The Great East Coast Road Trip Vol. Five

I awoke at 4:30 AM in the park and ride to a guy monkeying around with a truck next to me that had a big tarp covering the bed. He looked pretty weird (this coming from a guy sleeping in his car) and kept glancing over at me. I had parked away from the rest of the cars to give myself a little solace. Apparently that was not going to happen. After 20 minutes of farting around, the guy got the truck started and tried leaving, but only made it 5 feet before the truck died. A few minutes later he finally left. I was weirded out by that so I tossed my sleeping bag aside and hit the road.

I left Portland, wanting to come back sometime. It was a lot bigger than I thought (metro population of about 250,000) and had some great bars (at least that was the word on the street). After driving for a bit, I decided it was in my best interest to try and get some more sleep so I pulled into the Maine Visitor Center in Yarmouth. Across the street from the visitor center was the headquarters of Delorme. They make the maps that adorn the backseat of my car. It was just another random moment of my trip. I slept for a few hours and then headed up US 1, past LL Bean and the small towns that dot the Maine coast.

My excitement built as I crossed onto Mount Desert Island, home of Acadia National Park. I had done a little research and knew I had to go to the Park Headquarters to register for winter camping at the park, but I still went to the visitor center that is closed down for the season. After consulting a map, I followed the coast (Is it still considered coastline if you are on an island?) up to Bar Harbor. I quickly realized the town nearly shuts down in the off-season. There were at least 15 hotels shuttered for the winter and finding a closed restaurant was easier than an open one.

I registered to camp and before I went to set up camp, I asked the lady in the office where I could find a good lobster. Camping is free in Acadia after December 1, but you have to park at a gate and walk a half-mile or more to the campground and the only open bathroom is a port-a-potty and water is gleaned from a hand-powered pump on the other side of the campground. Needless to say, I had the campground to myself. Having free-range to pick any campsite can be tough because you want the perfect site. I walked around for a while before settling on a site that was elevated and had good drainage in case it rained and pitched my tent.

After getting situated, I headed into town, looking for Geddy’s and a lobster. I had never had lobster before so I figured Maine would be a good place to experience that for the first time. I found Geddy’s and a seat at the bar (I was the only one). Stacy, the bartender, found out I was from Wisconsin and immediately asked if I had any cheese curds with me. Add Stacy to the list of girls I’ve disappointed. She talked me into getting the island special, which consisted of a whole lobster, clam chowder, fries and a slice of blueberry pie. The homemade chowder was excellent (I always thought Campbell’s Chunky New England Chowder was the best you could find…), but that was just a precursor to the lobster.

The recently deceased crustacean was placed in front of me, waiting to be decimated with the help from the claw cracker by my greedy fingers. Stacy explained how to eat the lobster and I dove in. Minutes later, the beast was in my belly and all that was left was its hulking exoskeleton, quarried of the goodness inside (a shell of its former self?). The bartender said I was too clean after eating a whole lobster, and that I should’ve been covered in butter and chunks of lobster. Well, we don’t like to waste food in Wisconsin. I look forward to my next encounter with a tasty, tasty lobster.

The locals thought I was crazy to sleep outside in December. The low that night was in the mid 30’s. I hadn’t camped in weather that warm in a month or two. They were crazy for thinking it was cold outside. I had another local beer or two from the Atlantic Brewing Company and headed back to my tent. I nearly stayed for one more beer and I’m glad I thought better of it because 15 minutes after I got to my tent, it started raining, hard. I feel asleep, nice and dry as my tent deflected the deluge.

The Great East Coast Road Trip Vol. Four

I turned into Portsmouth, New Hampshire as the afternoon was turning to the evening. Portsmouth is an old town and that is readily evident in downtown. I parked my car and walked around for a bit, getting a sense of the history of the place. A huge tree caught my eye from behind a fence. I stopped to take a picture when I noticed a plaque that told me the tree was a horse chestnut and was planted by William Whipple after returning home from signing the Declaration of Independence in 1776. Wow. That’s pretty cool. I have no idea who William Whipple is but he seems to have had a green thumb.

