School, Home, Lakeside

This is Rashmila, a four year old in the nursery program at our school. Our roles at the school are ever-changing, from teaching three periods a day on our own to only observing during two, to sometimes spending the whole day playing with the nursery kids or writing a final exam for the class you've only just begun sitting in on. We are spending a lot more time thinking of and creating materials to leave behind when our time is up, and a few times a week we play some kind of game with all of the kids before they're lunch break begins and we head back to our home for the day. As we become more and more flexible with what our responsibility actually is, or isn't, our relationship with the teachers has been much more enjoyable.


Life at our home has been the highlight of the trip so far. Every weekend when we come down to Pokhara and have dinner with the other volunteers, we are constantly telling stories about our baa and ama and how hilarious our time with them is. Emily and I tagged along on one of the evening chores, where Baa and Ama gather leaves to feed the buffalo and goats. Baa climbs forty of fifty feet, probably higher, up into the tree, putting his full weight (all of 40 kilos) on branches no bigger than his wrist. Every time he looked down and saw me with the camera pointed up at him, he would crack a big smile and strike a pose. They are always teasing us about helping with the work around the house, but anytime we actually try to help they usually just laugh and tell us to sit down. There's a lot of laughing happening. Rarely are we sure what they're laughing at or whom, but we're fairly certain it's directed mostly at us.



Last weekend we hiked up to the World Peace Pogoda high up a hill above Pokhara. The day was nice, and we enjoyed a short paddle and the steep hike to reach the temple. We walked up the steps and around the stoupa, and enjoyed the views of the lake and city down below, and the mountains across the valley. It was an interesting feeling being at a peace temple in a country that only a few years ago came out of a ten year civil war. I know my country hasn't been able to enjoy a time of peace in about a decade or so, but here in a developing country it is easier to see how necessary it is in hoping to progress.

My new favorite hobby here when not in the village is to rent a boat and drift around the lake for a couple hours. It's been warm enough to enjoy the sun a little bit while on the water. The pace in the boat is not quick at all, so thankfully the lake isn't so large that it takes more than an hour or so to drift/paddle from one side to the other. There's a few holidays coming up that we're looking forward to celebrate. Planning the last few weeks here makes it feel like it's nearly time to come home. We'll only be at the village for another few weeks, then off to trekking for a week or so and see what other adventure beckons after that. India and the Taj Mahal? Maybe a meditation course at a monastery in Kathmandu? Or another trek? Only longer and more remote. We'll see.

A Whole Lot of Happenings

It's a month into the trip, and our third week in the village was the busiest yet. The week began with a gorgeous sunset then sunrise up at Sarangkot with the rest of the volunteers in our organization.




Tuesday was Parent's Day at school, which meant Monday we hung a few flags and watered the dirt to keep the dust down. After the celebration Tuesday morning, I boarded a bus with the rest of the men in the village and rode three hours to a marriage ceremony, not getting back to the village until 9 that night, 12 hours after we left. The women stay behind in the village and sing and dance the entire time the men are gone, the entire time, 12 hours.


Wednesday morning our Baa told us there was no school that day so we went on a little hike up to the top of a hill and sat beneath paragliders all afternoon. Then a bit of thunder prompted us to return home and enjoy the afternoon storm from the porch underneath our tin roof.


That same day, as our ama was sorting through the rice, our baa suggested Emily try on a bit of ama's clothes. When she said she wasn't sure how they were supposed to fit, he demonstrated for us. So funny.



A short school day Thursday and we were off to another wedding with baa and ama. The communication between us has only slightly improved, but we're really enjoying each other's company more and more as we grow more comfortable around each other. While they were dressed up for the wedding we took the chance for a family portrait, minus our sister who was at school. Somehow, appropriately, the tea was ready just in time to be included in the photo with us.

