I enjoyed a visit to a Japanese cocktail bar and restaurant who served up great octopus and Japanese mules (not sure what goes into this cocktail but it was spicy, sharp and delicious).
I arrived in Seattle late Sunday night under cover of darkness which appears to be my default mode of entry into nearly every city I visit. Monday revealed a clean and spacious town with far fewer homeless than I'd grown accustomed to in San Francisco and Eugene. My hostel is close to the waterfront in the Belltown district (not saying much in such a watery city where the Puget sound and associated waterways weave between the city street). It feels like an industrious sort of place and is home to some of the biggest names in business, Boeing, Microsoft and Starbucks to name but a few. It also marks the base of operations for the USA's northern Pacific fishing fleet who can be assured of shelter from the stormy winters in the sound. This in turn explain the number of seafood restaurants I've spotted around here and the burly looking guys wearing flannel shirts who an American guy I was speaking with in a nearby dive bar explained were fisherman.
Yesterday I visited the EMP (Experience Music Project) – a huge museum for contemporary music that was paid for by Paul Allen of Microsoft fame (or is that infamy?) designed by Frank Geary (he of the Guggenheim in Bilbao). Its located just beneath the space needle so finding it wasn't a problem. I believe the exhibitions change around a little but happily the four on offer yesterday were all phenomenal. The first order of business was the Jimi Hendrix exhibit. I'd heard thorough the grapevine Allen had originally commissioned the museum to serve as a Hendrix museum but his family who control his estate refused. I'm not sure if this is myth or reality – either way I was happy they had an exhibit official or not. The exhibition basically told the story of Jimi's time in London where he first became a star. It succeeded in transporting me to the Swinging London with its mixture of artefacts (can I call a guitar form 1967 an artefact?) and interactive audio-visual pieces. There were of course the obligatory smashed guitars as well as a few in better repair and standing next to them you do feel a sense of being closer to Jimi. The same goes for Kurt Cobain who's biography was detailed in an even more comprehensive manner in the exhibition on grunge and the Seattle music scene that was in part curated by Chris Novacek formerly of Nirvana. I know both Kurt and Jimi are members of the 27 club but there was something much more somber about Cobain's history. Perhaps its just that stark reality of blowing your brains out with a shotgun as opposed to choking inadvertently on your own vomit? Or maybe its the music each made? I'm really not sure. The two remaining exhibitions – The Hall of Guitars and an area upstairs where you can play guitar, bass, drums and keyboards – scratch DJ or produce a Eurythmics track provided some lighter entertainment. All tolled I spent around four hours in there, a time I think bettered only by the Met in NYC in my history of museum going. And if you ever get to Seattle you have to check it out.
I'm going to have slice of cherry pie now before heading over to the Great Northern hotel and the location of the Twin Peaks title credits vista. Tomorrow its Vancouver where once again I'll arrive in the dark of night, unless of course Bob gets me (TP fans only)...
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
9th October 2013
I've been in Eugene,
Oregon since leaving San Francisco on Sunday a week later than
planned thanks to a bout of flu that knocked me out for a couple of
days. My original plan on departing San Francisco was to visit
Portland where there are a wealth of co-operatives. But having missed
my original booking I decided it would be better to spend some time
in a more tranquil environment where I could collect the abundance of
thoughts floating around my head from the many interviews I'd
conducted with co-operatives in the Bay area I'd visited, and write
it all up without the distractions of hostel life. To that end I
booked a week in an RV (recreational vehicle, motorhome, Winnebago or
whatever other name you may choose) via the wonderful website that is
AirBnB – if you're not aware of it check it out now
(https://www.airbnb.com/).
The highlight of the last few days I spent in San Francisco following my recovery was The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival held in Golden Gate Park. I was hoping to hear the thrum of banjos, washboards and pedal steel but sadly our rather late arrival meant we only had time for a bite to eat at our friend Turtle Smasher's food truck: Me So Hungry (http://mesohungrytruck.com/) and a couple of bands. Happily this was ample compensation.
Me So Hungry serves up gourmet sliders (mini burgers for those not in the know). I opted for a couple of Cali sliders which consisted of burger, gorgonzola, balsamic sautéed onions and smoked applewood bacon. Delicious doesn't even begin to describe and the taste sensation and the sweet potato fries with spiced sour cream were on pretty much the same level. Of course it all tastes better when its free and thanks to Turtle Smasher's offer of trading Eva, Audrey and I food for beer our bill amounted to a little over two bucks each, which in my book is pretty close to free!
Once we'd finished with the sliders we headed to the stage Connor Oberst was curating and headlining. He also goes by the name of Bright Eyes and was at some point the latest “new Dylan”, I'm sure they've found someone else to hand that one of now. The stage was set in a beautiful tree lined dell with the stage nestled at the far end. I should quickly mention the festival was entirely free (see previous paragraph for my thoughts on free stuff). There's a pretty longstanding tradition of free music festivals in San Francisco and given the generally bohemian populous, clement weather and vibrant music scene here its easy to understand why. The first band to play were First Aid Kit, a Swedish folk duo who are apparently sisters. Their songs were sweet and pastoral not unlike the Fleet Foxes if a little more stripped back. I haven't been to many festivals where the tempo is quite so slow but on a day like that Friday it seemed entirely appropriate and its pretty great to watch the band lying on the grass without the usual obstructions (i.e. other festival goers jumping around boisterously). Sadly this didn't last as Mr Oberst's arrival on stage triggered what seemed like a couple of thousand young women's arrival, who were almost to the last one stood on tip-toes with tearful expressions on their faces. I resisted the temptation to join in with the waterworks but rose to my feet and enjoyed his brand of emotionally charged contemporary folk music, albeit not quite as much as the rest of the audience. Good times indeed.
