thoughtsandcrosses

the post backdating post...

2012-01-25T14:43:00.001Z

So I decided to keep a photo blog of my 2012. A simple idea, influenced by some friends in America. I post one photo for every day of the year. It being a leap year, there are to be 366 days of 2012. I decided to stray from blogspot and use tumblr for a very simple reason, I like their 'archive' function. This shows all photos together as small thumbnails, and I simply like the aesthetics of it. I also like the way it can be chronologically ordered. BUT. What if I don't get to post my photos for a few days, and then post a few in one go? Simple, using tumblr I can post backdate my photos, so they show the correct date they were taken, and not the date I uploaded them. And this has been working nicely for me so far in January. BUT. It stopped allowing me to do it two days ago?! A little confused, I sent the tumblr help centre a little email about my confused state of mind. They responded as follows:

The post backdating feature was used by a very small percentage of users but placed significant demands on Tumblr's infrastructure. So, that feature has been removed. Our apologies for any inconvenience this causes.
kevin o

Hmm, OK. Not a lot I can do, but I found it rather strange that in this world of options, and technology, and blah blah insert technical jargon here blah blah, they were taking away on option that some of their users have applied to their blogs. So I wrote back to them, pointing out that the tumblr website claims to allow me, the user, to "customize everything, from colors, to your theme's HTML".

This was their response:

Hi, Dave. The post backdating feature was used by a very small percentage of users but placed significant demands on Tumblr's infrastructure. So, that feature has been removed. Our apologies for any inconvenience this causes.
Marc

I have since replied again to them, pointing out that they had simply cut and pasted a generic response to me. They haven't written back to me.

Here's what the archive looks like. And you'll notice that I now have two Jan 23rd entries, a Jan 25th entry, and no Jan 22nd or 24th.

http://366daysof2012.tumblr.com/archive

It's only aesthetics, but the world of art, photography, and blogging, is often about the aesthetics. Perhaps I shall rename my blog '366 not quite properly chronological days of 2012'.

My way or the Saxon Shore Way...

2011-10-01T11:04:00.005+01:00

I consider myself extremely lucky to have witnessed some of the landscapes that accompanied my foreign travels, but yesterday proved you don't always have to stray far from home to see such beauty. Taking a train from London to Hastings I set off on the 17km walk to Winchelsea, taking in the cliff top walk before heading inland to follow the Royal Military Canal path, through farmer's fields and finally up into Winchelsea. Here are a few photos to give a taster of what the day was like...

a full set of photos can be viewed here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150400067050350.413351.703880349&l=1f3e653b38&type=1

A Dave's Eye View - Monte Coglians Wins.

2011-08-25T13:05:00.001+01:00

Bridge over troubled water...

2011-08-13T00:28:00.003+01:00

View from Embankement Bridge looking east, Thursday August 11th 2011, 17:05.

Panic on the streets of London...

2011-08-10T13:00:00.005+01:00

What the hell has happened in London over the past few nights? Huh? Following the death of a suspect at the hands of the Police last thursday, a peaceful protest outside a police station in North East London descended into chaos and violence as cars were trashed, shops looted and buildings burnt to the ground. This then continued further afield on Saturday, Sunday,Monday and Tuesday evenings, and onto other cities such as Liverpool, Birmingham and Manchester.

But what does it all mean?

I have read so many differing opinions and analyses on the meaning of it all, the backdrop to it, the possible causes and consequences. And the problem as I see it is this. Everyone is correct. Those who argue one extreme, that it is just a bunch of lawless, violent, good for nothing scum, intent on causing damage just for the sake of causing damage, and doing so because they've witnessed others doing it, well, they're right. That certainly describes some of these people. And those who argue another extreme, that these are the disaffected youth of generations of teens and adults that have been let down by the government and local authorities who are simply venting their frustrations and angers in the only way they know, well, that's correct too. And if you then take these two extremes, add in all the people who come somewhere in between, that's a lot of people. Certainly too many people for the police to adequately cope with in the last few evenings.

Others have argued over the lack of police and fire departments to deal with the events, but I would argue back that you cannot expect a police force or fire brigade to be constantly prepared for what has happened. The police have been stretched to their extreme the past few nights. I have also seen a thread on a website message board where a number of people had verbally attacked a journalist who had taken photo's in Croyden during the chaos, saying he should stay out of the area, and questioned his qualifications and were quite threatening towards him. Below is my response to that thread:

This is the single most ridiculous thread ever.

I personally no not feel the need to criticise ******, because I believe in FREEDOM OF SPEECH. I will only criticise someone if they are putting the safety of others at risk. So far, the rioters have put at risk the lives of the public, shop keepers, business owners, the police, fire and ambulance services, and themselves. In a perfect world everyone would stay at home and out of the way, but in our modern world of mobile phones and social networking, the line between professional and amateur journalism is faded. All some of you are doing is creating a pointless thread of claims and counter claims that help no one.

On the one hand, journalism of these events is simply fuelling the fire (no pun intended) of the young people attacking our streets, who are witnessing the scenes in one area and copying them elsewhere. However, there are certain people who seem to think that London and other cities have only experienced a few ‘skirmishes’ and what is all the fuss about, therefore the pictures and reports are making the severity of the events clear for all to see. Both the amateur and professional footage is also being used to identify the many looters, thieves and thugs. Anyone who has read a paper, watched the news or listened to the radio has in some way consumed a form of professional or amateur journalism.

If ****** or anyone else wishes to report on anything, that is THEIR CHOICE, and if you want to stay at home and out of the way, that is YOUR CHOICE, and if you want to pick up a broom and help clear up the mess, YOU CHOOSE TO. If ****** asks people to join him, they have the choice to say ‘no’, or ‘yes’. But for you to then question his qualifications and motives, call him stupid, and generally create a negative and accusatory thread, is almost as morally wrong as the thugs who think they’re right to attack hard working individuals. This might sound crass, but what right do we have to verbally attack him, just as I question the right that these thugs have to physically attack our streets. Don’t criticise others for doing what they choose. Shall we ask all war correspondents to come home? Shall we ask all journalists in dangerous African countries to come home?

The events of the past few days are extremely fluid and there are no clear answers, I just pray that these people see sense soon and realise that this violence will solve nothing in the short term whilst only dialogue, discussion and debate will help in the long term.

All in all, I've no idea where things will go next. Once the mayhem calms down, which I imagine it will in a few days time, what do these 'protesters' expect to happen? There will be no sudden change in policies, or legislation, but there will be thousands of businesses and people affected for the foreseeable future. These people are destroying their own neighborhoods. Their own city. My city. And this saddens me greatly.

People smash up London

People clean up London

Into the unknown...

2011-07-25T02:52:00.010+01:00

I seen to have had no words of late. Whilst my travels brought about blog after blog after blog, my time in London has ceased that trend. Somewhat like a kinetic energy that powers a lightbulb, it appears my travels powered my words, and now that I have been static for 3 months, no words have come forth. Well, very few at least. One thing is for sure, I haven't stopped thinking about my time away. In fact, recently I've been analysing it from a somewhat different perspective. That of someone who has been home a few months now, looking back to a time that is still relatively recent, and yet seems so far away. I've come to realise that I feel spiritually very different to before I left. I know, that sounds terribly wanky and pretentious. I'm wincing now looking back at it. Spiritually. What does that mean? I'm not sure I even know. I feel I see everyone in a different light. Us. People. Humans. Mankind. The World. Society. The Human Race. Animals. Because ultimately, we're all animals. We just happen to be the most intelligent of the animals. At our peak, we create the most amazing things. We invent things. We design things. We write the most wonderful words. Create the most wonderful art. Produce fantastic films. Direct amazing plays. Write the most beautiful music. But at our most primal, we kill. We rape. We hurt others. We hurt ourselves. We do the most savage of things, but with a knowledge and intelligence that other animals don't have. Other animals kill to survive. We kill to make a point. To feel powerful. To control others.

I've just finished reading the booking Touching the Void, and subsequently watched the film. In short, and without giving too much away, it's the story of two English mountaineers, Joe Simpson & Simon Yates, attempting to climb the Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes. Their disastrous descent nearly (and probably should have) killed them. It focuses around Simpson's fall in which he breaks a leg, and then Yates' attempt to lower him down the ice cliff using 300 feet of rope, then climbing down the 300 feet himself, and continuing the process. They're both descending into the unknown. No idea what is below them, trying to save themselves. Yates ends up lowering his partner off the cliff edge, into nothingness, leaving him hanging there. I won't say anymore incase you want to read the book or watch the film. So why am I telling you this? Because I feel a bit like that right now. Only I play both roles. I'm lowering myself, down into the unknown. Into the abyss. Over the edge. Only if I fall off, I take myself with me. And if I drop myself, I take myself with me. And if I cut the rope, it's me who falls.

And if this was a film, this is the point the camera would zoom out, leaving you in suspense, waiting to see what happens next...

My story...

2011-06-27T11:31:00.006+01:00

Everyone has their story. And no one story is more important than the other, but every story is as relevant as any other. Back in the 'old days' people didn't talk about Cancer. It was a very hush hush subject. The nearest anyone got to mentioning it was 'The Big C' and even then many didn't quite understand what that meant. It can appear to be the most random of afflictions, and in truth, it is. The healthiest of people can wake up one day with it, whilst those that drink and smoke all their lives can lead a good life into their 90's. Most people will somehow have been affected, directly or directly. Most directly, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer a number of years ago, and thanks to an early diagnosis and a speedy intervention by doctors, he was operated on and has had no relapse some 10 years down the line. Some years ago we lost a very good friend of the family, who was a wife and a mother, after a number of years battling the disease, and two of my good friends have been deeply affected, one losing her father 25 years ago, and another still caring for her father who has been unwell for a number of years. Most recently another very close friend of the family, and also my driving instructor, has been diagnosed with cancer and is currently very seriously ill. Although still in the early stages of diagnosis and prognosis, it was just a few weeks ago he was still teaching people to drive, just as he did me, and now he is seriously ill in hospital, unable to move due to a debilitating tumour on his back.

It was for all these reasons, and the knowledge that there are thousands others out there with similar stories, that I chose to do the London Bikeathon in aid of Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. So yesterday I completed a total of 41.4 miles in 4 hours and 45 minutes (7.7 miles from my home to the course, a 26 mile course from Battersea Power Station to Richmond Park and back, and then 7.7 miles back home). And as I struggled through the searing heat of the hottest day of the year, I thought about my dad 10 years ago, I thought about Rose, I thought about my friend's fathers, and I thought about Chris. My ride is dedicated to those who have lost their lives, those that sadly will lose their lives, the family and friends of those affected, and all those who are working had to find a cure.

If you would like to donate please visit http://www.justgiving.com/centuryofsponsors/

or click the 'donate' button below:

Leaving home...

Crossing north to south...

The start of the 26 miles course...

The cause...

The street...

Approaching Hammersmith bridge...

Richmond park...

Oh deer...

Lunch...

Half time near Ham House...

Putney...

The end (of the 26 mile bit)...

Battersea Power Station...

Hyde Park on the way home...

Back home...

this is a low, but it won't hurt you...

2011-05-27T01:28:00.006+01:00

For the first time since I've been back, I hit a strange wall of depression last night. OK, so nothing suicidal, and if we get technical about it, it's not depression, there's nothing clinically wrong. So let's call it a low. I can give no reason why it happened, but as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I was transported back to my time away. In particular, I was taken back to Flagstaff in Arizona. It was quite a strange experience. As I lay in bed, with my eyes closed, desperately trying to sleep, I suddenly felt like I was no longer here, in Cricklewood, in my bed at home. Instead I was back in America in the front room of Scott's house, on the pull out sofa bed, wearing my long johns and two t-shirts to combat the bitterly cold weather outside. I recalled arriving in Flagstaff, and finding Scott's house. Within minutes of entering his home, I myself, felt at home. There was something about Scott and where he lived that I felt immediately comfortable with. I met his house mate, Felicia, and in the coming days, a friend of hers, Michelle, both of whom I got on with extremely well. And I mustn't forget Tobin, the dog, possibly the friendliest dog of all time.

It was during this almost out of body experience and recollection that I felt the sudden low.

Of all the wonderful amazing places I stayed during my six months, Flagstaff continually sticks out as feeling like a home away from home. During my stay there I visited the Grand Canyon, I went on a brief cross country ski, I visited the Snowbowl mountain, Walnut Canyon, the Wupatki National Monument, Sunset & Lenox Crater, made and ate Sushi, played countless Yahtzi, watched films, learned about new music, and basically didn't ever want to leave. It also followed my amazing Christmas on a ranch in Chino Valley and was followed by my trip through Vegas and Death Valley.

Six months later, I remember my time there as clearly as if it was yesterday. So much so that I'm randomly transported there at 1 in the morning. And the irony is I feel low because I'm recalling the best 6 months of my life where I met some of the greatest people I've ever met. It's not even a depressing low. It's almost a happy low. A happy low that recalls the high of those six months. A low that reminds you how high you can climb.

(I know this song is technically about the shipping forecast, but I liked the lyric "this is a low, but it won't hurt you...")

fate's hand...

2011-05-21T12:59:00.006+01:00

One thing I didn't blog about whilst I was away was the untimely / frustrating / depressing / complicated end to my reign as bassist in Hatcham Social. I actually wrote about 6 or so blogs about it, but every time I went to click on 'Publish Post' I held back, realising that I didn't want to air my dirty laundry for all the world to see, plus I was aware that it would be a biased point of view (my own!), that may not 100% represent the situation. So everything I wrote about it was subsequently deleted. Having left England almost detesting music and everything that goes with the music industry, I pretty much decided I would avoid the music industry when I returned, and return to just enjoying music for what it is in the confines of my bedroom, and not in a rehearsal room or a van travelling hours to a far off venue.

And so fate decided that within my first week back an amazing opportunity would rear its head. Long story short, a band that had recently relocated to London would be needing a bassist for about 6 weeks whilst their regular bass player dealt with the birth of his first child, and would involve touring Europe, the USA and Australia. I met the band and their management, was sent their album and live tracks, a load of bass tabs, I rehearsed with the bassist and on Thursday went for a full band rehearsal where we successfully went through a number of songs. However, I wasn't going to celebrate the job until I had a contract and saw some flights and working visas in my name.

And that's when fate dealt a completely different hand. On Friday I received a message from their manager stating that completely out of the blue a friend of the band from back home in Australia would actually be in London and able to cover the dates from June to August, and as he already knew their songs, he would be taking the job. I completely understand the decision as it makes complete sense for the band, but after working so hard for 2 weeks learning their songs, it came as a bit of a blow.

So on Monday I start the search again for employment. And I've put my bass amp back in the garage. Let's see what cards are dealt next...

this is England...

2011-05-20T11:04:00.001+01:00

One thing I know I did do was a trip up north to visit some friends, and take in a 20+ mile bike ride. The chosen date was April 29th. Not that I have anything against the Royals, or Will & Kate, I just didn't fancy being a part of the hoohah surrounding their wedding, so when Stef & Ryan suggested we go biking in Derbyshire, I thought it was a great idea. I got a train up to Manchester and we drove out to Derbyshire where Ryan had kindly brought along his dad's bike for me to ride. About midday we stopped for a break in a small quarry, and Ryan quite ingeniously took out a small cooler bag with 3 beers in it. We reckoned it was about the time Will & Kate were probably exchanging vows, so we raised a toast to the happy couple. The 23 mile bike ride took in some wonderful scenery following a disused railway track, and we stopped in a small village for lunch, and a pint. After so much outdoor venturing in far off countries, it was great be doing the same back home. If you're able to, take a close look at the final photo, in particular the top of the hill. This Is England...

time takes no prisoners...