With the arboreal part of my day finished, I headed to the Portsmouth Brewery to imbibe the local brews. I saddled up at the bar and ordered what the couple next to me had, a flight of beers. The best way to get a taste of the local beers is to sample them all! The Portsmouth Brewery beers were joined by a few from Smuttynose Brewery, which is also located in Portsmouth, and their one revolving guest tap that currently was Celebration ale from Sierra Nevada. I felt a little out of place because it was a little more upscale than I’m used to. Looking around at the locals, I imagined them coming from old money (or being old ship captains). I kept to myself as I worked my way down the plank of beers. A guy walked in and sat down a few stools away and looked like a guy I could talk to. He had a big beard and looked like a guy I’d see at one of the music festivals I go to.

Eventually, another guy sat down between us with long gray hair, someone else I could talk to. The two of them knew each other and started talking when I overheard the first guy say “Cornmeal.” My ears perked up and eyes grew wide as I turned and asked if he happened to be referring to the bluegrass band Cornmeal out of Chicago. He affirmed that it was and that they were playing up in Portland, Maine that night. Holy Cow! They are my favorite band and I thought I had checked their schedule before I left on my trip, but I must have missed them. I was sort of planning on ending up in Portland that night so this couldn’t have been any more perfect.

Beer Flight!

The first guy, Matt, was heading up to the show and had me follow because I didn’t know where I was going. I said I was probably going to sleep in my car and he warned me about the strict parking restrictions in downtown Portland. One time he was sleeping in his van after a show and woke up to a tow truck trying to tow his van away. I followed him to the park and ride which is a great place to sleep in your car. We called a cab and headed to the show. Hot Buttered Rum and Cornmeal were on tour together and had been alternating who closed. I was hoping Cornmeal closed because I’m not the biggest fan of Hot Buttered Rum. My hopes were true as Hot Buttered Rum took the stage. They were OK, but sounded more alt-country than bluegrass, not my cup of tea. The highlight of their set was when they played the Beatles “I’ve just Seen a Face.” That’s one of my favorite Beatles songs and hearing it today was made more special because it was the anniversary of John Lennon’s death.

In-between sets, Matt left me alone and went to talk to some friends. I wandered around and checked out the merch table before settling back in front of the stage with a fresh PBR tall boy when I noticed a girl snaking her way through the crowd towards me. Of course she wanted to talk to me. I found out her name was Jess, was just learning the fiddle and had never heard of Cornmeal before (perhaps I won’t be sleeping my car tonight). I told her to prepare herself to be embarrassed by the fiddling prowess of Allie from Cornmeal who wields a fiddle like Van Gough used a paintbrush and Sergey Bubka commanded a pole vault pole. We talked about road trips and how it’s interesting how the geology changes as you drive from place to place. Cornmeal started and effectively ended any conversation with their amped up bluegrass. Jess was impressed with Allie (who isn’t?), but half way through the show said she had to head out. Well, I guess my car it is. Oh well. We said goodbye and I immersed myself into the music once more.

Cornmeal played a killer cover of the Doors “When the Music’s Over.” The show ended with Hot Buttered Rum coming back on stage to help Cornmeal close the show with the classics “Little Maggie” and “Friend of the Devil.” It was an awesome Cornmeal show and if you ever want to see a band bring the house down, check them out sometime. Here is Cornmeal playing a Paul Simon cover. Matt and I got a cab back to the park and ride and we exchanged info. Turns out exchanging phone numbers would come in handy the following week. It would not be the last time I saw Matt or talked to Jess.

What an unbelievable day. I started in New York, saw the Dan Patrick Show studio, reflected at Walden Pond, sampled beer in Portsmouth, met Matt who brought me to a Cornmeal concert in Portland and ended the day by sleeping in my car at a park and ride. I could get used to this road trip thing. The next leg of my journey brought me to Acadia National Park in Bar Harbor, Maine with more stories to boot.

Acadia in the moonlight

The Great East Coast Road Trip Vol. Three

I left the relative safety of NY and headed up the coast to find whatever treasures awaited me. I knew that success was not waiting for those who planned, so I was reassured I was on the right path. My path took me to Milford, CT to check out the Dan Patrick Radio Show Studio. It may only be the upper story of a Subway shop, but the man cave doesn’t care. His sports talk show is the best on the radio. Hands down. Perhaps some day I can command the audience DP does.