I'm looking forward to returning to San Francisco later in November to see some of the friends I've made and hopefully discover a few more of the treasure trove of hidden gems this city has to offer. For now its onwards and northwards...
Eugene, is a smallish city that lies pretty much right in the middle of the Interstate 5 corridor. The road connects California to Portland in the very north of Oregon and is where most of the state's, well at least its more liberal members abide, running northwards, charting a course that runs parallel to the coast around 50 miles inland. The western half of the state is for the most part tree covered, with Sequoias, Douglas firs and all manner of pines covering its hillsides. Eugene keeps this theme going, although it has rather more deciduous trees than the conifers that dominated the landscape on the journey here. My timing weather-wise has been less than perfect (it rained pretty much all day the last two days) but these trees have put on a colourful display with pinks, auburn, gold and green that offer some compensation. Rain or shine each day I've bicycled into the centre of town along the banks of the Williamette river who's banks are lined with trees proudly displaying their colourful canopies. There's a pretty sleepy sort of feel here, although I'm sure if I was to venture towards the part of town where the University of Oregon resides I'd find a little more action. But I'm not, so I won't.
The RV is perfect for my needs, I have gas, electricity, wifi and running water. A comfortable bed and desk to write at and best of all peace and quiet. It really is blissful, especially now I've figured out how to fit in the shower. Perhaps I'll do a little more exploring here before I go but for now the best thing Eugene has to offer is the sanctuary that is my RV.
The highlight of the last few days I spent in San Francisco following my recovery was The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival held in Golden Gate Park. I was hoping to hear the thrum of banjos, washboards and pedal steel but sadly our rather late arrival meant we only had time for a bite to eat at our friend Turtle Smasher's food truck: Me So Hungry (http://mesohungrytruck.com/) and a couple of bands. Happily this was ample compensation.
Me So Hungry serves up gourmet sliders (mini burgers for those not in the know). I opted for a couple of Cali sliders which consisted of burger, gorgonzola, balsamic sautéed onions and smoked applewood bacon. Delicious doesn't even begin to describe and the taste sensation and the sweet potato fries with spiced sour cream were on pretty much the same level. Of course it all tastes better when its free and thanks to Turtle Smasher's offer of trading Eva, Audrey and I food for beer our bill amounted to a little over two bucks each, which in my book is pretty close to free!
Once we'd finished with the sliders we headed to the stage Connor Oberst was curating and headlining. He also goes by the name of Bright Eyes and was at some point the latest “new Dylan”, I'm sure they've found someone else to hand that one of now. The stage was set in a beautiful tree lined dell with the stage nestled at the far end. I should quickly mention the festival was entirely free (see previous paragraph for my thoughts on free stuff). There's a pretty longstanding tradition of free music festivals in San Francisco and given the generally bohemian populous, clement weather and vibrant music scene here its easy to understand why. The first band to play were First Aid Kit, a Swedish folk duo who are apparently sisters. Their songs were sweet and pastoral not unlike the Fleet Foxes if a little more stripped back. I haven't been to many festivals where the tempo is quite so slow but on a day like that Friday it seemed entirely appropriate and its pretty great to watch the band lying on the grass without the usual obstructions (i.e. other festival goers jumping around boisterously). Sadly this didn't last as Mr Oberst's arrival on stage triggered what seemed like a couple of thousand young women's arrival, who were almost to the last one stood on tip-toes with tearful expressions on their faces. I resisted the temptation to join in with the waterworks but rose to my feet and enjoyed his brand of emotionally charged contemporary folk music, albeit not quite as much as the rest of the audience. Good times indeed.
I'm looking forward to returning to San Francisco later in November to see some of the friends I've made and hopefully discover a few more of the treasure trove of hidden gems this city has to offer. For now its onwards and northwards...
Eugene, is a smallish city that lies pretty much right in the middle of the Interstate 5 corridor. The road connects California to Portland in the very north of Oregon and is where most of the state's, well at least its more liberal members abide, running northwards, charting a course that runs parallel to the coast around 50 miles inland. The western half of the state is for the most part tree covered, with Sequoias, Douglas firs and all manner of pines covering its hillsides. Eugene keeps this theme going, although it has rather more deciduous trees than the conifers that dominated the landscape on the journey here. My timing weather-wise has been less than perfect (it rained pretty much all day the last two days) but these trees have put on a colourful display with pinks, auburn, gold and green that offer some compensation. Rain or shine each day I've bicycled into the centre of town along the banks of the Williamette river who's banks are lined with trees proudly displaying their colourful canopies. There's a pretty sleepy sort of feel here, although I'm sure if I was to venture towards the part of town where the University of Oregon resides I'd find a little more action. But I'm not, so I won't.
The RV is perfect for my needs, I have gas, electricity, wifi and running water. A comfortable bed and desk to write at and best of all peace and quiet. It really is blissful, especially now I've figured out how to fit in the shower. Perhaps I'll do a little more exploring here before I go but for now the best thing Eugene has to offer is the sanctuary that is my RV.
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