2011-05-19T20:11:00.004+01:00

What has happened to the past 35 days?

The previous 177 days I can account for, I was travelling from place to place on the most extraordinary 6 months of my life, but I returned home on Friday April 15th, and now it's Friday May 20th. I'll tell you what's happened to it. London happened. I'd forgotten how all consuming London can be. It takes time and crushes it into a small medium by which we live, and before you know it 35 days have passed and you don't quite know how. It's been great being back, catching up with friends, re-visiting my favourite parts of London, seeing family again, and where possible, getting involved in the couchsurfing scene here. Living back at home, I haven't hosted anyone, but I've been a to a few events and met numerous foreigners, either travelling through or living in London. It's been a great way to put something back into the community that served me so well for 6 months. But I haven't really had time to reflect on those 6 months, until the past couple of days. I finally put up the maps of my journey up on my wall, stood back, and just looked at them. I've also been sifting through the thousands of photos I took, and strangely feel quite disconnected to the images I see. Was that really me? There? Doing that? It's a strange sensation. However, returning to London does not feel like the end of a journey I started in October 2010. No, it just feels like an interim part of my journey. I've started to dream of being somewhere else again now, and am now looking at various options to get away this year, and even into 2012. I have no specific plans, just ideas. But it was only an 'idea' in March 2010 that I'd like to travel across America. 7 months later that I began that journey.

USA Road Trip Map

New Zealand North Island Road Trip Map

New Zealand South Island Road Trip Map

twenty nine years later...

2011-04-11T08:18:00.010+01:00

1981

Everybody, meet my parents. Everybody, meet me. As a 3 month old baby. This was my first ever social engagement, at the wedding of my 2nd cousin Ruth, and Malcolm. Ruth and Malcolm then moved to Australia, settling in Perth. Twenty nine years later, their daughter Laura got married. Timing and circumstance meant I was still in Australia, and having cancelled my plan to visit Japan, I rearranged my flights to be back in Perth for that wedding, completing the most amazing circle. I can now say that I was at both the wedding of Ruth and Malcolm in 1981, and at the wedding of their daughter Laura, to Shahar, in 2011. This time round I could feed myself. And I could drink alcohol.

I first met their family at my brother's Bar Mitzvah 13 years ago, but I'll be honest, I don't really remember meeting them. Then a couple of years ago I met Ruth and Malcolm as they were visiting London, but those are the only occasions I'd met them. When I first came to Perth 4 weeks ago I arranged to visit them, and ended up staying for a couple of days, and felt very much at home with them. I very quickly found that I wasn't just accepting them as relatives who I didn't really know, but I also very much enjoyed their company, and were great fun to be around. Having departed Perth to visit Melbourne, Hobart and Sydney, on Thursday I returned to Perth. By sheer coincidence, I also have other contacts in Perth. From my birth and through much of my early childhood, my family were very close to our next door neighbors (not just geographically). A typical Indian family with many generations living there, there was always someone to babysit me and my brother, and we ended up installing a gate in our garden fence allowing all the children to run around from one house to the next. As a child growing up, you don’t really think about these things, you just accept it for what it is. But now that I think about it, it was a great thing to have as a child and opened my eyes to other people and other cultures. A number of the now married siblings have moved out to Perth where they are bringing up their families, and so it was that I arranged to stay with Dinesh & Asha. The last time I saw their son, Naynesh, he was about 7, running amok in our garden. Now he’s 22, giving me lifts in his car. How things can change. Anyway, I digress. Having spent a great few days with Dinesh & family, the wedding took place on Sunday. There was some concern that rain was due (a much needed first rainfall in 6 months for Perth but a poorly timed forecast for the wedding), but luckily the rain held off until later in the evening when the reception was well under way. The ceremony took place in the wonderful setting of a civic centre garden, not far from the beach. This was followed by a few photos, and then a reception and dinner at a nearby yacht club. Needless to say I had a few glasses of wine. And champagne. And ended up dancing the night away, waking up Monday morning with a bit of a headache. But that’s what you do at someone else’s wedding. Right?

2011

Going the distance...

2011-03-28T23:47:00.006+01:00

Monday 28th March 2011

I've never run a marathon, though I have once cycled the equivalent distance. It is common knowledge that when running a marathon, or similar long distances, you often reach a certain point where you hit a brick wall, believing you can continue no longer, but once you persevere through that barrier, you find yourself on the other side, and able to make it to the finishing line. That pretty much describes my last 10 days. Arriving in Perth, I had no energy, and almost no will to continue my travels. Admittedly, I did have time to rest up thanks to my great couchsurf host Selby, who didn't really mind me just chilling out in her flat, as if it was my own. Now I find myself in Melbourne, and it's fast turning into one of my favourite cities. My four days in Belgrave, up in the Dandenong Ranges, were brilliant, both for the surroundings I was staying in, and my two amazing couchsurf hosts, Rhys & Penny, who from the moment I entered their home felt like lifelong friends that I just hadn't seen in a long time. Nearly six months of couchsurfing, and it continues to amaze me with its array of amazing and fascinating people. From there, I travelled further into Melbourne to Glenferrie, where my next host would be. Within an hour of arriving at Rachel's house I was at a local community event designed as a chance for local neighbours to meet up, where they were cooking up jacket potatoes in a brazier (I didn't know either, it's like a little BBQ/basket for holding hot coals, not a woman's undergarment). I also met Rachel's parents and various neighbours and by 10pm was having the most in depth conversation with her dad about my family, its routes, my life, and it didn't seem quite real that I'd only arrived a few hours earlier that evening. On Saturday I had arranged to meet Colin, an old school friend who now lives in Melbourne. I've seen him twice in the past 10 years or so, one for a burger and pint in Hammersmith, and then again in 2007 when we bumped into each other at Glastonbury. Other than that I haven't really seen him since school, when we used to spend a lot of time together and he was one of my closest friends at the time. We spent the whole of Saturday drinking in downtown Melbourne, met his girlfriend, grabbed some dinner in China town and generally continued like it was 1998 in Hendon. Only it was 2011 in Melbourne. When Colin told me he lived about 200 metres from Albert Park and would be going to the Grand Prix I couldn't turn down the opportunity to join him. I booked my ticket online and was all set for a Sunday afternoon in the park. In the morning I went round for a late breakfast at Colin's flat and then set off the park. The F1 race wasn't set to start until 5pm but there was plenty going on before hand with other races, and it was pretty much set out like a music festival with bars and music and lots and lots and lots of cars dotted around the course, ranging from old classics to modern racers. Strangely, the most memorable part of the day came when we went into a bar that had a range of live snakes on show, for anyone to touch or hold. They were all pythons, and at first I held just a smaller one, but on sight of the huge monster snake, I had to pick him up! He was big, and weighed a ton, but it was pretty cool having him wrapped around me, just being all snaky, and slithery, and, well, not slimy at all. Anyway, snakes aside, the Grand Prix was quite an experience. The volume of the F1 cars was phenomenal, and required the wearing of earplugs whilst the race was one. It's one thing watching it on the telly, but when you're track side and you actually see the cars passing at ridiculous speeds, and the air has a strange smell of oil and fuel, it's quite something. Once the race is over you can actually walk up and down the track (which takes place on the roads that are within the park anyway), and walking past the pit lane we could see the BBC team doing their post race analysis that I've watched so many times on telly. Basically, Jake Humphrey looks about 12. David Coulthard has the most chiseled chin of all time. And Eddie Jordan is tiny. By the end of the day, despite not doing much other than walking around and drinking a beer (or two) and watching fast cars, I was knackered, so made my way back to Glenferrie. Today I have been finalising my travel plans for the next 2 weeks, and enjoying the relaxed coffee shop culture of Melbourne (by sitting in coffee shops). On Thursday I go to Tasmania for a few days in search of the Tasmanian Devil, and next week I will visit Sydney before returning to Perth for the weekend of April 10th. "Returning to Perth?" I hear you ask. Yes, I'm returning to Perth. All will become clear...

"This time tomorrow, where will we be..."

2011-03-23T07:03:00.015Z

Wednesday 23rd March 2011

I'm pretty sick of travelling. I don't mean the concept, just the literal act of travelling. Sick of planes. Sick of coaches. Sick of cars. But one method of transport that I have greatly underused is the train. I had planned to travel some of the US west coast by train, but that didn't materialise. I had planned to travel the Tranz Alpine in New Zealand, but the earthquake prevented that. And I'm sure had I gone to Japan, I would have travelled a Bullet Train at some point. So this morning I decided to relax upon the Puffing Billy, a restored steam train line that travels through the Dandenong Ranges. Getting the 11:10 train, it was like stepping back in time. As I walked along the platform the engine was preparing to go, steam billowing from its funnel, so I got into one of the very old style carriages with it's open plan seating and open windows. I assume they're called windows, though there was no glass, just a piece of tarpaulin to pull down if it rained or got windy. At 11:10 the train pulled away with a chug, chug, chug and a huge release of steam and a deafening whistle. It was bliss. We ventured off through the Dandenong Ranges, passing houses set back in the forest, crossing wooden bridges and stopping at a couple of little stations along the way. I had a ticket to the end of the line, Genbrook, which would take 2 hours, and then there was a 2 hour stop there before returning home. It was turning into a perfect day, the sun was out, the wind rushing at my face as I sat on the edge of the carriage with my feet dangling out. We arrived at Genbrook where I walked to local Bushland Forest where I had my lunch and walked amongst the undergrowth and huge trees. Before getting the 2:45 train back I stopped for a coffee and cheesecake and then boarded the train back. We stopped at Lakeside, where I got off to wait the hour for the final train back, found a great little amphitheatre just a few metres from the lake, and sat to read my book. At 4:15 I got the final train of the day, stuck on my Ipod and the soundtrack to The Darjeeling Limited, took off my shoes and socks, and just sat on the edge of the carriage until we returned to Belgrave an hour later. Well and truly one of the most satisfying days of my journey so far. In a day and age when everything is so rushed, everyone must get from A to B in the quickest time possible, it was great to just let Puffing Billy take his time as we passed through the Dandenong Ranges and watched the world go by. And as the Kinks come on my Ipod, I sat there listening to their words; "This time tomorrow, where will I be, on a spaceship somewhere, sailing across an empty sea"...

127 Minutes...

2011-03-22T12:19:00.012Z

Tuesday 22nd March 2011

For those who have seen 127 Hours (or perhaps read the book Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I haven't, yet) you will understand the spring in my step when I left this morning to venture off into the Dandenong Ranges National Park. Granted, I wasn't venturing very far from civilisation, wasn't likely to encounter falling rocks, and someone did know where I was going, but you (possibly) get the point. After my relatively relaxing week in Perth meeting old friends and new relatives (I'll explain that in another blog), I felt ready to wander/wonder again. So I packed my bag with some water, some fruit, some nuts and some bird seed (I was heading towards Grants Picnic Ground where I had been told you could hand feed parrots), and off I went, headphones in, Ipod on and camera in hand. The rain was coming down, but it was thin and only really a drizzle, and the temperature was a lot more bearable than Perth (though still very warm and slightly humid). About 40 minutes in I came to Grants Picnic Ground where there were just dozens of parrots waiting to be fed. A little unsure as to what would happen, I placed a load of bird seed in my left hand and knelt down towards the ground. Immediately one big white parrot (a cockatoo I believe) came over and started eating out of my hand. I then tried to ready my camera in my left hand, which meant I inadvertently moved my right hand away from the parrot. So he bit my hand. I screamed, like a girl. It hurt. I took a few minutes to compose myself, but pretty quickly got back into it, this time no kneeling down, but standing so the bird would fly onto my arm and eat out of my hand. At one point another different type of parrot just randomly flew onto my shoulder, even though I had no food in my hand. I just managed to snap a photo before he flew away again. Eventually I decided to venture off further into the bush on a designated trek that was about 2 hours long. Checking the time (it was 14:58) I set off, and despite the quite atrocious signage I somehow managed to not get completely lost, and even managed to spot four lyrebirds (apparently rare to spot so I was pretty lucky) and a wallaby. The walk was stunning, with the rain causing a very atmospheric mist, and the constant sound of birds and parrots was awesome. It was pretty hot and sticky by now, and at various points I didn't really know where I was going because the signage was so bad (well, bad equals non-existent, even when paths forked off), but following my nose, and using a bit of common sense knowing which directions I should be going, I eventually ended up back at Grants Picnic Ground. And do you know what time I got back to Grants Picnic Grounds? 17:05. You work out how many minutes later that was. I followed the trail back towards Belgrave and stopped in at the Micawber Tavern for a well earned pint, before heading back to where I am staying (via a fish 'n' chip shop). Tomorrow, I'm gonna let Puffing Billy do all the work...

setting sun...

2011-03-20T12:28:00.006Z

Perth, WA:

a fight to the end...

2011-03-18T04:57:00.007Z

So I find my self in a strange psychological black hole right now. On my two shoulders are two competing thoughts, theories and mindsets. In the blue corner, I have a tired and jaded mind, one that is ready to come home and enjoy the wonder that is my home town, London, and see my family and friends for the first time in 6 months, and sleep in a familiar bed. However, in the red corner, is the travelling mind, the one that has absolutely loved every minute of the past 5 months, one that has continually met new people, new places, stood in awe at the many sights of the amazing countries I've been through. The red corner is throwing punches that say "I never want this to end". An upper cut that describes the many people and places I am yet to see, that I will probably never see, that I could go and see. The blue corner retaliates with an image of a quaint little pub in London's Soho, a fresh pint on a summers evening with some of my closest friends, of seeing my parents and brother and other family based in London, or walking along the south bank and watching the Thames go by. The red corner ducks and dives, remembering the sights of America, New Zealand, Fiji and currently Australia. The blue corner defends, showing visions of cycling through Kilburn on the way to the West End, or a train journey to Manchester to see old friends. Yet this is no boxing fight, because the blue corner and red corner are friends. In under a month the blue corner will walk away apparently victorious, as I return to London to fall back in love with the town I was born in. And yet, it will simply give the red corner a chance to think, to rest itself, and find a new plan. A new angle to attack. A new punch to throw. A new adventure to find. And the blue corner won't fight back. He'll just gladly step to one side and let the red through...

doctor doctor...

2011-03-15T15:14:00.011Z

If the truth be told, I am absolutely exhausted. There are a number of contributing factors, mainly the 5 months of constant travel finally taking its toll on me, plus a long journey from Fiji to the west coast of Australia. My week in Fiji was wonderful, not just for the sun, sea and, er, sand, but for the cultural experience of life on an island. The earthquake in New Zealand didn't logistically affect me, and as shocked and saddened as I was by the events, I was still able to get on with my travels. In Fiji, however, the news of the earthquake in Japan had much more of a direct impact on me, firstly because a Tsunami warning was issued whilst I was there, and secondly because Japan was part of my itinerary before returning home to London. As already mentioned, my final night in Fiji was somewhat frightening as I didn't really know what was happening, other than a tsunami warning was in place, some people had been told to go to higher ground, and I was in a village right by the ocean but we weren't going to higher ground. In the end nothing happened, but I got at most an hour and a half's sleep before beginning my 16 hour journey to Perth. I also arrived in Perth suffering from a blocked ear, which had happened whilst swimming in Fiji. Similar to what I experienced 2 years ago, swimming had caused my ear to block up and I was effectively deaf in one ear, and once in Perth knew I would have to deal with it. So on Monday I went into downtown Perth, visited the Visitor Centre, and they told me to go to the Medical Centre. Within an hour I had an appointment with a doctor, and he syringed my ears bringing my hearing back up to scratch. All for $85.

