Bellingham, WA to Marblemount, WA

Just before sunset, I got into Marblemount.  It was a nice ride, although it was a little longer than I wanted due to a wrong turn and some extra hills.  No matter, it was a pretty day with a tailwind most of the time.  Drivers are polite and seem less redneck-y than other places.  I am staying at an RV park tent site for $5.00/night.  There are showers and wifi.  There is one power outlet for the whole campground, so I got the office lady to charge my phone.  The other electronics will probably die tomorrow.  Three other bike tourists are here also.  Two guys in their fifties from Minnesota who took the Amtrak out and are headed back, and one young guy who looks like Che Guevara and is headed to Mexico.  He seemed like perhaps he was finding himself.  A grocery store a ways back was selling their lunchtime sandwiches for $1 each.  I got a pulled pork and a battered cod.  Both were excellent, although I didn't get to eat them until a couple of hours later when I pulled into my campsite.

I am at the foot of North Cascades national park.  The jagged, glaciated mountains stick up almost vertically to the east.  Tomorrow I am probably going to go for a short ride.  It seems like a choice between a really long ride and a short one.  Since it seems like it will be a really pretty place, I will take my time.



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Picnic Point SP in Mukilteo

Putting the rig together

 Grand sendoff from Bellingham

 Outside Bellingham

 That would be interesting

 Getting close to N. Cascades

 May have to go to the store here and get some stuff

Vail, CO - Seattle, WA

I am currently over Idaho at 35000 feet in an Alaska 737-900.  Planes have wifi now.  Amazing.  I am trying to listen to the live ATC feed for our flight, but can't find the correct frequency.  Currently it is tuned to the Bozeman airport, which is talking about Cessnas.  I don't think that's right.  Maybe when I tune into Seattle Center I can figure it out.

Ugly black cloud below.  Looks like a massive wildfire.  Just double-checked on the NIFC website and there are several in Idaho.  The smoke haze is blowing SE towards Colorado.  Maybe why it's so hazy there.

Anyway, this looks like a really... long... ways to pedal.

Early and nervous

Mt Rainier & Crystal Mountain ski area from the plane window

Vail, CO

Some predictions are in order about this endeavor.  When I'm finished, I can come back and read what I wrote and see where I was wrong.  Basically I think everything will be fantastic except southern WY / NE Colorado.  That empty, hot, treeless, white swath on the map, with no rivers coming out of it, sounds diabolical.  But I won't have to deal with that for awhile.  I can't wait to start climbing into North Cascades National Park, which should be a fine opener.  Nice and steep.  I've been climbing on Vail Pass with regularity, and can hammer up it pretty well on my lightweight stick bike.  Climbing is good.

I'm a bit nervous of course.  I think it will stay with me until a day or two into the trip.  There's a detachment process where at first you're still swimming in the thoughts of the world you left.  Then present realities override whatever you were worrying about before.  That's one of the greatest appeals of bike touring.  Your mind is concentrated so much on your tires, the time, your water/fuel, and your route that it doesn't leave room for other worries.

This pile of stuff has been accumulating for a little while.  Sometimes I walk by and throw something on, or take something off.

These bar exam books are being returned at the end of the week.  Last test is on Friday.  It will be nice to be rid of them.

late start to winter

I am currently at home, sitting on the couch next to my propane heater.  I go through a BBQ-sized tank of propane about every four days trying to stay warm.  It's like sitting by a campfire.  The heat sears one side of my body while the other side is frozen.  Occasionally I rotate.

It's been very slow in Methven until the most recent winter storm hit, which is currently still slamming the island.  It was the warmest autumn here in many years, so the ski areas couldn't operate and people were dejected and unemployed.  After I came back from my tour around the south island, I was expecting to have something to do.  But not much happened.  I finally complained to my boss that I came all the way over here from the northern hemisphere and I was getting restless.  So he found me some jobs.

At first I helped out in the ski rental shop.  I'd never done that before and they gave me a 10-minute course on how to adjust ski bindings before about 200 people showed up at once.  I think I got most of their bindings set correctly.  I didn't hear of any broken legs. 

My next job was to dress up as the ski area mascot for a marketing campaign.  I rolled my eyes when I heard this, but I had to take the job since I was complaining about no work.  So I got into an enormous green parrot outfit and went to a festival celebrating the upcoming World Cup.  My job was to get as close to the camera as possible and draw attention to myself.  It was hot and sweaty inside the parrot suit, and I couldn't see very well through the mesh screen in the parrot's mouth.  I succeeded in getting fairly close to the camera without stomping on any children.  I waved my arms and jumped around behind the newscaster while he read the weather.