I got back on the road and kept going until I rolled into Walden Pond. It was a beautiful day as the sun illuminated the lake and pushed temps in to the 50’s. A trail wound around the pond with other trails interspersed throughout the 2680-acre property. The main trail was more like a narrow road, built to withstand the multitude of visitors. On this day, there were a handful of hikers moseying around the pond and even a few hardy swimmers! Walden Pond is a hot spot for long-distance swimmers. It is a decent sized relatively undeveloped lake with no motors allowed, located within the Boston metro area. U.S. Olympian Alex Meyer trains there as he prepares for the 10K open water event. I can’t even run a mile and this guy is swimming 10 kilometers, insane.

Walden Pond afforded me the chance to clear my head after a week in New York. It’s interesting how different my thoughts are in Nature compared to a city. I feel like I think more deeply (scary, isn’t it) when I’m away from people and other manmade distractions. In town, I look for a cheap laugh or comment because the pace of life dictates how long you can focus on one thing, whereas walking in relative solitude enables me to delve into a topic or thought and really probe the thought entirely. I’ve thought and written about the conservation movement in Wisconsin from the likes of John Muir and Aldo Leopold and those ruminations floated up from the depths of my head as I stared at the site of Henry David Thoreau’s cabin. Thoreau came before Leopold and Muir was still in his early years as Thoreau was at Walden Pond, laying the groundwork for conservation and nature in America (and the world).

The site of the cabin and woodshed were marked with small pillars delineating the structures. Off to one side, was a huge pile of rocks. Thoreau lovers have a tradition of placing rocks on the pile in honor of him. If I had known this, I would have brought one of the rocks I’ve picked up on my travels around Wisconsin, perhaps next time.

People had filled the site of Thoreau’s woodshed with sticks and branches paying homage to Thoreau and the idea of Walden. More cynical people would look at the woodpile and laugh, saying it means nothing and is a lame attempt to reconnect with Walden, but actions mean something. Placing a ceremonial stick on Thoreau’s woodpile is a gesture that speaks volumes. It pays tribute to Thoreau and the idea of Walden. We need to reconnect with our own Walden Pond. People become jaded and think nature-lovers are all hippies, like it’s a bad thing to enjoy and protect nature. Screw that. Nature is for everyone

Being a dork, I brought a copy of Walden to read as I walked around the pond. I skipped around a bit, reading random passages, but eventually settled down in the chapter “Solitude.” Thoreau writes, “I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.” And “Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as solitary as a dervis in the desert.” He’s talking about how you can be around people, but still get lost in your own thoughts if you focus on the task at hand. We all have solitary moments, but we may not realize it at the time. Everyone needs some time to himself or herself each day, but that gets lost in the hustle and bustle of life. We can get a little stale if we just go through the same routine everyday. From Walden, “We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are.” I love my sharp cheddar cheese, but every now and then, it’s good to change it up and try something new. Walden Pond enabled Thoreau to get away from the distractions of life in the city and just live and think deeply. Walden is not necessarily a place, but a frame of mind. Everyone needs their own Walden Pond.

I finished my walk around Walden Pond mentally refreshed for whatever crazy adventures lay ahead. I wasn’t sure where the rest of the day was going to lead me or where I was going to sleep, but my car was headed to the Portsmouth Brewery in Portsmouth, New Hampshire and I hopped in. Little did I know that was just the start to an insane story involving Craigslist Maine.

The Great East Coast Road Trip Vol. Two

It was a beautiful fall day as I restarted the journey. The hills are a little larger in Pennsylvania than Wisconsin, but they were still dotted with blaze orange. It was hunting season in Pennsylvania, bringing to mind the movie the Deer Hunter. It’s one of my favorites (Meryl Streep is hot!), but I hope I don’t get as crazy as Christopher Walken (I have my de Niro beard going). Getting past the thoughts of Russian roulette, I noticed that even the barns are different in Pennsylvania. They use more stone and are not your typical rectangle layout, but form a short T. Up and down over the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania, I moved closer to my first new state of the trip, New Jersey. Right around the border I emitted a “whoa” as I rounded a bend and was affronted with a huge rock face that had been uplifted at a 90 degree angle to how it was formed. It was awesome. New Jersey, not so much (Jersey girls aren’t trash, trash gets picked up on Thursdays).