Now I'm struggling with the heat. I really wasn't expecting to struggle with it as bad as I have, but the past 2 days have been around 30° plus, and I haven't coped very well. Luckily by mid-afternoon, with any luck, the sea breeze comes in from the West and cools everything down a bit. This breeze is known as the Freemantle Doctor as it tends to come in from Freemantle, a town on the coast just a few miles from Perth. The second doctor in two days to bring great relief. I've also been concerned about my trip to Japan, and how I should deal with. I gave it a couple of days to take in the continuously developing news and decide, and today I finally decided it would be for the best if I skip the Japan leg of my journey. Although Tokyo (and to the West) has been mostly unaffected, I've decided that just a few weeks after the disaster is a little too soon. Partly because of the possible aftershocks, partly because of the current nuclear power predicament, but mostly because I just feel it would be inappropriate to be there as a tourist whilst the entire country is having to pull together amidst possible power cuts and extreme stresses on the countries resources in general. I am aware of the argument that the Japanese economy needs people like me to still go and spend money, and in a month or two I would probably agree. But just a few weeks I feel is too soon. I will definitely one day make it to Japan as they will no doubt recover from this terrible tragedy. So I have now rearranged my flight to go through Bangkok, where I will spend a few nights before returning home to London. And the rest of my life. Whatever that may hold...

Bula Bula Fiji time...

2011-03-12T05:01:00.006Z

So here I am, sat in Sydney airport, waiting for my connecting flight to take me to Perth, and complete quite a week. I arrived in Fiji last Sunday and immediately went to the small village of Viseisei where I was due to stay with a couchsurfing family for a couple of nights in their village. The first evening it absolutely poured down with rain but we sat inside drinking Kava (a traditional Fijian drink made from the roots of, er, some plant!), and there were also two German couchsurfers there. When I found out they were staying for the same number of days as me, and Fi (the couchsurf host) had helped book them on a little trip to the islands, I decided to join them. So off we went next morning, and spent the following 2 nights on the island of Kuata, and then another 2 nights after that on the island of Nanuya Lailai. Not much really needs to be said other than in Fiji there are no clocks or watches, just Fiji time. What time is it? It's Fiji time. I spent 4 days sleeping, eating, reading, sitting in a hammock, doing a bit of snorkelling, riding boats, swam in a cave, and generally saw more sunshine (and also quite a bit if rain!) than I've probably seen before. Today I am a mixture or red and nicely tanned. Last night we returned to Viseisei to the news of the huge earthquake in Japan, and subsequently the Tsunami warning that went out across the whole of the Pacific. I was pretty freaked out by it, and whilst the locals seemed unworried (as Fiji has never suffered from a Tsunami before, despite one or two warnings every year) I was still unable to sleep all night as the 3am predicted tsunami approached. By 4:30am no waves had swept me away, and I managed a small amount of sleep before I got ready at 6am to leave for the airport and my long day ahead travelling to Sydney and then Perth. Here I am, halfway there, only another hour and then I can board my plane to Perth. What time is it? It's always Fiji time...

so close and yet so far...

2011-03-03T10:31:00.005Z

Driving from Dunedin to Lake Takepo the other day, I knew I would go through it. But I must have missed it as I arrived in Tekapo without seeing it. Leaving Lake Tekapo this morning I knew I would be driving back the way I came to Fairlie, and although heading north from there, it would only be a 10 minute drive out of the way to go find it again. I had double checked on google before I left, so I knew it was there. Once through Fairlie I kept my eyes peeled, and sure enough, 10 minutes later, there it was on the right. I indicated and turned in, pulled up and grabbed my camera. I got a photo of the road sign, and of the little sign on the creek bridge.

I continued on driving up Cricklewood Road (it was a dirt track) for 3 or 4 miles, but there were just a couple of farms and nothing more, so I returned, a little disappointed there were no buildings or anything else with the name on it. As I got back to the corner to return towards Fairlie I realised there was actually a house on the corner of the road, so I pulled up again to take a little look. And there it was. The piece de resistance. Staring me in the face. I had no choice, I had to see if anyone was home. I made my round the corner to the front of the house, and the front door was wide open. I knocked and shouted hello. No answer. But I could hear voices. So I walked down the side path to see if I could find anyone out the back, it didn't lead me to anywhere, but I could still hear the voices. So I returned to the open front door and rang the doorbell. Marilyn came to the door and I explained the situation. She immediately invited me in, and introduced me to her husband and her sister (who actually lived in Christchurch but had been forced away by the earthquake and damage to her home). We chatted for a long while, I explained my journey, and they the history of the area as far as they knew it. Originally, some time back in the late 1800's, the area around them had been set to become the township of Cricklewood. Indeed they have seen the original paper plans of where the Church would go, where the houses would go, where the shops would go, where the school would go etc etc. The school was built, but for whatever reason the township never really materialised, and the school was eventually closed. The house they now live in is situated where the school used to be, and they have lived there since the mid 1980's. The sign in fact belonged to the school, but they had managed to get hold of it from some officials somewhere, and relocated it in their garden. After a while chatting, we went out to take the photo, and I promised when I return home I will send them a photo of me by a Cricklewood sign in London.

This all came at the end of a day in which I had been on a horse trek through the wonderful scenery around Lake Tekapo and driven down to Twizel to take in the spectacular views of Mt Cook. All in a days work...

"this is your captain speaking..."

2011-02-23T20:36:00.000Z

And somehow, in the blink of an eye, it's February 24th 2011. Here I am now in a hostel in Te Anau, down the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand. Internet in New Zealand is not like internet in the States. You can get it everywhere in the States, but in New Zealand it's not so readily available. I spent about a month in the north Island, and managed to couchsurf most of the way, but the South Island is sparsely populated compared to the North and couchsurf hosts are not so easy to find, and thus far have been too busy to accommodate me. So the past 10 days have involved much more hostelling than any other part of my trip. But enough about that.

The North Island provided so many adventures and people, it was fantastic. From the Tongariro Crossing with 100 other couchsurfers, to the few days spent in Rotorua with 18 other couchsurfers who all went white water rafting together, to the road trip with Gary (whom I met at the Tongariro crossing) which took us from Turangi, up through Thames, through Auckland, and all the way to Cape Reinga, the northern most point in New Zealand where the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean met, back down the west coast on my own, then to the Waitomo Caves, then to Wellington and over the cook straight to a totally new experience in the South Island.

My first few days in the South Island were spent by the Abel Tasman national park where I went on a 13km hike along the Coastal Track. Then I made the phone call. You know which one. The one that booked my place on that little aeroplane into the sky. The one I would jump out of. I got back from the 13km hike and decided if I procrastinated any longer, I just wouldn't do it. So I got the number from the leaflet, rang them up, and it was done. 8:45 am the following morning I would head off for my tandem skydive. On returning to the hostel I was staying at I got chatting to two girls, Tamara & Leiya from Canada, and when Tamara heard I was doing a skydive the following morning she exclaimed "Where? I want to do one too?". So I showed her the flyer. 10 minutes later she returned from the payphone. I now had a partner in crime. 8:45am the following morning, we would both jump from that plane.

(at this point, if at all possible, please search youtube for 'aeroplane noises' or something similar to have on in the background whilst you read on)

(thanks AJ for the idea)

The entire experience was pretty quick to be honest. We got there bang on at 8:45, got shown a DVD of previous people's jumps, got put into our jump suits, told a few security things, and then got in a plane. The plane was a tiny metal thing, rattling along as we took off, and we were set for a 20 minute ride up to 16500 feet. The ride was spectacular, it was a beautifully sunny day, and you could see for miles over the Abel Tasman I had walked the previous day and across to the southern end of the North Island. At about 12000 feet we were given oxygen masks, and my tandem jumper went through a few things, showed me where I was attached to him, showed me everything was secure, and reminded me of the procedure when jumping. Basically, you sit on the edge of the plane, wrap your legs back and under the plane, wave at the camera on the wing, then tilt you head back so you make what they call the 'banana' shape, and then go. Whilst I was a bit apprehensive, I wasn't massively nervous, and I was really enjoying the ride and the spectacular views. But then. Oh. Then. Then a little green light flashes, and before you have time to think, the side door is slid open, and suddenly there is no longer the safety barrier of a window pane between you and the earth. Now there is just air between you and the earth. But you don't even have time to think about that. Suddenly we were edging forward, suddenly I was on the edge of an aeroplane staring at the ground 16500 feet beneath me, suddenly I'm waving at the little camera on the wing and then. Oh. Then. Suddenly I'm no longer sitting on the edge of a rattly little aeroplane. Now I'm hurtling towards the earth at 120 mph. Wow. Words will never explain the experience, but I had about 90 seconds of freefall, just hurtling, wind in my face, the views around me for miles and miles, just breathtaking (that's the breath I could barely take in anyway). Then the parachute comes out and everything slows down. The adrenaline was rushing, but I was still taking it all in as we floated back down to earth, making a few stomach turning circles down along the way. You land by keeping you legs up in the air so the tandem jumper does all the work and then you slide in on your bum, and you're done. Mother earth is back in touch with you. The biggest rush of my life. The most adrenaline I have ever felt rush through my veins. And it was all over. I may have come down from the sky, but I wasn't sure I'd ever truly come down. Forget being high as a kite. You want to try being as high as an aeroplane, and just falling.

This is just one story of many from the past few weeks in New Zealand, and I hope to write more soon about my hike onto a Glacier, a stunning cruise through the Milford Sound, and the sad sad news of the earthquake in Christchurch. Mother Earth is a wild wild beast and has provided some of the most stunning scenes I have ever witnessed alongside some of the most devastating I have ever seen, and that's just in the past few days...

If at first you don't succeed, don't skydive...

2011-02-22T07:26:00.017Z

Wellington...

2011-02-16T02:44:00.001Z

2pm cricket...

7:10am ferry sunrise...

A hobbit emerges...

2011-02-14T09:04:00.001Z

Ruakuri Bush Walk

cards + drinking =

2011-02-10T04:51:00.003Z

Cape Reinga/Te Paki sand dunes/90 mile beach...

2011-02-10T04:40:00.003Z

Rotorua...

2011-02-10T04:36:00.002Z

CS Tongariro Crossing 2011...

2011-02-05T02:28:00.003Z

Fishy on a dishy...

2011-01-27T10:25:00.001Z

Bach to the future...

2011-01-27T02:21:00.010Z

I know, it's been a while. Pen hasn't made it to paper, or in this case, finger tip to keyboard, for a while. Since I last wrote, way back in Flagstaff, Arizona, my journey has taken me through Vegas, through Death Valley, through Bakersfield, through Paso Robles, through Monterey, back to San Francisco, through the Muir Woods, through Santa Cruz, on a 13 hours flight, into Auckland, and now into rural Ruawai on the North Island. Much has happened, little has been typed. I have got a load of ramblings on my computer regarding my final 10 days in the USA, so I will post that up once I've had a chance to go through it. But for now, here I am in New Zealand.

I landed in Auckland and was picked up at the airport by Anna, who I would be staying with on the farm she lived on with her parents. But I wasn't staying on a couch, oh no. I was staying in the bach. This refers to what was originally a 'bachelor pad' but is now a common term for second home, or in this instance, another lodging separate to the main house on a farm. Quite brilliantly there was British flag flying high when I got there. My first few days were laced with jet lag, and Anna showing me a few spots around Auckland, and Silverdale, where we were staying (about 30km north of Auckland). On Wednesday we went to a great weekly couchsurf event in downtown Auckland by the bay, where upwards of 80 people attended, a mixture of foreign and local travellers and hosts. Thursday night I had my first ever taste of shooting. Dave, Anna's step dad, let me shoot some of his rifles, and it was quite an experience. In total I had a go at four of his weapons; SKS 7.62 Assault rifle, Semi Automatic .22, 16 gauge shotgun and an FM Browning Semi 38" Barrel. I still have the empty shells. I'll still have them when I get home if they're not found in my checked luggage.

The British Bach...

Security...

Annoyingly, by Friday I was starting to get ill, and soon developed into a rather nasty chest cold, the full works of coughing, sneezing, running eyes, aching body, blah blah blah man cold you know the story. So I won't bore you, but I spent pretty much 4 days in bed, sleeping, and sneezing and coughing, and, oh, I said I won't bore you.

So, somewhat delayed, and possibly with a touch of cabin fever, I decided to rent a campervan on Tuesday and head out into the wild. I had planned to attend an awesome sounding couchsurf event, the 18km Tongaririo Crossing, where about 100 couchsurfers were expected, but with the remnants of the cold still with me, I doubted I would make it. So I decided to head north, probably towards the Bay of Islands, and then up to Cape Reinga, the northern most part of New Zealand and where the Pacific Ocean meets the Tasman Sea.

I made my way up the Highway One, but very soon was feeling rather bored on my own, and started to wonder whether I had made the right decision. The scenery was beautiful, especially the coast line area around Tutukaka, and then out of the blue, I just decided that I should go to the Tongariro crossing. Worst case scenario I'd camp with all the couchsurfers and just not do the crossing. So, I decided I should start driving south again. So I cut across from the east coast to drive down the west coast (just for a change of scenery) and then stop towards sunset and find a camp site. Miles went by without a campsite, and eventually I came across the very small and sleepy town of Ruawai (population 426 in the 2006 census) where a small hotel appeared to offer its carpark free to campervans. I also asked if there was somewhere nice I could go watch the sun set, and literally 200 yards away there was a little boat wharf. I drove up and saw the glowing orange sun in the distance not far from disappearing below the horizon. There were also a couple just loading their little boat back onto their trailer. They said hello and we started chatting. Before 2 minutes had passed by, Brenda turned to Evan and said "why don't we take this young man back to our place, he can camp at ours?". And thus, for the first time on my journey so far, I found a couch to surf, without the use of the website. They are in their sixties, and it turned out they aren't actually married, but both out of previous marriages and engaged themselves to marry in November. This morning I got up at 6:30am so Evan could drive me down to the next door farm to watch the cows getting milked. There are 700 cows in total, and it's quite a sight. I got involved and help load the machinery onto the cows (pretty much 4 little hoovers that are attached to the udders). They start collecting the cows at 4:30am, start milking at 5am, and are normally done by about 8am. They then repeat that again at the end of the day. At their height they had about 1200 cows producing 25000 litres a day, but no they produce about half that. The rest of today has entailed fixing some fences somewhere else on the farm (they have over 100 acres) and building a shelving unit for Evan to put up in the kitchen. Later on when Brenda comes back were going fishing, and tonight we're having a barbeque. Then tomorrow morning I head off for the 6 hour drive down to Tongariro. But I may head north again, and have been invited to stay on the dairy farm next door for a few days. I'm seriously contemplating it.

East coast view...

Wing mirror view...

Ruawai wharf view...

Rear moo view...

My Pink Floyd themed campervan, henceforth known as 'Gonzo Too'...

There's no place like someone else's home...

