Archive for category road trip

Some Big News…

So… My J-O-B has made us an offer that is very hard to refuse: a two year stint in the south of France and they will fly us home 3 times a year. We get to keep our house and I get to come back to my job in Seattle when that period ends. THE SOUTH OF FRANCE!! Warm weather, amazing wine, spectacular cheese, lavender, honey, the French vacation plan. We would be living outside of Toulouse – the third largest city in France. It sits at the foot of the Pyrenees Mountains, is an hour from the coast, has one of the 10 best Saturday markets in Europe (so says the interwebs), and has more sunshine in 6 weeks of summer than Seattle has all year. We are so freaking doing this!

There is some red tape that we have to cut through, namely a work permit. Since around 27% of the French population under 30 is out of work, getting a permit right now, even in the aerospace field, is tres difficile. Fingers crossed. If this happens, then The Nana will move into La Maison du Talley, pay the utilities, and keep the zombie horde away. Visualize a sweet grandmother rocking away on the front porch with a shotgun across her lap. Add a Marlboro hanging from the corner of her mouth and you will have an accurate picture of The Nana.

I will miss my shop and my yard for those two years, but I will plug the hole in my heart with Cote du Rhone, Comte, a day trip or 6 to the Mediterranean coast, weekends in Paris/Rome, sunshine, and a yearly vacation to Morocco. I will be taking a chest of hand tools and am planning on making some small detailed pieces while there. I also plan on scouring the flea markets over that two year period for planes, chisels, and joinery tools.

Stamps-With-Foot is not concerned about logistics or housing or much of anything other than “How is Brodie going to handle that long flight?!” She feels that we will be taking Brodie back to ancestral homeland and has spent some amount of time talking to the dog about this possibility – trying to get him psyched about the proposition…

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A visit to The Great Wall

I got to climb on the Great Wall. Well, I didn’t so much climb as walk up and down steep, worn stone steps from rampart to rampart along the Badaling section near Beijing with 20,000 or so Chinese tourists. That aside, check one more item off the old bucket list!

The scribed graffiti was cool to see – it covered almost every brick and I was told that it was a new development. I ate lunch at the top of a tower and made my way back down to the visitor’s center by way of a small trail beside the wall’s base where I got to touch and see parts of the wall that are not in most tourist pictures.

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I have now been to THE Shaolin Temple – My 12 year-old self would be SOOOO jealous!!

On a recent trip to China we were north of Beijing driving from one city to another for meetings and we passed a sign in English that said “Shaolin Temple X-kilometers.” THE Shaolin Temple. You know, the home of Kung Fu and the setting for all the bad chop-suey martial arts movies that filled the Saturday mornings of my pre-pubescent youth – after cartoons and The Three Stooges aired. My co-workers were shocked that I “knew” about Shaolin (??) and made it a point for us to stop by after the meeting was over the next day so I could take it all in.

It was a huge and sprawling complex with thousands of students and visitors – very cool. Some pictures are below, but my favorite is of one of the tree trunks. The divots are from student’s fingers. They will wake up early each morning and strike the trees to toughen their digits. Some of those trees are over a hundred years old and are peppered in small round pock marks.

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Easter in Japan

My J-O-B occasionally has me fly all over God’s Green Earth with zero to little notice to provide support when something is wrong with an airplane or aircraft system. It never happens on a wednesday at 9:00am. Nope, I usually get the call as I am headed out the door for a 3-4 day holiday weekend with the family. I spent Thanksgiving a couple of years ago in Abu Dhabi, there have been Labor and Memorial Days spent in England/Northern Ireland, and I cannot remember the last MLK weekend that I got to hang out at the house.

This past Friday was one of those days: I got off work and was home just long enough to put on my shop apron, turn on the shop lights, and cut a piece of 47X13.75″ 1/2 plywood for my basement bench before my phone started blowing up. After about 9 calls to and fro, I had tickets booked for the first direct flight out to Tokyo the next morning and a semi-unhappy wife. Stamps-With-Foot has been very gracious about my last minute travel over the past 9 years. She understands that my employer’s ability to have me do these types of trips are part of the reason that we live where we do, have our cute house, and can save for college funds & retirement. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t still get a little miffed – this trip is going to cost me something shinny, I can feel it.

Anyway, I love Japan in general and am here for couple of days. I will have a chance to pick up some ruffled-feather-soothing Japanese gifts for my my wife and mother (The Nana had planned a sunrise Easter Mass/Service as a family outing and was not please that I “bailed”), and there are a couple of things I want to pick up for the kids while I am here, so life shouldn’t be too hard for me when I fly home :-)

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12th Night in Portland – 2013

A few weeks ago we drove down to Portland so that I could to do some off-site work for my J-O-B and took an extra day (on or dime) to both visit friends and attend an evening of the SCA’s 12th Night celebration – Being married to a trained costume designer means that one goes to these sorts of evenings.  Our friends have closets (yes, I meant to be plural – as in 4 closets) filled with period costumes and accessories.  My wife dressed me in a couple of different outfits until she was certain that I looked the part and then I went and waited downstairs for a couple of hours while the ladies prepped and primped like a good little puppy.

I agreed to this foray for three reasons:

  1. Happy wife, happy life…
  2. There was booze promised to me.
  3. There was to be a “huge” vendor area where all sorts of cool stuff like swords, and bows, and armor, and axes and like items would be sold and traded.

Now, the mention/rumor of armor and swords takes be back to being a 9-year old at my very first Renaissance Faire (the REAL Penn and Teller performed that year).  I wanted a “real” sword and a chain mail hood so bad that I would have licked the bottom of a Port-a-John seat for them at the time.  My son is now enamored with the same period of history, I live vicariously through him and thought that he would get a real kick out of the pictures of armor and swords

I was a little disappointed: no swords, one real armor dealer and sales area was lined with stalls that catered to the ladies fabric, buttons, capes, cloaks, furry hats, jewelry, etc…), but I did end up getting a few good pictures to send to The Ruminator and we ended up watching the fencing melee/tournament.  Helmets, steel swords, shields, daggers, very cool.  He would have been all in!

The rest of the event was good and the detail of some of the costumes was amazing.  Some of those folks put months and months of work hand sewing outfits just for that one night.  Our evening ended with a game of Cards Against Humanity – I won – and we stumbled home just after 1:00AM.

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Cast Iron Camping Cookware Box

In my on-going project to build the finest glamping/campaign furniture kit in the Pacific Northwest, I have added a custom box for holding all of our cast iron and campfire cooking gear.  It all started out with a wooden box I picked up at a garage sale that was full of a cast iron camp set that had been used once.  We have added a square fry pan, pot lifters, trivets, stand-off, roasting sticks, a grill, bacon press, a 12″ lid, and corn-shaped bread pan.  I had thought about including all of it in my camp kitchen, but it would have made the unit so heavy that I would have needed a winch to get it off and on to my truck bed.

The box that it came with was just a roughly tacked together crate, but it had potential.  I spent a couple of hours adding trim, remaking the lid, adding reinforcement, and painting it a deep red.  To Finish it off I added brass pipe handles and brass closures.  It is still not light, but one person can carry and move it.  The “new” box holds all the aforementioned gear, looks snazzy, and doubles as a seat for around the campfire.

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A summer glamping trip to Mt. Adams, WA

All the rain, cold, flu and grey skies have me reminiscing about warmer weather and adventures we had this summer:  Stamps-With-Foot and I were working and traveling like mad.  We were almost burnt out, needed a break and deciding the embracing arms of Mother Nature were in order.  A couple that we hang out with was also in a camping state of mind so we planned a little weekend trip to the big woods.  A lakeside campground on the slopes on Mt. Adams was chosen and my brother-in-law and his lady friend were invited as well.