Paragliding over Pokhara

 

That's Emily with the rasta colored glider, green, yellow, and red. We were in the air for over an hour, and our pilots said it'd been one of the better days for flying they've had in a while. And why not believe them? What kind of guide would 'exaggerate' in order for their customers to have a better time? That said, it was fantastically clear, and we were definitely lucky to be up there yesterday, some days the skies are full of paragliders and the mountains are hidden in clouds. Today we're off to a temple on an island in the middle of Fewa Tal, the big lake nestling up to Pokhara. Then tomorrow all the volunteers in our program are spending the night up at Sarangkot, where the paragliders take off from, where the best sunset and sunrise views of the mountains are available.  

The Village Gharmi

It's a steep climb to our village, half an hour hike from the nearest paved road. Last Sunday would've been a normal school day for the children if it hadn't been for our celebrated arrival. The students were lined up waiting for us, the first four placing bright orange flowered necklaces around our heads to welcome us, the second four waiting patiently to gift us each a Nepali orange. That's all there is, eight students at the school, with five more in the nursery program. The teacher who could speak a bit of English only kept repeating, "It makes me very happy you are here."

 

We have a baa, an ama, and a bahini (dad, mom, younger sister), two water buffalo who we share a wall with, and a momma goat and her two babies, each two weeks old. Communication amongst our family requires considerable effort and patience, but often times in the kitchen at dinner or sitting around the fire after, the broken conversation turns to deep laughter from the small words each of us understand of the others' language and the funny ways we say them. One night, while the power was out and the hillside dark, we heard yelling in the distance, which our baa (the principal of the school and somewhat of the town elder) returned with yelling of his own, and soon somewhat of a conversation was taking place amongst the darkness, each family relaying information at the top of their lungs from one house to the next. A few nervous minutes later we translated that there were three thieves on a motorcycle coming up the hill. A few minutes after that, as we're about to go inside, lock the door, and hide in our room, our family casually said it was time for dinner, nothing more mentioned of the thieves as we sat eating with the door wide open. We figured if they aren't worried then we didn't need to be.


It being the dry season, the rice fields spanning the hillside between our house and the school are partly covered by a bright yellow mustard looking plant, and the rest by green leaf veggies. We also have mountains, great views of three Himalayan peaks off in the distance. The first thing I do every morning is walk to the corner of the porch where all three peaks are visible and see how they are looking that day.




The atmosphere created by the teachers at the school has been frustrating so far, and we have realized that progress with the students and staff will take a bit more creativity and perseverance than we first expected. Our mornings are spent teaching the three separate classes, I Math and Emily English, and our afternoons usually on the hillside somewhere away from the village, reading peacefully. We return tomorrow for our second of eight weeks, and a few conversations of strategy planning with our coordinator and a local teacher have left us feeling encouraged to continue.

Pokhara

An uncomfortable bus ride, spanning only the distance from Denali to Fairbanks, but taking a tiring eight hours, brought us to the lakeside town o Pokhara. For the next few months this town will be our vacation spot, our weekend escape to hot showers and a soft bed, and the company of fellow volunteers flocking to town for the same things. The weather has been foggy and cold the past week, blocking the heard about views from town of the Annapurna Himalayas, multiple 8,000 meter peaks being visible from the city center. An afternoon yoga class took me up a seldom used trail to a lookout of the city and the neighboring lake, where the guru and I sat in a small room with a large window until it grew too dark inside to continue, then talked outside, his Nepali accent and my simple as can be so he could understand English, until again it grew close to dark and I worried about walking back down the trail without light. Yesterday we spent all afternoon walking the streets, shopping and haggling prices, trying on all sorts of strange colored but traditional Nepali pants and shirts. Today it is off to our village, which I am still unsure the exact name or what our schedule will be like once there, but am so excited to have a room and call it home for the next two months.

