A Short Boat Ride In Kerala

The India Diaries

At this writing I’m on an 80 foot deluxe houseboat on the Bampa River in backwater Kerla, India.    I’m having a rum and coke and cruising the rivers in the state.  It’s almost impossible to explain how amazing it is.  This boat has a crew of 4 including a cook who knows his way around in the kitchen.  I just bought some huge prawns to be cooked for dinner that were so fresh you could have set them free.  Now we are heading with another couple of boats in our group to spend the night on a secluded place on the river.  The River is actually 9 feet higher than the surrounding rice fields and one of the true wonders of the world.    

It’s been a crazy few days.  I spent the last couple of night jammed in a metro sweat box hotel without any AC or comforts in Kochi.   I have to say that was not my favorite place at all.  It was cool to see the chinese fishing nets that were used on the island but it would not be a place I would return to.  

The night before that were spent high in the hills on a coffee plantation names Glenora.  It was a very quiet and magical place.  The views of the surrounding mountains were amazing because everything was so green.  It was near a wildlife park that was home to wild elephants and tigers.  I needed the silence of those nights to recharge my system for a bit.  There is so much life here in this country it’s hard to believe that anyone could rest.  I am traveling with an extraordinary mix of travelers who understand what they are looking at and perhaps why they travel.  I wish Americans could and would travel more and like this.  Maybe we would understand that joy and kindness are not exclusive to hour own cultures and that tolerance in religion, nationality, beliefs, life and love are  goals that every human being should strive for.  

Tomorrow is the last day of the year and it looks like it will come to me before some of you.  It’s the on the far side of the world time table thing.  I hope I can post and wish all of you a wonderful new year and say good bye to one of the most eventful years of my life.  Namaste. 

Saint Nick in India

Everyone has heard the tale of St. Nick.  Right?  The old guy with the white hair that gives out stuff?  Standard I think.  But did you know that he actually hangs out on Harash street in Mysore, India?  It's true.  I snapped this photo of him checking out some skimpy man thong at a table in the bar of the Parklane hotel on Christmas day.  He likes the premium Kingfisher beer and the veggie spring rolls.

There is nothing more strange than being Santa in an Indian bar with a hundred waiters just standing looking at you in amazement.  I took one for the team today and did my duty.  Lot's of folks used the lap today to tell me if they were naughty or nice.  I'm not sure a single one gave me an honest answer but it doesn't matter since they all got a gift anyway.  The locals absolutely thought we were nuts with this Christmas thing but I have to say it was a lot of fun.  Nothing like shaking up the local bar on Christmas day.  To all of you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New year from the other side of the world.  May all you hopes, dreams and wants come to you with love and happiness.  

The Kingdom of Hampi

I woke up very early this morning and went out to the rice patties.  Acres and acres of terraced ponds each perfectly constructed and overflowing into each other like a champagne glass fountain at a posh wedding.  There were a couple of mats and pillows next to the start of the fields and I laid there and watched the night say good bye to the day.  As I lay there I noticed streaks of black flying in front of me.  Bats were taking the mosquitos from the air only inches from me.  I sat there watching this amazing show for 45 minutes until the light made the bats disappear.  It was truly one of those strange and magical things that happen to travelers when they do something different.  It was just me, the bats, and the light.....

Hampi was one of the sites of the Hindu Kingdom in the 14 to 16 century.  It is a massive and beautiful ruin that is simply enormous.  It covers several square miles of land and now props up a small city.  Huge temples and several markets with pillars that run for miles cover the landscape.  To get there from my lodging it was a short ferry ride across the river.  I am staying on a island in the middle of the vasaparasu river.  The river is life to this part of India and is to be used and worshiped.  It is truly a wonderful place that I had not even heard about a few days ago.  Tomorrow it is time to leave.  Hampi is dry.  By dry I mean Texas backward county dry.  As in, no Alcohol at all dry.  How did the Baptist get ahold of a Hindu city?  Amazing.  

Palolem Beach Morning

I’m sitting in an empty lifeguard chair on an deserted stretch of the beach in Palolem, Goa.  The time is just closing in on 7 AM.  The air is cool and damp and the sounds of the surf are all you really hear except for the occasional barking of the orders from the lead fisherman getting ready to go out for the morning.   Few people are up so it’s a very tranquil place to be.  The street dogs are all over the beach playing some strange game that seems much more fun than their normal fight for survival.  It seems that their is some kind a bounty on trying to knock down the lone traveler with a camera too.

