Welcome to Boulder

If there was a heaven on earth for outdoor enthusiasts, the kind of people who go for a bike ride in the morning, spend their lunch break hitting the local climbing crag, and finish up their evening with a nice hike to take in the sunset, Boulder would be it. And they know it. The roads are clotted with bikers, the trails with hikers and runners. A drive up Boulder Canyon reveals tiny figures on ropes looking like flies caught on a pendulum of spider web hanging from the cliffs. People in their fifties and sixties seem to have the bodies of twenty year olds, lean and muscled, with only a the face, a slight loosening of the skin, and, in the climbers, and enlargement of the hands to tell their true age. More than heaven, Boulder is like Mecca, with believers making the pilgrimage to the holy city as often as their wallets allow.

We are staying with our friend from WashU, Kika, who has a house south of the city that she has graciously allowed us to crash for a week and a day. If you want to see the appeal of living in Boulder, look no further than the next two pictures.








That's the view from Kika's roof, which I photographed about ten minutes ago. In the second picture, the slabs of rock on the right side of the frame are the Flatirons, sheets of rock exposed the height of the mountain, literally a mere stroll from downtown Boulder. This is the Front Range, where the Rocky Mountains rise from the naked plain and exert their dominance. Drive or hike a mile into those mountains and you'll discover why the outdoorsies flock here like moths to the flame.

All of this, of course, explains why we are here, being moths ourselves. The amount of climbing here is absolutely overwhelming, leaving me with a screen full of browser tabs researching possible crags. We've been several places so far, and even to the gym on a rainy day, but I don't have any climbing pictures, so I'll leave it up to Joseph to tell you about that.

But...I will tell you that we've been doing some hiking as well. Our first full day in town, we hiked up to the top of the Flatirons (remember those?), and looked down onto the city. Then a few days later, Joseph, Kika and I went out and hiked the Fourth of July Trail to Arapaho Pass. It was a beautiful trail, passing through high meadows of wild flowers interspersed among the pines, and eventually emerging above the tree line to slopes of scree. If you listen, a chirruping noise will slide down to you. It comes from the Pikas, which are small mammals that look a bit like guinea pigs, but are related to rabbits. They look like little brown rocks sitting in a giant field of actual brown rocks, but according to Kika, they can carry very large sticks in their mouths. She made them sound like many little Herculean buggers walking around with logs balanced in their mouths. In any case, they were fun to scout out once we were above the flower fields.



The Fourth of July Trail. We're about halfway back to the trailhead here, heading back to the end of the road you can see in the valley.



Joseph, Kika and Kika's dog Sydney hide from the wind among the rocks at Arapaho pass. And possibly the first picture on this blog not of Joseph or me. All for you Millie!

We've been well occupied as you can tell, moths called to the flame, with our bodies starting to suffer accordingly. Ibuprofen and Glucosamine are wonderful things. Somehow I still managed to find time to dominate a biscotti bake off (or biscotti-off in technical terms), and Joseph recently learned to make gnocchi. So if you see him, demand some gnocchi. Just tell him that he needs the practice his skills, so it's really for his own good to make you some delicious potato pasta.

The Cock and the Chameleon

Baroness Karen Blixen is losing the coffee farm in Kenya that has been her life for seventeen years.

“A week after Denys’s death one morning a strange thing happened to me.

I lay in bed and thought of the events of the last months, I tried to understand what it really was that had happened. It seemed to me that I must have, in some way, got out of the normal course of human existence, into a maelstrom where I ought never to have been. Wherever I walked, the ground fell away under me, and the stars fell from the sky. I thought about the poem about Ragnarok, in which this fall of the stars is described, and of the verses about the dwarfs who sigh deeply in their caves in the mountains, and die from fear. All this could not be, I thought, just a coincidence of circumstances, what people call a run of bad luck, but there must be some central principle within it. If I could find it, it would save me. If I looked in the right place, I reflected, the coherence of things might become clear to me. I must, I thought, get up and look for a sign.

