Day Thirty Seven, Glacier National Park, MT: Check In

Haven’t been able to update recently because of basically no internet. Even now, I’m only connected by cell phone, so I have to keep it brief.

So we left off on Wednesday night. I spent Thursday night in Montana west of Yellowstone in a National Forest, after driving through part of Yellowstone during the day. I spent Friday night at a campground outside the Northeast corner of Yellowstone. I spent Friday and Saturday morning doing the rest of Yellowstone. On Saturday I drove up to Glacier National Park and camped out in the Indian Reservation at an old abandoned campground.

Today, Sunday, I arranged to go on a backcountry trip in the Northeast corner of Glacier. The trip is a 35 mile, 3 night, 4 day, hike. The neat part is that it starts in Montana at the Chief Montain Trailhead and ends in Canada at the Waterton Townsite Trailhead, where I plan to hitchhike my way back to the border and my car. I leave on Monday morning, and should be back in contact Thursday night.

But I thought I’d get in touch. I am just sending this post through a cell phone internet connection, but other than that I have not been online since Wednesday, so I haven’t seen any comments. But thanks for continuing to follow along!

Day Thirty Three, Grand Teton National Park, WY: “A 2,000lb Bull Will Ruin Your Car”

I’m back to real-time writing. And again, I find myself sitting next to a campfire on the wonderful Shadow Mountain in the Teton National Forest. My site on Shadow Mountain overlooks the Tetons to the west, across a beautiful plain of multicolored  wildflowers. The site is, being in a forest, generally secluded. Once the sun set behind the Tetons, what few mosquitoes there were disappeared. Furthermore, there is enough of a cell signal for me to briefly connect to the internet and send in this post. In short, this site is a dream.

Unsurprisingly, at least to myself, it took me about two days under a roof in Jackson before I yearned to return to a tent. This is not meant as a sleight against my host or his habitations; rather, a tip of the hat to the freedom, solitude, and space that comes with a secluded camp. The reward of reaching the end of any hike is substantial, often in the form of a beautiful lake ringed by soaring, snow covered mountains. After a four day return to semi-urban life, I found that I missed those experiences. And I was glad to get back on the road to Grand Teton and Yellowstone. (For those of you who may not be familiar with the geography of the area, Grand Teton is about 20 miles directly to the north of Jackson. Yellowstone sits atop of Grand Teton.)

I did go on a short hike today, of perhaps 2.5 miles total, from the new visitors center at the Lawrence S. Rockefeller Preserve – a recent gift to the National Park from its namesake – to Phelp’s Lake. To call the center a visitors center seems a little inappropriate; it is a small building of wide spaces and reminds me more of an old-style sanitarium for nature lovers than a visitor center. Visitor centers are typically very crowded and meant for masses of travelers; the LSR is too new to appear on any map and is infrequently visited.

As usual, I met some great people. Hardly a day has gone by in the weeks since I’ve left Denver – and therefore wondered through the parks and towns on my own – that I have failed to meet someone with whom I exchanged numbers or email addresses. This has been one of the most enjoyable experiences of the trip; meeting people from regions of the country other than my own, gaining their perception on issues and events, and hearing their stories, and it provides an ever-changing context within which I enjoy my own timeline. In this case, I met a CPA from New York City and a couple from Boston on the trail. (I hope to have pictures of this hike, including some Moose I ran into on the road out of the center, up tomorrow.)

Simply because this is far and away the most enjoyable campsite I have encountered, I plan on spending the next night here. Because the road down the mountain is long, that will mean spending the next day here as well. I also plan on waking up early to get some shots of the sun rising across from the Tetons. I’m looking forward to it. (This post’s title comes off a roadway sign alerting motorists of the wildlife crossing that is, essentially, every mile of road in the park.)

Day Twenty Nine through Thirty Two, Jackson, WY: “Dude, we’ve just lost a day.”

The updates have been scarce lately for two reasons. First, I was already running a backlog of hundreds of pictures from Grand Teton that I had to sort through so I could do the last two posts. Second, I needed a vacation from my vacation.

I have spent the last several days – Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday – in Jackson, a small town of about 9,000 just south of Grand Teton National Park. I simply needed to settle down for a bit, clean up the car, mail some things, pick up some small groceries, and just relax under a roof.

On Saturday night, I went to the Snake River Brewery to try one of their beers. To make a long story short, the stories I was telling at the bar soon meant people were buying me beers faster than I could drink them. I met a forest ranger from the nearby National Forest at the bar, and he offered to put me up for the night. Doug was a great guy and it was a nice gesture.

The next day – Sunday – was my birthday, and I did enjoy hearing from all those who I talked to. I spent Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday night at a guy’s house who I met on couchsurfing.com, Dan, who was a great host. After having spent the previous eight nights outside, it felt great to get under a roof. I spent Sunday night just relaxing. 

The title of the post refers to something Dan said after we spent most of the day on Monday watching the TV show Arrested Development. And that was Monday; I didn’t get much done at all.

I spent Tuesday getting ready for the next week or two; groceries, water, etc. I finished assembling a do-it-yourself solar panel charger, which has an output in the form of a car cigarette adapter, allowing me to charge almost any of my electronic devices – including my laptop – from a lightweight and paperback-book sized solar charger. Very convenient. Finally, Dan and his two roommates and I had a nice “family dinner,” complete with fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It was a nice feeling to eat real food with other people again.

Now it’s Wednesday, and I’m leaving soon for Yellowstone. I may stop another day in Grand Teton; I’m not sure yet. Either way, I am hoping to get back to the more regular update schedule. As long as I can hook onto a cell phone signal for a few minutes a day in the park, I will be able to send out the updates.

Thanks for following along. 

Day Twenty Eight, Grand Teton National Park, WY: Amphitheater Lake

On Friday, I woke up at 6.00am to start the hike up to Surprise Lake and Amphitheatre Lake in Grand Teton. Mike and I had decided to do the hike together, as it would take at least 5 hours. The hike starts at about 6,700 feet and continues up through about 13 switchbacks.

Again, I think it is better to include pictures than tell the story. The joy of the uninterrupted scenery is only amplified by the almost absolute lack of any other hikers on the trail. Because the Surprise Lake trail is one of the more strenuous day hikes in Grand Teton, it is far less popular than most of the other trails.

Directly before you reach Surprise Lake, the trail becomes a little bit less defined and kind of dead-ends in a small pool which is fueled by snow melt, (see that below).

After 5 miles and an elevation gain of 3,000 feet, the trail stops at Surprise Lake. Made of snow runoff from the mountains above, the result is a small, calm lake with crystal clear waters, surrounded by snow-covered mountains.

 Surprise Lake

 Amphitheater Lake

 Runoff from Amphitheater Lake, into Surprise Lake

After the hike, Mike and I grabbed some food and again camped out in the National Forest outside of Grand Teton.