The dichotomy of this scene is me sitting in this serenity with a laptop. I used to put pen to paper but I suppose, like this beach I have given way to the evolution of the modern world.  I watch the fishermen get ready much like they always have, building fires and tending nets. .  The changes come in the form of a motor and some brightly colored football shirts but the routine is the same.   Sometimes you have to wonder which was a happier life.   What was this place like a hundred years or more ago?  Everyone was doing their things to survive and I argue they didn’t feel this pressure of a western world pushing down on them.  Not that envy and jealously and want are exclusively a western things.  They aren’t, but there is no doubt that it is harder to explain to a child why they don’t have the same things they see on TV now then it was to explain the situation a hundred years ago. 

A game of Cricket is developing among the locals down the beach and women are walking by on their cell phones.  Time to find some coffee because the beach dog games are over.  I guess they have to go back to the real world too.

Indian Sand .. Baga Beach

Indian Sands

Baga beach in North Goa turned out to be a very nice place.  It’s a typical beach town on the backpacker circuit.  Lot’s of cheap hotels and hostels with AC/Non AC.  Plenty of super maxi cool boom boom bars where ladies get in free and also drink free.  Ladies this is your kind of place...  The beaches are clean and there are miles of them.  It’s good to be here for a couple of days and rest.  On the beach I did notice several different kinds of sacred cows lounging around.  The animal versions seem very much at home in the sun and surf.   I doubt that they know about hamburgers yet.

My 13 hours on the train from Bombay started great but ended with a few health issues.  Must have been the mysterious  chicken lollipop that did me in.  Nothing like spending a few hours in a hot jerking rail card to get you in the mood for a long trip.  Anyway, I seem to be back in the land of the living.  At least for now.  I must press on.  

The search for La Crema continues along the Western Coast of India  but my confidence is somewhat low.  It is a learning experience for a wino however....who would have thought that Pakistan makes a wine....Muslims may be getting it after all...

Tomorrow I will venture into old Goa and see what the Portuguese left in this place.  Then it’s on the Southern Beachs of Goa for a few days.  I’m not sure what the differences might be but I will keep you posted.  There are so many Russians here most of the signs are in Russian and just an off color comment.....Russians in Goa should consider their swimsuit choices carefully.  Sacred Cow type stuff. 

Laws of the Jungle

I remember my first day living in Singapore a few years ago.  I cheated death at least 3 times in the first 24 hours.  In countries where they drive on the "Wrong" side of the road, it's very very dangerous to cross a busy street...Why, you ask?  Because you look the wrong way first and then step out.  BAM...flattened  honky tourist.   Bombay is that fear multiplied by 6.  Buses, cars, motorbikes, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people are all out to mow you down.

After spending some time watching the locals it became apparent that fear and hesitation will kill you.  You just have to go for it and not stop.  Move rapidly and keep the same speed without looking at the angel of death coming toward you.  So far so good, although I did get bumped by a rather hard side mirror from a 21 ton cement truck.  I was pushed into the line of fire by a small woman in a black sheet.  I was of course walking on the wrong side and she didn't like it.  My new strategy is to find the largest group of older sandaled gents or women with children and latch onto them as they make their break.  The thinking is ....these guys have survived so far ...and would they really run over small children to kill a yankee dog like me?    I will be testing the theory this evening and hoping for the best.  There is some shiva festival going on down at the harbor and they are telling the the traffic will be crazy....(really).

I was also introduced to Satari this morning.    She will be my home off and on for the next couple of months.  The fact that I have a seat on the bus is a good thing.  The truck is really amazing when you think about where it is going and what it will be doing over the next few months..  I will enjoy the beaches of Goa over the next few days,  provided I get back from dinner in one piece.  

An Afternoon in Bombay

It's been awhile since I have experienced the sights, sounds, and smells of the Far East.  Strangely, not much has changed.  The continuous honking of horns, complete chaos of traffic, unfamiliar foods, and of course.....no hot water.   Still with all it's uncertainties you have to love the place.

Bombay as I am going to call it, is a sprawling mass of humanity on the Eastern side of India.  This will be my jumping off point for Goa on Tuesday by train.  I already have to change hotels because the Maderas Cricket Team is refusing to give up their rooms.  What is cricket anyway?   And so it goes.

Today I strolled the chaos looking for some food and drink and ended up with both.  The Leopold Cafe has been around since 1871.  I'm sure it was the happening place back then when British aristocrats ambled in looking for pems and ale.  Today it's a distance from that splendor but still a fun place to have some fabulous vindaloo and a big bottle of Kingfisher beer.  I would suggest the table in the back that faces the open door.  The street view will never disappoint in India.

As I walked back to my hotel I was always on the lookout for a good burger place....The beef is around but the buns are harder to find.   

Ashes to Ashes

The smell of the carnage after a big fire is unique.  It immediately hit me when I got back near the place.  My nose and senses learned it many years ago as young paramedic.  Unfortunately, then there were other, more terrible smells to add to the process.  No one injured this time but a lot of things black.