Many people think it an unreasonable thing, to be looking for a sign. This is because of the fact that it takes a particular state of mind to be able to do so, and not many people have ever found themselves in such a state. If in this mood,, you ask for a sign, the answer cannot fail you; it follows as the natural consequence of the demand. In the same way that an inspired card-player collects thirteen chance cards on the table, and takes up what is called a hand of cards-a unity. Where others see no call at all, he sees a grand slam staring him in the face. Is there a grand slam in the cards? Yes, to the right player.

I came out of the house looking for a sign, and wandered at haphazard towards the boys’ huts. They had just let out their chickens, which were running here and there amongst the houses. I stood for a little while and looked and them.

Fathima’s big white cock came strutting up before me. Suddenly he stopped, laid his head first on one side, and then on the other, and raised his comb. From the other side of the path, out of the grass, came a little grey Chameleon that was, like the cock himself, out on his morning reconnoitering. The cock walked straight upon it,-for chickens eat these things,-and gave out a few clucks of satisfaction. The Chameleon stopped up dead at the sight of the cock. He was frightened, but he was at the same time very brave, he planted his feet in the ground, opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could, and to scare his enemy, in a flash he shot out his club-shaped tongue at the cock. The cock stood for a second as if taken aback, then swiftly and determinately he struck down his beak like a hammer and plucked out the Chameleon’s tongue.

The whole meeting between the two had taken ten seconds. Now I chased off Fathima’s cock, took up a big stone and killed the Chameleon, for he could not live without his tongue; the Chameleons catch the insects that they feed on with their tongue.

I was so frightened by what I had seen,-for it had been a gruesome and formidable thing in a miniature format,-that I went away and sat down on the stone seat by the house. I sat there for a long time, and Farah brought me out my tea, and put it on the table. I looked down on the stones and dared not look up, such a dangerous place did the world seem to me.

Very slowly only, in the course of the next few days, it came upon me that I had had the most spiritual answer possible to my call. I had even been in a strange manner honoured and distinguished. The powers to which I had cried had stood on my dignity more than I had done myself, and what other answer could they have given? This was clearly not the hour for coddling, and they had chosen to connive at my invocation of it. Great powers had laughed at me, with an echo from the hills to follow the laughter, they had said among the trumpets, among the cocks and Chameleons, Ha ha!

I was also pleased that I had been out this morning in time to save the Chameleon from a slow, painful death.”

Isak Dinesen – Out of Africa

Enchanted by the Enchanted Tower

We’ve been out of touch for the past little while for the very good reason that we haven’t been remotely close to any place with internet in about four days. If I wrote you an email, consider yourself very lucky, because I had to type it with two thumbs on my cell phone screen, which is about the size of a two by three swatch of postage stamps. Not so fun.

But we have returned to the internet in a spectacular manner, having managed to obtain free housing for the night! Yesterday at Enchanted Tower we ran into another group of climbers from Albuquerque and went to Pie Town with them (more on that in a minute). We talked about getting dinner together in Albuquerque, and then in a flash of divine intervention, Helen offered to let us stay at her parents tonight. With laundry. And beds. And most heavenly of all, showers. Thank you thank you housing gods.

The Enchanted Tower

Pie Town. What can you say about Pie Town. Well, their literature says “It’s all downhill from here,” because the town is situated directly atop the continental divide. But I say “Mmmm, scrumptious,” because they have delectable pie for sale. As fortune would have it, the climbers we were at Pie Town with were amenable to a round robin of pie sampling, meaning I got to sample FIVE FLAVORS OF PIE! Which of course to me was like Christmas, Easter and Halloween all at once (specifically the sweets consumption of those holidays). In summary, Pie Town = Awesome.