See many more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith

Day Twenty Seven, Grand Teton National Park, WY: Open Space

On Thursday morning, I woke up early in the Shoshone National Forest, having camped out the same site outside Lander that I spent the previous night in.

I spent the day continuing the drive to Grand Teton and Yellowstone. On paper, the trip was only about two hours long. But because I pulled over so often to take pictures and hit a major construction project, it took me about four. I enjoyed the drive in any case; I said before, unlike Kansas, Wyoming has some awesome geological formations that make for a tremendous driving environment. It was very tough to choose which pictures to include.

After I arrived at Grand Teton National Park, I took a nice walk along the outside of Colter Bay, which includes one of the several Marinas along  Jackson Lake.

I spent the night in Bridger-Teton National Forest. Unlike most forests, this one does not have many dispersed camp sites, so I was forced to stay in a more developed campground. However, it was at this camp that I met Mike, a dietician from Minnesota a couple years older than me. Mike had just got back from a week-long backcountry trip through Yellowstone.

I had planned to do the Surprise Lake/Amphitheatre Lake Hike the next day, and I asked Mike if he’d like to come along – it’s always more fun hiking with someone else, especially on longer hikes. Mike was up for it.

Check out some more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith

Day Twenty Seven and Twenty Eight, Grand Teton National Park, WY: Check In

I don’t have the time to write a complete post right now, but I thought I would just give a brief synopsis of the last few days for now, and fill in the details with pictures tomorrow…

Thursday, Day Twenty Seven:
I drove out to Grand Teton National Park. It’s a great drive and I have a ton of pictures from it that I still have to look through. After arriving at the park, I went on a short hike around Colter Bay. I camped out again in a National Forest. However, this forest has no dispersed campsites, and instead has gaggle of about 7 sites right next to each other, campground-style. I met a guy named Mike, a few years older than me, who had just gotten back from a week-long backcountry trip in Yellowstone.

Friday, Day Twenty Eight:
It’s now been four weeks since I began this trip. Mike and I start the Surprise Lake/Amphitheater Lake Hike in Grand Teton around 8.00am. The hike is a 10 mile hike that gains 3,000 feet in elevation and ends at Surprise Lake; another 0.3 miles brings you to Amphitheater Lake. After this hike, it was back to the same National Forest campsite. I have about 300 pictures from the hike and the one below is a good representation of what the rest look like.

The mosquitoes at that site were unreal. Even with mosquito coils burning and a terribly smoky fire, the air was filled with swarms and swarms of buzzing bites. This was the fourth night in a row that I have dealt with uninhabitable mosquitoes and I decide that there is absolutely no way I am dealing with it again tomorrow.

 Surprise Lake, ~9,900 feet

Saturday, Day Twenty Nine:
Today Mike and I went down to Jackson, a city of 9,000 just south of the park. We had lunch at Mountain High Pizza Pie before Mike drove back home to Minnesota. It was great to meet someone of a similar mind and have someone to talk to after having spent the last week alone. I then started looking for a place to spend the night. I went to a Sports Authority and asked around; I found that the Pacific Creek Trail that I was on is one of the worst mosquito sites around. But I was given a few other good sites to try tonight.

I have some requests in to CouchSurf with some people around Jackson, and hopefully some will come through tonight or tomorrow. I’ve slept outside now for eight nights in a row, and tonight will make nine. So I would really enjoy sleeping indoors – a place where I don’t have to pitch the tent, keep the food in bear safe containers, be constantly mobbed by bugs, etc.

I’m going to try to do a proper post tomorrow, with many more pictures and details from the hike.

Thanks again to everyone for following along and making comments, either through the site or by getting a hold of me. It’s a great feeling to know that people back home are interested in what I do, and humbling to know that they enjoy what I write.

Day Twenty Five, about 12 miles outside Lander, WY: Hike and Drive

On Tuesday, I did a short and easy hike in RMNP, as I was planning to get on the road to Yellowstone at a decent time. I chose the East Inlet Trail, which walks along the East Inlet Creek. I only hiked the first 2.5 miles of the trail and back, which is generally flat and easy going. The first leg of the trail goes through Adam’s Falls, which is a fantastic sight.

Again, there is not much to talk about but there are a lot of cool pictures. Be sure to check the Picasa Album for more pictures; there are a ton of great pictures that I couldn’t fit into the post.

I left for Yellowstone at about 1.30pm. Having been told the park was about 500 miles away from Grand Lake, I allowed two days for it, but had planned no specific course. The route to Yellowstone from RMNP is only on the interstate for a few miles, the rest of the time through winding state roads that, very, very occasionally, run through small, (pop. 500, tops) towns. After the hike, I avoided getting something to eat in Grand Lake because of the high cost, and in an episode of ill planning had thought I would just grab something from McDonalds further down the road. Having not seen a McDonalds for several days should have set off some bells; it did not.

This northern part of Colorado is barely inhabited, and this sparse inhabitation makes for a great driving experience. CO-125 winds on for 53 miles through soft mountains and dense forest. The curves of the road hug the ridges of the hills, and there are hardly any cars around – a driver’s dream. The one frustrating moment occurred when I hit construction; you would think this would not be a big deal on a road where you might see one car every 10 miles. I had just pulled up to a flagman when he let the car in front of me go. He told me that I had just missed the pilot car, and he would have to drive down the length of construction and make the next trip back before I could go. 10-15 minutes was his guess, (but it was kind of cool to drive right by a road being actively repaved.)

It wasn’t until I had gone 70 miles from Grand Lake that I found a town with a restaurant and a gas station. Walden, CO, is a nice town of 734 people. When I stopped at the Moose Creek Cafe, I was well rewarded with a delicious 1/3lb Bacon Cheeseburger. The next customer was a man with cowboy spurs. A few minutes later came a large black lab named Ace. Apparently the dogs walk through the town freely, as the waitress told me Ace didn’t normally come up onto the porch, but so-and-so’s Beagle would.

I drove another 232 miles through Wyoming, into Lander. Surprisingly, (to me) Wyoming has a lot of interesting geology and the drive is thus quite scenic. I had never given much thought to Wyoming outside of its gross lack of population. There are, again, a lot of pictures on the Picasa album to check out.

When I arrived in Lander around 8pm, it was the first town of more than 5,000 that I had been in for five days. I stopped at a gas station and got directions from someone there to the nearest forest access road. The trip up through the forest was interesting. Lander itself is at about 5,400 feet, (probably the lowest I’ve been since Kansas, 13 days ago) but my campsite was at 8,500 feet. The road through the forest is a back and forth gravel switchback directly up a large mountain. It was quite surprising to look at this mountain when driving in, and then find myself on top of it in short order. My campsite was on a nice lake, and I got there just as the sun was setting.

This was my fifth straight night camping. I am getting very good at lighting fires quickly, but I sure wish I could find a shower around here…

(A lot) more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith

Day Twenty Four, near Grand Lake, CO: Trail Ridge

On Monday, I woke up in the National Forest on the East side of Rocky Mountain National Park. As I mentioned before, I did not stay the night in the park as I would have to pay to do so.