I stopped for gas just over the border and found that it’s a state law that someone has to pump the gas for you. It’s full service in Jersey (I guess that’s one way to keep unemployment down)! I started sweating the closer I got to NYC. I don’t like driving in big cities, especially one I’ve never been to and have no idea where I ‘m going. I kept waiting to hit traffic, but it never came. I crossed the George Washington Bridge and tried snapping a few shots. I wasn’t in Wisconsin anymore that’s for sure. I made a wrong turn or two, but picked Blayne up without incident (although I was still sweating pretty good). Now we had to head to Newark to pick up Fields which meant driving through Manhattan and the Lincoln Tunnel. Traffic was pretty slow, but we pushed our way through because we’re from Wisconsin. We emerged on the other side in Jersey and thought the apocalypse had befallen the Earth while we were underground. Dilapidated buildings, rundown infrastructure and just an overall hellhole describe Jersey. I think I found a new “worst state in America.” The airport wasn’t too bad to get around though. We were a bit early so we toured the terminals while we waited for Fields arrival. I was tempted to ask a cop if this was JFK. While wasting time, we saw probably 20 cop cars with their lights on, pulling cars over. It was a little crazy. Fields arrived and we headed on up to Tuxedo, New York to meet up with Riles.

He greeted us with hugs, handshakes and Zywiec. He stocked his fridge full of the Polish beer, which may not be a very good beer, but it was free! The Badgers were playing in the inaugural Big Ten Championship game against Michigan St for the right to play in the Rose Bowl. We threw on all the Wisconsin gear we had, be it Badger or Packer, and headed to bar. Characters is a smallish bar in Sloatsburg, but Riles is a regular so we were made to feel at home with random shots of Jameo throughout the evening. Needless to say, we won and tied one on.

The next day arrived with the promise of a Packer win. We moved just slow enough in the morning to miss our train by less than a minute so we had to wait an hour for the next one. You can drink on the trains so we ran to the store to get more beer because of our hour setback. We finally hitched a ride on the train and were at the Meadowlands in no time. Our plan was to wander around the parking lot and snag some beer and food from Packer fans tailgating, but we never made it that far. There was a “tailgate” right by the stadium that we ended up at because we severely needed food and the beer was convenient too. We made friends with a couple young ladies, one of whom thought I looked just like the guy from the Packer Rock Anthem video (if you haven’t witnessed the greatness, youtube “Packer Rock Anthem”). I disagree, but I’ll take it! The one girl was from Green Bay and her parents have a Packer bus that they took to the Super Bowl last year and are planning to do the same this year. I asked if I could tag a long and she said I could. Needless to say, I left the tailgate without a number so I’ll always have to play the “what if” game with her and the Packer bus…

The game was great as the Packers came away with a last-second win. The Giants fans were stupid as anticipated. They started leaving after the Packers went up 8 in the 4^th quarter, because I guess that is too much to overcome. The Giants tied it up with under a minute left, but the Pack marched down the field and Crosby sealed the win. Boom!

Packers defending their undefeated season

Monday came as we had to drive Blayne to LaGuardia. Things did not go as smoothly as planned, but no one died (we think). We spent the rest of the afternoon at bar before heading back after dinner. It was a low-key evening as we recovered from the weekend. Tuesday, Packer stock went on sale so we all became NFL owners. It feels great being an owner of the greatest franchise in NFL history. We got moving and headed to NYC to be a tourist and attend the Jimmy V Classic at Madison Square Garden. We missed the train by a minute, of course, and had to wait over an hour for the next one. The joy of being a Packer Shareholder helped assuaged the annoyance of the wait.

NYC welcomed us with a warm drizzle. We putzed around the city, taking in Times Square, Central Park, Broadway, Radio City Music Hall, Macy’s (omg! The shopping was faaabulous!), Empire State Building and other sights. To get out of the increasing rain, we headed into Lucy’s right by the Garden and spent the next few hours tipping a few back. Game time arrived and the Garden beckoned. Madison Square Garden is the mecca of college basketball. It was only half full or so but you could feel the energy that exuded from the arena. It was awesome. Mizzou won the first game and Marquette won at the buzzer in the second. Bob Knight and Digger Phelps sat 15 rows in front of us and were besieged by gawkers and fans all night. Dicky V and the Schwab were also in the house. It was a full house for ESPN, that’s for sure. After the game we got some food from a street vendor and it was excellent. We arrived back at Riles place late and I’m glad I didn’t have to work the next day.