My question is this.....any amateur looters out there on my facebook.  You know who you are?  What in the hell is in this photo that you would want to sneak around in the dark and steal?  I just don't get it.  I guess that begs another question.  If you don't want it anyway and someone sneaks in and takes it without permission, is that stealing?  Anyone able to shed any light on the subject let me know.  If anyone is in need of burned tin....I have a source.

What gets me even more than that is the sight of what I took in the back of my truck and what was left.  I'm going to do some serious evaluating on the material side of my life starting now.  I'm not sure I'm ready to do another downsize right now but some of the things I had always considered valuable will be given away to someone who is more oriented to take care of them.  So if you get a package from me in the near future...don't be afraid.  If you don't,  consider yourself even luckier.  I have some strange things.  And NO, I'm keeping the Vacuum.

The Night the Mountain Burned

It was just shy of 3:15 AM on Saturday morning when I heard the car alarm though the open window.  The Villa is usually a very quiet place so any strange noises get your attention.  A short time later I was startled by someone banging hard on my front door.  No yelling or screaming just a hard solid banging. As a good Texan would do, I got my gun and prepared to meet some strange intruder.   What I saw out the window took my breath away.  A wall of flames rising high above the narrow row of buildings in front of me.  Then I heard my neighbor calming shouting that the mountain was on fire.   My first thought, "NO SHIT".

What happened next was a strange series of thought processes that I will never forget.  After I managed to get some clothes on and realized that I had a minute or two before the Villa was gone, I started looking around for things to save.   What do you save?  You can't even come close to getting it all.  So what do you take?  I hopped around on one foot then another and couldn't decide on anything.  There were all kinds of things of value.  I just couldn't figure out what to get.  I picked up a guitar (which I don't really play), and the vacuum cleaner.  Now don't get me wrong....it's a good vacuum cleaner but as a few of you might know about me....I don't like to vacuum.  In fact I would have burned the vacuum myself if given half a chance , but was it really the most important object I owned?  The crazy thing is that I put it down and picked it up several times over the next 3 minutes.  In the end I left the vacuum and took the guitar, some masks, an empty camera case, and my dirty clothes.  You know, all the most important things in ones life.  That was all that I was allowed to get as the police forced everyone to evacuate.  Flames were more than 30 feet in the air just a few yards from the Villa.  It was time to say goodbye.

Most of the early morning I was sitting with the crowd and watching the fire.  More and more mutual aid fire support came in from surrounding cities and slowly the progress of the fire was slowed.  Somehow the Villa had a chance.  It all hinged on one large building across the street from the Villa.  No wind, wet weather and some good fire work managed to keep the other building from going and in the end the Villa was saved.   Not everyone would be so lucky.

A few more thoughts on this later.  These are a few pictures from my porch

Ernest And Me

The Plaza del Castillo is a bustling place during the Festival of San Fermin.  Most are not familiar with San Fermin but know the fiesta as “Running the Bulls in Pamplona”.  There are many bull runs in the world but none compare to Pamplona  for it’s pageantry and mystic.   The tales of Pamplona have been chronicled for years in Stories of courage, risk, and bravado.  None compare to Hemingway’s account of the fiesta in the Sun Also Rises.  Hemingway became an iconic part of San Fermin many years ago.  Today his books and likeness are spread all over the central city in Pamplona.  What would this kind of party be without a look a like contest.  

My encounter with the Ernesto came on a lazy Wednesday afternoon on the Plaza.  People had slowed from the Adrenaline packed morning of the run.  Even the fluffed up details of the near death runs had died down in the warm Spanish sun.  I first noticed a group of men all resembling Ernest standing near a table filled with Tapas and wine.  Some looked more like Papa than others but all were a pretty decent likeness of the man.  Little did I know the contest had just ended and the winner had been crowned.  

Securing a choice table near the Bar Txoko I was well into my third Kaiku, a strange vanilla and cognac mixture,  when Gian Paolo Bonomi strolled by accompanied by another Hemingway clone.  The conversation was still hot from the earlier competition when he noticed that I had raised my camera.  Not missing a beat he turned repositioned his scarf and smiled for the photo.  A mutual smile and nod and Ernest was gone.  An hour or so later the mysterious Ernest wandered by again only this time alone.  I caught his eye and motioned him over.  A drink was in order as it turned out for the number two Hemingway in Pamplona that day.  Gian Paolo was a travel writer who was in Pamplona for the second time.  He had traveled all over the world taking photos and jotting down notes about extraordinary places.  Pamplona would be a great entry he said to me in broken English.   There really is no joy more intense than sitting with a new friend in a beautiful place trying to overcome a language barrier with laughs and smiles and strange hand  gestures that no one ever understands.  Gian Paolo and traded cards and it was only then as he looked at the card I gave him that he realized that I was somewhat in the family of wandering adventurers.  Gian Paolo’s card was one your grandfather would have made on the new “Desk Top” he got for Christmas.  It had a sincere quality to it that was hard to match.  Simply a man who loved to travel and wanted to tell his Italian friends about it and maybe the world if it would listen.