I’ll try to keep this short. Trail Ridge Road runs through the entirety of Rocky Mountain National Park, and is the highest continuously paved road in the country. It runs right through the Rockies and the Continental Divide, and the highest point is at 12,183 feet. I’ve tried taking some of the better shots, (there were hundreds,) and putting them below. The first two shots are of Lily Lake, which I drove by on my way to the Park in the morning.

 Long’s Peak, 14,259 feet, (above)

After I got down from the park, I was in the town of Grand Lake, with a population of about 500 people. I had a burger and went to a micro pub in town, where I had a beer with a guy who told me how I could get to the National Forest outside town. As I mentioned before, the only reliable way to find access points is to ask around.

Look here for more pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith. For now, I will only have the same as above posted in higher resolution, but I will try to get some more up when I have time.

Day Twenty Three, near Meeker Park, CO: The boring moments

I’m typing this up on Sunday night – I’m back to writing in real-time again.

It’s some time past 10pm, and I’m sitting in front of my fire. There is a calm breeze that directs the smoke away from me and off to my left, but is light enough that the fire still keeps me warm. My tent is off to my right. The last people I saw were riding on horseback perhaps three miles down the rocky dirt road I drove up in. Directly above me are all the stars I have ever seen and many I’ve never been able to. The only sound I hear is the occasional popping of the fire and rustling of tree leaves. This accompanied by less frequent, intermittent sounds of wildlife; some birds, and some small unidentified animals as well.

I am unsure exactly where I am. Rather, I am unsure of where to call that place.  The unpaved road I came in on is not on the GPS road map. I am at least 20 minutes and five miles off the paved road. According to my GPS, I am at about 8,500 feet, my third straight night above 7,600, and tenth above 5,500. And, also for the third straight night, I camp in a place with no cell phone coverage. I am no longer disturbed by this; the only inconvenience is that these posts are not transmitted through the ether – I must find a reliable signal in order to send them in.

Having explained the night, let me go back to the day.

I got a relatively late start, leaving my last campsite at nearly 11am. I headed into town, where my first order of business was to pick up a few things at Safeway, (think Kroger with higher prices). Next is the Laundromat for a shower, (which, around here, appears to be a normal practice, at least for transients such as myself). I head to a local fruit smoothie shop, (naturally, every town of 5,000 should have at least one,) for a delicious and even reasonably priced ham sandwich. Pretzel included. Fortunately all of these stores were located in the same shopping center. By now it was about 1.30pm.

By this time, the weather – which had been steadily worsening throughout the day – had turned to rain. I headed to the library to type up Saturday’s post and check on the world.

I realize that, like a TV show, I sometimes only include the important events of the day or the momentous decisions that ultimately cause those outcomes. But the last three days especially have been far more than a series of dramatic plot twists. Most of the day Saturday was spent reading on a lake. In fact, almost 8 hours were cramped into a few short sentences. I am alone, and thus I can spend my days as I please. It is the otherwise boring moments – those that, at home, beg for action or explanation – that provide me the most pleasure, and are often impossible to transcribe through a keyboard. Or, they are just boring to read about it if you aren’t there yourself. Perhaps I simply need a vacation. I do not think one could continue like this forever. But for now, when I run out of things to do, I can simply move on to the next town. Such was the fate of Estes Park, and thus Rocky Mountain National Park was my next destination.

I make my way to Rocky Mountain National Park – my original goal on Friday night – to decide where I will stay next. By the time I find myself in the Backcountry office, it is nearly 7.00pm. The ranger tells me that I can stay in the park for a $20 entrance fee, and for an additional $20, I can camp 1.2 miles from my car. At an earlier point in the day, this would not be a problem. But now, it would be nearly dark by the time I got to my campsite.

Ranger Dale offered a ready alternative. If I took highway 7 south some number of miles, I would see a sign indicating Forest Access. Drive past the private property and you’ll find yourself a good spot. I do, however, intend to return to the park on Monday. I just cannot justify paying for a campsite with one so close by for free. The backcountry permit at a National Park is fine if you are going backpacking. But if you are backpacking simply to get to your designated campsite, it is a little odd. All I need is a place to spend the night. To pay for the privilege to haul everything there on foot seems strange. If National Forests did not offer the same – or even more – solitude as a National Park, the decision wouldn’t be as easy.

Car camping, I have come to see, is what you make of it. The only difference between car camping and backpacking-camping is that you are hauling your gear through the woods. Some people choose, as their gear, items that are grotesquely out of place in the wilderness. For them, car camping is a way to get halfway there. My gear is substantial because I am camping out for days at a time, but it is backpacking gear.For me, the only difference between a site I drive to and one I walk to is how I got there.

I’m not sure if I’ve talked about National Forests yet. They are a good deal, a “land of many uses,” in Dale’s words. National Forests have almost no rules and no restrictions. They are, essentially, minimally managed public use lands; this country’s best kept secret. Imagine a campground where you are the only camper, there are no fees, and you can pitch your tent wherever it will fit. The one catch is that they are extremely hard to find. In my experience so far, the best way to find access points – essentially dirt roads through the woods – is to ask around or hope you chance upon them.

I arrive at my new campsite around 8.30pm after a short drive from the RMNP gate. Being a forest, wood is plentiful, (one of the few NF regulations are that only dead and fallen wood may be used for firewood.) The fire comes easily. The tent is effortlessly pitched in the almost non-existent wind.  With the fire burning and a short stack of wood sawed by hand just to my right, I sit down to try to put the feeling into words.

These are big words for a starry night spent alone by a fire in a forest, and I’m not sure they fit. Their simple meaning alone makes it all sound far more substantial than it is, but it is that very lack of substance that makes it so outstanding.

As I send out this post, it is Monday morning, and I’m at the Visitor’s Center at RMNP.

I have a bunch of good pictures to include here, but I don’t have the time to process and edit them. So look for them in the next couple days at http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith.

Day Twenty Two, Estes Park, CO: Way down

It’s Saturday morning. I awake in the forest around 7am. It’s early, but it’s light outside. I hear the flowing creek nearby and a gaggle of woodland critters, mostly birds. I see no bear claw marks in my tent, thankfully.

The best way to handle my situation now, (click here if you haven’t yet read the previous day’s entry,) is to try to get as far down the mountain as possible before I have to stop. The man I met yesterday told me that the town was 4 or 5 miles away; I assume that I have at least a 5 mile trip ahead of me. I am shooting for Doan’s Garage, but with no directory or cell phone signal, I have no idea where that might be. In the condition that my car is in, I do know that every second counts, and it will be a give and take relationship between speed and heat. The farther I can get the car down the mountain before it overheats again, the less distance I have to walk. My goal is two miles; that leaves me with a comfortable hour-long hike downhill.