Later, a TV producer complimented me on my outfit.  She was very pretty and blonde, so I started chatting with her through the parrot head.  I completely forgot that I was in a parrot suit while I was trying to be handsome and charming.  After about a minute of this, she suddenly had something else important to do.  I was briefly crestfallen until I realized the ridiculousness of the situation.

In the last few days, a massive storm has engulfed the islands, causing tornadoes up on the north island and snow down south.  Finally I was able to go work up on the hill. The winds have howled so strongly that the roof moans on the sturdy three-story base lodge, and the floors vibrate even in the center of the building.  We go out in our machines to try to keep the trails passable.  In the snow-filled gale you can't see anything except white, and often have to stop completely to wait for the next lull in the wind.  Then you can creep forward while staring at the faint outline of the edge of the abyss through the whirling snow.  Then you have to stop again when the gale comes back and hurls chunks of ice and rocks at the side of the shaking machine.  The rocks come from distant pinnacles half a mile away.  They are carried through the air along with roof panels, hoses, pads, signs, and whatever else gets torn away.  The mountain has been closed for three days in a row due to wind, and it's not letting up any time soon.  Luckily the snow groomers are somewhat vital to the operation even when the mountain isn't operating.

When I'm not working, I've been entertaining myself ont the homemade climbing wall at the company warehouse.  I've never done it before but it's a fun challenge and hopefully will build my core strength a little.  I'm a complete novice and can hardly tie a knot that's not on a shoelace.  There is a guy there who is very experienced, and is sort of the instructor.  He halfheartedly tries to conceal his disgust at my complete ineptitude.  It's OK though, I'm not out to prove anything to anyone.

Scorpio from the observatory at Mt John near Lake Tekapo.  I went on a nighttime stargazing tour there and there were astronomers and astrophotographers there to guide us.  A photographer put my camera on his equatorial mount, the kind that slowly turns with the earth so that the stars remain in focus.  This was taken on my camera, 5 minute exposure, ISO 800, aperture all the way open.  The red star above and left of center is Antares.

TV show getting people excited for the World Cup.  I am the fellow with the beak.

Looking up from the plains at the windstorm on the mountain.  The ski area is in the bowl on the top left, behind the top ridge in the foreground.

west coast nz

No stories of narrowly averted disaster in this one, just scenery.

The snow hasn't arrived to the South Island yet, although conditions have become a little more promising in the last few days.  I suspect the ski mountain will be open by next weekend.  I will enjoy getting back to work because I love the job.  I have intermittent feelings of guilt since I've been traveling for almost two months, seeing so many amazing places.  But I try to shelve those feelings, and I'm getting much better at it.

Since the company doesn't have work for me yet, I decided to get out of town.  I hung around in my little village of Methven for a few days, but when you're not working, there isn't that much to do.  So I fueled the car I hired for the winter and sped off to tour around.  

This car is a 1996 Toyota Corolla, and it gets 35-40mpg from its 1.3 liter motor.  That's all it has going for it.  The stereo is broken and the seat won't go back, so my legs are at an awkwardly splayed angle to work the pedals.  It's slower than molasses and lunatic Kiwi drivers can't wait to pass me.  And they are indeed lunatics.  For such a peaceful, well-behaved society, when these people get on the road it's a free-for-all.  The roads are often pretty scary too, which adds to the ambiance.

I drove across the island to the west side and then down to Franz Josef, where there are some big glaciers that extend almost to the sea.  The climate is much different than the dry plains of Canterbury.  It's a temperate rain forest here and the jungle looks like it would swallow you and eat you if you walked ten feet in.  

Today I left there and came down to Wanaka, where I am staying at a hostel.  The drive over the main divide back inland was really something else.  I had to stop thirty times to take photos.  I almost swerved off the road numerous times because the scenery is so jaw-dropping.  I don't think there is an unattractive corner of this entire island, except perhaps some alley behind a tavern in Invercargill.

These mountains are a different breed than what I'm used to.  The landscape is in such a rapid pace of flux, geologically speaking, that things get pushed up and eroded seemingly overnight.  Apparently, without the incessant ferocious wind and rain and ice, the Southern alps would be 30,000 feet tall.  The highest, Mt Cook, is currently about 11,000 feet and rising.  The mountains are maybe 30 miles inland from sea level and rise almost vertically.