We did some climbing too, which was, you know, pretty cool. Enchanted Tower itself is a piece of the cliff line that pushes out and up into the valley, looking very much like the prow of a ship. A gigantic ship, since the tower is over 100 ft tall. There is a lot of climbing on the tower itself, and we got on a one nice route there, but the majority of the climbing is on the cliffs to either side. Most things are overhanging with nice pockets in the rock hold on to and tire yourself out on.


















Joseph is up there if you really squint.


















Pogue's Cave

That cave was a really cool climb, up and out of the cave on the left side with your hands sunk in these huge pockets that go in and then cut sideways, so you felt like there is no possible way you could fall off. That delusion maintains itself until your forearms get so pumped (climbing lingo for tired) that you just have to let go. But the best part of the climb was when Joseph climbed up to the lip of the cave and pulled really hard with hands and feet to get to the next hold. As he did, a strange hissing noise filled the air. He’d pulled so hard that he’d pushed a fart right out of himself. He clipped his next bolt, and we both cracked up.

If you were a scientist with about thirty very large satellite dishes arranged in a very large array for radio astronomy, what would you call your facility? The Very Large Array of course! Despite its remarkably mundane name, the VLA was beautiful, situated on the Plain of San Augustin in the highlands of New Mexico.














The Very Large Array














Looking off into the heavens.

That’s all for today. We’re off to Shelf Road, in Colorado, and then up to Boulder for about a week. Thanks for reading, and if you have any comments, leave them here, facebook us, email us, call us, whatever form of communication suits you best. We always love to hear from you. Wouldn’t you if you were spending the summer with one other person? Save us please!

We'll talk about the sky soon.

Hueco Tanks

Hello everyone. First, a great picture of Wes enjoying some Beignets and Chicory coffee at Café Du Monde in New Orleans.

Hahaha, I know right.

On to the latest. We have had a fantastic couple of days at Hueco Tanks. It is considered one of the best bouldering and climbing destinations in the world, and it most definitely lived up to expectations.

After leaving Enchanted Rock, our original plan was to head directly to The Enchanted Tower another world class climbing destination in New Mexico. However, as we drove West on Rt 10 we passed a sign for Hueco Tanks and neither of us had the will power to pass by this mecca of stone. Wes immediately started doing logistical searches on his phone, and we soon agreed to stop at the next Starbucks and pirate some wireless to complete our research. Within an hour or so we had found a place to stay right near Hueco that was a climbing/camping spot. We could rent crash pads (big mattress like pads we placed under boulder problems), take showers, and set up our tent. Excited by the change in plans, and excited to get to Hueco we headed 40 minutes outside of El Paso to the fabled Hueco Tanks.

A little about Hueco Tanks. Hueco's are similar to the bubbles in Swiss cheese except the bubbles are in solid granite. These Hueco's allow for some of the most spectacular and creative boulder problems in the world as a result of their unique shapes. The "tanks" part comes from the water that these Hueco's store during the rainy season.

Back to us. We arrived at the "Hueco Tanks Rock Ranch" at around 6 on Tuesday July 12 after dinner at a ridiculous Mexican place that had amazing decorations and obscenely strong margaritas. The ranch is about a mile from Hueco Tanks and when we arrived there were only two other people staying there. It seemed fairly low key, the amenities were good and the atmosphere was relaxed. The owner of the ranch was supposed to arrive later that night but after talking to one of the other guests, a lady named Becca who was a climber from Utah, I realized it was more likely he would show up the next day. We roped Becca into bouldering with us the next day, set up our tent, got to see a Tarantula (these would become a common and unremarkable occurrence, but I was excited), and passed out.

For those who are unfamiliar with bouldering, here is a brief description. Bouldering is essentially climbing on boulders. Tough to grasp, I know. The routes you climb when bouldering are called "Problems", which describes them perfectly since they usually consist of 5-20 individual moves of intense difficulty. They are a kinetic puzzle and you need to figure out how to use your body to solve them. Each problem is rated from a V1-V15, the grades are somewhat subjective but give you a ballpark estimate of the problems difficulty. In general the problems are about 10-15 ft tall, and after reaching the top you "top-out", continue climbing of the face of the boulder to the top of it.