As I’m packing up the tent, I’m suddenly about 15 feet away from a deer and her fawn. They had just rounded a pile of wood, and had apparently not heard or smelled me beforehand. For a long second we stared at each other before they both turned and bolted. These were smaller, Michigan-style deer, unlike those I encountered the night before.  I finish packing up camp and haul the gear up the trail to my car. The trail is a switchback, cut across a very steep grade. It is a short but grueling climb as the trail rises in elevation at least 150 feet.

I turn on my cell phone radio, hoping to know as soon as I’m back within coverage. With everything thrown somewhat pell-mell into the car, I start her up and quickly back out of the pull out and into the road. It isn’t yet past 8.30am, and the traffic is very light.

For the next mile the road is neither down hill or level, but a slight grade up. However, it is slight, and the engine holds. The temperature quickly rises to normal operating temperature, albeit in an abnormally short amount of time. After about two miles, small homes begin to dot the road. I know, at this point, that I will avoid I worst-case scenario. The phone vibrates, telling me that I have now have messages waiting and that I am back within coverage. I take a short pull off, coasting along the length of it and quickly punching “auto service” into Google Maps on my Blackberry. I select Doan’s Garage and tell it to take me there. The car grumbles back onto the highway. I now have contact with the outside world, a destination, and a way to get there. It feels good.

It’s a mere 2.5 miles to go and it looks as though we’ll make it.

Just then, the descent begins, and I am suddenly looking down a winding mountain road. I’m elated. I can feel the rarefied mountain air coursing through the car – through the windows, the radiator, and around my body – a feeling made only more comforting by the heater thrusting hot air through the car at maximum power, a meek attempt at a substitute radiator.

I round a pass and am suddenly looking down on a quiet little mountain town, with a beautiful lake forming a gateway fence. The causeway over the lake and into the town reminds me of flying into New Orleans. But the town beyond is a different scene. It looks happy and even cozy. I coast down the steep grade, applying breaks sparingly – a break fire is almost as high on the list of things I want to avoid doing as an engine fire  – and stay off the gas. It’s only another mile until Doan’s, and I am now sure that hiking in will be unnecessary.

I park the car in front of an old shop titled “Doan’s Garage” and am a little dismayed at the “CLOSED” sign. Especially in light of Doan’s open garage door. I walk in the oversized door. I’ve never been so excited to be greeted with a greasy, crooked-toothed, hillbilly smile.

Jeremy and I pop the hood and have a good look inside Old Smokey. Confirming what I’ve known for the last 12 hours, he tells me that she “sure is boilin’” and that this sort of behavior is not normal. He tells me he’ll have a look at the car and give me a call when he finds something. I ask him what he suggests for breakfast, and he points me down the street and across an alley to the homely Mountaineer Diner. I load up my pack with a gallon of water, my laptop, camera, and some books. I head to the Diner, and enjoy the most delicious Cheese Lovers Omelet of all time. I enjoy the coffee, which, happily, does not cause me to tweak out like McDonald’s Coffee does.

As I leave the diner I again consider my situation. It is far more pleasant than when I last did so. I’m in a quiet little mountain town, shades of South Park, and there is a beautiful lake not far away, her surface broken only by kayaks, fishing lines, and the occasional sandbar.

I again turn to my trustworthy Google Maps. I plot a course directly for McDonalds about a mile away. It is truly a scenic town. 

I wash my arms and face at the McDonalds and offload some of the pictures from my memory card to my laptop. I take no food, having just eaten at the diner. I leave McDonalds and see a Visitor’s Center across the road, finalizing what had been a rapidly growing suspicion that I am in a tourist town; I am trapped in a city that people visit voluntarily. I step inside the Center but feel uncomfortable within the large shoulder-to-shoulder mass of people, many speaking English only as rough second language. I quickly turn around and exit, seeing a sign that says “Estes River Trail 1.2 miles, <—.” I head down the trail, along the same river seen above. I leave the concrete trail and head down a dirt path the hugs the river. Suddenly I am in a golf course. I smile at my change of circumstances.

Eventually a find a bench with a wooden shade that rests on the shores of the lake. There are a few fishermen. Having finished 1776 the night before, I settle down with H.G. Well’s The Time Machine, a book I read as a boy many years ago.

Jeremy calls around 2.30pm and tells me that he has found the problem. Luckily, it was a destroyed radiator cap and not a broken water pump, as we had both originally feared. I finish The Time Machine and return to my car. It’s quite a walk back, but I find an interesting surprise along the way.

After I get my car back, I enjoy a homemade meal from Taco Bell.

I begin to consider where I will spend the night. I know the National Forest outside the town – where I spent the last night – is free and secluded, but I’m not quite ready to enjoy those circumstances again. I opt for the Hermit Park Open Space, a(county-run?) campground outside of town. There is a small fee, but that in itself is a small price to pay for the security of people. I meet a fellow at the registration office who happens to be camping with his sons and a couple of their friends in a campsite just down the trail from mine. Between the two of us, we get the last two available campsites in the park. Allen invites me over and I tell him I’ll see him after I pitch my tent.

There is a slight drizzle as I set up my tent. I’m relieved to be in the company of others again. The night before was a truly unnerving experience, one that can’t be explained until you’ve known it. The reality of being alone, unable to reach anyone by phone or by, for the immediate future at least, car, is unsettling enough. To be over 1,500 miles from home, in a bear-populated forest, with little other that topographical knowledge of what lays ahead makes the situation even more unsettling.

Fear is not an accurate description, because I was not scared. I was uniquely suited to spend time outside. Bear attacks, as frightening as they may be, are quite rare. The fact that my car may not run was irrelevant; she still contained a virtual outdoors store within her frame. I had food for weeks, means with which to catch more in the remote possibility that it ever became necessary, clothing with which to weather any weather, and gear to complete almost any task. Was it the mere threat of loneliness? The knowledge that I could not, if I wanted to or needed to, get a hold of anyone, regardless of how hard I tried? Whatever it was, it manifested itself in an unsettling feeling. Fear, no.

Allen and his kids have a warm fire going by the time I arrive at their site. Again, it provides a special warmth, especially after the previous night’s happenings. I laugh at how easy it is to get a fire going when there are virtual cords of dead and dry wood nearby and visible in diminishing daylight. We all talk for awhile and eventually I head back to my own tent. I start on Well’s The Invisible Man. I don’t get far before I drift off into a deep sleep. And I sleep later than I have any other night in the last three weeks.

A note on updates: It’s clear that I’m running about a day or two behind on updates sometimes. This may not always be the case, and I’ve started working in days of the weeks to avoid confusion. If you are receiving your updates by email, remember to go to the full site at http://www.reidksmith.com to see a full sidebar with a (semi-live) map of my location and Twitter updates of my activities.

Day Twenty One, 5 miles outside Estes Park, CO: Breakdown

Friday was finally the day that I left my Uncle Ben and Aunt Mary’s house. I had not spent time with them in years, and it was great to get to get caught up with each other. The plan after Denver had always been vague, and it was not until the day before that I decided that I would head North, to Rocky Mountain National Park, for the next leg of the trip.