Not to try to sound like John Muir, but I was thinking about the contrast from the Colorado Rockies, my stomping ground for the last few years.  The mountains there are big and wide and old and grandfatherly.  They have majesty.  They say "come here, come sit on my flanks, and we'll gaze out across the vast open spaces together."  The Southern Alps of New Zealand are far more severe and jagged and brutal.  They say "You looking at me, you little gnat?  I would very much enjoy kicking your a**."

Tomorrow I'm going to go for a hike and try to salvage what I can from the lack of daylight around here.  It's only light for about nine hours a day at the moment.  One more night in Wanaka and then south to Te Anau maybe.

looking seaward from Fox Glacier

Mt Cook and Mt Tasman

Tasman Sea

Haast Pass

ordinarily this would be much snowier.

Lake Wanaka

Hostels

I am currently poolside at a hostel in Darwin.  Usually I enjoy staying in hostels over hotels because they have a more sociable atmosphere, and they have all the amenities like laundry, internet, and information.  Although the crowd is generally younger than I am, all ages are welcome and you will find older folks there too.  I have stayed in many around the world and have generally found it a positive experience. I usually get my own room these days instead of staying in the dorm, so I can get some distance from revelers if need be.  I was one of those once.  Like when I was chased up the stairs by a large shoe-wielding woman in Italy after breaking the curfew (I escaped by hiding behind a door), or the time I was stranded on the street outside a hostel in downtown Galway in my underwear after going through a one-way locking door.  

Quality varies by location and circumstances.  Darwin seems to be more of a travelers hub than a destination in itself.  So there are a lot of people here that are on hold during their trip around Australia or to/from Indonesia or Thailand.  Generally these people hang around and work somewhere to save up enough money to get somewhere else.  This creates a situation of "long-termers".  They are people who stay at a hostel because it's a cheap place to live.  It really changes the character of a place because they all know each other and it's an us vs. them atmosphere.  Some of them aren't particularly motivated to do anything about their situation, so they sit around and grumble.  

A lizard is crawling on my shoe.  Hopefully it eats some mosquitoes.

So I guess I'm saying that the hostel situation in Darwin is poor.  When I arrived, I headed for a place recommended by Lonely Planet (forgetting the rule that the guidebook is not the end-all).  Reception was closed so I wandered about and asked some people smoking and drinking if they knew anyone who worked there.  It turns out that one of them was the receptionist, who was annoyed that I interrupted her, and said she'd be there when she was ready.  Shortly she came back to the office and quoted me the rate.  It was hot and I was tired and I paid for the room.  It had air-conditioning and that was enough.  As I sat down on the bed, the level of filth sunk in.  Years of ground-in dirt and the old and thin mattress matched the tired peeling paint of the cinderblock walls and moldy air-conditioner.  I walked downstairs into the common area and found a crowd of listless bodies surrounded by empty bottles and cans staring emptily into a television set tuned to an infomercial.  The common bathrooms were vile and homeless men were outside picking up cigarette butts to smoke.  All for $75/night.

After fuming about my poor decision, I walked down the road to find somewhere else to stay, hoping that I could get my money back from the first establishment.  I passed a place that seemed leafy and pleasant, and I figured I'd go in and have a look.  Anything was better than the other place.  The room seemed OK, so I returned to the first place, successfully got my money back after inventing a sob story, and left with my bag.  Walking across town to the other establishment, my feet began to bleed because the plastic thongs I bought chewed through the webbing of my toes.  I checked in, and sat down on the bed.  Relaxing, I decided to check out Tripadvisor out of curiousity to see if the second place had been reviewed.  

To my dismay, every review was about the serious bedbug problem at this place.  I immediately jumped off the bed and pulled my bag off the floor.  I managed to hang all my things off the curtain rods and stood there for a bit.  I was bitten by some bedbugs in Fiji and it is awful.  The burning itch is intolerable.  Then you have anxiety for a week whether they have traveled with you in your things and are infecting things wherever you go.  I walked back to the office and kindly asked the receptionist if she knew anything about this problem.  She assured me, "I can tell you that there have never been any bedbugs in your room."  I said that there was no way I could sleep with the thought of it, and that I had to leave.  She grudgingly gave my money back, and as I left with my bag, a shirtless man ran through the courtyard with one eye swollen shut, angrily screaming something.  It was a good time to go.