However, there are some problems that can be described as "highball" problems. These problems range from 20 - 40 ft and one is encouraged not to fall. Highball climbing should really only be attempted when climbing well below your abilities so a fall is very unlikely.

Wes on “Melon Patch” a V0.

The first day out in Hueco was pretty tame. The three of us (we met a lady at the ranch who came with us) had very little experience bouldering so we spent the day by "Warm-up Boulder" a boulder with problems that may have been warm-ups for other people but were very challenging for us. While bouldering one of the park rangers came by to see if we

wanted to see a rattlesnake. Naturally we followed him but only got to see the FIVE FOOT skin of one.

We got our butt's kicked pretty soundly by the bouldering, so bruised and tired we returned to the ranch were the party got started. I had noticed bullet casings littering the front porch of the ranch, but I didn't think much of it until Becca asked if I wanted to see her Sig Pistol. I did. What ensued was a ridiculous amount of shooting off the front porch at bottles stuck in the dirt. This later developed into Skeet shooting with the shotgun, which, if I may say so, I did pretty well; 12 out of 16 clay pigeons.

Charles (the ranch owner) happens to be a retired cop and so he was very helpful in dealing with gun safety, how to shoot …. I'll be honest, I love shooting. It seemed like everyone there did.

Here we are shooting the clay pigeons . The launcher is on the left.

This wasn't the only activity at the ranch. We spent a fair amount of time playing the ever ubiquitous "Settler's of Catan" and "Set", and generally had a good time. Our original plan was to stay for one day, however the climbing was so great and the people so nice that we ended up staying for 4 days of intense climbing. After the first day we started going to Hueco with the locals who took us around the park to some of the best bouldering spots.

Wes on a V0

Me on a "Nobody gets out of here alive". A world famous V2.

Wes on the same problem.

Me on "Skimmer" a V3 I finished on my first try. It was very exciting.

I know, I look angry.

We also climbed two fantastic routes while at Hueco. Well… we attempted one and climbed the other. The first, "Flake Roof" was a spooky climb that started on an angled ledge about 30 feet up. Then it proceeded up a sketchy crack to a roof. Observe.

The route from a distance. Notice the tiny people up on the ledge. The route follows the crack that goes diagonally to the right from them, traverses left below the roof for 10 ft or so, and then goes directly over the roof.

The roof.

This is about as far as I got. I kept taking 15ft falls off this. Which diminished my appetite.

Wes looking badass.

Finally, we did a monolithic climb with ridiculously scant protection going up. Luckily neither of us had to lead this scary monster but it was a beautiful climb.

"Foxtrot"

It's a long way down.

And that's all folks. It is most certainly enough for me.

PS. This is coming from Windows Live Writer, which is a convenient way to post blogs I hope. If this works I’m never using blogger again. (Thanks Emily Yang for the heads up.)

Hueco Tanks... Awesome. Blogger ... not so awesome

Hey Everyone,

I prepared a long blog post complete with pictures, witty anecdotes... you get the point. However, I wrote it in the car and not through blogger assuming it would be a simple matter of cut and paste. However, technology is not so simple. So, I'm leaving you all with a link to some of the recent facebook albums, and some video from our time at Hueco Tanks. Allow me to say though. It was amazing. Truly amazing. I did things I never thought I would. Got scared silly multiple times, and shot a bunch of guns. Life was and continues to be grand. I'm gonna attempt to get this post working when I'm not at some cafe in themiddleofnowhere, New Mexico that has super slow internet.

Quickly, we're heading to "the enchanted tower" which is in New Mexico. The climbing is supposed to be super overhung with big holds and big powerful moves. I'm excited. I'll let ya'll know how it goes.