And thus I left. No longer staying in other people’s homes or passing between them, the umbilical tether of kind hospitality is officially severed. Now, next is a relative term. Everything from the next bed, (which have already been scarce,) to the next wall outlet is an open question. I plan on CouchSurfing where I can, hopefully about once a week, to freshen up and not have to worry about where I’ll be spending the next night.

Of course, sometimes, you don’t choose where you’ll spend the night. The choice is made for you.

The drive from Denver to RMNP is a pleasant one. After the road passes through Boulder, it winds up and down, left and right, quite literally cutting its way through the mountain. But the numerous twists and turns, slopes and downgrades are an obvious reminder that, as much as we humans shape our environment, we are still granted only limited freedom and creativity over what remains, ostensibly, Nature’s possession.

The road continues to wind along the somewhat natural paths, the path of least resistance. The road is one of the most scenic I have been on, with nothing but canyons and forest, especially in the final stretch before Estes Park, the town that calls itself the “Gateway to Rocky National Mountain Park.” Other than the cars and the road, there is only the mountains and forest. Big Smokey and I continued to ascend, descend, rise, and fall. And eventually, with only the slightest warning, Smokey’s temperature gauge ascends, and ascends, and does not fall. With one final push from the overheated engine, we make it to a pull off to cool down. No sooner do the front tires leave the road than the car dies, power steering failing, and making for one dramatic moment where the car is headed towards the cliff, force then bringing the wheel back to the pull off. 

The  grade had not been that steep, and the drive not that long. It is apparent that something is very wrong with the car, something which cannot be fixed, and it is shortly thereafter that four other facts enter the mind. 1) I am in bear country, where, due to the close proximity of the national park, bears have become adept at finding and taking human food. When they detect humans and cannot immediately avail themselves of the human’s food, they begin to look harder for that food. Sometimes they search the human directly. 2) No one is expecting me at any place at any time, Ben knowing only that I will be at RMNP by nightfall, and will try to let him know where I am at that point. 3) I have no way to contact anyone, because I have no cell phone reception. 4) There is no shoulder on the road. The only way to get down the mountain is to drive down the mountain.

Had just three of those four things occurred, there would be no problem. With no bears, I could camp out for weeks without concern. Had someone missed me, their first path would be the only road leading to RMNP, where they would have quickly discovered the car. Had I a cell phone signal, I could have called for a tow. With a shoulder on the road, I could hike into town within a few hours in the light of the next day. None of these outs were possible, and as if to remind me that I was, indeed, in odd circumstances, I soon had visitors.

Some kind of large deer, to be sure, and much unlike the smaller deer in Michigan, who know humans well enough to stay away, (but indeed, these deer would appear eventually). Slowly these large animals sauntered up to the disabled car, having quietly snuck up from my blind spot, catching me with the window down. If there is a world record for grabbing your keys, thrusting them into the accessory position, and rolling up the windows, it belongs to me.

What I really had, at this point, were three options. It had been about 20 minutes since the car at died at 6.20pm. Perhaps the car can idle its way back into lower climes. Or, the car can continue driving. Or, I can stay with the car until something else happens. Option A clearly being the only choice, I let the car sit for a while longer, start her up, and allow her to idle with the hood popped. She is soon down to just above her normal operating temperature. Maybe it really was the grade, and the engine just needed a quick cool down? I slam the hood shut to see if the change keeps. It does not, and the car is dead before I can make it back inside.

Three options are reduced to two. The car is now stuck on the mountain for the foreseeable future; that much is certain. Unless I can find a path into the forest below, I am stick with the car. In the choice between inaction and action, however, it is always action which will carry the day. There are pull offs every few thousand feet or so on this road. I read David McCullough's 1776 for another hour or so, and then I make my move, kicking the car into drive and coaxing what power I can from the beleaguered engine. At best, I hope to find a cell signal up the road as far as I can get.

Smokey gets all of 600 feet before she begins to smoke again, but this time I’m lucky. Just ahead is the trailhead at Lion’s Gulch, a switchback trail that leads down the steep cliff into the valley below. As part of the US Forest Service, it is one of the many such unpatrolled and virtually unregulated sites in the country. The luck holds; there is a man getting into his car in this, what is essentially a small parking lot of a pull off. From him, I get some valuable and helpful information: The next 5 miles to Estes Park are relatively flat or downhill. Estes Park means I continue the way I had been going, and the knowledge of the terrain means I can make a run for a substantial portion of the distance the next day in the car. Even with a shot radiator, I can hope for at least a couple miles. Once in town, I should go to Doan’s Garage.

By now it is approaching 8.00pm. I throw what I need into my pack and grab my tent, sleeping pad, and bag and top off my water supply from the tank in my car. I leave a small, discrete note on my dash, saying simply, “Ben – overheated. Down the trail.” In the event that something does happen, eventually someone – hopefully Ben – would find the note. I head down the switchback trail and into the valley, the “Lion’s Gulch.” After a few hundred yards I cross a river, and here the trail splits two ways; to the right continues the trail, for another several miles at least. To the left, there is a path clearly less frequented and barely visible through the high grass. As night gathers, it is here that I search for a place to spend the night.

Having started as a path through tall grasses near the creek, both grasses and path quickly degenerate to a mere tunnel through a large forest of evergreens. The tent goes in the first spot large enough to fit it. The night continues to close in, and by the time the tent is set up, a proper gathering of firewood is out of the question, having only the aid of a headlamp to seek it out. Pine boughs make great kindling; however, I have yet to start a substantive fire with evergreen branches.

I have a camping stove for just this occasion. I quickly boil some water and cook some noodles for dinner. I laugh at not stopping at a Little Caesar’s on the way out of Boulder, having the urge to grab a hometown pizza but deciding against it for reasons unknown. Instead, I’m stuck cooking a noodle dinner. It is past 9pm and completely dark.

It is then that I realize, and not for the first time, the stark precariousness of my situation. I am completely alone, with no way to contact the outside world, and no method to reach it other than my own two feet and a crippled car. The issue is not so much with finding a way out; I am near a trailhead and thus can expect to find my way to people in a reasonable amount of time. Rather, the main concern is whether or not anyone will find me if I’m unable to find them. With the bugs swarming, I light a mosquito coil and decide that a fire would be nice after all. I gather what I can from fallen branches and use the pine boughs for kindling, (I would later discover abundant birch trees, which would have been far more ideal.)

I light the fire and haul a large log over to sit on while I let it burn. It is amazing what sort of primordial comfort a fire can induce. It can provide company where there otherwise is none. Even if not a physical necessity, the psychological value of fire can never be underestimated.  As the fire dwindles down – the wood that I had gathered would offer only about 30 minutes of flame, still enough to put me in a cheerful mood for the night – I gather all the food items – mostly Clif Bars and other carbohydrates – as well as utensils, and place them in the bear canister I had acquired from REI just that day. To a bear, the canister is unopenable, unhaulable, and unbreakable. To a human, they are much the same, being difficult to open, rather large, and made of some indestructible amalgam of plastics. I place the canister a few hundred feet from the campsite, slightly off the trail where I can find it in the morning. As bears can smell food some five miles away, I hope that the canister is decently airtight as well.