This was not a hike ten miles with all our crap sort of outing.  We packed up the truck with all our Glamping goodies and bits and drove south one Friday afternoon after work.  5 hours later (traffic, road closures, notes tacked to trees, a campsite change, a lying GPS, etc…) we pulled into camp with good wine, cold beer, salmon fillets and steak waiting for us…  This is how all camping trips should start!

We slept in and when we finally did find the initiative to leave our queen sized blow-up bed, we were greeted with a crystal clear lake and a postcard view of the mountain from the door of our tent.

It was a weekend of no cell phones or e-mail, but lots of cast iron cookware, campfires, smores, beer, scotch, laughing, panoramic views and relaxation.  Just what the Dr. ordered after a really hectic week.

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Travel and Camping in the Land of shiny vampires…

Every summer, my son and I go camping. Some years his sister has gone and my wife has started joining us, but there is a lot of quality father/son time.  Discussions swirl around knights, swords, native American tribes/practices, foreign places/peoples, battles, gvns, more sword talk, camping skills, camp cooking, and the merits of boxing/judo/Krav Maga/etc…  This year, The Ruminator and Stamps-With-Foot conspired against me and planned a trip to Forks, Washington to visit the Twilight tour stops.

The plan was to drive from Seattle to Forks, visiting La Push, and then completing the circumnavigation of the Olympic Peninsula - going from campground to campground.   The trip coincided with both Quileute Days and the Squim Lavender Festival – I have a soft spot for lavender.  I believe that the side trip to Squim was more of a bribe than anything else as our rainey destination and reason for going didn’t really speak to my heart.  My sweet, sweet wife, all her friends, my daughter, and most of the women I know are enamored with the sparkling undead.  I prefer my vampires to erupt into flames when exposed to sunlight, but I am old-school like that.

We packed the new truck, Tater, with tents, bags, rain tarps, food, cast iron, ukeleles, wood, sleeping pads, water, more tarps and headed west like 21st century hillbillies.  Our first night was spent near a WWII concrete anti-ship fort – we had to explore the depths and gvn emplacements twice in 24 hours…  Before heading to Squim, we stopped in downtown Port Townsend and explored the wooden boat center and some of the shops.   Another bribe.  Wooden boats and I have an unrequited love affair.  I can’t have one because I already have a wife and a full-time job, but that doesn’t preclude me from lusting over teak decks, tight joinery, and the naughty brass bits…

The rain came our second night of camping and never really left.  There were dry hours where we cooked and played dueling ukuleles, but for the most part the next 4 nights were an exercise in trying to keep from getting soggy.  Brodie was along for his first Talley Family camp-a-thon and was not amused.  All he wanted to do was sit with his mommy and crawl under the dry blankets in the tent.  That whole thing in the books about Forks being the rainest place in the lower 48 rings true for me.  We were there in the summer and never dried out, I can only imagine what it is like in the depth of a long grey winter.

Quileute Days was a side stop on our way to the Pacific coast and LaPush.  The Ruminator just HAD to swim in the ocean and no amount of persuasion about it being cold, really cold, would change his adolescent, made up mind.  After running into the surf and getting slapped in the chest by the first arctic-cold wave, his eyes got huge and he came up gasping for air.  He stayed in until his lips turned almost blue and we had to drag him out.  I have a sneaking suspicion that his next trip to the coast will involve a wetsuit.

Forks is a former logging town that is full of nice people who still seem a little bewildered by all the attention.  Two shops really stand out in my memory (aside from the Twilight one): a tackle shop that had the same organizational system as my grandfather’s garage: “I know it is here somewhere….”  mounted fish on the wall, a stuffed mountain lion, and a dog sleeping in her spot by the door.   The other shop was an eclectic mix of junk shop, antique store, book store, coffee shop and sandwich counter where we had lunch.   If you go to Forks – dragged by your significant other as well – you cant miss the latter; it is on the same side of the street of the now closed Twilight store and just to the north.

This summer taught us a few things:

  1. Full-on luxury glamping is awesome when you arrive, unload and stay in place, but sucks when you move every night.
  2. Zombie Gunship played on an iPad in the backseat makes the miles fly by and nary a “Are we there yet?” is uttered.
  3. Brodie hates camping, the woods, rain, campfires, and the ukelele.  Hates.
  4. Stamps-With-Foot makes a mean gumbo!
  5. The idea of spending time in the “Wettest place in the lower 48″ sounds MUCH better than it is.
  6. I am more awesomer at checkers than my son
  7. Lavender ice cream is amazingly yummy
  8. Flailing about with bullwhip kelp is a fine way to get into trouble
  9. Bacon fried in a iron skillet over a campfire is another proof the God loves us and wants us to be happy.
  10. Future summer outings will be less Cormac McCarthy’ The Road (soggy,cold,dirty) and more Endless Summer or Smokey and the Bandit.

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Trip to China 2012 – The Warriors of Xi’an

When I was maybe 9, National Geographic, which was looked at with high reverence in our house growing up, had this amazing article about a discovery of a clay life-sized army found while some farmers were digging a well in China, under what used to be a village’s persimmon orchard and near the graveyard.  I was enthralled and had dreams/fantasies  of going all “Indiana Jones” there: finding adventure and treasure.  It led to my wanting to be an archaeologist until I was 15 and learned that the career path of archaeology was long, paid poorly, was low in adventure, high on sweat & dirt,  and hundreds of over-qualified people fought for what was often a single academic position at even 3rd and 4th tier colleges.  None of which sounded ideal to a 15 year old.  The career realization I had did nothing to diminish my interest in the warriors and have wanted to see them for myself since reading that small story almost 30 years ago.

My J-O-B sent me to China in November for a little over a week and I found myself in the city of Xi’an, my meeting over, and 7 hours until I had to be at the airport…  I threw all my crap in a suitcase, payed my hotel bill, hopped in a taxi and was at the site in 40 minutes.  Cross one more AMAZING item off my bucket list!  Pictures attached below.

From a more recent National Geo online artical:

“Qin’s army of clay soldiers and horses was not a somber procession but a supernatural display swathed in a riot of bold colors: red and green, purple and yellow. Sadly, most of the colors did not survive the crucible of time—or the exposure to air that comes with discovery and excavation. In earlier digs, archaeologists often watched helplessly as the warriors’ colors disintegrated in the dry Xian air. One study showed that once exposed, the lacquer underneath the paint begins to curl after 15 seconds and flake off in just four minutes—vibrant pieces of history lost in the time it takes to boil an egg.

Now a combination of serendipity and new preservation techniques is revealing the terra-cotta army’s true colors. A three-year excavation in Xian’s most famous site, known as Pit 1, has yielded more than a hundred soldiers, some still adorned with painted features, including black hair, pink faces, and black or brown eyes. The best-preserved specimens were found at the bottom of the pit, where a layer of mud created by flooding acted as a sort of 2,000-year-long spa treatment.

The last excavation in Pit 1 screeched to a halt in 1985 after a worker stole a warrior’s head and was summarily executed—a head for a head, as it were. In the long hiatus that followed, Chinese researchers worked with experts from the Bavarian State Conservation Office in Germany to develop a preservative known as PEG to help save the warriors’ colors. During the recent excavation, the moment a painted artifact was unearthed, workers sprayed any bit of exposed color with the solution, then wrapped it in plastic to keep in the protective moisture. The most colorful pieces (and the earth surrounding them) have been removed to an on-site laboratory for further treatment. To everyone’s delight, the modern techniques for preserving ancient colors seem to be working.

In a narrow trench on the north side of Pit 1, archaeologist Shen Maosheng leads me past what look like terra-cotta backpacks strewn across the reddish soil. They are, in fact, clay quivers still bristling with bronze arrows. Shen and I skirt the remnants of a freshly excavated chariot, then stop beside a plastic sheet. “Want to see a real find?” he asks.