New York was fun, but I was looking forward to branching off on my own and getting out of civilization. I needed a little wilderness to rebalance myself. This morning I accomplished my goal of being the first person in America to see the sun rise as I scampered up Cadillac Mt. in the early dawn. You’ll hear about that more in future posts. I leave the relative safety of Bar Harbor Monday, for the wilds of central and western Maine. I hope to talk to a moose and see a little snow. We will see where the next week takes me. I’m looking forward to it!

The Great East Coast Road Trip Vol. One

How can I live my life any more irresponsibly? By taking a multi-week road trip to the East Coast of course! Who needs to work (you can tell the importance of your job by how easy it is to miss a few weeks [with no pay of course] and have no one notice)? This whole expedition began with my buddy Riles inviting me out to New York for the Packer-Giant game. I have a friend who goes to grad school at Penn St. so I thought I’d visit him and from there it spiraled out of control to a trip encompassing New England from Walden Pond to Bar Harbor, Maine to the Green Mountains in Vermont and finally Niagara Falls. I may die, but hey, it was a good time!

The road trip began with me driving from EC to Madison after a day working at Hoffman Hills State Rec. Area. I had to leave early enough to catch the Badger-North Carolina basketball game that night. I of course waited to the last moment to pack everything so I was late for the tip. I arrived at the Slaney’s house in Madison and if there is crazier place than that I’d like to see it. There is never a dull moment and my good friend Mark was there to help breakdown the game. Mark is one of the people whom I feel honored that calls me a friend. Despite our cheering and beer chugging, the Badgers lost. I was expecting a worse outcome, so I was surprised when we only lost by 3.

I woke up “early” the next morning and headed out on the road to make it to State College, PA, home of Penn St. My friend Kris lives out there and is going for his PhD (his girlfriend Kristin is only going for her Masters so she is obviously slacking). Being a man I didn’t use the GPS I had at my disposal. It’s more fun to work through directions in your head (plus from Madison to Pennsylvania there are only 4 different roads to take). I had emailed a host of friends with knowledge of my route and the Northeast to solicit ideas on where to go. My Indiana expert was Laura who struggled to come up with places to visit there (not a good sign). She tossed out the idea of visiting the Indiana Dunes, which I had heard good things about. I planned to camp there but plans changed and I trucked through, getting sidetracked in South Bend, IN. Notre Dame may be a bit pious for me (If I wasn’t going to hell before, I sure was going after my Notre Dame visit). It was interesting to see the iconic sights that have been given a meaning through sports like Touchdown Jesus and the Golden Dome. Walking around campus and Notre Dame Stadium it felt different than any college campus I had been to before. Maybe it was the vast numbers of out-of-staters or the religious feel, but I felt like I didn’t belong. As I walked up to the Golden Dome, bells started to ring, which startled me, and caused a “Jesus Christ” to pop out of my mouth. Whoops! Overall, it was great seeing one of the classic campuses and stadiums in the country.

I had wasted too much time in South Bend so I had to make up some time. The old Intrepid motored the rest of the way through Indiana and Ohio without stopping. Turns out western Indiana received a lot of snow recently as the countryside was covered with an early season wet snow that clung to the north side of the trees, giving away the direction the wind blew during the storm. Northern Indiana is known for not only Notre Dame and Michiana (that’s what they call the weird border region between Michigan and Indiana [I guess “wasteland” was already taken]), but being the RV capital. I knew this but finding out there was a RV Hall of Fame in Elkhart obliterated my mind. I have no idea what this place would entail. Do they have RV’s from people who have taken them on epic road trips? Maybe they have the first Airstream or other technological improvements. If they called it a museum that would make more sense than calling it a Hall of Fame (calling it a Hall of Fame does a disservice to other great Hall of Fames like the Bowling Hall of Fame in St. Louis). Regardless, that might be the lamest place in America.

Ohio came and went without a pit stop. I set the cruise at about 6 over the speed limit and was passed by maybe 5 people the entire state. Ohioans drive slow. The only thing of mention in Ohio was the town with the unfortunate name of Sandusky (I looked for Tommy Boy at Callahan Brakes, but to no avail). Not a good time to be a Sandusky.