Kathmandu

A short walk through a narrow passageway leads from one of the thousand noisy streets of Kathmandu to one of the city's hundreds of temples. Here in the temple square, the surrounding old, low-lying buildings allow the sun to stay long during the cold days of winter. A local man claiming to only want to practice his English walked with me there yesterday. When I told him where I was headed he simply said, "There is no temple there," and attempted to direct me towards one of the better known ones in the area. Unlike those better known temples, there are no shops or restaurants in the buildings surrounding this square, only residences. To even those who live nearby, this temple is near to commonplace. Its as if its been forgotten about. The distance separated from the street is just enough to barricade the square from the pollution of taxis and their horns, allowing it the solitude it deserves. This forgotten temple is the most, if not only, peaceful place to sit in Kathmandu.

I shared my camera with two kids who kept asking me questions I couldn't understand, this is one child's photo of the other.


The intersection outside of my hotel my first five nights in Kathmandu, gotta love the tree.

Days Off

One off day per week means you have to climb a mountain when you get the chance. This is from a few weeks ago, me and Joe 'attempted' Sugarloaf, the same Sugarloaf I 'attempted' last year. We underestimated the traverse along a ridge, and turned back before the summit. The windy afternoon spent along the burnt red ridge with a thunderstorm threatening to the east was enough for us that day.


This was last week. Another guide Travis, from Ohio, and I climbed up Mt. Margaret. A beautiful clear afternoon turned into a lightning and thunder show, then as Margaret was engulfed by that thunder cloud it turned into a descent in the fog. This is a shot of the fog moving in over the ridge we're hiking down. Great views of the national park from the top.

The same day. A little bit of clouds, a little bit of Margaret, a little bit of the Park Road, a little bit of the Savage River. A great expanse of valley to watch the shadows of clouds and mountains shift throughout the day.

And yesterday was my day off for this week, spent hopping on a bus into the park for a few hours. Seeing my first grizzlies of the year, a sow and two cubs, a safe distance away from the safety of the bus, just how I like it.

From the Drive North

Evening in the Yukon, the road outside of Whitehorse

A wrong/missed turn led to a dirt road detour, and this view

Moose! Came within a few feet of the car while in Homer


Portage Lake, on the Kenai in AK, beautiful morning no?


Happy kid

Fresh Snow Falling

My farewell to Bellingham came Tuesday in the form of an adventure through Whatcom Falls Park, culminating in this jump. Each visit to the park throughout my week and a half in town gave me the same feeling, "Spend more time here." The morning was foggy but dry, and the river meanders through the dense trees here hypnotically. With company, my option of wussing out was ruined.

In the park, a portion of Whatcom Falls visible under the bridge

In Seattle the next morning, I decided to take the long way to Portland through the Cascade Mountains. Exploring 15 miles down a gravel roads leading deeper into a valley allowed me to enjoy an entire campground to myself that night, where I departed from in the morning for intending to hike to a lake. It rained on me at first, then the rain turned to snow, and as I missed the turn off for the lake and walked another mile up the canyon, I found myself in the middle of a beautiful snow storm in this part of the state that's all but abandoned this time of year.

Today was an adventure on the road. With clear skies in Yakima, I chose to take the scenic route along Rainier and St. Helens. I thought the snow in the first pass I went through was bad, appropriately named White Pass. Then I got to the second pass along Mt. St. Helens. Deciding against taking the time to put on chains in the snow and all that, I followed the tire tracks of previous trucks and creeped to the top, at times my speedometer reaching 30 and 40 mph with my car barely crawling. But I made it, slowly up and slowly back down to the welcome sound of rain on the windshield and a road with lines I can see.

Some Pictures So Far

Glacier National Park in Montana. Atop one of the peaks we climbed that day. You can see in the background how jagged and compact the mountains are here, making it possible to summit multiple in a single day's route.

In Portland. I went to watch the Portland Timbers play their USL playoff match. The crowd was intense. Smoke bombs and chanting and standing for the full 90 minutes.

Out of Bend, OR, I drove up the Cascade Lakes Hwy into the Cascade Range. They had just gotten eight inches of snow the previous weekend, and I was granted to fresh powder on the mountain trails and very few people getting in the way of the scenery.