Over the last couple of years, I have asked Gian Paolo many questions about romantic places in Italy.  What makes the best pasta?  Favorite travel destinations.  His responses always begin with, “well, it depends”.   After that he has always come up with some unique locations that were worth the effort.   Gian Paolos website can be reached at www.gianpaolobonomi.it  There used to be English there also but now I’m not sure so enjoy the puzzle of Italian. 

Adventure Prep

Getting a Visa always seems to be a pain in the ass.  No matter how pretty the application looks it still has it's bugs.  So, this trip I decided to go to Houston and say hello in person.  The Consulate in Houston reminded me of some sort of Alfred Hitchcock movie.  One big room with 4 desks by the window and millions of chairs.  Of course at 9:15 AM  there was no one at the desks.  The place opened at 9:00 AM.  There were however lot's of people sitting in the rows of chairs.  It sort of looked like the DMV office but without any number system or sign in.  I was lucky.  Somehow I managed to get a front row seat and when the crew came in I rushed the desks.  My handler was a wonderful American woman.  The only one and certainly the only one smiling.  She helped me with my screwed up application and sent me off to UPS, OFFICE DEPOT twice, and the ATM before the "place got crazy" as she put it.  Imagine 100 people trying to keep calm and orderly when the next agent yelled, "next person please".  No sign in and no number system", did I mention that.

So, this trip is going to be a long one.  Two months driving in an expedition truck the circumference of India up to Nepal.  Some camping and lot's of off the beaten path places along the way.  I am loaded with camera stuff so not much room for anything else.  A change of underwear....socks....some Immodium....and duct tape.  That should do it.  If the Visa ever comes that is.

The most remote Oasis in Texas

The Tub

Campsite View

Alone in Paradise

It occurred to me on the crazy drive to Chinati Hot Springs that this has to be the most remote guest accommodations in Texas.  I think I was right and I will do it again as soon as I can get back to that beautiful quiet expanse of West Texas.  The hot springs have been soothing visitors for hundreds of years.  In modern times it has been the Kingston Hot Springs, Ruidosa Hot Springs and now Chinati Hot Springs.  The current name is the backdrop for the lodge and on the other side, the famous Mitchell flats where one goes to see the Marfa lights  

Having roamed around the region for many years I was amazed at what I have been missing.  It was Ed who was sitting on the porch of the Terlingua Trading Post who said it was a must see destination.  With firm advice from a beer swilling nearly local it was put on the agenda.  

Chinati has seven cabins that are well appointed and very clean.  Two of the separate cabins have their own hot tubs.  One with an inside tub and the other with an outside tub that has a huge view of the sky.  There are also two bathhouses that provide showers and private tubs to the other cabins.  There is nothing like some privacy on a cool desert night with a sky that is on fire with stars.  They also offer some primitive camping that is close to the cook cabin.  The cook cabin is a super cool place with all you would ever need to make a gourmet meal in the wilderness.  Two huge fridges eliminate the need for ice and there is every pot and pan ever made along with stoves and coffee.  It’s a cook as go type place so don’t forget the groceries. after a home cooked meal it’s time for a soak.  The community hot tub is under some trees at the base of the spings and while I don’t think the water is 109 as the brochure tells you, it’s a welcome and wonderful mineral bath under the broad Texas sky.  

The busy season is late September to April and the cabins fill up quick during those times.  They max at 20 people which is awesome for the quiet little place.  They also have a cold pool with a ridiculous view of the sunset if you there in the hot.  Rooms are from 90.00 to 137.00 and camping with the outside shower and tub rights are 20.00 a person.  To get there you have to work at it.  From Terlingua it’s about 110 miles on the river road FM 170.  If you come from the North and the Marfa direction you have a chance to take a FM 2810 through Pinto Canyon.  It’s about 53 miles and will take a couple of hours plus.  High Clearance and 4 WD is the way to go but we saw a few folks get through in a 1994 Yugo or something so it just depends on the road conditions.  It’s worth the time.  Bring some La Crema and a lawn chair so you can take a break.  Very sweet.   You can get there from Presidio it’s about 37 miles with about 7 of those on the dirt.  

Chinati Hot Springs will not disappoint you if love quiet and solitude.  “It’s hot water and quiet we sell”, so says the managers Dan and Diane.  Let me know what you think? 