2011-01-12T05:16:00.000Z

I woke up Sunday morning unsure as to what I wanted to do next. Other than eat breakfast. Renee, whom I had met in Tempe the previous week invited me for breakfast before I left, so I drove to her place. She cooked a great breakfast and I showed her some stuff about England and Europe before I left as she's hoping to travel next year. I had messaged Scott in Flagstaff to see if I could go back there as I thought it would be nice to stay with him again, and perhaps I could make a decision on what to do next. My drive up the I17 was a breeze compared to my previous trip down it (a massive snow storm, did I mention that?). I returned to Flagstaff and immediately felt at home. Whatever it was about both his home and Scott himself, and his house mate Felicia, it had a very homely feeling and I felt very welcome there. Michelle came round for the evening and we had a great time, Felicia showing me how to roll sushi, Michelle taking some great shots on my camera, a few rounds of Yahtzee, some boggle and eating sushi with (lots of) wasabi. After a few days of solitude, it was great to be back amongst people. I made plans to leave, and possibly go up to Zion National park, or across to Vegas, but I'll be honest, I was really enjoying the company of everyone in Flagstaff, and I ended up staying until Wednesday. I loved the snowy surroundings and refreshing crisp air. Despite the cold, when the sun is shining, snow is beautiful to be around, especially the crunch of it beneath your feet. I hung out loads with Felicia and Michelle, and on Tuesday Scott took me Cross Country Skiing, which was great. It took a few minutes for me to get the hang of gliding across the snow, but I soon figured it out and really enjoyed myself. More films were watched, and by Wednesday morning I was ready to move on. I checked the weather and the west coast was once again basking in sunshine, with the rain and storms of 2 weeks previous seemingly a distant memory, so I decided I would head back west to make the journey up the Highway One I had originally planned on doing. I checked maps, google, miles, timings, and decided it could be done. I could see it all in my head. I'd go to Vegas Wednesday night, Thursday I could drive through Death Valley and stay somewhere, and then drive due west to hit the Highway One on my way up to San Francisco. I made a few couchsurf enquiries, and with a couple of them accepted, my plan came to fruition. I decided to stay in a hotel in Vegas, and both Scott and my dad had coincidentally stayed in the same place, California Hotel, so I booked a night there at just $40. Following that I had set up a place to stay in Bakersfield on Thursday, and Paso Robles on Friday, allowing me all day Saturday to drive up the Highway One and back to San Francisco. I made my farewells, and back into Gonzo One I got. Vegas was in my sights...

Roll with it...

Sushi Yahtzee...

Baby face...

Dog thoughts...

Frozen in time...

Michelle & Felicia...

Sugar coated...

Follow this link for a spectacular transmission: http://i55.tinypic.com/rs8uvt.gif

My extended family and the hot tub dilemma...

2011-01-03T18:10:00.014Z

December 29th 2010 / December 30th 2010

I've known my longest standing friends for 10 years now. I met them when I was at University in Manchester, and even though I don't see them all that often now as we all live in different parts of the UK, I still feel a very close bond with them all. Prior to University, I haven't kept in touch with anyone, other than the customary 'facebook friendship'. So when I describe my dad's friendship with Alan as long standing, it really is long standing. They've known each other since they were 10 years old. They both attended the same school when growing up in Manchester, and despite Alan ultimately moving to America where he has lived ever since, they have stayed in touch throughout. It was Alan that I was going to visit when I was in San Francisco. I had arranged to visit Nicola (his daughter) and her family, along with Alan and his wife Carol. But with the opportunity to visit them in Scottsdale, I would also get to meet Lisa (their other daughter) and her family. The last time I saw any of them was about 15 years ago, so it was a long time coming. But here's the interesting thing. I've heard an awful lot about Alan as my dad has told many stories about and involving him. I also have very early memories of Nicola, as she stayed with us in London when me and my brother were young children and used to read us stories before bed. So, despite the number of years since I've seen them, and the fact I was much younger, when I walked into the house, it really felt like I was walking into a room full of family. It's hard to put into words the science of it, but I felt a particular connection with Alan because of his close connection with my dad, and in turn a close connection to his wife Carol, and Nicola and Lisa, and in turn their families. Whilst Alan is now much frailer than I remembered him due to the onset of Parkinson's, he is still very much the person I remembered from many years ago, a very gentle and kind man, with a passion and interest that very much resembles my dad. It is no surprise they have kept in touch all these years. In fact it wasn't until Alan told me the story that I realised it was actually my dad, who was working and living in America at the time, who had invited Alan and Carol to visit him in America. They did. Dad eventually moved back to London, but Alan and Carol never left the States, living here and starting a family.

The evening I arrived (you know, just after that snow storm, did I mention that?) I met Alan and Carol, Lisa, her husband Brooke and son Josh. Nicola was busy that evening but I met her the following morning, along with her husband Paul and children Camille & Ryan. The Wednesday evening I shared a couple of beers with Alan and spoke in length about my trip, and he retold stories involving him and my dad. Lisa cooked dinner, and after a pleasant dinner, we all retired for the evening. Next morning, using Oovoo on Josh's computer, I video called home for the first time since I'd been away, and it was both great and strange to see and hear from my parents, but it was particularly special to be alongside Alan whilst talking to dad. Later that morning Nicola arrived with her family (they were staying very near by in a villa/apartment they had rented for the week), and it was great to be with the entire family together. That afternoon I joined Nicola, Paul, Camille & Ryan on a short hike out in a National Park not too far away. Yet even that was a peculiar experience. There we were, out in the middle of the desert, surrounded by cacti and such like, when the heavens opened. But not rain. It was a strange mix of hail and snow. I never thought I'd see the day when I was stood in a desert and it snowed on me. Even here, many miles south and lower than Flagstaff, I was still feeling the effects of the cold front crossing Arizona (and many other States). It didn't last long and it was pretty spectacular standing side by side with the Saguaro, some of the biggest cacti you will ever see, and specific to Arizona and only a few other places in the world (they have hug arms, and look like they're pointing up to the sky).

The rarely seen 'snowflake on cactus'

Ryan hugs a huge Saguaro

That evening they had planned to eat at a local Greek restaurant, and I was very pleased to join them. I sat with Alan throughout the meal and had a wonderful evening. I was so pleased that I had made the journey down from Flagstaff, especially knowing that had I left any later on the Wednesday, they would have closed the highway, and I wouldn't have made it down at all. Sometimes luck really is on your side.

Alan and I...

The extended family...

Alan, Carol, Nicola and family were all leaving on Friday to return to the Bay area, and that's when the next bit of luck arrived. Whilst they were leaving on the Friday, Nicola had their apartment booked up until the Sunday, and they were more than happy for me to stay there for the 2 nights it would be otherwise empty. Friday was New Years Eve. I had planned to drive back to Flagstaff to bring in the new year, but the weather would put a stop to that (it was still snowing and temperatures were reaching as low as -25, CELSIUS!). I felt perhaps I should really get back in touch with some of the people I had met in Tempe just a week earlier, but there was a little something inside my head telling me to just relax. Why not go against the grain. Instead of doing what I've done on so many previous years (go out get drunk get home get up get painkillers), why didn't I just relax. Having spent almost 3 months on the road travelling the States, perhaps New Years Eve this year could be about taking it all in. Thinking back to all the people I had met along the way. All the experiences I've had. All the friends I've made. All my friends back home. My family in London. The distant relatives I'd met in the States. The drives I'd done. The food I'd eaten. There was so much to take in and digest. Oh, and also, they had a hot tub.

Deal done.

Hot tub it was.

December 31st 2010 / January 1st 2011

This picture tells you the story of my New Years Eve and Day. There was also food involved. And ice cream. And many films. And lots of Boardwalk Empire on HBO. It was a very self indulgent 24 hours.

Happy Belated New Year Everyone.

Goodbye and thanks 2010, hello 2011...

The Englishman who went up a hill and came down a snow storm...

2011-01-03T02:26:00.006Z

Wednesday December 29th

I awoke to a white exterior. It had indeed snowed overnight. I knew straight away that I would not be heading north into Utah. My other option was to go to Vegas, but I didn't quite feel like it. I started to think maybe I would stay in Flagstaff for a few days. It would be kind of fun to be snowed in for a few days. A forced stop on the unknown road. Then I remembered something. I had planned to visit some friends of the family in San Francisco on the 2nd January. I also knew that they were going to be in Scottsdale, near Phoenix, up until December 31st, and had extended an invitation to me if I wanted to. Originally I had said I would I'd be fine meeting them on January 2nd, but now I had an idea. If indeed I did visit them in Scottsdale, I could then extend my car rental, and stay on the road a few more days. I sent an email and made a phone call. I left a message and hoped for a quick reply. If I was to leave Flagstaff, it would have to be soon. It was still snowing.

My phone rang, and it was Nicola (I will explain the full story of how I know them later). She said I could go and visit them and they could provide me with a bed. I quickly chatted with Felicia and Michelle as to whether I would be best to go straight away or in the morning. They advised straight away because by tomorrow the roads might be closed, and it's also safer to drive in fresh snow than to wait overnight when it might ice over. I decided to go for it, and as I was driving south the snow would soon clear. I scraped the car, set the heater to blast, and made my way. The GPS predicted just over 2 hours, though I expected longer as traffic would probably be slow. Not long out of Flagstaff I started to wonder if I'd made the right decision. Within 10 minutes I had passed one pick up truck on its side, and a car that had spun off the road, and an accident between two cars. The speed limit on the I17 was 75 mph, but I had so far gone no faster than 40mph. But the roads had been ploughed and gritted, so I reckoned it would be ok. Ten minutes later traffic came to a standstill. Something must have happened up ahead. I sat there, windscreen wipers going to keep the fresh snow away, Blur playing on my ipod, and nowhere to go. People started to get out of their cars and take photos. And throw snowballs. Then a fire engine went past. And the highway patrol. And a recovery truck. And an ambulance. I had no idea how long this could be. After about an hour and half, things started to move. They must have cleared the accident. We edged forward, at about 5mph. I passed a number of cars stuck on the side, with police attempting to winch them out. Still at 5mph. No faster. As the accident had held up traffic for an hour and a half, so the road had filled up with snow for an hour and a half. It was treacherous ground. Still at 5mph. Then out of no where I went into a spin. Only a little one, but I knew I was no longer in control. I only slid a little, but I could feel the back of the car beginning to spin out to my left. Before I had a chance to do anything the car had spun 90 degrees, the front of the car was now in the snow to my right, the rear of the car sticking halfway into the lane. I put the hazard lights on and got out of the car to assess the situation. A number of cars drove by with people starting out of their window, but no one stopped. After about 5 cars there was a large gap before the next bunch of cars, so I thought I'd see if there was enough traction to reverse back into the road. With my fingers crossed, I gently put my foot on the gas, and to my relief the car backed up. I slowly realigned the car and continued my journey at 5mph. I passed a number of other that had spun heavily into the snow, and two full articulated lorries that had been abandoned on the side of road, no driver in sight. I eventually got to lower ground (Flagstaff is at 7000 feet) and the snow disappeared.

Then the rain arrived. It rained all the way to Phoenix. At times I could hardly see in front of me. Especially when passing a truck. After 5 hours, I eventually arrived in Scottsdale, pulled into the drive, turned the engine off, and for 2 minutes I just sat there, staring out of the windscreen. Now I'm not overly religious, but I certainly thanked someone for keeping me safe on the road. Who I thanked I don't know. The Good Lord? Moses? Eric Cantona? My parents? Whoever it was, thank you. I got out of the car, sheltered from the rain, and knocked on the door...

Gonzo One (my name for the car) snowed in.

Preparation...

Trepidation...

Reflection...

Toleration...

A journey through time & space...

2011-01-01T23:52:00.013Z

As, er, grand as the Grand Canyon was, Tuesday was spectacular in a different way. I managed to squeeze a lot into the day. I started with a drive along Snowbowl Drive towards the Snowbowl ski resort, before being forced back around 7 miles up as they were only allowing skiers any further. I then took a trip to Walnut Canyon, a small canyon (everything's 'smaller' compared to the Grand Canyon) which still has hundreds of visible dwellings embedded into the rocks from when native Americans inhabited it. Some of them are dotted along the trail, which you can actually walk into. I followed this with a long drive through Wupatki National Monument, situated on the edge of the Hopi Indian Reservation. Within it are contained many ruins and just an amazingly vast open space which you drive through. Eventually you reach Sunset Crater, part of a series of cinder cones that have developed over many many years of volcanic activity. I finished the day with a hike up the Lenox Crater Trail, getting to the top just in time to watch the sunset behind the distant mountains.

Snowbowl:

Walnut Canyon:

Wupatki National Monument:

Sunset Crater:

Lenox Crater:

When I returned to the house, Felicia was there with her friend Michelle. We had a pasta dinner and then played Yahtzee into the evening, and finished by watching the film Fire in the Sky, a sci-fi based in Arizona and on the supposed true story of a relative of Felicia. Before bed I was trying to work out my next move. Either a move north into Utah to visit the Zion National Park, but the weather didn't look too good, or perhaps a visit to Las Vegas. Michelle and Felicia were tempted by a road trip to Vegas, and we decided we'd reconvene in the morning and see which way the wind blew. I went to bed unsure as to what the following day might bring...

I'm in a wide open space...

2011-01-01T20:16:00.008Z

"The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, nor by speech itself. The resources of the graphic art are taxed beyond their powers in attempting to portray its features. Language and illustration combined must fail."

These are the words of John Wesley Powell, the first man to lead a European American expedition through the Grand Canyon, in 1869. I have to say, I agree with him. Words won't do it justice. Photos won't do it justice. But in an attempt to give you an idea, here are a few words. And a few photos:

Scott's housemate, Felicia, would be free from 12:30, so she decided to join us with a friend of hers, Jodie. Her dog, Tobin, also came along for the ride. We set off and took the wonderfully scenic route up the 180 to the Grand Canyon. Much of the route was along beautiful snowy scenery, and we stopped off at the amazing Holy Dove Chapel, literally just on the side of the road, open 24/7 for anyone to go in. We drove to Amanda's house so we could pick up her car (it has a pass to get us into the National Park for free) and made our way to the Grand Canyon. There are many once in a life time experiences, and if you have never seen the Grand Canyon before, those first split seconds when you see it and realise the sheer size if it is an experience you will never repeat. My jaw literally dropped, and I had no words. It's absolutely impossible to truly comprehend the size of it unless you go there. If you haven't been, go. There's no other advice I can give. Scott took us down to a great little look out called Ooh Aah Point, about 3/4 mile down into the Canyon. We even passed a mule train on the way down, and we stood to one side, because here, mules have right of way.

Roadside chapel...

Inside looking out...

First impressions of Earth...

Mule train...

The view...

Peering over the edge...

Looking back whence we came...

That evening we returned to Amanda's place where Scott made some home made pizza. Scott stayed at Amanda's as he hadn't seen her in a week, and the rest of us drove back to Flagstaff. I was planning another day in Flagstaff to see the local sights, namely Walnut Canyon, Wupatki National Monument and Sunset Crater. The Grand Canyon may have been the biggest, but there was still much more to see...

A view to kill...

2010-12-30T05:43:00.013Z

I set off from the ranch with Flagstaff as the destination, but only once I'd been through Jerome and Sedona. Both had been recommended to me to see. Jerome is an old mining town, up in the hills, and Sedona is a town set alongside beautiful red rocks. The drive to Jerome was spectacular. Like every Bond film you've ever seen, winding in and out of one beautiful view, and then another. I climbed into the hills until there was snow, and then back out the other side. I stopped to take in the view, and had a brief chat with a biker who had stopped for a cigarette. He pointed out that in the distance, the snowy mountains visible was in fact Flagstaff, my final destination. I asked if he wouldn't mind me taking a photo of his bike, and he insisted I sit on the bike and he take the photo. I duly accepted. He took the photo. Biker for a day (or 20 seconds).

Jerome itself is a really cute little town, set along the windy roads, houses set into the hills, with a population of just 350. I stopped for lunch in a little cafe, went for a little stroll around, and took in the unbelievable panoramic view of Arizona around it. I coasted my way down the hill and filled up with petrol ready for the onward journey to Sedona.