Pics from New Orleans and Enchanted Rock
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146150&id=4804656&l=e0e5ba2546
Pics from the 4 days at Hueco Tanks
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146151&id=4804656&l=1375eb5988
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146153&id=4804656&l=247abcc2ed


Here is a video of me sending "Girls of Juarez" V4. (sending - completing the problem in one go).

All the best, we're gonna go eat some dinner. Wes is getting hungry.

Austin, Etc.

So, it is time to get back to Austin after the distraction of that last post. We were in Austin for three nights, two days, and finally got back to what we’re supposed to be doing on this trip: rock climbing. We climbed at Reimer’s Ranch and the Barton Creek Greenbelt. If I had those places as backyard crags, I’d be thrilled. But so many people get on that rock that the holds are polished to a glassy sheen, and the cliffs are pretty short, so as a destination, Austin wasn’t the best. That being said, we finally got a couple of decent climbing pictures.


















Joe up on a route at Reimer's Ranch


















Me, at Enchanted Rock actually

Austin itself lived up to its rep as a pretty cool city. I ate a good breakfast dish I’d never heard of, a migas, at Magnolias, and drank some pretty tasty coffee from a local roaster, Cuvee, so I was happy. We went out on the town one night and checked out the Sixth Street Scene. Not really my thing, but Joseph liked it. So I’ll let him tell you about it if he wants.

The best thing for me about Austin was actually Enchanted Rock, which is about two hours to the west of Austin, just south of the town of Llano. Enchanted Rock is a batholith, or a big bubble of exposed granite doming up out of the ground. If you say it out loud, it sounds like you’re saying basilisk with a strong lisp (which Joe and I repeat to each other ad naseum). Climbing up to the top, you can see for miles and all the noise of the ground level disappears, leaving you to listen to just the wind and the sound of your own breathing. I loved it for the sense of isolation you only get when you get high enough up a mountain, spire or batholith to be above the tree line, directly in the wind. You feel like you’re the only thing alive up there, the only thing alive for as far as you can see. It’s awesome, literally.

Looking back at Enchanted Rock after we had climbed down

We also walked/climbed/ran around a lot, exploring the rocks and the slopes like the 13 year olds we used to be. There were big rocks everywhere, even one that looked like an elephant. Needless to say, it was a day well spent.














Joseph decided to be a mountain lion. Note the mohawk.

Today, we’ve made it to El Paso, where we will stay for a day or two to climb at Hueco Tanks, famous for its bouldering. We were going to skip it due to the oven-like temperatures, but we just couldn’t manage to keep going after we saw the sign for the exit. It’s too famous. I also mapped out our route so far. We've gone 5,000 miles just driving from point to point on our route. Check out the map below. Even we were impressed by just how far we've gone so far.





















And one last picture, make sure you look closely in the left half so you see them both.

Sunset In West Texas

We’re somewhere in west Texas, heading west on I-10, and I was planning to whip out my computer and write up our time in Austin. But as we hurtle westward, the sun is starting to set, and it is spectacular, so I’m going to write about that instead. Especially since the pictures I tried to take of it from the passenger seat of the car are not really turning out the best. It must have something to do with the fact that the speed limit is 80 mph.

It feels like we’re driving into the sun. I-10 heads straight west here at many parts, and as the sun sinks lower and lower, it gets continuously larger, burning a bright orange that hurts to look at, leaving sun spots in my vision as I look back down to the computer to type. Every time we head back west, I feel like the light is going to incinerate us, reducing us to ash that will sprinkle down on the concrete. But then we turn a bit, or I look away, and we escape.

The land here is dry, with patches of ground showing up through the scrub, and pushed up into steppes with flat tops and bands of exposed rock dividing the hillsides into stripes, brown alternating with dark green. The stripes glow in the sun, and the scrub gets reduced to a dark haze, especially at distance. It is raining every so slightly, adding to the haze in the distance, making even the air glow where nothing else is around. Every once in a while lightning will flash to the south, whitening the light for a fraction of a second into the harsh glare of a flash bulb.