Lifting the sheet, Shen unveils a jagged, three-foot-long shield. The wood has rotted away, but the shield’s delicate design and brilliant reds, greens, and whites are imprinted on the earth. A few steps away is an intact military drum whose leather surface has left another glorious pattern on the dirt, its crimson lines as fine as human hair. Together with the imprints of finely woven silk and linen textiles also found here, these artifacts offer clues about the artistic culture that flourished under the Qin dynasty and the vibrant palette that infused it.

With so much color and artistry imprinted on the soil—the ancient paint, alas, adheres to dirt more readily than to lacquer—Chinese preservationists are now trying to preserve the earth itself. “We are treating the earth as an artifact,” says Rong Bo, the museum’s head chemist, who helped develop a binding agent, now under patent, that holds the soil together so the color won’t be lost. The next challenge, Rong says, will be to find an acceptable method for reapplying this color to the warriors.

With less than one percent of the vast tomb complex excavated so far, it may take centuries to uncover all that remains hidden. But the pace of discovery is quickening. In 2011 the museum launched two long-term excavation projects on the flanks of the 250-foot-high central burial mound. Exploratory digs in this area a decade ago uncovered a group of terra-cotta acrobats and strong men. More extensive excavations will yield “mind-boggling discoveries,” predicts Wu Yongqi, the museum’s director.”

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Elementary…

Sherlock Holmes has become an everyday occurrence in my life. Last year my wife and I read a few of the Laurie King/Mary Russell books. She got The House of Silk and The Sherlockian for Christmas. I have started re-reading all the original Doyle stories and last, but not least… Sherlock Holmes is now a draftsman at my J-O-B. No really, I work with a man who’s actual real legal name, given at birth, is Sherlock Holmes. I wanted to hire the guy from the milli-second that I saw the heading of his resume, but he is actually a fantastic draftsman and a great asset.

Anyway, I have been and will be spending more than a little time in London and England in general this year and on my most recent trip I happened to find myself on Baker Street in London. Well, far be it from me to miss a weird travel opportunity. The wife and I walked down to the Sherlock Holmes “Museum” near the Baker Street tube stop and took the tour. We enjoyed the aside in our busy day and hammed it a photo-op. Stamps-With-Foot makes a pretty little Watson…

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Drinking the black stuff in Ireland

I resolved not to travel as much in 2012 as I did in 2011 (over 150K air miles), but I am not off to an auspicious start: by January 17th, I already had just over 9,000 miles and I am booked for another British/European tour in March,  but I can say for a fact that 2012 has started off with much sweeter miles,  My J-O-B sent me to England and Ireland for 8 days and my sweet little wife, Stamps-With-Foot, got to tag along for the first time in years.  I can’t tell you how great it was to have her the with me!  I slept great, I didn’t miss her when I saw some new or interesting site since she was right there.  I had a dinner date every night and it was guaranteed that would be invited back to her place…

We had a day off in London and a night out in Dublin and we made the most of our time seeing old friends, visiting the V&A, taking the Globe Theatre tour, wandering through the Sherlock Homes “Museum”, visiting favorite shops, drinking Guinness, ogling the floor at Christchurch, more Guinness, and listening to Irish trad music on the top floor of Gogarty’s in Temple Bar.  It was a really nice mid-winter diversion for us, though there were some tears shed over Brodie, my wife’s puppy/fur-baby, not being there to snuggle her to sleep…

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London Cycling

Many a fine two-wheeled mistress have I, yet I am burdened with an oft wandering eye…  Last week in London I spent way too muck time ogling bicycles.  Locked up outside a store on the sidewalk, hung in shop windows, rolling down the street…  of all the cycles that caught my eye, the Bramptons that scurried about were the most quintessentially English.  I don’t think that I have ever seen a folding bike locked up here in the US, but it was common place in london, though that might be due to the killer bike racks…

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Dublin and County Down

My J-O-B sent me once again to Northern Ireland to address a possible issue. I REALLY didn’t want to fly into & stay in Belfast again (shiver) and make the daily hour drive through sheep country every morning.  Instead, we flew into Dublin, drove north an hour & 20 minutes, and stayed in the seaside town of Newcastle – a mere 10 minute morning commute each day from our intended work site. I was accompanied this time by two coworkers that had never been to the UK or Europe and it was great seeing it all new again through their eyes. I have noticed that I can be blind to a new experience or site in a place that I have been to for work more than a couple of times. They pointed out some really cool stuff and some mannerisms of the local population that I just had never noticed.

It wasn’t 100% work/sleep/work. We got an afternoon to explore Newcastle and spent the evening before we flew out in Dublin – great city! That last night, we stopped by Christ Church to marvel at the floors and spent 2+ hours (them not me) souvenir hunting/buying at Carroll’s, before I took them down to Temple Bar for dinner and so they could see the crowds and sights. After dinner and a little walking to work off the desert, we sat at a high table on Gogarty’s second floor, right next to the musicians bench, watched Irish dancing and listened to irish ballads as we put a few pints of the black stuff away.

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Biological Clocks and Mad Travel

In the last nine days, I have been in three States, have held three new babies, and have watched my wife’s baby-clock go from tick…tick….tick… to BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!  There were three pregnant bridesmaids at our wedding and one of the groomsmen had a very pregnant wife.  In Portland, we met Trystan: A handsome 3-week old little man that is the spitting image of his father.  In Orange County, CA I met Valiant:  a 5-week old heart breaker that looks like his Mommy.  In San Francisco I met Valentina for the first time – Stamps-With-Foot was there for the birth.  Valentina is 6 weeks old and also looks like her daddy.

All these little ones have, seemingly overnight, turned my sweet little “puppies-are-better-than-babies” wife into one of those crazy ladies who talks of nothing but nurseries, baby clothes, water births, talcum powder smells, and the merits of cloth vs. disposal…  All the diaper talk mania is taking its toll on me:  I had a dream a couple nights ago in which Stamp-With-Foot locked me in a room and made me perform till there were babies.  By the time I woke up (I should saw was jolted awake, sweating), there were like 20 of them at all different ages and sizes as well as 4 rabbits.  Some jars of my grandmother Talley’s plum jelly also made an appearance (WTF?!)…

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Weekend in Portland

Stamps-With-Foot and I went down to Portland for Easter weekend… as if we had all the freetime in the world – no projects looming over us – and a pot of money.  We have some dear friends there that have just had a baby and we went down to meet him and hang out with them.  Holy Pork Chop on a Stick!!  The weather was AWESOME!!  I am talking 65 degrees, blue skies, sunshine – the works.  Saturday found us in a green city park, sitting under a tree, having a picnic, and swigging mimosas!  It was a really laid back day and just what the doctor ordered.  We spent Easter Sunday with an old family friend who happens to be Jewish – I always imagined the Easter bunny as having Hasidic roots…  After a lazy morning, yummy coffee, and a terriffic breakfast, we drove into downtown and went to the Portland Chinese Garden.  Our friend is on the Board of Directors there and we got in for free.  Although the rain came back, we had a phenomal time walking the paths, finding nooks and alternate views.  There was a late lunch at the tea house and the ladies partook of sake and plum wine.

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The First Ride of Spring – Rekindling My Bike Romance

Let’s say that I have been neglecting my bikes this year.  If my road bike were a truly a woman, she would have already maxed all the credit cards and run away with that suave, skinny, tanned bike mechanic that so lovingly tuned her last summer.  With the return of Daylight Savings time, it is time to rekindle the romance with my many two-wheeled mistresses.