Skin and blood shedding from my feet, I made it to the third place, where I am currently staying.  It's actually well-run and clean, and I am relieved.  There are still some of the long-term folks but a smaller proportion.

Here is the current joint.

Tomorrow I fly back to New Zealand, and my mom will arrive at the end of the week. We are going to see the sights and then fly back together to the USA.  I will be happy to see my cat.  I wanted to import him to New Zealand but they have a one-month quarantine for pets.  You can go visit one hour a week or something.  Maybe I could have smuggled a file to him in a can of tuna. 

Kakadu/Darwin

For my last couple of days with the camper, I cruised over to Kakadu National Park, which is a remote World Heritage Site famous for Aboriginal rock art and culture.  I stayed the night at a caravan park run by an annoyed-to-be-disturbed proprietor (Is it me?  What did I do?).

I booked a tour for the next day into Arnham Land, which is a pretty unexplored and unvisited part of Australia.  It's set aside for the Aboriginals to live how they want and not be disturbed.  You have to have a permit to go there, which was arranged by the tour company.  A group of eight of us went in a 4WD bus across the border.  We were told that we would meet some residents and have the opportunity to purchase some art.

I was expecting some Stone Age situation, but we arrived in a village that seemed about like any other dusty Outback town. It had a school and relatively modern buildings and a construction crew erecting some new structure.  Our permit was to visit the art gallery and we were sternly instructed that we could not go across the street or anywhere else.

I've been trying to figure out the Aboriginal situation since I've arrived here.  Australia is a wealthy and progressive country and yet is populated by a good number of these people who are not merely unsuccessful, but decimated.  I mean, they have it rough.  You see them around town and they sleep in the roadside hedges or in the parks.  When they're awake, usually in the evening, they are wandering around drunk and fighting or crying or staring into emptiness. It's not like some of them are shopkeepers or run a restaurant but some don't do as well.  None of them make it, as far as I can see.  Zero. 

Anyway, we went to the art gallery and there was some very nice art that people were making.  This huge chain-smoking man with some tumors on his face was painting a basket.  He was wearing a Lakers shirt and painting slowly and deliberately in between tugs off his smoke (cigs are $18 a pack here, I couldn't help but think).  Some people felt encouraged to ask questions and nodded smilingly and understandingly when they got an mumbled response in an arcane dialect of Yolngu.  There were some white people there organizing the place and working the cash register.  On the tour there was a girl from Boston who is traveling around Australia for five weeks.  She really wanted to buy a spear, but didn't know if she could make it through airport security.  Shipping it was far too expensive, I guess.  I was hoping she'd buy it so I could chuckle about her wandering through Australia for another month carrying a spear, but she didn't bite.

Our guide took us out to look at some rock art, which was interesting enough, although it was a little hard to tell whether it was stenciled yesterday or in 2000 BC.  The guide told some stories about creation myths and serpents and how this represented that.  I didn't get the feeling that he really knew, or if anybody really knew.  I suppose the artist knew.  Maybe he/she was just doodling.

We came home that evening and I went out to catch the sunset at a rock mentioned by the guide.  When I got there, I saw some interpretive signs saying how it was a very special place and was the dwelling of a god.  I waited around for the sunset while getting attacked by biting flies on every exposed inch.  Finally I gave up.  The god can have his rock, fine by me.

Waiting at the border crossing for the tide to recede across the road:

I could insert a photo here of the painting guy or the one-legged lady with cataracts sitting in garbage under a tree, but I didn't feel very heartened to take photos of them.

Sunset from Ubirr (the first night, not the biting fly night)

On the way to Darwin the next day I pulled off the road at the Original Adelaide River Jumping Crocodile Cruise.  On this riverboat there was a guy who tied a pork chop to the end of a fishing line and hung it out for the crocs.  It didn't take long at all for some big crocs to swim over.  You definitely don't want to go swimming around here.

In Darwin was a good military museum.  They had some gun emplacements and all sorts of period artifacts.  The city was bombed several times by the Japanese and many Allied ships were sunk, including this US Navy destroyer.

It was hotter than blazes in Darwin, and the hostel proprietor dropped me off at the military museum which was several miles from downtown.  I walked all the way back in the midday heat and it was excruciating.  I was actually moaning and talking to myself, feeling cold chills from time to time.  A couple of times I found water fountains, which was good.

and, finally, the best Coca-Cola of all time.