Looking ahead, nothing is visible now but the golden flame of the sun, obscuring the road, the hills, and the sky in the most intense orange imaginable. But look behind, and something beautiful appears. Two rainbows arc from north to south, perfect arches rising from the hills high up into the sky and back down again, one inside the other, the inside one strong, the outer one weaker, more ethereal. The outer one almost disappears in the clouds, leaving its progeny to proudly shine alone, but only for a second, until the outer rainbow reappears to frame its coltish daughter.

The sun is sinking behind the western hills now, easing the view, making the western horizon glow pink, then orange, then blue and then white up into the clouds before the clouds themselves start to glow the darker orange-brown of leaves in late fall. The blackness of the hills is seen in relief. Their texture disappears, leaving only the sharp lines of the ridges against the glowing sky, the knife edged boundaries of the earth and the sky.

Behind us the rainbows are gone, leaving the sky looking like a bruise as it transitions from black, to deep navy blue to umber. The hills behind have stolen the color from the hills ahead, catching the last of the sun’s rays and growing deeper and deeper green. Eventually they fade to black as their borrowed color seeps back down under the horizon again until the morning. The light grows ever lower in the west as well, leaving a line of windmills silhouetted against the sky as the blue gets smaller and smaller, now only a thin band between the orange of the horizon and the deep pink of the bottoms of the clouds.

The clouds look angry back in the east, like giant black gods riding westward to snuff out the last of the light. Lightning flashes to the south as the dark conquers the light, turning pink to purple, forcing the colors down behind the hills. Eventually the black will force out even its ally the gray, reigning supreme in the sky until the sun rises again in the east and the morning comes.

The New Orleans Edition

Well, needless to say I don't remember THAT conversation ever happening. I guess we'll await testimony from Millie over who is correct on this one.

As Joseph mentioned at the end of his post, we have moved on from New Orleans to Austin. But since, due to his lazer like focus on the truth, he neglected to actually say anything about New Orleans, I will. But first, I have a few pictures from the beginning of the trip to share, having finally found the cord to get said pics off of my camera.

Number 1:














The warning that I'm sure stands next to the original in Greece as well.

Number 2:















The monument itself, in all its concrete glory. With Joseph lending some scale.

Number 3:














At the swimming hole...

But back to New Orleans. It's an interesting city. One with character, one might say. Of course, I instinctively reacted to that statement with: "when people say a city has character, they just mean it has a lot of buildings that are falling down and interesting to look at." But New Orleans really does have character. Some of it is from ruined buildings, some of it is from the seediness on display on Bourbon Street (more on that in a minute), but a lot of it really is from the unique cultural heritage of the city, as cliched as that may be. We didn't get to see much, just the Garden District, the French Quarter and Frenchmen's Street, but everything that we did see had its own unique flavor, which was really cool.

Let's take the big one head on to begin with. The French Quarter was exceptionally touristy, of course, but despite that, beautiful to walk around in with all of the old French architecture, and full of unexpected treasures. We walked into a store full of French antiques worth many thousands of dollars to escape the heat, and one of the salesmen took twenty minutes to show us around and explain where all the chandeliers and tables and desks came from, and why they were special, despite the obviousness that two sweaty, bearded, t-shirt wearing twenty-some year olds were certainly not in the market for $95,000 tables. And I found a cool little bookstore in the shadow of a cathedral just after sampling some chicory coffee, which of course made my day.

But cheek by jowl with those delights were the more earthly delights of Bourbon Street. We walked down it once, and I turned off hoping to never walk down it again. I'll summarize the experience with the following, which needs a warning for explicit language and an x rating. Children, cover your eyes. As we walked past one of the many strip clubs, the recruiter outside yelled after us, "I've got pussy's so wet, they make New Orleans after Katrina look dry." To some extent, I had to admire the inventiveness of his lure. But I was not at all sad to turn my back on Bourbon.