My oldest friend, Herbert, was in Seattle celebrating the rain/spring break/grey skies for a week and we decided to go for a long bike ride while he was visiting.   We cruised down to the ferry dock near Lincoln Park and took a couple bikes over to Vashion Island for a circumnavigation tour of that dot of terra firma.  I rode my commuter bike and Herbert rode my 1979 disco-orange Volkscycle.  The night before we installed some retro fenders on the orange beauty (Arron’s Bike is the SHIT! – incredible customer service!), thinking we might get wet, but karma intervened and we had blue skies and warm sunshine for the whole trip.

After climbing a nasty hill leading from the ferry dock, we rode south along the less populated western side.  Vashion is dotted with small farms, quite roads, tall trees, and beach front cabins.  The abject poverty of some of the homes we passed was quite sad:  3000+ sq. soot cabin with 3-4 acres of green pasture behind, a dock extending out into the Sound with a handsome 30+ foot sail bot moored there, panted barn, new tractor, happy cows…  so sad…  ;-)

We stopped for lunch and beer at the Quartermaster Inn – yummy red pepper soup – and made it to Vashion Island Coffee Roasters just before they closed.  Coffee…  I bought a bag of my favorite Ecuadorian roast, and enjoyed a fine cup of joe, sitting on the bench outside watching the world go by.   Getting back on the bikes was difficult…  after a wet winter of cheating on my two wheel mistress with beer and snacks, my insensitivity to her was repaid by the butt-numbing pain inflected by my bike seat.  Holy crap!  Herbert was in worse shape as the plastic 1970′s plush saddle h was astride turned into a crotch mounted torture devise after 25 miles or so.

All together, we rode 46 miles, drank some good beer, ate yummy food, ingested way too much coffee, laughed about stupid things done as children, lovingly remembered friends that have passed, and made some memories.

Post Script:

We had planned to paddle a kayak over to Blake island the next day, but our butts decided that wasn’t going to happen.  Instead, we hobbled around for a couple of days like two old guys in search of a hemorrhoid pillow…

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Throwing Vonnegut Quotes About.

On a trip to the UK just before Christmas, I had an early morning bid’ness meeting near Cardiff, Wales and stopped on the way back to London in the pedestrian town of Castle Combs – pronounced “Cwms” – for lunch.  A co-worker suggested the stop and once a again, “Peculiar travel suggestions are like dancing lessons from God”

I ate a fantastic meat pie and had a ½ pint of local cider at The White Hart.  The place, staff, and food were all top-notch!  It was a nice little lull in the midst of a hectic, pressure-filled trip.

Castle Combs is a time capsule of 15th century buildings, streets & houses and seems to be a popular place for filming.  It was used a location for the 1967 film Doctor Dolittle, an episode of Agatha Christie’s Poirot, the 2010 version of The Wolfman, and for the coming Steven Spielberg production War Horse. Who would have thunk it?

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The City of Light

Just before Christmas the news was filled with people stuck in the major European airports for days due to weather delays.  I was one of those souls.  I, however, made lemonade out of lemons and spent an afternoon roaming central Paris, the city of light!

I was bumped from two flights and told to come back to the gate for the next available flight – in 12.5 hours! Uhhh… OK….  I have been to Paris enough times over the last 10 years to have a pretty good handle on the transport system.  From Charles de Gaulle Airport there is a RER train that, for $10, will take you into the heart of the city, a trip that takes around 35 minutes.  It had been snowing like mad that morning, but when I stepped off the train at the Saint Michel Metro stop, the grey skis parted and the sky turned a brilliant blue.  It stayed that way for three hours before the clouds and snow moved back in.

I rushed over to Notre-Dame because in the 20-odd times that I have been to Paris, I have never been inside.  It always seems to be summer and the line to get in is normally oppressively long so I skip it.  Being a COLD winter day there was no line at all!  I removed my hat, opened the door walked into the naïve, kneeled, crossed myself, and proceeded to tear up like a little girl.  It was stunning!!  I walked around the church for almost two hours, exploring every corner.  There was so much beauty and a glossy magazine worthy picture opertunity at every turn.  I just wish Laurel and the kids could have been there to see it!  We will be back.

I reluctantly left Norte-Dame and headed over the Seine to Shakespeare & Co. bookstore.  It crowded dusty shelves make me oh so happy.  I browsed, listened to the proprietress’s sweet voice laugh and chit-chat in both French and English, I took a few pictures and bought a couple of books.  From there I walked to a Crepe stand in the Latin Quarter and ate my savory crepe in the shadow of the “oldest” tree in Paris.

At 4:00 I headed over for the Catacombs tour.  6+ million of Paris’s former residents now reside in former quarry tunnels under the city.  In a word, spooky!  I left the hour long tour is a pensive, reflective mood.  I took the RER back to the airport, my “scheduled” flight was still active and I settled in for a wait.  After a few more delays, I flew out just before all flights were cancelled and an hour before Terminal #2 was evacuated because of the weight of snow on the roof.

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My Thanksgiving Holiday:

7.5 hour drive with sleepy sick wife and gassy puppy
Serious traffic on I-5
I hate Rubber-Neckers
Arrive in Eugene, OR after 10:00pm
Build fire & sit in hot tub.  Last relaxing moments of the trip.
Confusion about sleeping arrangements
First night in comfy bed.
Wake early and had yummy coffee
Wife is extra yucky sick
Wife ingests cold meds, feels better
Short climb of Mount Pisgah
Roped into smoking/roasting turkey
Wanted to start drinking
Had to move rooms.
Issued foam mat to sleep on.
Smoked turkey for 2 hours and fended off Father-in-laws constant “help”
No lunch
Put turkey in oven to finish
Started drinking beer
Brother-in-law MIA
Brother-in-law usually has holiday coping chemicals
Missed Brother-in-law
Called and texted holiday greeting to friends and family
Father-in-law (a chef by trade) scary when cooking
Sharp stuff in kitchen – I retreated to the living room
Where the HELL is Brother-in-law!?!?
Drank another beer
Turkey took too long in oven
Father-in-law stressed
Turkey finally done – 1 hour late
Rest of family arrives
Really missed Brother-in-law’s chemistry set.
Brother-in-law shows up with just stuffing…
Matt sad
Everyone eats
Food was amazing!
Lone PWT family member ravages all the desert pies before anyone else
Drank another beer
Had seconds – turkey and mashed potatoes were yummy
5 mushroom gravy was incredible!!
Ate 4 pieces of pie
Felt pregnant
Had one more wheaty hopped beverage.
Passed out and into food coma
Woke up to screaming running children with back in knots
Had coffee
Regained humanity
Went for 3 mile run
Shopping at the crazy hippie holiday market (not the official name, but it should be)
More coffee
Found some humorous Christmas gifts
Made some clandestine purchases for Stamps-With-Foot
Met mother-in-law at the crazy hippie holiday market
Eye started twitching as the conversation/visit began
Wanted a harsh opiate to calm my nerves
Informed Mother-in-Law that her dog is banned from my house
Maybe she heard, maybe not…
Want to put out a mafia hit on her little dog that marks in the house
Went to a couple of local Eugene stores with just Stamps-with-Foot
Got some great new earrings (2ga. Clear silicone tunnels)
Returned to Fathe-in-laws
House empty.
Stamps-With-Foot and I took a hottub
Off to dinner with mother-in-law – where are those fvcking drugs!?
Drank LARGE beer
Went to see Hairy Potter Movie (I guess now I am officially out of the cupboard…)
Had to pee 3 times during movie :-(
Sleep
Up early
Coffee
Humanity
Had a precious hour to myself
Hottub
Read the paper
Enjoyed the quiet!!
More coffee
Took a look at “classic” 1960 Plymouth Valiant we were given for free
Determined it was a money pit
Will decide what to do with it later
More holiday shopping
Got last of my Mother’s Christmas taken care of
Third BIG coffee
Laurel had a nap
Relaxed dinner with Father-in-law and his girlfriend
Really like both of them!
Each told neighbor horror stories around the fireplace with medium amounts of beer consumed
Realized I am the “You Kids get off my lawn!” crotchety neighbor – am OK with that
Missed my lawn a little
Sleep
Up at nine and gone by 11:15am
Home by 6:15PM
Wanted to kiss my threshold
Never want to leave home again
Still want to help Mother-in-law’s dog go to the “farm”

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Oregon Handmade Bicycle Show

I do like me some bicycles.  I really like the ones that some guy welded/brazed in a small dim shop near/at his house.  Tool marks, thoughtful frame geometry, pump bosses, bottle openers, hammered fenders and the inclusion of S&S couplers make me feel all funny on the inside. I never miss a chance to fondle a hand-built frame.