Arriving in Sedona I followed the signs to the Red Rock Country Park. Once there I took a two hour hike around the wonderful scenery, colours ranging from the green plants and cacti to the stained red of the rocks. You might think you can get bored of nature at its best, but you can't. I climbed my way up to the Eagle's Nest trail and took in the views around me.

From there I drove through the touristy but colourful Sedona and my onward journey to Flagstaff. I finally got into town and followed my GPS to where I would be staying the night. I couldn't see the house numbers but thought I had found the right place, knocked on the door, but it wasn't them. "Are you doing that couchy sleep thingy'. Indeed I was. "You want the house just over there, next to the school". I guess that wasn't the first time the GPS had sent some couchsurfers to the wrong house.

I knocked on the door and Scott let me in. He works as a nurse in the local hospital, doing 7pm to 7am shifts, and he was due in work soon. He had just cooked himself dinner and kindly said I could have some too. He lives with his son (who was out with friends) and one other housemate, Felicia. Scott left for work and I chatted to Felicia. An hour or so later Scott called me up to say his girlfriend, who works at the Grand Canyon, would be off work at 1pm the following day, would I like to join him and drive to the Canyon. I eagerly accepted. What an opportunity to not only see the Grand Canyon, but with people who know it so well. I went to bed looking forward to what the next day would bring. No doubt, a view to die for...

The miracle of Christmas Day...

2010-12-27T04:37:00.020Z

Friday December 24th

I woke up late, and had to set off pretty sharp as I needed to arrive in Chino Valley for 3pm to be a part of their early Christmas Service (they knew I was Jewish, and I had no problem attending any kind of service they were going to). James had left for work already, so I left his key behind and sent him a text message thanking him for his wonderful hospitality. I hit the road, with time for a petrol and food stop, grabbing an egg bagel for lunch. The I17 took me north until I changed onto the 69 and then 89, where the scenery got interesting. For miles around there was flat desert land, but in the distance there were glorious mountains, and as I got closer, there was even a fantastic snow peaked mountain in the distance. That warm feeling was still there. My GPS was trying to send me a different route to the one Joy had told me, so I stuck with the human advice, and followed her route. As I got closer and closer the roads narrowed, until eventually I was driving up and down over small hills, and finally the road came to an end and I hit the dirt track. I must be close. I went over the cattle guards, and through a gate, and further along the dirt track, and then I hit Skyhawk. I rolled my window down and asked a group of people where exactly the Somers Ranch was, and they told me right at the bottom of the road, on the right. Down I went, and there it was, I continued up the dirt track to the house, past the cattle and horses, as two dogs came running towards the car barking. As I pulled up Joy called me to ask where I was. "Right outside". "Well come on inside" she said.

Inside I met Joy and her two sisters, Grace and Sadie, her friend Daniel (a fire-fighter from Phoenix) along with her Uncle Marlin. Marlin immediately referred to my 'Beatles Hat', and coined me 'The Brit'. I knew this was going to be a fun few days. Half an hour later her parents returned, and I met Marie and Robert, who were wonderfully welcoming. They were heading to Church Service at 4pm, but Joy managed to talk us out of it, so instead I helped her with the chores. Within an hour of being there I was helping to clean up the horse poo, and was strangely loving it. There I was, Dave, from London, on a ranch, in Arizona, being a cowboy! Minus the hat. And boots. And accent. But you get the idea.

That evening we went to a quite amazing Christmas service. It wasn't your typical religious service. We entered a large room with a stage in the middle, surrounded on all sides by seats. There were three musicians singing Christmas songs. Following the songs there was a brief sermon basically going over the history of Christmas and asking everyone to be thankful for the sacrifice if Jesus. Whilst it meant little to me from a Jewish point of view, it was very similar to sermons I've heard in Synagogue. Once that was finished we went outside where there was an array of events. There was a chocolate room (where you could just eat chocolate), there was an outside garden with music playing and various passages from the bible hung up to read, there was a Christmas light show, there was a room where you could design your own Christmas ornament, and then finally there were the horses pulling carriages holding about 20 minute through a live re-enactment of the story leading up to Jesus' birth. It really was amazing to see it all and be a part of it, no matter what my religion. It was great to see a community dealing with Christmas from the point of view of it's origins, and not the over commercialised side of Christmas that we're so often used to seeing.

Christmas Day

We started with breakfast, and then a game of cards, called Pitch. Marlin taught us how to play, and I didn't really get it, but I persevered. I helped out again with the chores, even getting onto one of the horses in the process (I didn't exactly ride the horse, just sat on it), and then had a go at milking a cow. I wasn't exactly great at it but I did got some milk into the bucket. Presents were opened, and I was kindly given some chocolate and soup to keep me fed on my travels. Some friends arrived for Christmas dinner, and following that I was taught the classic cowboy game of Butt Darts. A mug is placed on the floor, and then you stand a few yards away from it, clench a quarter in your butt cheeks, then waddle over to the mug and attempt to drop the coin into it. Call it beginners luck, or good aim, I got it in first time. The entire room cheered and fell into hysterics, with Robert announcing "That's like winning the Superbowl!" No one else could match my aim, and I was crowned Butt Darts Champion 2010! Way to go! Later on we played more cards, and I was starting the get the rules. We played with two teams of three, and it looked like the team I was on was going to lose. The winner is the first to 11 points, and we were down 10 to 2. But the miracle of Christmas being what it is, we pulled it back to 10 - 10, and the final round was all to play for. Somehow the hand I was dealt was magic, and with my final card, we won the game 11 to 10. WAY. TO. GO!

Sunday December 26th

I got up at 7:30am to help Joy with the chores before she left to go back to Tempe. Luckily this was just in time to catch the tail end of a beautiful sunrise. Chores done, and Joy gone, I showered and prepared to leave. I desperately wanted to stay to continue my time on the ranch, but knew I should move on. My two days there could have been a week, and I felt I had really got to know the family, and genuinely hope I get to return one day. Marie kindly gave me some home made cheese to share with my next couchsurf hosts. Once I had traversed the mountain roads there...

Reaching out, and branching out...

2010-12-27T03:36:00.005Z

Thursday December 23rd

Before bed on the Wednesday evening I had sent out a few couchsurf messages, and arranged to stay in Flagstaff for Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Amanda and Scott were themselves Jewish and said they were happy for me to stay over for Christmas, and give me a chance to visit the Grand Canyon. I had also made contact with Joy in Tempe, she was in the middle of moving and going back home for Christmas but said she could probably find me somewhere to sleep somehow. I replied to her with my number and told her to call me Thursday if she was around.

I decided I wanted a day off from driving so made a gentle stroll into Tempe, and the main drag called Mill Avenue, where all the bars and restaurants were. As I was strolling down the street my phone went, but I didn't recognise the number. I answered, and for a few seconds was mightily confused as I couldn't work out who Joy was. Then the penny (or cent) dropped. She explained she was now home for Christmas, but extended a very kind offer for me to join her and her family. Her parents lived 2 hours north from Tempe, pretty much on the way to Flagstaff. On a ranch. That rang out in my head. "On a ranch. On a ranch. You're being invited to a Christmas on a ranch". Despite my inward excitement, I explained I had planned to stay in Flagstaff, so I would think about it and get back to her. I went for lunch as I was starving, then made my way to the Hayden Butte, a small 20 minute hike that gave an outstanding view over Tempe and much of Arizona, including Phoenix to the west. During my walk there I called Scott and asked if it was alright if I pushed my stay with them by a couple of days. He said that was fine, and I planned to reach Flagstaff by Sunday, opening up Christmas Eve and day. I ventured to the top of Haden Butte (or 'A Mountain' as some call it, due to the large A on the side). I stayed up there for a couple of hours, taking in the view, enjoying the Chanukah Menorah that was still up there, listening to music on my ipod & people watching as others came and went. By 4pm I decided to return to Mill Ave for a Chai Tea, to check my emails and surf the net, then return to Hayden Butte for sunset. This I did, and took in the wonderful bright orange as it disappeared behind the distant mountains. I started coming down as it was almost dark, and rang Joy. I said I would be delighted to accept her offer to stay with her Family, and would arrive mid Friday afternoon. I ended the call, and walked back to James' house with a tingle of excitement in anticipation of the next few days. I knew nothing about the ranch, nothing about the family, and only what I had learnt about Joy on her couchsurf profile. But something inside me burned. Burned like a warm glowing fire on a late winter's night. Some how I knew I was going to enjoy my Christmas. I just hoped it lived up to the expectation I had set for it.

Going up...

A up...

A view...

The view...

The end...

That evening James had other plans to meet up with a friend of his, whilst I had seen another couchsurf meeting that was taking place at the Four Peaks, so I returned there and had a very pleasant evening with a number of new faces, namely Hytham, Mike, Richard, Charlotte, Angelique, Shirley (from Taiwan) and a few others. I had two beers over the space of 5 hours as I was driving (I had to drive to get there) and also in preparation for my drive in the morning. I went to bed, still with that warm burning feeling inside. In fact, my excitement was a bit too much, and I couldn't really sleep. It was almost like it was Chanukah. Or Christmas. Except it was, in approximately 24 hours. And I was heading to a ranch...

Very superstitious, writing's on the wall...

2010-12-26T05:46:00.005Z

Wednesday December 22nd

I woke up Wednesday morning, and James had to be in work, but he gave me a key to the house and said I could come and go as I please. Again, the generosity and trust from strangers staggers belief. I looked on line for an interesting place to go, and read about the Superstition Mountains, just a 40 minute drive from Tempe. First I got some breakfast at a great little place called Harlow's Cafe, then I set off in search of some wilderness. And boy did I find some. My first stop was the Superstition Mountains Museum to pick up some information, and got a free map showing me where I could go. First stop would be the Lost Dutchman State Forest where I could go hiking up round the mountains. I parked my car, grabbed a bottle of water, chose my route, and off I went. The following two hours was breathtaking. I've never felt so insignificant in my life. In a positive way. There was not a soul but myself, and these huge mountainous rocks around me, and as I climbed higher and higher, I could see for miles around me in all directions. And so far, no rain, just bright beaming sunshine. Two birds blew above me and the only two sounds I could hear at that point was their squawk and the flapping of their wings.

The view approaching the Superstition Mountains.

The view climbing the Superstition Mountains.

The view behind the Superstition Mountains.

The view through part of the Superstition Mountains.

The view coming back down the Superstition Mountains.

Following the open wilderness, I headed for a more closed wilderness, traversing the mountainous Apache Trail 88 roads through the Superstition Mountains as I made my way to the Tortilla Flats. I'd never driven through such scenery, as I climbed and climbed through the mountains, then drove by, and stopped at, the fantastic Canyon Lake, before finally ending up at Tortilla Flats, a four barn stop consisting of a tiny museum, a grocery store, a restaurant and a gift shop. Tortilla flats originally came about as a stop for the workers making their way through the mountains to build the Hoover Dam. Rumour has it was so called the Tortilla Flats because some workers got stranded by a flash flood, and only had enough flour and water to make a few flat tortillas, and thus the name was born.

Canyon Lake

Open land

Tortilla Flats

It was dark by the time I drove back and driving back through the winding roads was both exhilarating and scary, but I loved every minute of it. I returned back to Tempe just as James returned from work, and he kindly cooked dinner before we went out to meet Matt and Renee and a few others for a few drinks at a few local bars. I went to bed, having experienced no rain. I kept my fingers crossed...

The Gonzo Road Trip...

2010-12-23T20:42:00.007Z

Monday December 20th

Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I? Shouldn't I? I popped into Best Buy to get a cable so I could play my ipod through the aux in the car, and I walked past the GPS section. All I had was the printed map that Neil had given me to get me out of San Francisco onto the I5, but beyond that, it was just open road. And I knew the I10 went straight to Phoenix. After much dilly-dallying about, I decided for $79.99 it could be a worthwhile investment. It sure was.

I immediately got lost trying to get out of San Francisco, it was teaming down with rain, so immediately the GPS came to my rescue. Getting out of San Francisco took a good hour or so, and it was already 6:30pm by the time I was on the I5. I set myself a cut off point of about 11pm where I would stop and find a nearby Motel. By 10:45 I pulled of the I5 and found a Motel 6. I was in Lost Hills, California. Still a long way from Phoenix. I lay in bed in room 102 thinking about my (ad)venture. Was it the stupidest thing I had ever done? I could end up on the road for 10 days, no couchsurfing, spending $40 a night on motels, on my own for Christmas, pretty much going out my mind with loneliness. I was effectively living the life of a trucker. Only without the truck. Or a beard. I logged on to couchsurf and sent out a few requests and posted some messages on the Phoenix and Arizona pages.

I watched the weather on TV, and the impending deluge of wet weather from the West Coast was heading inland. I went to bed and set the alarm for 8:30am.

Tuesday December 21st

I got up, showered and checked my messages. There was one message from someone saying they couldn't offer me a place to stay, but there was a Foodie Tuesday meeting going on, where a bunch of people meet up to have dinner. I noted down the address. I munched an apple for breakfast, got in the car, and punched the address into the GPS. I had 526 miles to go. There was no way I could do that in a day. Could I?

I drove. And drove. And drove. I flipped between the radio and my ipod to keep things interesting. I drove. And drove. I stopped for lunch. It was pouring down with rain. It continued to pour with rain. I continued to drive. It continued to rain. Before dark hit I stopped to take in the surrounding desert, and it was spectacular. Then it got dark. Then it stopped raining. Then it got foggy. Then it started raining again. But I was getting closer. The GPS said I would arrive at about 8pm, and I wasn't feeling tired, I was still good to keep going. As I drove through Phoenix to reach Tempe, just a few miles east, the rain stopped. I pulled up outside the Blue Nile Cafe, and walked in. There was no one there. I got online and saw a few other people had posted saying they were going to a bar called Four Peaks, and one guy, James, had left his number. I checked his profile, decided he wasn't a crazy axe murderer and sent him a message. He replied; "yes, here with Matt, also a CSer, corner of bar, black jacket". I ate up, chatted to the (hot) girl working in the cafe, then made my way to the bar. For the first time in the US, my driving license wasn't accepted going into the bar, so I went back to the car to get my passport. Inside, I rang James and met up with them. We chatted for a while, and I thought it suitable to mention I didn't yet actually have anywhere to stay. James immediately said I could stay at his, he has a spare guest room with a bed. He double checked with his housemate, she said fine, and I was sorted. The girl serving us, Renee, turned out to also be on couchsurf, and said she'd be up for hanging out when she wasn't working. I'd arrived in Tempe at 8:30pm with nowhere to stay and no one to hang out with. It had stopped raining, was a comfortable 15 degrees Celsius, and by 10pm I had accommodation and people to hang out with. The difference a day makes. From a lonely Motel 6, to a comfortable Tempe bed. All in a days work. Or drive.

I went to bed with my fingers crossed that the rain would stay away...

The desert view from the I10

The car view from the desert

I'm on the road to nowhere...

2010-12-22T07:30:00.010Z

I managed to find a rideshare through the Couchsurf website going from LA to San Francisco on Friday (17th December) so decided I would take that as my cue to move on. I spoke with Rose a couple of times as she was deciding what time to leave (and so she could verbally interview me without me realising, which is fair enough, letting a stranger into your car), and we arranged to meet at the Highland Park station just out of downtown. I sent out a few lastminute messages on Couchsurf to see if I could find a place to stay, and to quote Neil's response; "at the risk of committing to something without fully thinking it through...yeah". So I had a place to stay.