In Newport, OR., where I hit the Oregon Coast for the first time. I ate at the Rogue Brewery Public House and somehow joined in on a locals Bingo game that night, which consisted, among other things, of creating nicknames for each letter-number combo on the board, a lot of telling of both good and bad jokes, an impromptu hip hop performance, and rocking the Winnebago of a guy from North Carolina who bailed early.

A view of Crescent Beach, still on the Oregon Coast. I hiked out to the beach early in the morning and shared a driftwood campfire with a few people from Portland. You can see the smoke rising off the beach.

Snow In Whistler

My car had a few fresh inches of snow on it as I woke up this morning. Well, really I watched it accumulate periodically throughout the night. A night's sleep in the Element is more like a packed together sequence of hard earned naps, but all the same.

So what I've learned from exploring the Whistler job market: Canadians want to hire Canadians, a work visa is expensive and not guaranteed in today's economy, and living here is expensive. That said, I have little to no plans of what to do next, so for now, I think I'll be making my slow way home. I could go anywhere, do anything I want to. A strange feeling really I've never encountered before. Obviously, I want to make the most out of my time, whether it be filled with adventure or culture or people or hopeuflly a mix of everything, but I feel a pretty big responisibity to choose wisely, and unselfishly. I guess we'll see where things go from here, that's always fun.

From North of the Border

I'm sitting in a Vancouver public library. I spent the past week in Bellingham and drove across the border into Canada for the first time last evening. First impression: Vancouver's very clean, but I guess that should be expected with the Olympics coming.

Bellingham was pleasant, and I'll be returning this weekend for Halloween I expect. Last Thursday I borrowed my friend's bike and took the ferry to Orcas Island, which turned out to be larger than I expected. I rode his mountain bike 22 miles to the top of Mt. Constitution, and then enjoyed a single track hiking trail down from the top, killer climb but worth it for the view and the ride. I hopped into a few intramural soccer games Sunday night in the rain on the Western University Campus, it felt great to be out there. Today I'll be heading up the Sea to Sky Highway, from Vancouver up to Whistler, and hoping to possibly land a job in Whistler or Squamish for the winter, we'll see.

People continue to be the reason for my most memorable experiences. After cramping up on the bike on my return trip to the ferry and resting on the side of the road, I was offered a ride from a nice gal in a pick up. Then again once my chain came off for the umpteenth time and this time was bent and was unrepairable, another guy stopped, held up traffic, and gave me a ride all the way back to the ferry, in the dark and far out of his way. Then staying in a town for an extended amount of time allows meeting so many more people. Meeting friends and hanging with friends of friends and so on, hearing their stories and what they've done and where they've been always gives energy to keep going and meet even more. That coupled with the beautiful surroundings of changing leaves and evergreen hills and water everywhere, makes this whole thing pretty fun.

From Seattle

I drove into town on Thursday. Big towns, like here and Portland, take a day or two to feel comfortable in. To figure out the tricks around paying for parking, and understanding the workings of the public transit, and where the library is at and all the other essentials to a city. The first few days are spent exploring around the downtown area meeting people and asking for directions and advice on what to do and where to go, then you begin to spread out a bit and spend more time in the neighborhoods surrounding the city, where the real culture is and the interesting people hang and the places and pubs with character lie. I'm staying at a friend's house North of town near Fremont and Ballard now, and last night broke a ten night stretch of sleeping in my car. It's kinda incredible to notice the comfort that comes with where you sleep, even if it is your passenger seat. You get used to it, and begin to even prefer it, and many times at the end of the day I've really looked forward to returning to the comfort of my home on wheels.

Last night we went to the Combine at St. Mark's Cathedral, an old massive church that sits atop this hill where hundreds of people gather every Sunday night to listen to traditional chants and prayers. The inside of the church was incredible, and the service itself was moving and interesting to witness. But what really got me was the whole atmosphere. We got there about fifteen minutes early and the pews were already filled, and the crowd that consisted mostly of people my age had begun sitting against the walls and against the pillars, on the actual stage, and anywhere else there was open space. This wasn't just a trendy thing to do on a Sunday night either. The mood was very sincere, and people laid down, kneeled, or did whatever they felt necessary to experience this spiritual event in their own way. It got me thinking, what has caused this mass of youth to latch on to this extremely traditional service in a surprisingly authentic search for spirituality? And why was the sincerity within the crowd so refreshing when you would think that should go hand in hand with spirituality?