We did see a bit of music in New Orleans, but unfortunately for us, the band at our chosen bar went on an hour and fifteen minutes late, so we only stayed a few songs. They were pretty good songs, but by that point, my bedtime was long past, so we bounced.

A final note. Today we stopped in Lake Charles, Louisiana for lunch. Our waiter, Devin, highly recommended the Boudin (pronounced boo-dan) Balls. Joseph asked "What exactly are Boudin Balls?" Devin, "They're deep fried balls of boudin" as if this would obviously help. Joseph responded "What exactly is boudin? We're not from around here." Devin's face crinkled into a look of innocent confusion, "You guys have never had boudin before? Where are you all from?" Apparently, we were missing out on something great. Boudin egg rolls (deep fried boudin, essentially) soon followed, and proved to be a delicious combination of brown rice, shredded meat, and a bunch of spices fried to greasy goodness. I'll do you all a favor, and leave you with visions of boudin fairies dancing in your heads...

POWERIZED

Hello All,

I was talking to my brother earlier today and in conversation he referred to Wes' blog. When I corrected him, and told him it was our blog, he scoffed and said he'd believe it when he saw a post I made. Well, to Jord and all the naysayers who don't think or don't believe that I'll ever make a post, here's to a hopefully bright summer of me posting witty, insightful and interesting things.

While on the topic of Naysaying and this blog, I'd like to retell a funny story about the origins of this blog. A long time ago, I can't remember if it was yesterday or years ago, while we were still within the waning clutches of WashU, I was in the kitchen talking to my two good friends Wes and Millie. We were talking about all sorts of things, including the upcoming summer adventures, when I suggested something that I thought was a good idea. We should start a blog. I've enjoyed reading my friends blogs about their travels, and I thought it'd be a great way to update many people quite easily. I would now like to report on the conversation that went down on that fateful day in the kitchen:


Me: Hey guys don't you think it'd be a good idea to start a blog for this roadtrip. We could post pictures, keep everyone updated. I think it'd be pretty cool.

This is more or less what I said. I suggested the blog in good faith.

Millie/Wes (they pretty much tag teamed me on this one so they're getting reduced to one person): NO. Who would want to read a blog about your summer travels. And besides blogs are just kinda campy.
Me: It'd also be a really good way to keep track of the trip for myself. I know I'm not going to remember anything if I don't write it down.
Millie/Wes: Keep a journal then. That way you'll remember it but it won't be online. Who wants that.
Wes: Yeah, I'm gonna keep a journal.
Me: ....

SO, you can imagine my surprise and shock when weeks later, while driving through the middle of nowhere (you'd be amazed how much time we spend doing that), Wes turns to me and without an ounce of remorse or shame says, "Hey, so what do you think about starting a blog for the trip?" I had no words. Wes claims not to remember the quoted conversation at all. However, in a rare moment of mnemonic clarity, I promise that he was one of the naysayers.

Enough about that, moving on to more current events. We made the drive from New Orleans to Austin, TX today. It was uneventful and beautiful. I must've driven for 3 hours through the swamp without ever turning my wheel except to change lanes. I'm looking forward to exploring Austin and to climbing again. There are some supposedly good places nearby. Which we'll let ya'll know about and post pictures of.

That's all from me for now. I've done enough writing for the year.

Beginning The Purple Honda Tour...

Welcome to the Purple Honda, the place to go for news about the summer road trip Joseph and I semi-recently embarked on. Many people asked us to keep them updated about our whereabouts and happenings. If you were one of those people, this blog is for you. We (at least I) will try to post regularly about what exactly we are doing as we venture across the country.

Of course, we're a little late getting started for a variety of reasons. In anticipation of Joseph's forthcoming post about one of those, I did not nay say an earlier suggestion of his to start a blog. It's all in his head. But, more to the point, we've done quite a few things already that some of you probably haven't heard about, so I'll provide a quick recap. For those of you who have heard about this stuff, just skip it. It hasn't changed.