I arrived at Penn St. at 10 pm (Pennsylvania is beautiful in the dark) where I was greeted by Kris and Kristin. I beckoned Kris over to my trunk where I revealed the bounty of Wisconsin beer and cheese I had smuggled over state lines. There were four Wisconsin microbrew 6 packs and he chose the Dave’s BrewFarm Matacabras and New Glarus Black Top. I selected the beer based on awesomeness and the chances that it could be found out East. The BrewFarm was my ace in the hole because it was such a small brewery, plus it is Wisconsin’s only wind-powered brewery. Kristin had thrown a bunch of leftovers from the CSA into a soup and I slurped it down quite eagerly. Kris and I headed out to Zeno’s for a few local libations. I let Kris choose the first pitcher and he managed to select the only beer on tap that I had had already (or heard of for that matter), Victory’s Hopdevil. I was wearing a Wisconsin Badger sweatshirt so I had to give people some crap after crushing them a few days earlier on the football field. I turned over the beer menu and to my chagrin; the first beer on the list was Dave’s BrewFarm Matacabras. Really? I couldn’t believe it. It’s great that you could find it out in Pennsylvania, but it diminished my effort (although it was $6 a bottle and I bought the 6er for $10).

Clever bike shop name at Penn St.

Friday was a late starter for me. I putzed around and headed to campus just after nooner. I like walking around college campuses and seeing the architecture and history that comes with a campus that’s been around for well over 100 years. I thought about wearing another Badger shirt but decided against it, they’ve been through enough already. The gloom of the skies overhead accompanied me as I waltzed around campus, going from the scurry of students in-between classes to the sparse sidewalks as the learning commenced. The symmetry of the walkways, buildings and big old trees always fascinate me. I love pedestrian malls with majestic 200 hundred-year-old elms or oaks arching over the people walking about, not seeing the beauty that hovers over them. Kris skipped out on his studies and we checked out the art museum on campus. I’m quite the philistine when it comes to art. We moved on to lunch (they ID at all hours at pubs and bars in Penn St. It’s weird seeing a bouncer at 1 in the afternoon) and then a final jaunt over to Beaver Stadium. It seats over 100,000 people and is a monument to Joe Paterno. There is a statue of JoePa outside the stadium with a quote that has new meaning these days “They ask me what I’d like written about when I’m gone, I hope they write I made Penn St. a better place not just that I was a good football coach.” There may be an addendum to that after the recent events. I gave the stadium the old Wisconsin salute and headed back to get ready for the evening. Euchre was on the docket.

The Kris’s and I went to the Darkhorse to meet up with a 4^th for cards and beer. The Kris’s teamed up and attempted to derail my partner and me. Over the course of the next few hours I made my way through local beers like Otto’s, Troeg’s, Elk Creek, Weyer and Sly Fox. The game ended in a tie at 3-3 as we moved to a new bar to meet up with folks who had attended the hockey game. One of the first comments I heard was “I love Bald Eagle State Park! The do pumpkin chucking!” My kind of place. Outside of the bar was a Penn St. sign, too tempting to not tamper with. I pretended to pee on the sign while Kris snapped a few photos. The bouncer kept yelling at me telling me how cool I was for doing that. We finished with the photo op and headed back to the bar and were promptly denied access to the bar. He said, “The cops may not have known what you did, but I do.” A few cops had driven by while I was pretending to pee but didn’t seem to care, but this bouncer had it out for me. I congratulated him on catching me pretending to pee and we headed home.

Saturday came with the anticipation of driving to LaGuardia and Newark Airports. I delayed my exit as long as I could, but my friendly duties could not wait. I bade Kris and Kristin goodbye. It’s always good to see Kris. He’s always being smart, studying mycorrhizae around the country. We’ll meet somewhere down the trail.

I'm currently in Bar Harbor, Maine hanging with the locals. Since Penn St. I went to the Packer game, Madison Square Garden and Walden Pond. I met a guy named Matt in Portsmouth and we road-tripped up to Portland for a Cornmeal concert and today I met Everett in Acadia who let me over to house to use his internet which ended up us just swapping stories for a few hours. It's been a great week or so with more stories to detail. I'll update when I can. Sunday I'll be the first person in the US to see the sunrise so suck it America!

Still Alive!

I'm back! I figured I'd wait a couple months and wait for people to stop following my blog before resuming posting again, because who wants people to actually read your blog? That's just silly. Anyways, it's been a crazy couple months since my hike ended. Coming off my journey you would think I'd take it easy for awhile and ease back into the real world, but you would be a fool. I went back to work 5 days after I finished and my first task was to help build a 40 foot bridge. I had no idea what I was doing but luckily enough, there were some people there who knew what they were doing and were more than happy to tell me what to do and yell at me when I screwed up (which was quite a bit). The bridge was completed and looks pretty awesome if you ask me. Check it out sometime just north of the McKenzie Lake parking area along the Ice Age Trail in Polk County.