This morning I'm off to Bellingham, and have my ticket for a Ben Folds show there tonight. Woo hoo.

Greatness, from Port Angeles, WA

So summarizing where I've been and what I've been up to would be dull for me to recite in any length. In short, from my last post forward, I drove from Portland to Bend, from Bend to Salem, Salem to Newport, Newport up the Oregon coast to Tillamook (the home of the cheese), Tillamook to Astoria, and from Astoria across into Washington and up onto the Olympic Peninsula and around the Olympic National Park region, meeting friendly folk and driving through incredible scenery along the way.

But what is more interesting to write on would be an excerpt from my head regarding greatness. I went to the Portland Timbers (soccer team) last last Sunday, had a ball and thought I should quit everything (like what do I have to quit?) and attempt to make it as a competitive professional soccer player. I think the same thing every fall when I go watch a golf tournament in person, maybe if I lived off of my savings and practiced all day every day I could make money playing golf, and it would be worth it. Or the other night watching Harry Potter in a fun little theater in Astoria, it would be awesome to devote my life to acting and be really really good at it, then maybe I could even get a girlfriend like Emma Watson. Or writing after reading Donald Miller's last book. Is this life okay and worthy if I never end up great at anything? So far for twenty-two years I've gone from one hobby to the next, never really striving or succeeding to any extreme degree in any of them. Maybe that's my personality, maybe I just haven't found something to entrance me yet. What I think I'm really looking for is some sort of feeling of being called to something. I think what I desire is to feel overwhelming transcendance in this life. Until then I guess I'm waiting, or searching, or living out regardless.

Okay Sista, WAL-MART

:)

Here's to Wal-Mart...

Thank you Wal-Mart in Walla Walla, Washington. I appreciate you allowing people to spend the night in their cars in your parking lot. I appreciate you allowing me to wash my face, brush my teeth, and change my clothes in your restroom. And thank you Wal-Mart in Vancouver, WA, removed from Portland by two rivers and two bridges. Though your parking lot patrol did make me nervous and I didn't sleep well, I still appreciate your hospitality, and your open restroom for the morning necessities as well. See mom, I am keeping clean. But Wal-Marts, I'm still reluctant to spend a dollar in your stores. That's for people who are too lazy to go more than one place when they run errands, or who would rather save a few bucks here and there instead of supporting local businesses. Ouch. Hopefully the rumors about how you treat your employees isn't all true, or how when you show up in town and all the mom and pop stores go under isn't all your fault. Maybe those tales are exaggerated. I will continue to use your parking lots and restrooms when convenient and necessary, but that doesn't mean I have to like you.

I'm in Portland now, been here since Sunday. Traveling alone leaves only opportunity to make new friends, and the friends have been good, and so has Portland. I'll be staying here longer then expected, so my timeline in exploring the area has been slowed a bit which is nice. Cities and people in them are calling and when I out-stay my welcome here I'll be moving on. Portland is better than I expected. I expected to be disappointed, that the trendiness of this city from a Southern California perspective was overkill, but it isn't. There's great big tree forests surrounding the downtown. People are fresh and creative and unique and plentiful, which is intimidating at first after spending the summer in small towns in Alaska and Montana, but once immersed within the flow here it becomes the norm.

To maybe Corvalis, and maybe Bend, and maybe Astoria, and very likely Seattle, and very likely Bellingham, and who knows where in between and after, off in a few days I'll go.