Stamps-With-Foot was planning to drive down to Portland to help a friend out that is an artist/costume designer on a new stage production.  I was on the fence about riding along, as talk of sewing and fabric makes me as attentive as a narcoleptic on ketamine, until I happened upon the notice that the Oregon Handmade Bicycle Show was in Portland on the same weekend.  That sold me and I immediately fired off an e-mail to my lovely bride stating that while I was going with her, there would be abandonment for the better part of a day while I alternately drank coffee & beer at the show while groping steel frames and taking illicit photographs of possible two-wheeled mistresses.  Her reply was something like – ‘Fine, but you’re driving and you can’t buy ANOTHER bike…”  Deal.  I don’t have to buy the cow when the milk is free…

I went to the show with my buddy Dave, who doesn’t share my obsession for bikes, but he is a fellow gear-head and also posses a keen mechanical knack, so I knew he would be good company.  The show was small and somewhat pricey to get into, but atmosphere was lively, the people watching was excellent, and there was LOTS of eye candy!  I wanted to put a down payment on an new road frame, but the more I talked to the builder the louder Stamps-With-Foot’s voice became in my head.  I kept getting flashes of me standing outside in the rain with my new frame, no coat, shivering in a wet hat and the dog looking out the living room window at me smugly…

Below is an image gallery of some of the sights and lines that we found there.

...and beer on a bike was the first thing that greeted us upon entering the door!

Picture 1 of 66

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What would you take?

You don’t really own anything you can’t carry on your back at a dead run
~Daniel Keys Moran

I have a work acquaintance who sends me (and about 50 other co-workers) all sorts of right-wing, end of times, liberal government=evil sort of crap a couple times a week.  Last week, we all received a forward telling us how to prepare (lists and such) for “the coming breakdown of society.”  Really, she sends this sort of ranting dribble all the time.  I haven’t done anything about it because it makes me laugh AND I pick apart her forwarded ramblings and use their lunacy, lack of factual basis, and flawed rhetoric to verbally beat the proverbial sense into her on breaks.  I haven’t figured out if she just likes the debate and that is why I am included or if she has a humiliation fetish and waits with glee after sending me Sarah Palin quotes or a comic declaring that the Health-care Bill is the same as a 1930′s National Socialist agenda come to pass.

Her “run while you can” e-mail  got me thinking about what we would do if the wife and I had to escape a Tea-party  horde.  If you had to leave your house RIGHT NOW, what would you take? I mean now and you were never coming back.  Where would we go?  Why are you going? Are you running from the Feds?  Has the zombie apocalypse come? Is there a crazy red-headed woman at the door with a chainsaw? What if the house was on fire?  Natural disaster? Mafia hit? Terrorist attack?  Plague?  Famine?  War?

Could you walk/run 100 miles with all that stuff?
Where would you go?
How would you get there?
What would you do for food, money, shelter?
Why this stuff and is there anything I would cull?

In most of this cases I would like to stay at home, dig in and wait for a sunny day, FEMA, a Presidential pardon, the 82nd Airborne, etc…. But sometimes one has to run like a chimp whose balls are ablaze.  If given a few minutes to gather and run what I would take?  All the technical clothes I can fit in my bag (down jacket, rain gear, synthetic shirts and pants, hat, trail running shoes, hiking and running socks) my S³ kit, mess kit, external hard drive, laptop, couple of t-shirts, a pair of jeans, my dad’s favorite pipe, wallet/purse, passports, birth certificates, every bit of cash and coins we had, the 12ga, every 12ga shell I can lay my hands on, pocket knife, sleeping bag, all the coffee in the freezer, I would wear hiking boots out the door, carry a charged phone, assorted cables, lots of extra batteries, five or six yard waste garbage bags, lighters, and I would throw the bike in the car – I could ride my bike till the wheels fell off  once the gas is all gone {throw in the spare tubes and maintenance kit that I always ride with}. Lastly, I would take with me a plan of where we are going and have an alternate destination – just in case.

The wife would be toting similar, but I would load her down with camping and non-perishable food, a couple rolls of duct tape, and all the meds and bandages in the house. We’d throw her bike as well. The Mrs. would take the dog. Yes, there are reasons to leave him, but she would not listen to a single one.  Mentioning the words BBQ/starving/alternate plan/him or us/tastes like chicken and looking over at the dog, within 24hours of said words, would get me shot and castrated in reverse order so we won’t be going there…

The sleeping bag and tech gear will get us where we need to go in the best shape possible no matter the weather. The bikes will get us there faster than our own feet. Cars run out of gas – bikes don’t. The trash bags would keep us and our gear dry. The coffee is included as possible currency and because I have an addiction. The shotgvn and shells are to keep us safe or fed and Daddy’s pipe because one must not forget the past. The hard drive and computer are so that we have records (personal and financial) once we arrive where we are going. Could I cull any of the above… Nope.  Can I carry it all across 5-6 states?   Yep.

This was just off the top of my head and I figure I could gather all this stuff into a pack in less than 4 minutes for a really quick departure and we could get just about anywhere with it. Give me some time to plan and it may look a little different.  Also, if our place was going up in flames the list would be a lot different.  First I would make sure Laurel was safe (she would already have the puppy) and then I would just grab papers, computers, photo albums, keepsakes and run out into the street and wait for our bad-ass Seattle fire department to douse the flames and prey that some of the rest of our crap was salvageable.

So what about you?  What does your list look like?  Why are you running?

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Traveling light is the key to airport happiness

Have you flown anywhere recently?  It SUCKS!  Getting through security means stripping, flights are canceled, there is no free food, getting a seat in an exit row or behind a bulkhead now costs extra, rental car rates are insane, lost bags are the rule, everyone is pissed off, and I recently paid $30 hotel tax on a $120 a night room.  I can’t throw my hands up and stay home – I work in the aircraft industry and often fly on business trips with NO notice.  Instead of just bitching about it all and suffering through, I decided to see what I could do to make the experience better.

I have drastically cut out the amount of crap I carry.  I used to travel in a suit, carry my laptop, assorted files, my running shoes, a couple changes of clothes, a couple books, my notebook, a camera, S³ kit, extra batteries, pens, noise-canceling headphones, etc…  For an overnight business trip now, I travel in running clothes, fold my work clothes flat next to my laptop (sometimes I leave the laptop and just take a Bluetooth keyboard for the phone), never check a bag, pack a couple of Clif bars, take one book (soon to be an eReader), one Moleskine notebook, an extra dress shirt, 2 pens, my iPhone, phone charger, 1 set of extra socks, small apple earphones, undies and undershirt, tooth brush, deodorant, toothpaste, and floss.  I use the soap and shampoo in the hotel – that is what it is there for. I grab a coffee in the terminal before the flight, pick up some fruit, and I am not beyond some social engineering to get a better seat: ‘Excuse me, but I am feeling really ill.  Is there an aisle seat near the bathroom?’