Usually at work we have sweet trailers to stay in, but Straight Lake has no such luxuries so my coworker and I were relegated to tenting it. I stayed in a tent more in October then I did in either August or September. Temps in the 20's with flurries and that weather bomb or land hurricane that came through in late October kept things fresh. I enjoy sleeping in a tent with trees falling down around me. I was spared, but the tool trailer was not. It could have been avoided but the IAT is reactive, not proactive. Why cut down that dead tree that poses a hazard when you can wait for nature to take its course? It would be silly to remove the hazard when you have the chainsaw gear and folks with strong backs willing to help when you could put the onus on clearing the trail on local chapter members who are usually of the older variety and may take their time getting out to cut up the tree. Yeah, that wouldn't make sense.

What else have I done since September? Well, I went to a bachelor party in Chicago that ended up in Indiana for part of it to go gambling. I'm not much of a gambler, so I stood around and drank while everyone else gambled. I think I've gambled less and less everytime I've been in a casino starting out at $40 the first time and progressing to not even gambling a dime during the party. I'd rather spend my money on beer where I know the results. The bachelor party led to a wedding in Mexico a few weeks ago (not mine, the bachelor's). They wouldn't let me take my bulletproof vest through security so I called my loved ones and wrote my last will and testament figuring the my time on this Earth was short. In the weeks before heading to Mexico, I listened to a radio program (when you live in a tent with no electricity, gas or running water you foster a loving relationship with AM/FM radio) talking about how dangerous the country was and how druglords were kidnapping tourists and slaughtering them. Awesome! My kind of place! People were getting killed all over Mexico so I assumed I was next.

Bullets did not fly, but the weather sucked. We stayed at one of those all-inclusive resorts where the all-inclusive means you are excluded if you want to wear shorts at dinner. I'm on vacation and I have to dress nicer than I do in the States? That's stupid. It's 80 degrees and you want me to wear pants and a shirt with a collar? Maybe some people like doing that, but I am not one of those people. Me wearing shorts really lowers the standards of a place and ruins the dining experience for everyone (oh my god, that guy is wearing shorts. Can we move to another table to get away from that? My food tastes terrible now and I'm going to throw up if someone in shorts is in the same restaurant as me.). I lived in the woods for 3 months so you should be happy that I showered more than once in the past week. I'll dress up when the situation calls for it, weddings and coaching basketball. I'm the guy who everyone's mad at because they want to go a certain bar or restaurant but cant because I only brought shorts and t-shirts (and perhaps my oscar meyer weiner polo if I really want to class it up). I don't like being told I have to dress up when there is no reason to. I'd rather dress up when no one expects it. When I lived in EC, my roommate Jared and I would wear shirts and ties to the bar on random weeknights (and slow dance together at the Pio) just to class it up but on weekends and other big nights, I 'd be back to a t-shirt and shorts. Needless to say, the folks I was eating with in Mexico were not amused with my attire.

Wedding day came along bringing with it the best weather of the trip. The other days it was cloudy and/or rainy which is what you want when you are on the beach in Mexico. I had the joy of wearing a full suit with tie for the wedding. The only times I've worn a tie this year have been for Badger games (which is another place where dressing up is fine with me). I sweated pretty good but it wasn't my day so I was dressing at the pleasure of the bride and groom. The ceremony was nice and shorter than the rehearsal the day before. The newlyweds friend Kent was the photographer and did an amazing job. His talents with a camera put me to shame. You can look him up on the facebook at Kent Drake Photography. The day turned to night and I realized I was way too sober to give a speech so I started pounding liquid courage. The maid of honor told me to go first, but I told her that my speech would be better than hers so I didn't want her to have to follow up my brilliance. She laughed, but realized I was probably right. I didn't tell her that I had nothing prepared and I was going to wing it. Her speech was good but then it came time for me to summon the demons and give a speech. I remember referencing the Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts, working the balls and a bike ride to Indiana in a blizzard for a beer. I finished up by explaining the origins of the term "honeymoon" (back in the day newlyweds would get a months (moons) worth of mead (honey wine) and nine months later they would have a son. So a moons worth of honey wine came to be called a "honeymoon".) and then toasting the newlyweds with some homemade mead I made in May and smuggled down to Mexico. For winging it, I felt I did a decent job but it could've been better.