Montana

So... I arrived in Kalispell, MT last Tuesday afternoon and drove through Glacier National Park to the little town of St. Mary's. In the 5 days I spent there, I worked two shifts in the dish pit, hiked for two days, and relaxed for one of 'em. I arrived at the tail end of season of the Park Cafe. I was instantly surrounded by a group of people who had been exploring the Park, working in the cafe, and hanging out in the small town bars together for most of them what has been the past several summers. I enjoyed a family dinner my first night, then was invited along on a 19.7 mile hike through Gunsight Pass and another pass my next day. The Park Cafe is known for their pies, and I had to get in as much as I could only being their for 5 days. After a dish shift on Thursday night, Friday morning came and I went hiking again with a new group of people. Three peaks and most of the day spent on unkept goat trails along the edge of ridges left me to do nothing but relax on Saturday. The end of the year festivities were great to be around, and everyone was so warm and advetnurous that I'll definitely be returning one summer soon.

We spent the night last night at some Hot Springs, and now I'm in the University of Montana library in Missoula, MT. I'll be here a few days then take off west for Portland. There's no plan once I'm there, only a bunch of ideas and people to meet up with. No pictures yet but they'll come soon.

This Past Week

Every day is postworthy. Therefore, here's a concise summary of the past week, my last week up here in Denali. Today I'll be packing my bags, then making the drive up to Fairbanks tomorrow morning, and flying to Kalispell, Montana Tuesday morning where the next adventure awaits.


After seeing my first grizzly on our trails in two summers, I finished up with the tour and went to watch it some more, where my a few of the younger locals I work with were gearing up to take it down. I had to go set up for another tour, but two minutes into the ride our first unscheduled stop was the grizzly lying on the side of the road.



This is from my last trip up the extended trail on Wednesday morning. Warm people and warm colors have filled this week that has been full of lasts, at least for now.



I took a free two hour shuttle ride into the park on Wednesday also. It's Moose rutting season, and we watched this bull pursue to young cows. The bus was rooting him on, but after getting up on his hinds and going for it, she ran out from under him, she was having none of it with a full audience on the road.



Thursday I got to go on a helicopter ride around the park. First time in a helicopter. It's strange how able we are now to see wilderness from such extreme and unnatural angles. I think there's an art to still enjoying it the old-fashioned way, on foot and with a pack on the back, but it takes a little more patient effort.

A little rough draft of sorts for the next few months: Spend a week in Glacier National Park doing dishes in exchange for a bed and meals, driving west to Portland through Mizzoula, Jackson Hole, Yellowstone, and whatever else is on the way. Spend time there, then up to Bellingham, WA and the Seattle area, then see if I can land a job somewhere in the Northwest for a few months. We'll see how it goes.

Sensory Overload

It was a Saturday, now almost two weeks ago, when I woke up early for no reason, looked out my window, and saw that the storm had finally passed, leaving low lying clouds in the valley and blue skies up above. I didn't have work for hours, and no plans of anything that morning, but couldn't stay in bed any longer and feel okay about it. I got up, with not a clue of what to do, and texted my friend over breakfast.

Me: I hate/love the hopelss/anxious feeling of an overwhelmingly beautiful day and the inability to do anything worthwhile enough to capture it.

Friend: I know! It holds so much potential and no matter what you do you're not taking full advantage of it or doing it justice as it slips through your fingers.

Me: Yeah I hate it.

Friend: But you love it too. Isn't that part of what makes it so beautiful - that it's fleeting? Thank God for time or we might not appreciate anything.

I worked outside for a few hours then spent the full evening giving tours. I took my camera along and tried to capture at least a portion of what surrounded me.

The view of the Healy Range from Dry Creek, one of the stops on our Otto Lake Tour

The Healy Valley from atop an overlook on our tour, Autumn in August


That would be Otto Lake in the bottom right, and those would be pretty clouds everywhere else.


Enjoying the sunset on the final tour of the day from atop another one of our overlooks

That it's fleeting is what amplifies the feelings of beauty and the need to seize it. The bright fall colors that threaten to leave just as quick as they came. The looming end to the season that scatters friends and relationships to different parts of the world. The final few days of a well paying job and a warm bed and the comfort that comes after residing in a place for a few months. Denali is sure doing a good job at talking me into coming back next summer. We'll see. By the way, everyone's invited.