I pack just as light if I am flying to see the kids or as a tourist.  Couple shirts, flip-flops, extra jeans, hat, S³ kit, and I refuse to take a laptop on vacation.  It is not worth the security hassle and I may be tempted to work instead of relaxing or enjoying myself.  I have also been graced with a wife who does not pack a steamer trunk full of shoes for a weekend getaway.  It feels really freeing not to have to wait at baggage return or lug a heavy weight suitcase around.

I addition to the above, I have spent years (and lots of pain) developing Talley’s Rules of Travel.  I hope it helps someone:

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Vancouver to Seattle Bike Tour

Last year I did a 100+ mike bike ride for the American Diabetes Foundation.  I was telling my son about it over the phone – about how hard it was to cycle 100 miles and climb mountains and hills on a bike, when he said “Dad, that sounds REALLY cool.  Do you think we might could do something like that together someday…” Pride welled up in me and I said ‘yes!’  My Boy… taking up the mantel of his father’s interests.  My heart shined knowing that the adventurer bug had bitten deep and early with this one…. I have come to realize that it was not pride in my son, but my own hubris.

When planning out our yearly summer trip I threw in a “simple” bike ride from Vancouver, BC to Seattle – no big deal, right?  Wrong!  I mentioned it to my Father-in-law during the initial planing stages and he asked to come along – I of course said yes and soon after his brother, David, also joined our little two-wheeled group.  I did some route planning, a little bike tuning, changes a few parts here and there, and bought Carlton a tag-a-long bike/trailer before he arrived in Seattle.  I thought that it was all a done deal and we would have a relaxing little three day tour…

I spent four scary days on the road with my 9-year old son and the shear physicality of the ride was possibly the most demanding thing I have ever done on a bike.  While I plan to ride with Carlton as long as I am able, I will NEVER, EVER use a tug-a-bike trailer bike again.  It was squirrely, unstable, and heavy.  I spent 95% of the ride, freaked out about his safety and trying to keep us from hitting the ground.  …Shiver…

Pain and worry aside, the ability to ride with my son was AMAZING – even at its hilly worst!  I got out on the bike, my son was with me, and we spent some quality time with Laurel’s dad and uncle.  I was part of Carlton’s first train ride, his first ferry crossing, his longest bike ride, and his first trip to another country.  My 9 year old son’s strength and fortitude STUNNED me!  I could not have ridden 154 miles when I was 9.  He was terrific and I am so proud of him!  We spent the last night on a sailboat with our extended West Coast  family at Bainbridge Island Harbor and watched the fireworks on the 4th of July.  It was a fitting end to a glorious trip.

Forgive me for a lapse into cliché, but it really is about the journey rather than the destination.  I spent a lot of time twirling the pedals, and listening to him talk while all sorts of things ran through my monkey brain while trying to keep us in one piece.  I came to a few conclusions:

My son is sweeter than I was at his age
He is more stubborn
Bike Trailers SUCK!
My wife’s career is truly flowering and she is finding her way in the work-a-day world
I really and truly want to start my own business
I wish my sister and I were closer
Extra-Strength Tylenol is my forever friend
My father-in-law is loves the debate surrounding a question more than the answer
We (Carlton and I)  will spend more time together next year
My father-in-law is still on his journey of self discovery – what he wants to be when he grows up :-)
I need to write more and finish a couple of articles and my Germany book
There are times that I need to unplug from my cell and e-mail
Tents are better than hotels
I need to prioritize projects at the house and start getting them done
There is a colleague at work who will throw me under the bus without thinking
My knees at 36 are not what they were at 21.
Man, bike trailers with 200lbs of 9-year-old and gear suck!!
The German language has a few REALLY cool words that I wish we used in English more. Trepswerter, Doch, Zeitgeist, Fremdschämen, and Schadenfreude
We have to turn off my cable as soon as Madison leaves this summer
I like the mix of languages during breakfast in an international hostel
Books make my heart happy
Mexican food + cycling for 3 days = BAD!
I need to end the clutter in my life and home office
I REALLY want a Kindle e-reader
Our children are windows to our own behavior and soul
I miss having a large group of friends and need to work on that
The mountains are calling me and I want to make a solo trek after September
Our upcoming wedding has become a serious stressor in my life
We need to trade the Subaru for a Honda.
I really do need 3 more bikes – really
Our bills in Germany piss me off
I love train travel more than any other type of long distance conveyance
Did I mention my feelings on bike trailers?


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Man, I want me for a dad!

By my own narcissistic reckoning, I am the coolest father a 9 year-old boy could have!  My son is coming for a few weeks this summer and I have planned a world of activities and sites that would make any of his buddies green with envy.   There will be: camping, pellet gvn shooting, a cross-country bike trip (more on that later), classic airplane tours, an Indian lodge tour, camp-fire building, rock climbing, BMX riding, tide-pooling, wood-shop projects, art, microscopes, telescopes, hiking, swimming, the Zoo, mountain climbing, beach combing, and berry picking.  I would dare any summer Camp to come up with a cooler curriculum – DOUBLE DOG DARE!

I must say that my son is no slouch in the woodsmanship department, but we are so raising the bar this year.  He could build a fire with flint and steel when he was 7, is a camping and backpacking machine, and whittles a bit.  Well, this summer he has  a shooting bench (just finished in the garage) to hone his target shooting skills,  we are making a custom whittling knife in the shop, there will be new lessons on how to build a campfire, and I am going to show him how to carve simple faces in drift wood.  We talked today and he is super-stoked about the plans.  He makes me so proud!!  He even told me “thank you” for “getting all this stuff together…”  I teared up on the phone and choked back tears like had I hit my thumb with hammer.  It made my whole week!

We may get into some kite-flying action and some fishing, but I am not too sure about that last one – I have apparently passed on the gene that precludes fish catching.  They just stop biting the minute I cast.  He has the same curse and time might be better spent exploring or doing.

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Sight-seeing and mountaineering in Iran – maybe

288px-Damavand_in_winter

I have applied to be a part of a delegation of climbers that will visit Iran this fall.  Yes, yes, I understand the current geo-political crisis swirling around that country right now.  I have seen the protest videos, heard the speeches from all sides, but I view this trip as an opportunity to see places and people that very few of my climbing peers have laid eyes on since 1979 and not as part of any sort of comment or political statement.  This will be a chance to connect with other climbers on a personal level and show that regardless of where one might be from, ALL climbers and mountaineers are part of a single tribe.

One of the planned ascents is Mt. Damavand, on the south edge of the largest inland body of water on earth.  The peak is both the tallest mountain in Iran and the highest Volcano in all of Asia.  I would like to be a part of that for so many reasons, both altruistic and selfish in nature.  I want to see the vast rolling poppy fields to the south and the Caspian Sea to the north from the summit of Damavand.  I wish to feel new stone in my hands and I hope to sleep under new stars.  I won’t know any details about making even the first cut for a month or so, but I have stepped up my training anyway.  Wish me luck.

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A Wine-soaked Wedding Do

Laurel and I are getting married, again.  “But Matt, aren’t you are already married?!”  Yes, yes we are and no I am not taking a second wife – I looked into that, but I sort of let it go when Laurel started making sawing gestures while looking manically at my lower abdominal region.

The story is that we had planed a fairly extravagant affair for the summer of 2007.  We had accepted a job in Germany and had planned to come back to The States for the wedding that next summer.  German residence laws squished that plan as Laurel could only stay in Germany for three months at a time with a six-month gap in between if we weren’t hitched.  After weighing our options, we went to a courthouse in SoCal to make our relationship official in the eyes of the extremely uptight German Government and then spent a weekend in a B&B.  Not the most romantic wedding tales you have ever heard, I know.