Things got goofy as the evening progressed. Someone re-enacted Ron Burgundy's cannonball from Anchorman, there was a leopard print jock strap, and shirts off by the end of the night. Needless to say, it was a blast! The whole weekend was an unmitigated success except for my flight home during which I felt worse than I have ever felt before. I had a layover in Cleveland and sat at the bar trying to get my life back together. A couple started talking to me and it turned out they had stayed at the same resort I had. We both agreed the bartenders and beach were terrible. They thought the resort had too much of a party atmosphere, I thought that it was too elegant and really hampered the party atmosphere. They complained of people being wasted at 1 in the afternoon and I said that it was vacation and if they didn't like it they could find someplace else and leave the fun to me. This was my second destination wedding of the year and I think that's enough for awhile. Going to these all-inclusive resorts by yourself and sharing a room with a dude is not what they are made for. Having a lady there would be a lot more enjoyable I would imagine. Maybe my room wouldn't smell like poop and farts then.

I got back to Chicago where my friends Joe and Monica picked me up and let me crash at their place for the night. The next day I got up to head back to Madison for work beckoned me. My car wouldn't start. Awesome. No one would help me jump it and when Monica came to help me, it turned out that was not the problem. I got my car towed to a shop that Monica's landlord goes to. I was pretty excited to get my car fixed in Chicago where they are known for low prices. $600 and a day later my car was fixed. I headed to Madison. Finally back in Wisconsin after a week away. It really felt good to breath in that fresh Badger State air. I woke up the next morning to go to work only to find my battery dead. The first person I asked helped me get my car started and I drove to work. A coworker brought me to my car after work so he could jump me in case my car didn't start. The battery was completely dead. Sweet. We got her running and I made the jaunt to EC for Thanksgiving. My dad brought my car to the shop after Thanksgiving and it turns out the good people of Milito's on Fullerton in Chicago replaced parts that don't even exist on my car and left some jumper coils on my fuses which drained the battery. I was taken to the cleaners. Oh, how I love big cities and the generosity of strangers... It's been a great couple weeks with my car!

This last week at work was a bruiser as I drove 1000 miles and walked in the woods all day trying to mark a boundary with compasses that each had their own interpretation of North. Working long days and then coming back to the hotel to try and plan my great escape to the Rose Bowl to watch the Badgers was a bit tiring, but that's what men do. Who knows what the rest of the year has in store for me but I'm working on expanding my blog into a booklet or something and thinking about doing a solo boundary waters snowshoe trip. Should be a great end to what has been the best year of my life!

More Pics!

Here are some more pictures of my hike. It's hard to look through them and pick out good ones because there are so many. These are a few of my favorites from the last month. I'll start you off with my three favorites from the entire trip.

My second night on the trail

Hartman Creek

Marathon County

Boo Radley's house?

Mission Lake County Park in Marathon County

I looked at the clouds and decided that walking through the impending storm would be a great idea...

Antigo

Hillbilly Hilton in Langlade County. It's really neat on the inside and I definitely want to come back here some day.

Langlade County

The Prairie River ford in Langlade Co.

What I woke up to in the Underdown Segment

Grandfather Falls Dam. I love the fact that we build dams at the most picturesque areas of rivers, otherwise that would just be wasted energy letting the river flow on its own.

Grandfather Falls at night

It was tough fit for my tent

The big pines in the New Wood Segment

Fun beaver dam crossing in the Camp 27 Segment

Taylor County

Porcupine!

The very first thing I worked on at a MSC project way back in 2006.

Chippewa River Segment.

Sunset at the Chippewa Moraine Center

Blue Hills

There should be more of these along the trail so people have a better understanding that what they are walking on is part of something much larger and perhaps will lead them to explore more of it.

Smell the glove

Pretty scenery but sketchy trail!

Barron, Burnett or one of those counties up there

Straight Lake

You wouldn't find this in Minnesota (and maybe Sheboygan)

I don't think they meant PBR when they made the sign

Mindy Creek in Polk Co.

The end with PBR in hand

I won't be able to post my reflections and ruminations until the weekend. Work beckons and I want some more time to work on them so hold tight!