Fabio's housemate Natalie gave me a lift to the local station on Hollywood Boulevard and I made my way to Highland park. One other guy joined us in the rideshare (so four in total as Rose was travelling to SF with a friend of hers) and we made the 7 hour journey to San Francisco. We were dropped off at the Castro Valley station on the other side of the bay and I got the BART to the Civic Center station where I then got the number 6 bus to Neil's appartment. I didn't get to the appartment until about 8:30pm, so we immediately went out to get some dinner, along with Dina, a friend of Neil. I spent the following days exploring San Francisco, although the weather had taken a turn for the worse. I ventured into downtown, and then across Chinatown to the touristy Fisherman's Wharf, and across to Fort Mason. Neil showed me round a few bars in the trendy Mission area, and on Sunday he gave me a little driving tour of Ocean Beach and the Sutro Bath Ruins, as well as swinging by Golden Gate Park and the Bison that the San Francisco Zoo keep there. There was a definite feel to San Francisco that I felt at home with, and its relative small size (San Francisco itself is only 7 square miles) made it good to explore, although with the many hills it was tough on the legs.

The Golden Gate Bridge

Sutro Bath Ruins

The Pacific Sun Set

Michael, my close friend Raven's brother, is currently living and studying in San Francisco, and I had tentatively arranged to stay at his for the final 2 weeks of my trip so I could relax and settle down for a while, but something was gnawing inside me, and I felt I needed to explore some more. I met up with Michael before he returned to England for Christmas, and he kindly gave me a key to his place so I could crash there, but I decided I needed to see more of America. The rain was pelting down on the West Coast, so I looked up where might be dry. Southern Arizona was showing pretty decent weather, sunny, and in the high teens (Celsius). On Monday, I just thought "Sod it, let's go", so I contacted Enterprise, rented a car until December 30th, and began my Gonzo Road Trip to Arizona...

dystopian stereotypes...

2010-12-19T01:27:00.012Z

Up until the day before I arrived, LA was still basking in baking sunshine, certainly not a typical December for anyone from England. Unfortunately I landed to thick fog, and whilst not exactly cold, it wasn't beach weather either. Los Angeles is a strangely engaging place. I went there with two preconceptions. One: you have to drive everywhere. Two, it's a fake place. I think I can unreservedly confirm number one. You do indeed need a car. Luckily Fabio has a rented car, so he picked me up from the airport and chauffeured me around for a couple of days. My first day in LA did show some sunshine, so we took the winding roads up to the Hollywood hills in search of the Hollywood sign. And find it we did (you can't exactly miss it). We hiked intending to get as close as we could. They don't like you getting close and we were prepared for the possibility of a helicopter arriving and shouting us down. With no helicopter in sight we continued up. Unfortunately they patrol the hills in 4x4's too. Out of nowhere came the announcement; "It's illegal to hike where you are, please climb down or you will be arrested". Over to our right was a Police vehice, lights flashing, speaker on full blast. We looked around. Yes, that meant us. There was no one else. We slowly started our way back down, but hidden slightly behind a tree, took a couple more photos. What are they going to do from a distance, shoot me? Oh, well, yeah, I suppose they could.

Having been in New Orleans for the previous 7 days, I wasn't particularly in a party mood, so I didn't tend to any night-life or bars, but instead enjoyed the noticeable relaxed vibe of being on the west coast. We drove to Santa Monica and Venice, and met up with some of Fabio's friends. On Thursday I walked around the rather tacky and tourist trapped Hollywood Boulevard, then took the Metro into downtown. Unfortunately, whilst I took my camera, I left the memory card in my laptop, so no photos ensued. Certainly the people I came across didn't seem fake, I think it's more to do with the size and scale of LA that you don't get a sense of real community, at least in the short time I was there. LA is really made up of many different cities, all under the umbrella term 'Los Angeles', so there is no real central location, just a number of built up areas all spread out. There are also a lot of homeless people, and many of them crazy, talking to themselves, or more to the point, talking to people they think are in front of them, but in reality is just thin air. A lot of them push their trolleys around with them, full of all their worldly possessions. Blade Runner, made in 1982, represents a dystopian Los Angeles, and to be honest, I'm not sure Ridley Scott was that far off. Only another 9 years to find out...

waiting for Jim Morrison...

2010-12-16T06:58:00.001Z

from the swamp to the hills...

2010-12-15T08:14:00.007Z

NEW ORLEANS SWAMP:

LOS ANGELES HOLLYWOOD HILLS:

heart beat...

2010-12-13T21:31:00.007Z

There is no way I could really describe New Orleans to you all. Wait, let me rephrase that. There is no way I could really describe New Orleans to y'all. That's better.

NOLA (New Orleans Louisiana, it took me a while to work that out) is crazy. Absolutely crazy. It makes no sense. In a good way. The city surrounds the meandering Mississippi river, acting like a heartbeat to its vibrant streets. Those streets criss-cross all over the place, north to south, east to west, to southwest, to northeast, following the loops of the river. Only five years ago this great city was devastated by the events of Hurricane Katrina, but as the waters receded, that heartbeat still pumped. The city picked itself up, and found a way to carry on. You still get a sense of the recovery that is still ongoing, many of the roads are uneven and potholed, many of the houses still lie empty. But there is much construction work and a great feeling of moving forward. One man told me that time is divided into two zones in the this part of the country. Pre-K & Post-K. Listening to a local band play live on the radio the interviewer asked how long they'd been together. "Four years" came the reply. "Aah, so you're a post-K band" she said. He wasn't lying.

The past week has flown by, and now I'm moving on to LA. I feel like I'm moving on to a new part of my journey now. Having met Drew about a month ago when we both stayed with Tara & Lexi in Minneapolis, I would never have imagined we would have just ventured on a 2 week roadtrip from Washington DC to New Orleans together. We've had many more ups than downs, and it's been great having someone on the road to see and do things together. But now I'm ready to move again, and I'm looking forward to the next part of my trip. I could have continued by bus, but the southwest of America really is best viewed if you have acess to a car, and I managed to find a flight to LA (via Denver) for $140, so decided that way I could meet up with Fabio (we worked at SEE together, he now lives in LA) before he went home to Spain for Christmas, and from there make my way up to San Francisco. Having had the past 2 weeks roughly mapped out in advance, it's nice to get back to the unknown road...

A taste of NOLA...

2010-12-12T20:22:00.003Z

There really is very little I can say right now to adequately explain New Orleans, Louisiana. It really is a place like no other I have ever been to. I had heard so much about it, mainly through my dad back home and Phoebe in New York, but in reality you can only understand it by coming here. Tonight will be my final night here, but I have no idea where time has gone this week. I will have spent a total of 6 nights here, seen some unbelievable music, ate some amazing food, ventured out to the swamps, heard amazing stories, tried to comprehend how they coped with Katrina, eaten a beignet (it's like heaven covered in sugar), eaten the most AMAZING pecan pie I've ever eaten (it's like an alternative heaven), hung out with two of the friendliest hosts in the world (Ashley & Ashley, or Ashley One and Ashley Two as Drew and I describe them), met other couchsurfers passing through NOLA, met a local photographer by chance at a gallery showing his photograph and generally been consumed by the wonder that is NOLA. When I have more time I will describe more tales, but my journey takes on a new stage tomorrow as I fly out to LA. My trip with Drew has been pretty epic, and he continues tomorrow to drive back to Pennsylvania for Christmas with his family, whilst I travel west...

Extra time...

2010-12-12T03:28:00.002Z

We ended up staying in Montgomery an extra day. Despite Tony leaving to go to Baltimore for a few days, he insisted he was happy for us to stay and provided us with a key to the apartment. Drew and I thought this too good to turn down, so we enjoyed an extra day on Monday relaxing in the apartment and taking more time to see the Capital Building, Civil Rights Memorial and Rosa Parks Museum. Lunch was an EPIC hotdog in the very old school Chris' Hotdogs, established in, and seemingly unchanged since, 1916. Monday evening we cooked up enough pasta to feed an army so we could take the remainder with us for our trip to New Orleans.

Alabama State Capitol, Montgomery.

EPIC hotdog.

Tuesday morning we still didn't have a place to stay in New Orleans, so knew perhaps we'd have to get a cheap motel, or possibly just go out into the evening, have a few drinks, and probably find somewhere somehow. We were also debating whether to stay another day in Montgomery and take advantage of Tony's amazing apartment. I posted a message on the NOLA page of couchsurf and soon had a response from Ashley saying we could stay at her place if we still didn't have anywhere. We took this as our queue to leave. We rang Ashley and began our journey to the Big Easy. We arrived not too late and found the house, in the middle of uptown. We consumed our Montgomery made pasta, and went for a couple of drinks at a local neighbourhood bar. Ashley seemed to know everyone, and Drew and I played some pool against the locals. At 1am we returned to the house to position our floor mats and sleeping bags, met Ashley's other housemate, called Ashley, and caught some shuteye. Thus began the grip that is New Orleans, Louisiana. A grip that would take hold for the next few nights...

Favourites...

2010-12-06T06:08:00.013Z

It would be unfair and unjust of me to have 'favourites' when it comes to people who host me, mainly because everyone is so different, and it would be unfair to compare and subsequently judge them. Plus, that's not what the process is about. We're not here to judge who is better than who and who deserves a better rating. However, it is also natural that you will have varying degrees of opinions, and despite the relatively short periods of time you spend with people, different sorts of bonds and relationships grow. I haven't yet had a bad experience or met anyone I haven't liked or enjoyed spending time with, but there is a natural order that develops in your own mind. I'd like to think that certain people know they're towards the top of my list, and I expect they will be friends whom I keep in contact for many years. Having said all of that, I must say that staying with Tony in Montgomery has been one of the greatest couple of days of my trip so far. I've often heard the phrase 'southern hospitality' used, but until this weekend could never give it any context.

Following Saturday nights fascinating conversation, Sunday morning was opened with a fantastic pancake and omelette breakfast cooked for us by Tony. All you need know is cheese, eggs, pancakes, peanut butter nutella, strawberries and sprinklings of caster sugar were involved. Simply AWESOME. We then relaxed in his apartment for a while before he drove us to the Montgomery Museum of Fine Arts and the Hank Williams Jr Museum. For dinner we went to a classis southern buffet, a place called Tomatoes, you paid $8 upfront, then ate as much as you wanted! I had rice, different types of fried chicken, deep fried tomatoes, mac and cheese, some other stuff (no idea what!), and then desert of pecan pie, banana ice cream stuff, other stuff, and stuff, and more stuff and oh my god I can't move for ever. Ever. Amen.

Following that we relaxed back at his place, and he showed us how to 'light write' using a camera (long shutter speed & full aperture).

Chez Tony Breakfast, Montgomery, Alabama.

Tony, Me, Drew & Hank.

Light Sabre Light Writing.

I fell hook line and sinker for Tony's little joke...

When setting up your couchsurf profile you're asked to fill out your 'mission statement', a simple one liner to sum up your current plan/situation/hopes etc. Mine reads "to see the world through my own eyes, untainted by TV, radio or newspapers...". I feel this suitably sums up the past 7 weeks, but this weekend it really rang true. Later in the evening he showed us some photos from Afghanistan, and I wouldn't want to repeat any of the stories he told us, simply because I think that would be wrong of me to tell them, but I was fascinated. I've read many newspapers stories from Afghanistan, seen many news reports, but there I was hearing the stories direct from someone who has seen it, travelled there, met the locals, felt the anger and bitterness towards him and the occupying forces, taken some photos, and returned home. I felt truly humbled. No TV. No radio. No newspaper. Just Tony, and his story.

To cap, this is my couchsurf history to date, as shown on my couchsurf profile:

In Montgomery I was hosted by Tony.
In Macon I was hosted by Jacob and met fellow CS-ers Ray & Daryl.
In Asheville I was hosted by Patrick & friends.
In Carrboro I was hosted by Lori.
In Washington DC I was hosted by Lauren, Rachel & Autumn (and Carrot the Cat).
In Philadelphia I was hosted by Wanda(& the boystown crew).
In Upper Black Eddy I was hosted by Alyssa & Donna.
In Pittsburgh I was hosted by Drew.
In Toledo I was hosted by Mike.
In the Upper Territories I travelled with Drew, Alyssa & Mandy, whom I met couchsurfing in Minneapolis.
In Minneapolis I experienced my first official couch surf, with my wonderful hosts Tara & Lexi.
In Chicago I went to a CS hosted Halloween Party and met a number of people, including Tara.
In New York I met with Baptiste and had a coffee and discussed travelling.

http://www.couchsurfing.org/davidsaulfineberg

Brain matters...

2010-12-05T23:46:00.006Z

Jacob showed us around Macon on Friday morning, and Ray also joined us. We hit a downtown restaurant for brunch at midday, and then walked down to the Otis Reading statue before driving over to the Allman Brothers museum called 'The Big House', situated within the actual house that they lived in during the early seventies.

Sitting on the dock of the bay...

The golden age...

We eventually left about 4pm for our three hour drive to Montgomery where we had another couchhost set up, Tony. Our journey there was pretty straightforward, although the 'Check Engine' light did flash. My lack of motoring knowledge was pretty useless, but a quick look didn't show anything serious, and a nearby Auto shop plugged in an electronic monitor that said it might have something to do with the catalytic converter. The same thing happened a month or so ago and it didn't cause any problems so on we went.

We arrived into Montgomery, a quiet but lovely little southern town. We waited in the car for 10 minutes as Tony was at the grocery store, and when he arrived he showed us up to his apartment. Not only does he have a wonderful apartment, but it is also situated in the building where Rosa Parks used to work. They were originally going to knock it down but it was eventually bought and turned into apartments, so at least the building has been preserved. Tony showed us the bus stop where Rosa Parks boarded for the now infamous bus journey and I quite genuinely felt a shiver down my spine. We went for dinner, which he very kindly paid for (he pays for every first meal with his couchsurfers) and I quickly knew that not only would I get along with Tony, but would find him very interesting. He has worked in the military for 11 years, joining when he was 19. He initially joined the infantry and tank division, then worked for the recruiting department, then the marketing department, was then posted to Afghanistan for 12 months, returning 7 months ago rejoining the Marketing Department. We spent the rest of the evening, into the early hours, discussing all sorts, from politics, to philosophy, to the size of our brains, to films and his time in the military. Despite tiredness kicking in I just wanted to stay up and talk. By 2am (and we'd gained an hour travelling, so 3am) it was time for bed. Drew took the couch and I got the large blow up mattress that was in the spare room. Another day of fascinating tales and stories. I'm just grateful I have enough room in my brain to take it all in. From seeing dolphins by the beach on Friday to hearing stories about Afghanistan from a US soldier on Saturday, it's been an eye opening 48 hours. And in another 48 hours or so, I'll be in New Orleans...

One hell of a beach...

2010-12-05T07:42:00.008Z

Friday morning we set off to look around Mount Pleasant (where the actual motel was) and then a little look at downtown Charleston. I got my first glimpse of a palm tree, and whilst it wasn't exactly boiling hot, it was a great feeling, especially knowing how cold it was back home. Mount Pleasant is an idyllic little island with some amazing houses right by the beach, and Charleston was a very charming little town. We didn't stay too long as we wanted to make our way down the coast towards Savannah, stopping at a couple of beaches on the way. We had planned to eventually make it over to Macon where we had arranged for a couch to surf on with our host Jacob.

Our first stop was Folly Beach, a beautiful little spot where we stopped to stroll along the beach and take in the surroundings. We stopped for a while to read our books and lie back in the sun. Then all of a sudden Drew pipes up "dude, what the fuck is that, look out there". I looked out but couldn't see anything. Then WHAM. There it was. A dolphin. Then another. And another. In the distance, small, but clear to see, the fin of a dolphin would appear and then disappear. We watched for few minutes in amazement, then decided it was time to move on.