We are now back and settled and both of us felt that we would like to acknowledge such a huge event in our lives properly.  We have rented heavily wooded parcel of land for a weekend this summer and will have an outdoor ceremony (I swear it will be simple and not California-kooky) and will spend the evening in a 1930s ballroom on the property cozying up to 2-3 kegs of GREAT beer, a yummy spread of food, a dozen or so pies, cake and enough wine to make Bacchus want to come and join the festivities.  It is always a pain in the ass to attend someone’s do and have to get a pricey hotel room and rent a loud polyester outfit.  So… to make things as easy as possible for our guests, we have rented enough cabins to sleep the entire wedding party in for both Friday and Saturday night.  I swear that I will not make any of my buddies rent a pink tux, wear short-short lederhosen, kilts, nor do I expect any of them be on their best behavior – As long as no one does anything to make my hot little wife cry – then what happens in the trees stays in the trees.

To lure my elusive buddies out of their high mountain caves, I have floated the rumor that Mt. Rainer is 40 miles south, there is great sport/trad climbing in Leavenworth, some killer Alpine routes with glaciers on the Olympic peninsula, great fishing, whale watching, Canada to the north, etc, etc, etc.  It would make a fine kick-off weekend to the annual summer climbing, beer drinking, rafting, cycling, suffer-fest that we all partake in.

Now, if some of our friends can’t make it, we TOTALLY understand and it is not like I will pour wax into small molds and make dolls that look remarkable like each of those who choose not to attend.  It would be crazy to think that I have snippets of their cloths and cuttings of hair to paste on these completely theoretical dolls.  And know that I would never heat up any pins and probe their wax parts IF for some reason they decided to miss our wedding.  No, I wouldn’t even think of such…

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Moving sucks!

Moving always sucks and relocating from one continent to another is its own special brand of agony. The logistics of organizing such a move can be a two-month long full time job. I accepted a job offer in Seattle and arranged for our stuff to be shipped out via an ocean container ship. We flew with about six huge suitcases and two boxes into Little Rock a couple days after Christmas. As a note, traveling with a cardboard box is humbling. Your fellow passengers at the baggage carousel look at you as you reach for your battered container like you are about to spread leprosy and back away from the belt as you manhandle the now not so square, not so together carton (baggage handlers worldwide are “super-friendly” to boxes…) onto a luggage buggy.

Anyway, we flew into Little Rock, Arkansas to pick up our car, spend a few days with the kids, and start our drive across the US. The couple days with the kids were good. Madison LOVED her new cell phone and Carlton really liked his Guitar Hero – I may have played it after everyone went to bed until 4 in the morning, but I cannot confirm that… Madison was sweet as was Carlton. He is at the age though where he thinks it’s fun to poke and pick on his sister and she is at the age where EVERYTHING is irritating, so there was some friction there and I had to separate them at the movie, but they got along fine 90% of the time.

We have done the I-30/I-40 drive from Texas to California a couple of times, so we went north to experience some different country. Well, that was the plan anyway. After making a quick overnight stop at my Mother’s place, we headed north into Oklahoma and Kansas. We spent New Year’s Eve on the Kansas/Colorado border and were so tired from the driving and such that we fell asleep before midnight – yep… a rock star life! As we drove north, serous winter weather moved into the Pacific Northwest ahead of schedule so we had a torturous 4.5 day / 12-14 hour a day drive trying to beat the storms. We hit 50mph sustained winds in Utah and Idaho with 80mph+ gusts and crossed a mountain pass in chain-up conditions before being turned back trying to go over the Cascades. A day was added to our trip going south to Portland, away from the closed ice and snow encased passes. The last leg of our trip was a leisurely drive up I-5 on the last morning from a friend’s house in Portland.

We got into Seattle on Saturday before I started work on Monday – a schedule that I do not recommend. No speeding tickets and Laurel drove a good bit of the time. Our Subaru is her first car with a standard transmission, but she is learning quickly. There was only one incident of clutch related frustration/tears on the whole drive. I was really proud of her for picking it up so quickly as a 285hp rocket sled is not the easiest car to learn the nuances of the clutch on.

My Rally-Blue, all-wheel drive lover

Hijacked from one of my recent TRs

I spent most of August in the States on vacation with what was supposed to be both kids, but it turned out that only one decided to road-trip. After an uneventful series of flights I arrived in Little Rock, Arkansas from our home in northern Germany (the land of wurst, great beer, rain, and terrible music) and immediately went shopping for a new car. For the past couple of years every time I come in to see the kids I spend between one and two thousand dollars on the rental car alone. As we are planning to move back to the States in early 2009 and we will need a car, Laurel and I sat down and decided not to waste money on a rental car since the money would be better spent on something that was ours instead of increasing the monthly sales of an airport car rental outlet. Also, buying a vehicle in the summer would make it so there would be one less detail to deal with during the move. Shipping all our property one third around the world, starting new jobs, and finding a new home are quite enough for our first month back in the US.

I have been lusting over various Subaru models for years. They are just amazing cars as far as handling, reliability, and safety. I was a breath away from buying an Outback before I was transferred to Germany and have been lovin’ them from a distance ever since my first extended roadtrip in a friend’s. While in Germany I had various online relationships with assorted models: There was the 2006 pearl white WRX STI 4-door Impreza that showed me all her secrets on the Car&Driver website. A jet-black turbo Outback wagon was the next piece of eye candy that turned my head. I found her on the main Subaru site and Googled candid pictures of her interior and was taken right away with her in-dash GPS and sexy charcoal heated seats. I planned for us to spend some serious alone time together at the beach and in the mountains. Our relationship ended before it really started when one day while minding my own business, I happened on a picture of a 5-door Rally-Blue Impreza – The Sport Wagon. I researched her measurements, specifications, and found that her current lovers on the Rally Race Circuit spoke only kind and generous words about her. Oh! she was fast: 285 horses under the hood and her handling was made superb with anti-sway bars, strut stabilizer, 4-wheel disc brakes, and full-time all wheel drive. Just to push me into the abyss of lust and admiration, she had a 5-Star crash safety rating and gets 26+ MPG on the highway. It was like finding a devoted bride that was equal parts Gabriella Reese, Betty Page, Martha Stewart, Briana Banks, Carre Otis, and Marie Curie. I had to have her, possess her, and make her mine.

Before leaving Deutschland for vacation I had e-mailed various car dealers in Arkansas trying to find my all wheel drive mistress. Most of them just wanted to sell me what they had in stock or they didn’t return my e-mails at all. I showed up in Little Rock without a guaranteed deal and spent a couple of days stalking my soon to be Rally-Blue lover. I found her waiting for me at Adventure Subaru in the small college town of Fayetteville. It was love for both of us from the very first moment my hands caressed her soft leather-trimmed steering wheel, while I applied firm yet gentle pressure to her short-throw shifter. And then we were alone, just my Japanese lovely and me for the long drive back to Little Rock…

This is my Rally-Blue lovely on the first day she was mine.

Laurel and I have been car-free for almost two years and in so many ways it has been very liberating and at times a huge blessing: I get to drink as many beers as I want when out with friends since no one is driving home and there is a subway or train stop within 5 minutes of any pub that I would care to frequent. There has been no gas to buy, a reduced overall carbon footprint, no maintenance, no insurance, we both cycle and walk more, no car payment, etc… We have been able to do this because of the amazing transportation in Germany. Moving back to the US means that we will need a car for at least one of us most of the time. We had two vehicles before, but have decided to become a one car family and see how well it works out for us. With the better gas mileage of the Subaru, the subtraction of one vehicle from our lives, and a commitment to bike and walk as much as possible for errands and work; our over all fuel consumption should be less than half of what it was when we lived in California and our level of emotions should be even lower than that. Thatknowledge helps with the moral dilemma that we faced when deciding on owning or not owning a car again – the fact the my blue darling is just so sexy didn’t tip the scales in any way…

As my new lady wasn’t able to sit in my lap for the flight home, a great friend of mine agreed to keep the car under lock and key for me until we move back – taking her out once a month or so to charge the battery, keep everything lubed up, wipe her gently with a soft white cotton diaper, and whisper sweet nothings her delicately formed the side mirrors until we can be together again.