I settle into the tent and finish off 1776. The night cools down rapidly, as I am learning is the custom in the mountains, (I’m currently at around 7,600ft). I crawl into the sleeping bag and slowly nod off.

Adventure is what I wanted, and an adventure is what I got.

Day Twenty, Denver, CO: Coors Canaveral

On Thursday night I went to a Rockies game at Coors Field. Among all the major league parks, Coors hosts games of the highest offensive output every year. Because the stadium is literally a mile above sea level, the thinner air causes the balls to fly farther and reduces the motion on a pitcher’s pitches. In the last several years, the Rockies have begun using a humidor to moisten the balls, compensating for the drier air. This has had some effect in dampening the hits, and begun to lessen Coors’ reputation as a launching pad for home runs.

Otherwise, Coors is really a Comerica Park clone, albeit with some more seats in the outfield, (Coors seats over 50,000, while Comerica seats about 41,700.) For some reason, the Comerica architects opted to provide us with a view of the Detroit Skyline in lieu of more seating. I suppose there aren’t enough sellouts to justify more seating, but there isn’t enough skyline to justify such an open-air approach either.

I’m assuming that most of you are not too interested in the details of the game, which is too bad, as it was one of the better games I’ve attended. I am going to note, however, that my fantasy baseball team – Team Adventure Ball – does have FIVE Rockies on the roster. And they came up BIG for both the Rox and I last night. The Rockies won 7-6, with the help of 5 RBIs and 5 runs scored from the Adventure Ball big men, along with a save from Adventure Ball Closer Huston Street. Fantasy baseball is very real.

After the game we went to a bar down the street from the park. There are a lot of people handing out free beer tickets outside Coors Field. And there are a lot of bars in downtown Denver and thus the competition is pretty fierce. For the most part, however, a bar is a bar. My buddy David and I chose a buy one get one deal.

It’s amazing the people that you meet in the most random places. Dave and I played shuffleboard at the bar with a nice couple from Grand Rapids, MI. They work in the painting business, and informed me that business in Grand Rapids is booming. I guess it’s surprising what happens when you leave Detroit. Shuffleboard is an interesting game. I think I like it.

I’m finally leaving Denver today (Friday) and am heading to Rocky Mountain National Park. Not sure how long I will be there, or where I will go next, or when I will have internet. I expect to stay a couple days and will probably make a post afterwards. In the meantime, you can check the Twitter feed on the right sidebar, (directly below the Latitude map,) which I should be able to keep going even in the park.

Day Seventeen and Eighteen, Guanella Pass, CO: Mt. Bierstadt

Day Seventeen: Basecamp
The night before the climb, my Uncle Ben and I camped out on Guanella Pass, located at the foot of Mt. Bierstadt. Guanella Pass has an altitude of about 11,660 feet and is a plain field of scrub, and therefore great to camp on. The mountains get very cold at night – every 1,000 feet of altitude being roughly equivalent to a 4 degree drop in temperature – and the temperature dropped to freezing after the sun went down.

The primary reason for camping out the night before is the departure time; the hike is 3.5 miles each way, and we left at 6.45am the next morning. And camping is a fun thing to do anyway.

Day Eighteen: Tackling the Mountain
Mt. Bierstadt – in the background of this picture, taken from basecamp – is one of Colorado’s 52 official fourteeners; peaks that top out over 14,000 feet. The most obvious problem in scaling these is elevation; Acute Mountain Sickness, (also known simply as altitude sickness), can set in as low as 8,000 feet. At our starting point of 11,600 feet, the air contains only 66% of the oxygen found at sea level. At the summit altitude of 14,060 feet, there is only 60% as much oxygen. The thinner air also means that the relative humidity is drastically decreased. As you exhale, the moisture from your lungs transfers to the dry air you’ve just breathed in, making constant hydration essential. Dehydration can exacerbate the symptoms of AMS, making headaches, lightheadedness, poor judgment, dizzy spells, and visions spots even worse.

The most important thing, therefore, is to be prepared. This includes an extensive gear and supply list: food and water, (I brought along liquid carbohydrate fuel that tastes like death but is digested quickly, carb-loaded trail mix, trail bars, and a gallon of water), layers of clothing, (moisture-wicking tee shirt, mid layer, soft shell jacket, fleece, and a hard shell rain jacket, along with a hat and gloves), and emergency supplies, (signal mirror, storm proof matches, first aid kit, compass, emergency blanket, etc.) A detailed topography map and GPS are a must, and we had both. All told, my pack weighed a little over 20 lbs. While one of the easier fourteeners, Mt. Bierstadt is still deadly. You’d think that most people would have a reasonable idea of what to expect, and bring the proper gear. Sadly, this is not the case.

On our descent, we passed a kid in a cotton Superman shirt and shorts, with one empty plastic bottle of water – less than 1/8th of the amount I consumed on the hike – huffing and out of breath, asking if it got any worse. Shockingly, when we pointed to the summit, he was unaware that it was his destination. He had no pack, and informed us that he had set out at 11.45am – five hours after us. As this kid kept ascending, it would only get colder and windier, and the air thinner. And that would be his best case scenario. Mountains are notorious for creating their own weather patterns, which can change from sunny and calm to a freezing thunderstorm with pounding winds – in a matter of minutes. Hypothermia is a given with no heavy clothing or natural shelter. 

The hike had several distinct phases. The first 1.2 miles are relatively easy, descending about 200 feet, crossing Gomer Creek (the crossing seen on your right), and then ascending back up 200 feet. This took us about 40 minutes, stopping to take pictures twice. At 7.25am, we were at 11,700 feet.

The second phase is pretty comfortable as well, rising from 11,700 feet to 13,000 feet. In the picture to the left, you can faintly see the trail we came up along the ridge. This section was about 1.6 miles long and took us about 90 minutes; 30 of which were spent stopped taking pictures or eating. In the first half hour we covered 500 vertical feet and roughly .75 miles. After that, the grade began to pick up. The last 800 vertical feet took the remaining hour. At 8.55am, we were standing at 13,000 feet, having covered 1,300 vertical feet since we left camp. On foot, we had covered 2.80 miles in about 2 hours.

The third section – the final 1,060 vertical feet – would be the most challenging. The first 130 feet were not especially difficult, the trail traversing the mountain and thus making for a softer pitch. However, the terrain had changed from an ascending trail through soft ground to an ill-defined path over steep builders.