Chinati Hot Springs
Box 67, Candelaria Route
Marfa, Texas  79843

(432) 229-4165

info@chinatihotsprings.net

The Rape of Lajitas

It isn’t often that I post an entry that touches home with me in a disgusted negative way.  Please accept my apology for this one.  The town of Lajitas lies about 17 miles west of Terlingua on the river road.  The only reason the town came into being is because of the old Lajitas trading post.  It was the center of commerce next to the river for a hundred years serving the locals on both sides of the river.   If you have ever bought Clay Henry the beer drinking goat a cold one you know how special the old adobe building really was.  I have spent a few cold night around the fire outside listening to cowboys who have come in for a couple of cold beers, play a guitar and sing range songs.  It was just one of those places.  

And now?  I am aware that development is in the same box with death and taxes.  It’s inevitable.  But I will also maintain that development must always embrace and respect the past.  What happened to the old Lajitas trading post is criminal.  A ritzy development company purchased the surrounding property and the trading post for a hotel/golf course development.  I have nothing against golf.  I have even chilly dipped a few divots myself but there is a responsible way to do things.  The Black Jack Crossing golf development decided the old Lajitas trading post was a better golf cart barn and halfway house than what it always used to be which was the historic cement that held a region together.   No more interaction from two nations, no more Clay Henry, no more songs around a warm fire.  All destroyed by greed.  In my view it makes the situation worse that they left part of the building and had the nerve to put an historic marker on it.  Right next to the EZ GO 300 battery power hook up cables.  

There has to be a give and take with nature and history.  The needs of the many have to be balanced with the needs of the few or so says the pointy eared dude in Star Trek.  It is never more true than in Lajitas.  The green of the golf course just doesn’t fit in a place meant to be wild and remote.  It never has and it never will.  It’s just my opinion and I could be wrong......but I’m not.

Viva Terlingua

Terlingua, Texas is one of those places that you really shouldn’t like except for the view and the breathtaking surroundings.  Well, Maybe that is enough.   Terlingua is old, run down and eclectic.  I have not been here in a few years and to tell you the truth it has not changed much.  It’s still the local crazy folks trying to hang on and milk the tourists out of there last few bucks.  It’s rock and sky mixed with hard purples and browns of the surrounding mountains.  

Sure I guess it’s the Chili capital of the world.  The cookoff is next on the calendar for the region on November 2 and 3rd.  Still there just isn’t much here.  Big Bend National Park just reopened from the government shut down and there were no tourists on the road.  There were plenty of park police....45 MPH in the desert?  Really.   Still there is something about bringing your beer and wine from the car and drinking it on the steps of the Terlingua Trading Post and the Starlight Theater on a perfect Friday afternoon.  Hell, it’s hard to beat a mixed six of imported beer for a ten spot in the Trading Post.   I would be willing to bet if you ever get here you would be confused and a bit off balance....but glad you came.  It’s really hard to believe you are still in Texas.

First Morning

Today was a first.  First in a long time I should say.  Rumor has it that the temperature this morning at 8:00 AM  Central Standard Time in front of the Villa on the Mountain was 59 degrees.  For some that is not a note worthy  event, but for me it was big day.  I took my cup of coffee and walked out into the deserted street and just sat in the sun with the cool breeze lapping over me.  Again, nothing earth shaking about that chain of events except that today I realized how hard is to be in the moment.  Parts of me where tugging to get up and go run, clean the truck, work on the studio, do the emails, websites, mail.....on and on.  Today I found the strength to do nothing for about 30 minutes.  Nothing at all, just sit in the sun and marvel at how amazing it is to be in the moment.  30 minutes.....was that a bunch of moments put together or is it possible to have one long moment?  I'm not sure.  Anyone want to tackle that one?  I am sure that a lot of moments make a lifetime and it's crazy how hard they are to notice as they run by.  Some of you that know me might
think that I should have mastered the art of doing nothing by now but it's really harder than it looks.  There are so many books and CD's out there about clearing your mind and being in the now.  I think most of them just confuse the issue.  You may just need a good cup of Sumatran reserve, a stable plastic chair, cool air and the sun.   Leave the rest to the universe.

It's never too late to Dance.

Anyone who has been to the Oldest Dance Hall in Texas can tell you....Gruene Hall is a special place.    You really never know who you are going to meet.  And it was just that way at the dancehall this Tuesday.   Tom Gilliam and his band were twisting up a number when up comes Betty Joe.  Betty Joe was near 80 and certainly had done some dancing before.   She was smooth, fearless, and a bundle of energy....  just reminds you that it's never to late to dance.  Whatever you choose your dance to be....