We had a couple of hours to drive but we made it to Hilton Head Island in time for sun set. And WOW what a sunset. The view of the sun going down, and the sea, and the beach, and the amazing colours of violet, and red, and orange, were just amazing. As the sun disappeared I couldn't help but feel content with the day. A pretty relaxed day of travelling had seen some dolphins and the most amazing sunset, and we hadn't even reached Savannah or Macon yet.

We hit Savannah and stopped for dinner at the Moon River Brewery. They did a taster of their 9 home brews, and it would have been rude to turn that down. So we didn't. 9 home brews later, and dinner consumed, we went for a walk along the river. We conversed with a few street musicians, Drew purchased a locally made cigar, smoked a bit of it, donated the rest to some dude we got talking to, and by 9pm decided we best hit the road again as we had 3 more hours to Macon.

The drive to Macon was pretty uneventful. Oh, apart from nearly hitting a buck. A HUGE buck. With HUGE antlers. Drew swerved out of the way just in time for me to look it full on in the face as we zoomed past it at 75mph. That buck was 'this' close to having a Subaru flatten it, and the Subaru was 'this' close to having antlers permanently attached to its windscreen. A close call to the say the least.

We rolled into Macon at 11:30 and met our host Jacob at a local bar. He was hosting someone else at the same time, Ray, and we also met another local couchsurfing host, Daryl. Daryl was quite a character, and once we got talking it turned out that he had spent 8 years travelling the world on a motorbike, visiting over 60 countries. We returned to Jacob's house, about 20 minutes out from Macon, and it was an amazing house, one he had designed and built himself. As Ray had got there earlier that day he got the spare bedroom, whilst Drew and I took the two couches. A long day had come to an end, and it was time to hit the sack. Dolphins, two beaches, a glorious sunset, a Savannah Brewery and Macon travellers were enough to send me into a blissful couch slumber...

the onward journey...

2010-12-04T15:59:00.003Z

Thursday morning we went for a great breakfast in Asheville (at the superbly titled Over Easy) before heading off to see some more wonders of Smoky Mountains. We spent the afternoon driving around winding hilly roads looking out for anything that caught our eye, such as the Looking Glass Waterfall in the Pisgah National Forest, and by dark it was time to hit the highway again and head towards Charleston.

We arrived in Charleston at about 8pm and desperately looked for a coffee shop so we could hop on the internet. The only place we could find was a Starbucks, but refused to use it, so we asked a local who told us of a nearby place called Kudu coffee. We didn't have a place to stay, and this time had no such luck with our lastminute couchsurf requesst. We were told of a local hostel which would come it at $20 each for a dorm or $50 for a private room, but you had to check in at 10pm by the latest. Drew then found a cheap motel nearby that would cost $47 for a room with two queen beds, so we opted for that and a solid night's sleep. Pizza in hand, we headed there, ate, heads hit the pillow, and our best sleep for a few nights was had.

Next morning we began what was probably my favourite day's travelling thus far...

The Great Smoky Mountains...

2010-12-02T00:50:00.008Z

So here's the 'however many' degrees of separation. Drew's housemate Dob has a friend called Tracy. Tracy knows a girl in Asheville called Pickles (it's her nickname). Tracy contacted Pickles to see if we could stay with her. It turned out Tracy was away, but her next door neighbour Patrick was on couchsurf and she recommended we message him. He accepted, and we drove through the pouring rain and arrived outside his house.

Next morning, we set off at 9am, got in a great local breakfast, popped into a local store to get some long johns (it would be cold up there) and started our journey towards Cherokee to visit the Smoky Mountain Visitor Center [sic]. We went through some astonishing surroundings on the drive there, found the Visitor Center, and with maps in hand, we headed towards the Kephart trail and went for an hour long hike into the Smoky Mountains where we found a little shelter, and relaxed there for a while. The rest of of the day was spent driving through the mountains, stopping at various spots and taking in the quite spectacular views and awesome scenery. Words won't describe it. And pictures barely portray the beauty I witnessed. But here's a selected few...

It just so happens that Asheville has the second most number of Microbreweries per capita, only behind Portland. Now there's a fact for you. We celebrated our long day in the mountains with a couple of Asheville speciality beers, and I raised a toast to the first night of Hanukkah...

Rule Britannia...

2010-12-02T00:29:00.006Z

Couch Surf etiquette is that you privately message anyone you want to stay with, but there is the 'last minute couch' option, which entails searching for groups that may relate to where you're going, usually simply the name of the town, and leaving a generic message. Bagel in hand I joined the 'Charlotte', 'North Carolina's Triangle', 'North Carolina' and 'Asheville & WNC' groups, stating our needs and our telephone numbers.

We hit the road.

By mid afternoon we had 6 options. A couple of messages on the website when we had the chance to check, and 4 options via our phones (either text or call). It really was amazing. People reaching out to us to help give us a place to stay. We checked them out on the website, weighed up our options, and decided Carrboro was the best option in terms of our driving schedule, so I gave Lori a ring and it was set. To Carrboro we went. Via Colonial Williamsburg. Which was AMAZING. Without going into the history, it was colonised by, yep, the English. It still has buildings dating back to 1699. And people dressed of the period. And the British flag stuck up.

From there we made the 3 hour drive to Carrboro and went to meet Lori. We met a bunch of her friends and played Catchphrase. She had a great place to stay, with a blow up mattress and a futon. For breakfast she provided us with bagels and tea. She really was a wonderful host, and in a strange way it felt wrong passing through so quickly, but that's the nature of travelling sometimes. She was so kind letting us stay at short notice, and the next morning we made our way. A quick drive around town, and then it was time to hit the highway again. Our next stop would be Asheville. And yet another random series of events leading us to our next couchsurf host... (and an awful lot of rain)

A cacophony of information...

2010-11-30T04:44:00.006Z

Here's the deal. A few weeks back I had said I would at some point be going to New Orleans. Drew raised an eyebrow. An idea was hatched. We discussed the possibility, that perhaps, maybe, depending on certain factors, if the wind blew in the right direction, and the moon and sun were aligned correctly, and mother nature showed a sign, and if he had the funds, that perhaps he might be interested in going to New Orleans, and maybe we could join forces.

We joined forces. We arranged to meet up again in DC. He went home to visit his family for a while, and then drove to DC on Saturday. We both then made our way to our hosts Lauren, Autumn and Rachel (and Carrot, the cat). It was Lauren who had accepted the couch request but all three had profiles, and although Lauren was quite busy all weekend they were effectively a joint force. A saviour from the snorer, cougher argumenter argue-backer debacle the previous night. They were fantastic. Another example of genuine kind hosts. Although only there for two nights, and seeing the monuments and museums for much of the time, what time we spent with them was a great combination of conversation, jokes and deciding whether it was a crepe or a pancake (either way it tasted great).

Monday morning, it was time to move on. Having spent three days in DC, I can conclude that it is a cacophony of information and history. In a good way. You come away slightly dazed by it all. By the size of the buildings. By the history behind it. By the sheer information on offer. I visited the Museum of Art & Space, the Natural History Museum, the Museum of American History, The Holocaust Memorial Museum, The Korean War Memorial, The Vietnam War Memorial, The Lincoln Memorial & The White House. And I only touched the surface.

Time to hit the road. Only we didn't have anywhere to stay Monday night. But there was a coffee shop nearby, and we both had laptops. One cream cheese bagel and a green tea later, our work was done. We hit the road...

The US Capitol Building

The Washington Monument

(a small part of the) National World War II Memorial

Korean War Veterans Memorial

Did I tell you the one about the snorer, cougher, argumenter and argue-backer?

2010-11-28T16:27:00.007Z

Friday night I had a classic hostel experience. Returning to the hostel at 10:30pm I went up to the room (606, bed 5) but the lights were out and a number of people were asleep, so I returned to the lounge area downstairs. A dozen or so people were down there but they all had the white of their laptop screens reflecting in their faces, and didn't bat an eyelid. So I sat down. Looked around. And decided I'd join them. Laptop out, I surfed and blogged. The girl sat next to me and left, and then I noticed she'd left her hat on the floor, so I handed it in to the reception. At midnight, I decided I should get some sleep. I sneaked into the room, disrobed, and got into bed. Then the snorer from hell started, well, snoring. And when I say snoring, I mean SNORING.

Or should I say S N O R I N G. Or even S N O R I N G G G G G.

I put my earplugs in.

Then some dude pipes up, "god, I wish that guy would shut up". Then another guy "man, it's a hostel, what d'you expect". Then "hey, you shut up, I gotta get up early I need to sleep". Then "yeah, but it's a hostel, it's what happens". Then "look, you want me to come down there and shut you up, then you shut up". A few more unpleasantries between the two, as I just lay there trying to sleep. Then they shut up. The snorer keeps going, oblivious. Then the guy above me coughs like his insides are violently trying to evacuate his insides. I lay there, trying to sleep. I've no idea how much sleep I got. Next morning when I arise, somewhat groggy, there's no sign of snorer, cougher, argumenter or argue-backer guy. I check out and head towards Park Street, and the Couch Surf Saviours, Lauren, Autumn and Rachel, where a much better environment awaits...

Go fourth...

2010-11-27T16:27:00.004Z

I got the orange line from Metro Central to Court House, and gave Paul a call. He walked to the station to meet me and walk me to their house just a few minutes away. At the house I met his wife Katie and two daughters Mindy and Rebecca (they're my fourth cousin's once removed). Introductions out of the way, and beer in hand, Paul unravelled the family tree which he had printed out and stuck together on a dozen or so A4 pieces of paper. It's one thing reading connections in text form, but seeing it laid out on a family tree brings it to life as you really can see the connections. Rebecca took a photo of myself and Paul stood by our respective places on the family tree.

It was great to spend the evening with them and learn about their lives, and likewise describe to them what I have been doing the past few years. Dinner itself was delicious, my second turkey meal in two days, plus an amazingly good pumpkin pie (which sadly I couldn't quite finish I was so full). Rebecca also gave me a few tips on things to do in Australia as she has lived out there. It's difficult to fully explain what it's like to meet your fourth cousin, who one week ago I had never heard of until my dad vaguely remembered the he had made contact with someone in the DC area some time ago when researching the family tree. But now I have met both Paul and Susan. And I am very glad to have done so. It's nice to know that my 'travelling family' (my self penned name for all the people I am meeting on my journey) now also includes actual blood line relatives. It's a big small world...

It's a family affair...

2010-11-27T04:00:00.003Z

So, Thanksgiving, American Jewish style.

In a way, I don't really need to set the scene. If you imagine a classic family get together, you're pretty close to the mark. And it was great. I waited in mid-town Baltimore for Erica, and she picked me up around 9pm on her way to a bar with her twin sister and a few other friends and family. A few drinks there and then back to her family home in Valley Heights. Thursday morning and they did a 10am breakfast, bagels and smoked salmon and other delicious delights to set the scene for the main event later on. The rest of the day was very relaxed, watched the football, met various members of the family, went for a walk, went for a drive with her cousin Aaron to buy some beers. It was pretty much just what I needed. About 5pm hors d'oeuvres were serves, carrots etc and dip, and football on the telly, then around 6pm, the main meal. Quite peculiar in a way, because from a British perspective it was a classic Christmas dinner. Turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce. Only there was no Christmas. And everyone was Jewish! Go figure! Put simply, dinner was delicious, dessert was delicious. And then back to the sofa, and more football/sleeping. At 10pm some people went off to get in some 'Black Friday' shopping, and the rest of us put on a film, Transsiberian, an intriguing thriller set on, er, well, the Transsiberian Railway.

Now, there are two particular stories that stick with me from the day. They both involve backgrounds, and the amazing stories you can randomly come across. Firstly, Turner (I guess that's the spelling), a friend of Erica. She was born to a Vietnamese mother and American father. Nothing amazing there. The fascinating part was that her mum was working as an 'intelligence officer; for the USA from Vietnam during the Vietnam War. She was eventually airlifted from Vietnam by the US army for her own safety, and ended up marrying Turner's dad, who was in the US army. She didn't think it was particularly an amazing story, but I did!

Next is Erica's Grandfather. Unfortunately I didn't really a get a chance to talk to him, and there was never really an appropriate moment for me to talk to him. But what I did learn about him was fascinating. He joined the US Air force and was positioned in Oxford in the UK, and 20 days after D-Day was position in France where he was part of a unit that made it's advance to Germany. This was as much as I learnt, and I could have easily posed many questions and listened to him for many hours discussing his time during WWII. However it wasn't really the time or place for me to do that. Still, it was a pleasure and honour to meet in person someone who served during WWII, and there I was enjoying Thanksgiving with all his various offspring .

This morning I was driven to the Megabus stop where I listened to music on the short hour long journey to Washington DC. Here, I checked into the HI Hostel and then went for a stroll down to the Washington Monument, WWII & Vietnam Memorial (quite apt) before getting the Metro station out to Court House for Thanksgiving, Part II (and meeting distant family, Part II)...

Rewind...

2010-11-24T18:04:00.012Z

So I probably need to rewind a few days.

I got to Philly last Friday, a little bit late, but was welcomed into the home of Wanda with a delicious home cooked dinner. Wanda lived with 3 other girls, and there were a few other guys there for dinner too, including Ian, a fellow Brit who was also couchsurfing there. That evening we just went for a few beers in a local bar and called it a night. Being quite tired I just strolled around Philly for a bit on Saturday and in the evening went to a party being held in a gym somewhere in West Philly. It was pretty good fun. However, feeling generally tired (physically and mentally) I had already decided that Sunday evening I would check into the reasonably cheap Club Quarters hotel in downtown, just to have some time to myself.

On Monday morning I met up with Susan, with whom I am distantly related. My dad is actively into genealogy, and remembered that he had previously made contact with distant relatives in the Washington DC area. He got in contact with Paul, who in turn replied saying his sister actually lived near and worked in Philly. His sister Susan then messaged me and we arranged to meet before I headed off to Baltimore. By pure coincidence my hotel was just round the corner from her office, so we arranged to meet for breakfast. It was great meeting her, and we had no problem talking about things for the 90 minutes or so breakfast, covering my trip so far, my side of the family, her side of the family and other general topics. I even recorded a Thanksgiving message on her phone for Susan to show her family.

Great great great great cousins, Susan & I.

And rewinding again, whilst I was in Bucks County with Alyssa, she had mentioned she had never been to Baltimore. So, in the tradition of sharing the travel love, I said "well, why don't you come with me?". I'm very glad she said yes, so on Monday morning we met at the Philadelphia Greyhound station and made our way to Baltimore. I was planning on staying at a hotel in Mid-town anyway, so the extra person worked out cheaper for both of us. With the weather being reasonably warm, we just strolled around and took it all in. I can't deny my only influence for wanting to visit Baltimore was from watching The Wire, so I didn't really know what to expect, but I found it a great city, especially the Inner Harbour and Fell's Point areas. (Although a number of people told me to stay away from the East side, as it is just like The Wire. I stayed away.) On Wednesday Alyssa returned home for thanksgiving and I met up with Erica to spend thanksgiving with her family...

The two L's...