At 13,130 feet, we stopped to rest and down some carbohydrate fuel, hoping to accomplish the next 620 feet at a steady pace and avoiding any rest stops. As I mentioned before, this orange goo tastes like vomit. But the liquid carbohydrates digest quickly and give a burst of energy. The picture above shows the trail ahead, through the snow, and then over boulders. You can’t even see the top ridge. It was physically exhausting work, especially in the scarce air. Each step required a full extension of the leg, hauling body and pack a couple feet onto the next boulder, where the process would be repeated. When we finally emerged on semi-level ground, it had been 40 minutes, and we had ascended 630 feet in 0.4 miles. We had taken only a few extremely brief stops. Still, this slogging pace of 0.6 mph was about a quarter of what we were accomplishing at the lower elevations.

Having ascended those last grueling 630 feet and standing at 13,746 feet above sea level, we were greeted by a summit that still towered over 300 feet 0ver us (see above). On the way down, we saw one man reach that ridge – only to take one look at the summit, and turn to tell his wife that he was done and going no further.

The truth is that the final summit pitch was, compared to the boulders before, the easy part. The first leg started over the snowy ridge seen on your left, just feet away from a thousands-foot drop. Then we hit more boulders. Thankfully, a path could be made over the boulders that was not as physically exhausting as the previous pitch. The steps were smaller, and the excitement of being so close to the top – no doubt helped along by an altitude-induced euphoria – kept us going. When we finally reached the summit at 14,060 feet, it was 10.19am. We had covered 3.60 miles in about 3.50 hours, ascending 2,500 feet.

Feeling as though you are on top of the world is an expression often used, but rarely realized. This was one of those cases where the feeling matched the reality. It’s impossible to put into words how it feels to have reached the summit after so much hard work.

There are far more pictures at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith.

Day Seventeen and Eighteen, Guanella Pass, CO: Check-In

Sorry I haven’t updated lately – at first there was not much to report from Colorado, but today and last night I went up Bierstadt Mountain, a 14,060 foot peak. My Uncle Ben and I camped out at the foot of the mountain last night and then hiked/boulder scrambled up in the day, leaving at 6.45am.

So I just got back and I’m absolutely exhausted and in no shape to write a complete post. In the interest of not stealing my own thunder, I’ll leave the description of the hike until tomorrow.

Don’t worry. There are tons of pictures.

Day Fifteen, Denver, CO: Independence

I’m now staying with my Aunt Mary and Uncle Ben, who have been great hosts thus far and with whom I’ve had a blast. Since the beginning of the planning stages of this trip – which began over a year ago – I’ve viewed this stop as a chance to rest and regroup, as well as a sort of dividing line between the first and second halves of the trip. The first half was a lot of cities, but I anticipate the second half involving far more camping.

Ben and Mary have two children, both under five. I haven’t spent a lot of time with children this young before. It’s amazing how much care and attention they need. The notion that a child, even one that can speak and easily move around, must be tied entirely to his or her parents for all aspects of support is quite incredible.

So most of the day was spent relaxing with the family, as well as a great trip to the Flagship, three-storey REI store in Denver, where I picked up most of the final additions for gear. Besides the those few last-minute pickups at REI, Ben is a hiking/mountaineering gear maniac and was able to fill the few holes I had left.

Finally, I’ve included one more picture from Kansas that my Dad has touched up. Enjoy.

The future happiness or misery of a great proportion of the human race is at stake – and if we make the wrong choice, ourselves and our posterity must be wretched. Wrong choice! There can be but one choice consistent with the character of a people possessing the least degree of reason. And that is to separate – to separate from that people who from a total dissolution of virtue among them must be our enemies – an event which I devoutly pray may soon take place; and let it be as soon as may be.
-Henry Knox, May 16, 1776

Day Fourteen, Denver, CO: Up

Kept driving out of Kansas. This occupied the vast majority of the day. I don’t want to have to say anything else about it.

Finally arrived in Denver and I’m staying with my Aunt and Uncle and their two kids for the next several days. Now I’ve got to work out where I’ll be heading next – North, South, or somewhere in between? – make some last minute gear pickups and then hit the road again.

Denver is some 5,500+ feet above sea level. Which is a drastic change from Michigan’s 700 feet or so. But having camped at 2,100 feet the night before, I can’t say I’ve noticed any appreciable difference. I’ll be climbing a 14,000+ foot peak on Monday however, and I’ll probably have a different story to tell at that point.

Keep in mind that, for sake of contact, I’m now two (2) hours behind you guys. Unless any of you bums I went to college with have changed your sleeping habits and starting waking up before 10am, I don’t see this being a problem.

PS – Your comments breathe life into my heart. Keep me alive,  and leave a comment!

Day Thirteen, 14 miles outside Ogallah, KS: Amber Waves of Grain… and grain… and grain…

I have this to say about the state of Kansas: it is not interesting.

When I told my host in Kansas City, Torey, that surely there must be something in Kansas, he shook his head, laughed, and said, “no.” In my mind, I am thinking that this is no big deal. So  I won’t be able to stop and do fun things. For the most part, I am a person that enjoys driving. So this is not very concerning. I was looking at a ten hour drive split into two days. That is, by no means, un-doable.

But here is the kicker, and I cannot emphasize this enough. Residents of Kansas like to plant corn and wheat. When this gets old, they plant wind farms. When the entertainment value of this is exhausted, they work on making their roads straighter. See illustration below.

 
Kansas

 
Kansas (different area, but who can tell anyway, right?)

Zzzzzzzz.

Let me explain this in one other way. Take Michigan, right? Chop down all the trees, and burn all of the buildings. Plant the exact same kind of grass everywhere. Stretch out all the roads so that they are all perfectly parallel and perpendicular to each other. Bingo, you just created Kansas.

Leaving Kansas City in the morning, I did not know where I was going to end up at the end of the night, which was a very nice feeling. Had I actually punched in a destination to the GPS, I would have been told to “continue, four-hundred and seventy eight miles.” Barf.

After having stopped at a rest stop – I stopped about seven times, just to break up the monotony – I broke out my AAA camp book and decided on a little town called Ellis.

I don’t understand the deal with camping out of an RV. If someone told you they would build you a large trailer in your backyard, and it would produce electricity and water, and you could live in it for a few nights at a time… is this something you would jump at the chance to have? I suppose it is unfair for me to knock something I haven’t tried, and no offense to those who enjoy it, because I am sure there is something that I am missing. But I feel as though camping is a time to get away from all the things that keep us tied down.

 

For more pictures, see http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith

Day Twelve, Kansas City, MO: State Line

After last night, which was a blast by all accounts, I decided to extend my stay in Kansas City. Having only arranged to stay with my original host, Greg, for two nights, I stayed one more night with Torey, who I met last night.

Kansas City has surprised me in a lot of ways. As I said before, I wasn’t expecting a whole lot coming in, but the city has grown on me. It has a nice big city feel, but with small town conveniences. It’s easy to get around the city and park your car without having to hunt down a bunch of one-ways and parking structures. In general, the downtown has a great atmosphere. 