Time

Time

Just in time, times up, plenty of time, in the nick of time, and the worst of them all,  you have run out of time.  What is time really?  Ticks on a clock?  A morning alarm, roaming charges, airport flight boards, all of these I guess could be considered time.  Today I took my watch off for the second time in a very very long time...  I’m a bit off balance because I only know that the day is ending by the fading sun.  An average man has about 685,000 hours of time.  Yes ladies, us men know you have a bunch more.  That seems like  so long.  Can you imagine if someone told you that you were going to stay  in Mr. Maine’s detention hall for 685,000 hours? Remember how long an hour seemed? The truth is that time is slippery and fast like an otter on ice.  It flies, it dissolves, it simply falls out of your basket.  That’s not a bad thing and certainly not one that anyone can change.  Remember when the summer pasted so slowly that it seemed like it was one complete lifetime?  Now....you turn off the TV, wake up and you missed Fall.   I believe that grey hair, cranky knees, and clothes that have mysteriously shrunk in the closet are simply a wake up call.  The message is to stop screwing around and do something with your time.  Notice you time and your life.  I can’t tell you how many times someone has asked me, “what did you do last week?”  My answer, “ahhh, nothing,.....worked I guess.”   Let’s face it...time is the most valuable thing we have.  More than gold or diamonds or even the front row Stones ticket.  Crazy thing is ...it’s valued the least.  We can’t “buy more time” or “have plenty of it”  It just doesn’t work that way.

So, I would like to suggest that we all stop for one second.  Don’t ask me how many of those we have.... and just think about taking more in.  The laughter of your friends....your children....morning whoppi.... the first bit of creme brulee....evening whoppi.... you get the idea.  The watch is an evil thing on the wrong wrist.  I challenge you to make your week extraordinary and when asked that awful question....”what did you do this week?” ....have a better answer.   It’s time....

Curtains

There is a small forgotten ghost town in rural Nevada that caused a stop and "reverse".  This old gas station gave the haunting image to me that someone had watched me drive by. It was hard to shake and even harder when I went back to take this image.  They waited thankfully until I started to leave...is that a hand in the top....Bates motel my ass.....this was no movie....

Chillin with da MAN

In the quest for peace and enlightenment one must occasionally rest.  Rest relaxes the body, recharges the mind, and quiets the soul.  Choosing to rest in the shadow of "THE MAN", is even better.  Hard to believe he would go up in smoke and flames the next night.  It is like all things......one day here and the next day gone.  Just depends on the calendar you are using at the time.   So, don't be afraid to rest all of those things that are tired.  Put down the burden for awhile and put your feet up.  Chances are the thing that you have been running after will come back by.....

What makes you Jump?

Jumping is one of those things that seem to fade out with age.  I am thinking that occurs not because of the jump itself but mainly the landing.  Even that should be moderated because we can't launch ourselves nearly as high as we could in college.  I mean a 42 inch vertical leap requires some technique on the return to earth.  At my age I'm trying to figure out why a 6 inch jump hurts so much?  Anyone want to tackle that one?  Yes I know I have added a few stones here and there but that should only make my legs and knees stronger which would aid in the landing.....  right?  It sort of balances itself out or so it seems in my illogical mind.  Here is a toast to the jumpers in the world.  You are the few who will see the world differently if only for a brief moment.

Pharaoh and the Fire

The life of a Playa Pharaoh can be tough. One day you are cruising with the Queen of Sheba and the next night you are pulling out the stereo and thinking you should have paid more attention when your friends wired up the stereo in high school.  All in all, there is nothing like cruising the playa in the boat during Burning Man.  This is a photo of the boat during a camp stop to refuel La Crema and watch the regional pieces burn last week.  It was taken on top of Camp Fiasco and shows just a small amount of the fire in Black Rock City that night.  The fun part came in a campground in Eastern Nevada where the boat itself came under the fire....no playa pharaoh next year.  JRL you better get your design cap out.

50 is the Loneliest Number

Central Nevada is one place where the pace and trappings of the modern life are far and few between.  People who live there do so for the most part I believe, because they do not want to be found.  Today on Highway 50 , "The loneliest Road" in America,  I ate lunch in Austin Nevada.  It's a town 75 miles from anywhere high in the mountains.  Actually, I have through this place before and there was a street dance going on..... imagine the radical self expression of a street dance on the loneliest road in America.  Today was lunch at the Independence Cafe with a server who thumb gouged every piece of silverware she put down and laughed  out loud when she set a table and cried when she put food down.  To top it off she had covered her head in what appeared to be a table cloth.... Muslim do you think?

After running to leave the "Bates Motel" town,  I ended up some hours later in Middlegate.  An old stagecoach stop in the middle of nowhere on the loneliest highway in America.   Gas was more expensive than La Crema but the place was not short on character and perspective.  So, as the lessons of the road teach you...never miss a gas station and pay close attention to where the locals go.....  It may be the only choice.   Heading in to Black Rock City in the morning.  It really does feel like going home.   Enjoy your week.  I will be writing each day but not posting until I break for my other home.  I wish you well.