In the beginning...there was New York. I flew out from Chicago at the beginning of June and met Joseph in the city. Due to differences in opinion over what is defined as morning, I managed to make it to a number of bakeries, coffee shops and museums over our time there before Joseph had even stumbled out of bed. Of course, I regularly pass out at what he considers obscenely early hours, which evens things out. My New York highlights included Levain Bakery, 9th St. Espresso at Chelsea Market, the Met, the Museum of Modern Art, the Philharmonic and Riverside Park. It sounds like an extremely pompous list, I know, but considering that I'm spending most of the rest of the summer living in a tent, I think I was entitled to indulge myself a little in New York.

Which brings us to our first tent living location: the Bonnaroo music festival in Manchester, Tennessee. Fours days of high heat, blazing sun, monstrous crowds and so much live music it made your head want to explode. (Of course the first three helped with that as well.) It was so hot, that by 8 am we were forced to crawl out of the tent, already sweating, to the awning and hope for a breeze to help us sleep a while longer. Because when the concerts go until 4 am (not that I ever made it until then), you want as much sleep as possible. The music at Bonnaroo was incredible. I saw so many shows that I can barely remember the all, but my top two were definitely Stevie Wonder and Jay-Z, who played back to back on Saturday night. In addition to having great music, both had incredible stage presence and excellent shows, holding a small city's worth of people captive for their entire respective sets.

After Bonnaroo, we finally got around to doing some of the reason for this trip : rock climbing. From Manchester, we drove to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky (with a brief stop in Nashville to see the Parthenon. Literally. A full scale, concrete replica of the Parthenon. Pictures to follow.) We camped at Miguel's, the local climbing shop/pizza joint/campground, and spent a solid four days on the Red's overhanging, pocketed walls. The climbing was great even though we weren't climbing at peak potential (I'm blaming finals and senior week for our lack of end of year training). By the end of our four days, we hadn't even begun to dip below the surface of the hundreds of climbs at the Red, but our fingertips were shredded and we had other places to get to, so we moved on.

After a weekend spent recuperating at Joseph's parents' in Pittsburgh, we arrived at the New River Gorge in West Virginia, home to the longest arch bridge in the Western Hemisphere. Just like at the Red, the climbing was spectacular. We spent two days climbing at Summersville Lake, where the cliffs rise literally feet from the edge of the water, perfectly available for a dip at the end of a sweaty day of climbing. Wisely, we took a rest day in the middle of the week, leading to much less shredded fingertips and better climbing at the week's end. Once again, in what is becoming a theme, we barely scratched the surface of the climbing available at the New.

From West Virginia we headed down to Miami, taking two days to make the drive. My main thrill on arriving in Miami was to have a kitchen to cook in again. Of course, the beach and the pool were both welcome as well, but the kitchen was really where it was at for me. Miami was mostly a place for us to relax, so we did a lot of sitting around, reading and playing the game of the summer: Set. I cooked, Joseph did things with his friends from Miami, and things were good. We spent the Fourth of July with my roommate Ben and his family, who were kind enough to welcome us to their family party. We ate some great steak and corn on the cob, went wake boarding, and lit off a bunch of fireworks. What more can you ask of a Fourth?

But after a week and a half in Miami, we were ready to move on again. We planned out the next leg of our trip and left Miami on Wednesday, the 7th of July, heading west. Our first stop is New Orleans (not very far west, admittedly, but at least we made it out of Florida after a fourteen hour drive). We are here in New Orleans for only one day, and will hopefully get at least a taste of the city. I've already scouted a good spot for dinner, and then a little bird told me that we had to see some music while we are in the city, so that is on the agenda for after dinner.

So there it is, the tale of the last month. We've gotten in some pretty disparate things, and there are many more planned for the next couple of months. So stay tuned in here, and we'll keep you up to date with our adventures for as long as the internet and my coffee supply hold out.