True with anything in life. Patience, humility, belief in yourself and the inherent goodness of the world.
Yearly Archives: 2012
The photo editor of the Russian online magazine Look At Me, contacted me on Flickr and asked to include one of my photos on a spread about “Japanese Tourists All Over The World”. Of course I said yes!
Gotta love the internet!
Currently in a parking lot in upstate NY, listening to the dancing raindrops on the roof of our Volkswagen.
Thousands of miles away from home, with two of the greatest friends anyone could ever hope for.
I am, always, home.
We take the longer route not because we have no choice, but because it is a deliberate denial of the emptiness of traversing an easy line. When we choose to take bridges of convenience and the shortcuts of modernity, we surrender to the pace of mechanical indifference. Choose the harder path, and the world shall make itself known to you. One step, one mile, at a time.
The Athabasca Falls from Jasper National Park, in Canada. This was an awe inspiring sight, as the thousands of gallons of water thundered down the rocks incessantly. It was very powerful, trapping you in a feeling of helplessness and awe, knowing that you were so close to such an amazing torrent of power that would swallow you whole. It is vividly different from other waterfalls I’ve seen, because our vantage point was so close, and the roar of the water blanketed your ego and doused you in fear. We’re always used to being in control of our environment, but it’s sometimes refreshing to think that in fact, we are nothing.
Kat and I have been home for a few days, in anticipation for my friend Rudy’s big day when he finally grows up.
Here he is at rehearsal. He needs more practice.
It is a well known fact that I do not possess any facial hair whatsoever, and as a once-in-a-lifetime experiment coinciding with our month-long exodus into the Alaskan wilderness, I stopped shaving for over a month. If you are curious – it looked like shit, and Kat had to add eyeliner to make it look slightly less reprehensible. Fortunately, the phenomenon was only experienced by my wife, siblings and Kathlyn. I went back to looking younger instantaneously by at least 5-10 years as soon as I shaved the 25 strands on my face. Goodbye, douchestache.
Enjoying a cold stout at the Silver Gulch Brewery, “America’s Most Northern Brewery”.
I could honestly get used to life on the road, living within the confines of a peculiar VW bus. It’s a really simple setup, and everything is within quick reach. The great part is running out of data on a roaming network and having to rely on paper maps and books to figure out where to go. The best itineraries are always offered by locals when you stop to talk. Nothing spoils real life like the Internet (and hordes of tourists). Live simply, live fully.
We spend a lifetime accumulating so much material things, that we think are necessary to live our lives. Yet precisely when we are at the moments of profound discovery and introspection, the depth of emotion is carried not by the magnitude nor multitude of our posessions, but by our humbling placement in this beautiful world, without them.
Felt like thousands of miles driving through Canada. Partly because it’s true, we have driven more than a “few” thousand miles by this point. This sequence is from the very beautiful Glenn highway corridor, coming into Alaska.
In the small town of Hope. The water is very blue, and very cold. Lots of people are out fishing.
Yesterday, we visited the majestic Matanuska Glacier along the outskirts of Glenn Highway, shortly before we hit Anchorage. You could see this bad-boy from miles away, and we could hardly contain our excitement as we squealed like piglets about to be fed their first slice of awesome pie.
Although Kat and I generally like to keep our money inside our pockets, we opted to splurge a little by renting equipment and hiring our own guide to explore the ice fields. If we were going to do this once, we wanted to do it right. Triple the squealing when we found out that we could bring Nickel along!! Two were squeals of delight, and the third… Not so much.
We learned about the terminology behind glaciers, like the terminus and moraine, and how you shouldn’t go out after fresh snowfall in the spring unless you wanted to get sucked into hole and disappear from the face of the planet. We spent a few hours with our minds blown wide open, amazed also at the very eerie similarity of ice and our familiarity with the desert. It felt like we were in another planet – which is what it generally feels like when you open your eyes and try to fathom that there is more to this world than the people in it.
Oh great Matanuska, it was a great privilege and honor to have come before you.
Grilling with the greatest view in the history of lunchtime.
Greetings, from Anchorage. :)
He is a very friendly Musk Ox, who we met (and fed) at the Musk Ox Farm in Palmer, AK.
Having driven more than 2800 miles since leaving our garage, there have been ZERO technical difficulties as far as Vanessa came. I watched the CHT (cylinder head temperature) gauge like a madman, and religiously checked the oil level at each gas up. She was running like a top, and at idle was purring like a tiger.
Alas, on a normal gas up routine in Watson Lake in BC, I turned the key in the ignition, and heard the oddly familiar sound of the *click* of a dead starter. Familiar, because Kat and I have gotten tired of crawling under the bus, and had already installed a ‘hot-start relay’ a few years ago to address this very problem. Everything else checked out – the battery had lots of juice, but the starter wasn’t turning.
Hey man, nice rug.
A quick inspection revealed a blown out 15 amp fuse. The massive amounts of driving and stop-starts we were doing must’ve done a number. No worries. I had no spare 15A fuse, so I popped in a 10A and she fired up.
Things were going fine, until we hit the last stretch of highway in BC before hitting Alaska, when I managed to blow 2 more 10A fuses in succession. We knew we had a problem, and we’d keep blowing the 10’s. The plan was to not shut off the engine, until we bought the proper 15A fuse. I held one last 10A spare to get us by, and sneak us back into America. Or so we thought.
I was kinda hoping this RV would crash into the ceiling.
Upon crossing into the US border, we lined up to the single customs/immigration lane that was open. A line of vehicles waiting behind us was starting to grow. As we pulled up, the officer asked me to shut off the engine.
Well, that’s fine. I had a spare fuse in my pocket, and could pop it back in to start again after our interrogation was over. We answered the typical questions. No officer, we don’t have weapons. Yes, the plates are really HEY 1979. No, we don’t have any “plants”. We’re on our honeymoon, and driving into Alaska for a few weeks. And when he says “Okay, thanks, you can drive through” while handing us our paperwork, I cross my fingers and turn the ignition.
I look at the officer and shyly explain that we’ve been having start issues, and that I’ll need 30 seconds to pop in a new fuse under the bus. By the time I finish my sentence, I was already on the ground replacing the one that bombed when I tried to start it. I ran back into the bus, and turned the ignition.
Shit. That was the sound of my last fuse that just exploded.
Quickly assessing the situation. I was holding up a sizable line, and we were the only lane open. I looked at the officer in the eye, and said “Well, looks like we’ll need to push her out of the way”. Guys, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He gets out of his stall.
My last memory is having him push the bus with Kat, and hearing him shout to pull it over the edge and try to push-start the engine. I kick the clutch, gear into second, release, and BOOM the engine turns over into a happy idle. Kat squeals and jumps triumphantly from the back, and runs up into her seat. High fives all around, while Nickel gives us a dirty look.
And that, is the story of how the Border/Immigration agent, pushed our little VW bus back into America.
Greetings from Watson Lake! And a tourist trap called the Sign Post Forest, where old (and possibly stolen) signs come to rest.
And off we go, through the Alaskan Highway westward, towards Whitehorse, YK.