Coming Home

I'm sitting right now by a fire in Cathedral Gorge State Park in Southeastern Nevada.  The park is a gallery of God's sandstone art given to man for a few years.  The rain has made for some amazing blue skies and deep contrasts of color.  I have been off the grid for a few days trying to see Monument Valley in Arizona, Utah, Arizona, Utah..... on and on. It's all Navaho land so not so easy to see really.  I guess they have some reasons for what they do.    Sitting in a cafe in the only place to stay within a million miles, I was the only one speaking English.   The area is overrun with people from different countries coming to see our national treasures.  It actually made me proud.  I would have hated to have to explain how to eat a cheeseburger but there was a sense of pride to know what we have in our country things of beauty and spirit that people from other storied cultures would travel around the world to see.  Tomorrow deep dark Nevada and the Extraterrestrial highway.  Hope to send the trip a little more in the coming days before the Playa blackout.  

My photo of the day came to me as I was stopped on the awful rutted track in Monument Valley.  I noticed the tracks of vehicles before me, in the rare soft sand and thought about how we all travel somewhere and it's not the track that we take.....it's only that we travel and get to where we want to be.  

take the step....

Miles

Trailer Trash meets Burning man.

It's amazing how much work goes into having the time of your life.  I am so exhausted from lifting, pushing, pulling, stuffing, twisting, stacking, boxing, bungeing (my word). taping, and begging, shit into the Rat I am in a pre-trip coma.  The adventure starts early tomorrow which is a little early and a little late?  Now the next few hundred miles will be constant worry and anxiety centered around things falling off, breaking, splitting, blowing, and generally messing up.  After the honeymoon is over with the Rat, I hope to settle in with my ride and explore the Utah desert and do some images of Monument and other out of the way "gems of heaven".   It will be a long road trip but I am going to enjoy my company and time on the road.   Stay tuned for posts and photos every 100 miles of the adventure.  I hope to see a few moonflowers along the way.....  one step at a time my friends....one step at a time.

Late night

some times the most clear moments in a life come late at night when all things should be done.  A piece of history, or a close warm feeling make a difference.  Our pieces of life truly do make our life, but we can never forget that we are, "only bit players in everyone's life but our own".   so,... enjoy your children, your parents, your friends, but know....... your life is yours .....and no one else's........

Halfway

I have always used a walk to clear my head and try to put the chores of living in perspective.  As a child it was the city lake across the street from my house in Mesquite.  In college it was a footpath out behind the stadium.   My years in Austin brought me to

the hike and bike trail and the Lost Creek golf course at night.  Singapore was the botanical gardens and Denver was the park by the Red Lobster on wadsworth.  Now it's the park in Canton.  I never even knew it existed until a friend told me about it.  It was a very important gift.  The great thing about is park is that is has a nature trail.  This pier is the halfway point of the loop.  For months I have gone this way and to date have only seen one person on it.  Every morning I stop there and do some stretching and thinking.  Today I realized that I have been taking this small piece of my life for granted.  The solitude and quiet of this little piece of my world is magic and I am lucky to have it.  So, today your homework is to come up with one place or thing that is magic for you and spend a few minutes pinching yourself about how lucky you are.  We all have them so no excuses.  Take nothing for granted.....

Flipping out on the Island

It's flipping me out to leave the Bay Islands. Last morning on the Roatan and I'm kind of sad to leave.  The weather is wonderful and I will miss the relative cool of this place.   Tomorrow it's back to the world of rushing, stress, and the grab all you can mentality.    I am going to do my best to refocus my attention on what makes me happy and things and people that SHOULD be in my life.

NOW FOR THE RESULTS:  Thanks to all who participated in the "Do you know my color of chair contest".  Even those of you that were woefully wrong.  Many however were correct, the answer RED.
The first correct answer was received from LAC in S'port.  Congratulations on winning the stunning first prize brought to you by the Island of Roatan and the Honduran Government.   Cage not included.

Tropical Exit

I had a wonderful night dive last night and even survived the trip back to dock. Boat lights are not a standard feature in West Bay so missing the shallow reef tops and other lightless boats in the sea of darkness is a little dicy.   A wonderful turquoise octopus entertained me for a few minutes last night and was the start of my video.  A deep dive this morning has finished off the diving and tomorrow it's back to the mess.  The rest of the time I am going to spend in one of these four chairs.....anyone know enough about me to guess which one?  Sorry only one entry per person.  All applicable rules and taxes apply....