A badly cropped picture of her winking at me…

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The Un-Friendly Skies…

I have been in the aviation industry for a while now and I have done more than my fair share of flying. In the time that I have spent flying for a living I have had my share of delays, missed flights, crappy third-world airports, rescheduled and cancelled flights, mechanical problems, chatty drunks, turbulence, irate passengers, screaming babies, “customers of size,” and one very scary emergency landing. I am a bit of an old hand in dealing with air travel and very little phases me. Recently, I had an experience that left me shaking my head in wonder at the heartlessness and compliancy of a major US airline: Continental

I was flying into Arkansas for a summer visit with the kids. I arrived without issue in Newark and after an eight hour layover; I expected to make a connecting flight to Little Rock that night at 8:00. About 7:30 I and the other assembled passengers were told by a gate agent that our flight was postponed due to inclement weather until 9:00. Around 8:40pm the gate agent left and we did not see another one for the rest of the evening. Our flight was postponed an additional 3 times with the departures screen and at 12:30am a cancellation notice was broadcast over the intercom system. We were instructed to go to a Continental Airlines Customer Service Desk for flight rescheduling or to call the 800 reservations number. I stood in line from 12:30 to 3:30am. I phoned the Continental Reservations office while waiting in line and it took over an hour to get through – I am sure because of the volume of calls from my fellow passengers stranded in line with me. I was told that I had been automatically rescheduled to the 8:00pm Sunday flight. I was also told that there were no available open Continental flights out of Newark for Saturday. When I asked to be moved to another airline, I was told that it could not be done over the phone and would have to be taken care of at the service desk. So… I stayed in the line, which at 3:00am stretched down an entire wing of the terminal and was 400+ people strong.

At 3:30am the staff at the service area shut down their computers and left the desk with roughly 170 people still in our line – the bulk of the other customers waiting had been sent to another gate in another hall. A cynic would say it was because the airline wanted to split the herd so that we wouldn’t stampede when the shutdown came. People in the front of the line were begging for assistance we were told very loudly by one representative that she had been dealing with “us” for over eight hours, was tired, and was going home. Some of the passengers in that line including myself had already been in-transit for over 22 hours and knew all about being tired… When the Continental employees left, the lights in the area were shut off and we were all left to fend for ourselves with all the food establishments closed. There was no attempt to make any kind of arrangements for passengers, even those of us travelling internationally: no alternate accommodations, no blankets, no pillows, no snacks, and seemingly no thought given to those of us left in line. In addition, we were told that if we left the airport that we might not be able to enter again as our tickets were for cancelled flights and that it would be best if we stayed put until new tickets could be sorted out the next morning. The lights were then turned off and all Continental personnel left the area. There were a couple people who took some really damning pictures of the state of things that night: passengers huddled together still in line at 5:00 am, A couple asleep on the floor beside the wife’s wheelchair, a mother sobbing (who was a Continental flight attendant on maternity leave…) because she had run out of diapers and baby food for her infant.

The Continental Service Desk did not open at 4:30 like we were told it would as the service representatives made their hasty exit. We had to wait until almost 6:00am before staff reappeared. I was rescheduled for a 7:00am flight to Houston and then an additional connection flight to Little Rock. When I spoke to the reservation representative to schedule the flight out of Newark, I was told that my return flight had been upgraded because of my SkyTeam Elite status (all those miles flown have to count for something) and because of the continued delays. I appreciated this gesture. When I arrived at the gate we were told that no flight crew was available for the 7:00 flight and it was rescheduled four times before we finally got a flight crew just before mid day. Although numerous passengers requested assistance we were not provided with blankets or water or any flight information until 10ish when an airport representative arrived and assured us that we would leave Newark before noon. He also arranged for soft drinks and peanuts for us after a near mutiny by the gate agents and a bunch of screaming by passengers demanded some help.

My connecting flight from Houston to Little Rock was also rescheduled due to a mechanical problem with the First-Class entertainment system. I arrived in Little Rock almost twenty-four hours after my originally scheduled arrival and after nearly forty total hours of travel time. Once in Little Rock, I learned that my luggage was still in Newark and I did not receive it until later. Great…

A couple of weeks later, after a great visit with my son, I started my journey home to Germany. After arriving at the Little Rock Airport I found that my flight had been cancelled and I again was rerouted through Houston. Continental Airlines was at that point not on the top of my list of my favorite US carriers… The gate agent in Little Rock had no record of any promised upgrade. I was told to discuss it with Customer Service in Houston or Newark. My flight from Houston to Newark was completely full and I was told that I needed to discuss any promise of upgrade with the Newark staff. After arriving in Newark I went back to the Customer Service area and was told that I would have had to have been given a certificate at the time of the incident that there was nothing that they could do. I was told to call the Continental WECARE number to make any sort of complaint. It was if I had at that moment ceased to matter, the woman just sort of shoved the card with the WECARE info on it at me and turned to finish a conversation about her house with a co-worker. Continental has this slogan that the print on all there posters and ads: Work Hard. Fly Right. Really?! Neither was my experience with Continental Airlines or their staff in Newark!

I called while sitting in the Newark airport waiting for my next flight to notify Continental Customer Service of the incident and was told that upgrades on flights to Europe are NEVER given and are not even allowed in this type of situation. I was shocked by this and felt that the customer service agent that rescheduled my flight had purposely lied to me so that I would be happy just long enough to exit the airport where I was no longer a Continental concern. The WECARE telephone agent offered to send me an international care package for my inconvenience, but after checking she could only offer to mail me a US domestic one to my home in Germany. Great, two free drinks and a pair of headphones for domestic flights in a country that I don’t reside in and on an airline that I have grown to detest. By the way, my bags got lost on the trip home too. At least Continental is consistent…

This experience was so crappy solely because of the almost complete lack of customer service that I experienced at multiple levels. Delays are understandable, but a lack of empathy for passengers stuck in transit is shameful. I wrote Continental a letter, not looking for a handout or for a perk, but to draw their attention to a breakdown in their organization in Newark. I had hoped that it would be addressed and that other passengers that have the misfortune of delayed or cancelled flights in Newark in the future find the process to get them to there destination much less painful and frustrating than the process that I experienced. After nearly a month, I received a semi-well crafted form letter, complete with an auto-generated signature that calmly spelled out how everything that we experienced in Newark was “completely out of Continental’s control.” I almost choked as I read the customer service manager’s response. In addition to her letter following the basic tenets of an unsatisfied customer response letter: Empathize with the customer, restate their position/experience back to them as a sign that you have taken interest, apologize for their upset, assure them that ‘management’ would be notified, and ask them for their continued support. She had the balls to state that, “Continental employees worked tirelessly around the clock… in an extraordinary effort to accommodate our customers as quickly and safely as possible…” Really?! I doubt that any of the 400 or so people left abandoned at the Continental Customer Care desk overnight to sleep on the cold, stained concrete floor would agree.

As I said, I wrote my first letter in the hope that it would cast a light on a single failure at a single point in time for hundreds of passengers who were in Continental’s care. I did not ask to be reimbursed for anything or for any sort of freebie, as that was not my intent in writing them. It was my hope that this failure would be acknowledged and steps would be taken so that it would not happen to other travellers in the same situation with that airline in the future. The response I got just tells me that it was not an isolated incident and that there is a flaw in the Continental customer service system. I was not pleased.

I have a problem letting things go… It is one of those things about my personality that could either be considered endearing or a flaw… New Travel Rule: Stay the Hell away from Newark and only board a Continental flight in a case of Rapture, but pack a snack, because you will be routed through Houston and will be the last to arrive at the Pearly Gates.

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