Tonight Torey and I went downtown to the Power and Lights District, at the center of which is a semi-indoor atrium ringed by bars and restaurants which, in this case, doubles as a concert stage. Unlike downtown Detroit, Kansas City regularly sponsors free concerts and provides their citizens with something to do. Tonight they brought in the old 90’s post-grunge group Lit. It was a lot like going back to high school and turning on the radio really loudly. In fact, the girls that we had met last night explained that they couldn’t find the keys to their time machine, and thus, would be unable to make it to the concert. After the concert, we went over to the Flying Saucer once again, which was just down the street. Every Wednesday night, they have glass night. For a little bit extra, they’ll give you the pint glass that they serve that designed night’s glass special in. (And the Fire Sale Beer was Moose Drool. Actually pretty good).

That was about the extent of what I actually did today. I should talk a little, now that I have an opportunity, about CouchSurfing. This is a sort of hybrid between Craigslist and Facebook. People have profiles on the site, and they can search for other people with whom to stay when passing through a city, (as I am). The idea is to meet like-minded people (although Greg informed me that I was the first Republican Couchsurfer he had met), who can not only host you, but actually show you around the city. That’s how I arranged to stay with Greg, who in turn had met Torey through a local couchsurfing event a few weeks ago.

Finally, Kansas City is interesting in that most of the city lies in Missouri; however, a smaller portion does lie in Kansas. The two sides of the city are “separated” by State Line Road. But for the name, you’d never know you were crossing a state line.

And so tomorrow I finally cross the State Line into Kansas and leave Missouri behind for the foreseeable future. I’ve spent the last six nights in Missouri and all told, I’ve enjoyed myself quite a bit. The people are friendly, the economy is buzzing, the baseball parks are great, and the beer is fantastic. I’m glad I gave it a shot. However, I do not plan on extending the same courtesy  to Kansas. I will be camping one night in Kansas on my way to Denver, (to break up the 10 hour drive), but am told there is nothing to do besides look at corn. That is generally not how I like to waste my time.

Day Eleven, Kansas City, MO: Free Hot Dogs and Flying Saucers

I went to breakfast with my host, Greg, at McDonalds in the Plaza. I can’t say enough about that Deluxe Breakfast. Great value. After breakfast, we went to the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, which was an interesting tour. The Negro Leagues had little structure for most of their existence, but at some times, their events rivaled those of Major League Baseball in size and attendance, not to mention player talent.

Following the museum we went to Arthur Bryant’s BBQ. Kansas City is famous for their BBQ restaurants. Arthur Bryant’s isn’t the most highly thought of among all the BBQ  places in KC, (Oklahoma Joe’s, which is located just across the state line, is supposed to be the best). However, Bryant’s was within walking distance of the museum.

Still having a few hours to kill before the game, we went to the Crown Center, which is easily one of the strangest places I’ve ever been to. Entering through Kansas City’s old Union Station, (left; built in the 1920’s to accommodate an increase in rail traffic which never materialized,) the Crown Center was created by the founder of Hallmark as an “Urban Experiment.” It has absolutely no clear identity, direction, or purpose.

Again, it’s difficult for me to describe how odd this area was. Think of an indoor mall attached to a 1920’s train station, with a large hotel located within, Corporate Headquarters-style decor (not surprising, as Hallmark’s headquarters are connected by skyway), and the oddest collection of shops you’ve ever seen. There was the Crayola Cafe (haven’t you always wanted to try the smoothie version of that Electric Yellow-colored crayon?), the Cat Boutique (?), Chocolate Factory, and Mobile Solutions. Mobile Solutions was really a microcosm of this entire urban schizoid aberration. At first, you might assume that the store carries cell phone cases, extra batteries, and things like that. In a way, that is correct. But Mobile Solutions also carries knock-off Calvin Klein sunglasses and an enormous selection of remote control helicopters. Like the mall it’s based in, it is designed for people with no clear reason for visiting and a fantastically short attention span.

It’s a small world. After arriving at Kauffman Stadium and buying tickets ($7), Greg, Marlene, Torey (a friend of Greg’s), and I enjoyed a nice KC-style tailgate. Kauffman Stadium is on the same general plot of land as the Chief’s Arrowhead Stadium, and thus they both share a parking lot that does not end. As it happened, we were parked next to two girls who were also tailgating. One of them was from Michigan and knew a few people I went to Albion with. It also turned out that they were sitting directly in front of us at the game.

Which didn’t make much of a difference, as we sat at the outfield bar for almost the entire time. Following this, there were a few more events that made this night incredibly remarkable.

First, there was a free hot dog giveaway in our rightful section, (which the bar directly overlooked). You know the kind where the girl trying to pay her way through college holds up three hot dogs and tries to get everyone to make an amount of noise that, were free food not involved, would be completely unacceptable? Whether it was the waving arms or my bar-perch that overlooked the section, this gracious lady decided that tonight was my night. This hot dog was the first prize I have ever won and I will never forget it. It tasted like delicious free.

Now under the impression that this new good luck  streak could only bring me more valuable free things, I immediately picked out the closest give away employees I could find (see picture). It turns out they were giving away hats, in this case. After realizing that I was not going to be getting a free hat, I settled for the picture to your right. Although I look a little distressed, I assure you that I felt fine.

As the game came to a close, I was witness to one of the most spectacular exchanges between two people that has ever occurred. While we were talking to a guy who was probably in his late 20’s, an innocent looking, 8-year-old-ish kid walked up. This was the result:

Guy: [With straight face] “Yeah, so this is my son-”
Kid: [Visibly flustered] “I’m not your son, for the last time!”
Guy: [Still straight-faced and unnerved] “Yeah, I have no idea who this kid really is…”
Kid: [Somehow even more bothered] “You’re such a dick!”
Guy: [Now searching his brain for some way to associate himself with this child, and saying the first thing that comes to mind] "Uh, he’s my AA sponsor.”

Of course we gave the guy directions to the bar we were headed to next and told him to meet us there. Not surprisingly, he didn’t make it there.

Really, the word “bar” does not adequately describe the Flying Saucer. They use the words “Draught Emporium” and I’m inclined to stick with that. The Flying Saucer has 200 beers on tap. Two hundred. And each beer has its own tap handle. The idea behind the Flying Saucer is simple; drink all of the beers. You have a membership card, and each time you order a beer, you swipe it. The beer you ordered is recorded, and when you reach 200 different beers, you get a saucer on the wall. Do it again, you get a different colored saucer, and so on. This is obviously not something you do in one night. However, it takes some people significantly less time to accomplish than others.

I usually get a positive reaction when I tell the people I meet what I’m doing. A lot of them think it’s a great idea. Some ask interesting questions, like, “What, did you just quit your job and go?” I laugh and remind them that I’m from Michigan, where people don’t have jobs. But invariably, most people express a desire to take a similar trip. Sure, some people can’t just get up and leave for two months, (especially if they’re lucky enough to have a job!) But otherwise, why not?

For more pictures, see http://picasaweb.google.com/reidksmith.