The Tropic of Chardonnay

Civilization is measured in the finer points of living.  A sound roof over your head, infant mortality, clean water, the absence of violence..... and of course the selection of premium white wine.  In the case of Honduras....a dry Chardonnay.  Just about any country can have a decent red but a Chard?  Simply a test of sophistication.   The Vintage Pearl was the oasis in the desert so to speak.  Some sushi, a very good Creme Brulee, and of course Sonoma Coast Chardonnay.  It was not La Crema at the Forge but still along the same "oasis" thinking.   So Roatan will go down in my book as a place that can be lived in...  

Going, Going, Gone

Living out in the piney woods you forget what a wonderful sight a sunset is.  There are just too many damn trees.  Today was a most perfect sunset down here in the Bay Islands.  A comfortable chair, good drink, and a bite of quiet makes a fitting ending to the day.  No diving today.  Just some thinking and writing mixed with some peaceful time.  I wonder why it seems so impossible to do that when I'm back in my world.  I'm going to vow to do better at that.  Remember, never miss the sunset....

Turtle time

There are very few things that are as calming and graceful as a sea turtle.  Ernie, my dear Honduran friend and I had a moment together on the West End Wall today.  I'm not sure it was as nice for him as it was for me.  I told him about my troubles, finding peace, money, relationships, and finding a good chardonnay in Central America.  He nodded or so I thought and was off on his way.  It's funny how some times it's just soothing to talk to a friend even though they don't say anything back...just being able to tell your story is enough.   Ernie....wherever you are now.... swim slow and light and make sure you are looking for the thing or lifeform you should be with.....

Taxi, Taxi, Taxi

What do you think the life of a water taxi driver would be like?   I'm thinking pretty calm.  Slowly gliding up and down the coast providing a valued service to the community.  That doesn't sound too bad.  Anyone know how many miles you can get out of a ten gallon can and a 100 horse evinrude?  I would think the biggest question would be...can you make change?   I am also scoping out the security job at the local Bananarama.  My one concern is that the 60 foot stretch of sand I would be patrolling would become a little boring in time.  Still you get to wear a cool duty belt with all kinds of pouches and stuff.  No gun of course but you can put all kinds of things in the holster.   Right now, I guess I am leaning hard on the "Polaroid instant photo" beach photographer.    I mean that is instant gratification for the masses.  Still not sure but will keep looking.

Congrats to JRL for winning the "name that phrase" contest.  I knew someone would know.    The answer....The LAST Whole Earth Catalog.

Roatan Down Under

Sea life is abundant under the turquoise water here on the West Bay.  The bright sun is mixed with short heavy rains that come and go.  That makes for some good down time whether you want it or not.  Now I'm sitting in a bright green chair on the dock watching a big storm sprint across the horizon. It's a chill morning for me with some diving planned in the afternoon.  Not a bad way to spend a day, listening to the parrots in the trees outside the window and day dreaming.  "Stay hungry, stay foolish".  Anyone remember where that came from?  let me know and you could be a winner.....

Bubbles

I got this crazy little go pro camera months ago and never did much with it.  Holy Mackeral this thing is cool.  Still don't know how to use it but it's fun.  I'm going to do a few videos from the deep over the next couple of days so prepare yourselves.    I am just now getting into that island mode where you don't go to bed thinking about what you will have to do when you get back.  It's a nice thing when you can forget and relax.  Last night a long walk on the beach in a near full moon but some things in the oven for thought.  I also battled a very game sand crab in dark on the way back.  I will consider it a draw but he may think different.

More diving today to a deep wreck.  Love those wrecks and the stories they hold.  Speaking of stories, Captain Vern the ferry boat owner was murdered, so no ferry to Utila.  I little bummed by that but I'm sure not as much as Capt. Vern.

Paradise Found

Every time I leave the US for a while I start thinking about the pace and cadence of our lives and why we do what we do.  That is especially true when my travels take me to the tropics.  It's slower, people talk and laugh more.  You really have to look to see stress.  Most of the time you only see it in yourself when you look in the mirror as you brush your teeth.  It doesn't seem like a bad place to live really.  The place is the Bay Islands of Honduras.   The West Bay of Roatan is secluded and quiet with some of the best close diving in the Western hemisphere.  This morning Turtle Reef did not disappoint.  A hammock, some good rum, and quiet.  It's a great place to check your compass and recharge life.  I certainly need it.  Slow down, live in the moment,  don't let life force you in a direction you don't want to go.  

The Master

Every once in awhile you stumble upon a guy that is so good at what he does that it truly causes the world to blur around him.  Philippe Faraut is one of those people.  It's stunning to see his hands touch a piece of clay.  Small motions and movements suddenly create something of beauty.  I think that is what blows me away.  The differences between mediocre and genius is not always in the details.  I guess you could call it the simple genius.  Take a look at his work on the net if you get a chance.  I have to go practice.....