Our Attempt at the Bus

Here are a few photos from an overnight attempt at making it to the bus that Chris McCandless lived in as documented in the book and movie Into the Wild. It's 19 miles from the end of the maintained road, and we were hoping to go there and back in two days, spending the night at the bus in between.


We didn't actually start hiking til about 1:30, which pretty much sealed our fate right there, but we set out anyway hoping to make up time on the trail and still hoping to make it all the way. The trail crosses two big rivers, the first and smaller one being the Savage River, which the four of us crossed one closely behind the other. Next is the Teklanika River, the big one. We crossed the first and usually more difficult strand fine, but once on the island we were unable to find a safe place to cross the rest of the river. It was already about 8 o'clock by this time, and with another ten miles to go after the river until the bus, we didn't press the issue. We turned back, and along with an Irish couple we were now hiking with, found a campsite a mile down the trail from the river.



Even though we didn't achieve what we set out to do, the hike to and from the Tek was still beautiful, especially with all of the fall colors. With the shortened trip, we had time to sleep in and relax around camp before hiking out to the car the next day. We finally made it out around 7 that night, drove straight to a local restaurant where we all scarfed down our food, and then snuck into the local resort spas overlooking the Nenana River. iitting there, we watched the full moon rise through the trees and over a mountain toward the south as the sun was setting toward the north. There's always next year, maybe.

The first strand of the Teklanika River, you can see the rope/string left there
by hikers to help everyone get across

I read about sixty pages of my book at the campsite as everyone else slept in. I also snapped this self portrait. The beard is no more, now people tend to call me wolverine.

A Few Adventures in Not Having a Car

The destination was Fairbanks, 120 miles away from Healy, and I had the day off and some errands to run. I grabbed the old guitar I was hoping to fix up and an empty backpack and left the house around 10 a.m. After two rides, the longer of which with a package delivery guy, I got dropped off in the city around 1:30 p.m. on the opposite side of town from where I needed to go. I thought, I could try to hitch a ride, or without a car, I can be alright with hiking a few miles when necessary and not bother anyone else. Grass roots guitar was my first stop where I picked up a new nut and a package of light strings. Next was dinner at a local bakery restaurant, followed by a visit to Home Depot to shop for materials for my boat. Finally, I went to the Safeway and filled up my backpack full of non-perishables and went looking for a good spot to try to hitch back. Where I hoped to hitch from was no good, so I decided to walk back to where I got dropped off. After getting a little lost and doing some backtracking, I made it back to where I started, waited a bit then caught a ride to the next small town, then another one all the way back to Healy, finally getting home about 12:30 a.m. Total hitching distance, about 240 miles. Total walking distance around Fairbanks, about 15 miles. Check out my course.


View Larger Map

Last week I needed to get back to the house for a three o'clock tour after spending the morning down in the canyon. The first van that passed picked me up. It was a friend who worked at the bar who was going on a hike before work, and could only take me about halfway. I got out with her at the trail head and continued down the highway, thinking it wouldn't be a problem to catch a ride from there. Was I ever wrong. No one would pick me up, and realizing I was now going to be late, I started jogging along the side of the road with my two bags of expired potato chips I just got for free from the local store. Six miles later I arrived at the house barely on time just to find out my coworker was going to take the tour instead of me. A frustrating lack of communication on my part.

These two stories are accompanied by the daily routine of figuring out shuttle times, and free bus trips, and using anything lying around the house like bikes and scooters to get where I want to go. Cars are definitely convenient, but necessary? No. Regardless of location, I think if you begin a new lifestyle without a car, you'd be able to make adjustments and do alright without one. If you've become accustomed to having one for so long then I think it'd be mighty difficult to give it up and try to go without one. I know it'd be extremely challenging to do in Southern California, I just don't like hearing people say it'd be impossible.