2010-11-24T18:04:00.007Z

One big thing I've learnt on my trip so far is how one emotion can manifest itself in many different ways. The main example of this is travelling alone. I've quickly realised the very same emotion, nestling somewhere inside my stomach, can rear its head as loneliness or liberty. On good days, the overwhelming feeling of liberty, of being my own master, the one who decides, fills me with joy and hope of what is to come. And most of my journey has been that way. But I've also noticed certain days I can feel alone, lonely, no one around but me. And yet they're one and the same? They both seem to flow from the same place inside. They aren't two different emotions. But one emotion, represented in different ways. And that's when you realise that you can influence your own mood. We, as human beings, have a tendency to think the grass is greener on the other side. But it isn't always that way. How many times have you been surrounded by people and just wished you were alone. How many times have you been on your own and just wished you had your friends around you? Travelling alone mixes the two. Every time I feel alone, I just remind myself that I can do what I want, go where I want, and make my own decisions. Every time I feel surrounded by people and perhaps want some space, I remind myself that its good to have people around you. Much of the past few weeks I've been surrounded by people; from Minneapolis, through the Upper Peninsula, in Pittsburgh, in Upper Black Eddy, in Philly and for the past few days in Baltimore. This morning Alyssa left to go back to Bucks County, and I suddenly felt very alone for the first time in a few weeks. This was partly because in Alyssa I found a soul mate, and I was sad to see her leave. Its not often that you meet people who you can feel so close to in such a short space of time, but it's the second time that has happened on my trip. I think it was also perhaps my first bout of homesickness. Thanksgiving is a massive holiday in the States, and is very family oriented, and I suddenly felt very far from home. I will spend the rest of today investigating Baltimore, and this evening I shall meet up with Erica, someone I met in New York when I was there last year (though she is from Baltimore). Three weeks ago she kindly said I should go to her families for Thanksgiving if I was in the Baltimore area. Without planning it that way, my journey has brought me through Baltimore this week, so I kindly accepted. And then on Friday I shall visit Paul Levit and his family, a distant relative from Arlington (just southwest of Washington DC) who my dad got in touch with through his interest in Genealogy. I also met his sister Susan for breakfast when I was in Philly on Monday (it's a story for another blog, but we share the same great great great great grandfather).

Anyway, I feel better now for just having written this blog, so I think it's time to see more of Baltimore. (I might also try to catch the Rangers V Utd game if I can find a bar showing it).

Baltimore

2010-11-24T01:06:00.004Z

In honour of Jimmy McNulty

Baltimore from Federal Hill

Egg outside the American Visionary Art Museum

Dangling over the Inner Harbour

The USS Torsk Submarine (SS 423) sunk the last enemy ship of WWII

Philadelphia

2010-11-23T15:05:00.000Z

Bob

Cat

Boots

Beer / Puzzle

Moon

The fat controller...

2010-11-19T21:55:00.003Z

So, I'm leaving Bucks County to get to Philly. We leave Alyssa's to go visit some places before getting me to Doylestown to catch the 16:21 train. Not long out when "clunk", something goes in the van. We think it's a burst tyre so stop by the side of the road. All the tires are fine, everything looks fine, so we carry one. The van is driving, but something is definitely not right. It's making a rumbling noise, but we decide to carry on. About 15 minutes later, just as we're slowing toward the red lights, when "pop", something else goes. There's definitely something wrong. We pull up again, have another look, but still no burst tire, still nothing visibly wrong. But we certainly don't feel like carrying on. Alyssa calls her dad, who says he'll come along as soon as he can. We find a nearby pizza place and stop for lunch (luckily we were near shops, we could easily have been in the middle of nowhere). We return to the van waiting for her dad, Jim. He appears, and before he's even got out of the car he shouts "Jeeez, you guys are only driving on 2 lug nuts!" There should be 5, we have 2 on the front right wheel, and they're probably what made the "clunk" and "pop" noise. Jim takes one from the back wheel and puts it on the front, and we're good to go.

We stop in a cute little apple farm place that happens to have just today opened its new winery, so we get a free wine tasting. On we go to Doylestown, go for a stroll, have a coffee and at 16:10 we go to the station. The office is closed but there are about 30 people on the platform. The train is there but with the doors closed, so I ask a girl whether they are waiting for the Philly train. She says yes, but they never open the doors until just before the train leaves, so me and Alyssa take a seat. At 4:21, I notice a guy standing at the door towards the front of the train, so I get up to go that way, as does another guy stood near me, before we've even walked 2 feet, "chugg, chugg, chugg", the train starts moving. There's confusion as everyone was waiting for the train, but the girl says they've probably gone to turn the train around. The train never came back. The next train is at 17:37. Luckily the waiting room/cafe is still open, and they have wireless, so here I am, alongside the other 30 people, waiting for the next train to Philly.

Next time, I'm walking to the front of the train to see if I can get on. All of a sudden a 10 minute delay on the Jubilee line doesn't seem so bad.

Climbing (parts 1 through 6)

2010-11-19T14:51:00.002Z

(part 1)

Alyssa took me to a secret little rock to climb, just off the Delaware River. I didn't get video of the start, as we climbed, but the following videos continue the story...

"It's just a vulture..."

2010-11-17T21:54:00.006Z

So we're driving through the leafy roads of Bucks County, taking in the surroundings, when I spot an interesting looking large bird hovering up above:

"what's that bird up there?"

"oh, it's just a vulture."

"JUST a vulture? I don't exactly see lots of vultures where I come from."

Further on, we see a dead deer not far from the side of the road, two vultures by its side, and another dozen hovering in the sky above. It was quite a spectacular sight. And then Alyssa pulled up, stopped the engine and excitedly proclaimed "OH MY GOD, there's a bald headed eagle". As quick as I could I grabbed the camera and took a snap before it disappeared into the wild. It's not the greatest photo but you get the idea. What an amazing creature. And the very symbol of the USA.

Back in the woods...

2010-11-16T23:05:00.005Z

And so the day has taken me to pastures new. A 6 hour couch journey took me to 30th Street Station in Philadelphia. A quick sub in the station for lunch (called 'The Best of Philly', I just had to) and then I hopped on the small local train that would take me to Doylestown, further north from Philly. I pretty much dozed for the 90 minute journey, and then I was there, in the small leafy town of Doylestown.

Alyssa was there to meet me, and we went for a walk and a chai tea before she was due at work at 5pm. We also rocked out on a porch that had some rocking chairs just asking to be, er, rocked on. I almost wish I was chewing tobacco so I could spit it out, and hear it go "ker ching, ching, ching, plop" into a bucket.

And I can't even begin to describe how amazing some of the colours of the leaves are. So here's a another picture of nature. Which doesn't do it justice. In person, the colours are SO bright, and SO vivid, that I just had to uppercase the word SO.

Which brings me here, now, to Becker's Corner, where Alyssa works. She's only doing a quick 2 hours shift to cover the busy period, so I'm here, using their Wifi, writing this blog, and trying some new beers (I just had Dead Guy Ale, and I'm about to try a Magic Hat Howl). I'll munch some fodder in a bit, then we'll head to Alyssa's mum's place, where we're staying tonight. It's out in the woods. In the middle of 12 acres of land. And tomorrow we're gonna go hiking. Maybe some kayaking. Visit some lakes. Some amazing views. It's good to be back in the woods...

My wolfpack...

2010-11-16T22:58:00.001Z

It wouldn't let me embed the video.

But this makes my cry with laughter every time.

And there are elements of truth to it too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdMxRG9Jol0

People watching...

2010-11-16T11:35:00.003Z

For some reason, I am wide awake on this megabus to Philadelphia, compared to my equally early start in Chicago a few weeks ago when I pretty much slept. It's not very full, only a dozen or so people on this single decker, but even those few bring an array of different people, and the perfect opportunity to people watch. Already I have briefly spoken to guy in front of my, an American kid about to fly to Europe. Then there's the small gaggle of loud little Chinese women who got on the bus. One of whom is coughing like her life depends it. Right behind me now. Shut up already! (That was just an excuse to use the American phrase 'already')

Though there are many ups and downs to travelling, one of the biggest buzzes I get is when I leave each location and head to a new one. It reminds of the open road ahead, and the fact I can go whichever way I choose, and gives me a boost when I may otherwise be feeling physically and mentally tired. Anyway, we're on the move now, and I can't really type when on the road. And shouldn't I be asleep, it's 6:30am already?

Speak soon, big world.

Window shopping...

2010-11-16T00:12:00.002Z

Have you ever walked down the street window shopping? You know, looking into the windows, wanting this, wanting that, probably can't afford this, probably can't afford that. You can do it on any high street, but Oxford Street or Regents Street is a perfect place. At first, you just see what's in the window. Quite literally, you see mannequins dressed in this or that. You might see some toys. Or the latest flat screen TV. If you stand there long enough, you might see further into the shop. See what else they're selling. Then you start to notice the people in the shop buying things. Then the people in the shop selling things. Yet still you're outside. Disconnected. Just glancing. Just taking it in. Then you move along to the next shop, and look in their window. At the different goods. The different people shopping. The different people selling. Well, I'm window shopping into other people's lives right now. I'm turning up in different cities, and if you only stay for a short time, you just see what's in the window. But stay a little longer, and you see further in. You learn about the person, you learn about the city, you learn about their friends, you learn about the strangers on the bus, you learn about the lady in the convenience store. And you're not disconnected, behind a window. You're in there. Breathing it. Feeling it. And then you move on to the next city, the next window, the next life.

I've been in Pittsburgh since Friday just gone, and I've been travelling with Drew since last Monday. I've peered into his world and his city. I've met up with Dennis too, and peered into his world. I'm learning about other people's lives every day of mine at the moment. Tomorrow I'm moving on. Alyssa, who was on the road trip last week, lives in Bucks County, further east in Pennsylvania, and said I could go stay with her for a few days. From there I will travel to Philadelphia, where I have organised to couchsurf with someone, and from there I will probably go to Baltimore, home of my favourite TV programme in the world, The Wire. And then it's Thanksgiving. I have a plan for thanksgiving. But I don't want to jinx it. So I'll leave that for now, I have a bag to pack. And a 6:30am bus to catch...

(Drew is a film maker, and this is one of his short films)

Gallery 7 from Drew Nicholas on Vimeo.

It's a big small world...

2010-11-14T19:33:00.005Z

Things have slowed down a bit after a whirlwind 2 weeks starting in Chicago and ending in Pittsburgh. Since Friday I've been sleeping on a blow up mattress on Drew's floor and just hanging out. On Friday night we went to a party just round the corner from his, yesterday we went and played Frisbygolf at a local park and last night we went to a couple of bars to shoot some pool and meet a friend of mine Dennis. "A friend of yours?" I hear you ask. How is that possible if I've never been to Pittsburgh before? This got me thinking of the crazy links and coincidences that have chained the last few weeks together, summed up by Drew's housemate Andy this morning, when he said "It's a big small world out there". So, here goes:

Patsy: I worked with her in London, she happened to be visiting home in Chicago and said I should go visit her. I did.

Tara: I met Tara at a CS party in Chicago. She was from Minneapolis and meeting a friend of hers in Chicago.

Dennis: Tara and Dennis first met when they were both studying in London, they chose to meet in Chicago as it was halfway between his hometown of Pittsburgh and hers of Minneapolis.

Lexi: I met Lexi as she was Tara's housemate, and I travelled with Tara from Chicago to Minneapolis.

Drew: He was filming a documentary in Minneapolis and couchsurfed at Tara and Lexi's whilst I was there. He was with two other people, his friend Alyssa who had also brought along her friend Mandy. I joined them as they went on a 5 day road trip.

And that is how I got to Pittsburgh. And then got back in touch with Dennis, who I had met in Minneapolis, where he was meeting the friend he met in London. Oh, and Dennis lived in Ealing. And regularly got on the 226 bus. Which passes my house.

It's a big small world.

Chevrolet Chevelle parked outside Drew's house

The greatest sofa ever? In a bookstore in the Southside district of Pittsburgh

A Dave's Eye View - Road trippin' (parts 1 & 2)

2010-11-13T20:01:00.002Z

A Dave's Eye View - Miners Fall

2010-11-13T02:26:00.002Z

Wednesday 10th November 2010, Miners Fall Trail, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Sun setting over Detroit...

2010-11-13T01:32:00.000Z

Thursday November 11th 2010

Gaylord...

2010-11-11T18:08:00.004Z

I am writing now from the small town of Gaylord, just off the I75 south. There are some things in life that just need to be done, and stopping in Gaylord for a chai tea is one of them. I've just been at the wheel from the small town of Mackinaw City to here as we make our way down to Toleda this evening, passing through Detroit at some point.

View of Mackinac Bridge from Mackinaw City

Lake Superior...

2010-11-11T04:08:00.006Z

My final thoughts for the day...

2010-11-10T03:56:00.007Z

I have so far witnessed the chaos and excitement of New York, the glory and relative calm of Chicago, the culture and warmth of Minneapolis, and now the spectacular views of the Upper Peninsula (not Upper Territories as I may have called it previously!). Today I have walked through a spectacular forest of differing colours and textures, canoed across the Little Lake with the sun in my eye, driven to a random lake and sat on the tree stump out in the water, watched the sun set dramatically behind the horizon and eaten sausages cooked on an open fire. Tomorrow we continue our journey east, along the southern edge of Lake Superior, before turning south to drive though St Ignace and crossing the Mackinac Bridge (3rd longest suspension bridge in the world). We will find a place to stay, hopefully some random roadside Motel (to keep with the roadtrip theme), before continuing our journey on Thursday where we have arranged to couch surf with someone in Toledo on the south west corner of Lake Erie. On Friday, Mandy will continue back to Chicago by bus, whilst Drew and Alyssa continue back to Pittsburgh. I am yet to decide on my onwards journey. It may be with them, it may not. One thing I do know; hey have been the most wonderful company the past few days...

You say water, I say water...

2010-11-10T02:23:00.002Z

The following conversation took place between myself and the guy working in Tony's Diner in Minneapolis on Monday.

(I had an empty cup in my hand for some water)

"Where can I get the water"

"I'm sorry?"

"Where can I get some water" (holding up the cup)

"You want what?"

"Some water..."

"Some...?"

"W a t e r" (I make a drinking motion with my hand and the cup)

"You want something to drink? Like coke?"

"No, I just want some water"

"Some wortter?"

"Yeah, water, to drink, just from the tap"

"Oh, you mean warder"

"Yes, yes, I want some warder, thank you"

He points to where the free water tap is.

I say water (Wart. Er)

He says water (Whad. Er)

I got my water. It tasted good.

A message from Alyssa...

2010-11-10T01:27:00.002Z

Alyssa says her interview went really well, and her dad says this:

"You should always want what you already have, and if you don't, make it out of wood"

Jim F Benner - sometime in the last 22 years.

Hello world...

2010-11-10T00:07:00.003Z

Marquette Bay, Lake Superior

Monday 8th November 2010

2010-11-09T15:57:00.001Z

Breakfast was head, and we hit the road. We were travelling to the Upper Peninsula, North East of Minneapolis. They had a cabin booked for 2 nights, and I'd join them there. As it's not currently in season it won't be a problem turning up as a four, not the three they booked for. We spent a few hours on the road, and then Alyssa saw a sign for a glass museum (I say a sign, it was a large rock with the word Oulo on it and an arrow). Alyssa immediately turned the corner and we drove through trees (and trees and trees and trees) and then out of nowhere we came across this little building. We chatted to a guy outside who told us to just walk in and have a look round. They were actually glass blowers, and there was a lady inside who told us the history.

It was a fascinating day already and it was only 11am. We continued driving a

and stopped at a National Park Information Centre, had a little look around and then a walk through their little nature trail. Then Drew said "Hey Dave, you fancy driving for a bit?" I really wanted to, but was hit with a sudden bout of nerves, what with the 'other side of the road' and the 'steering wheel on the other side'. Then I reminded myself of my rule. NEVER SAY NO. So, honouring my rule, I said yes. And that, ladies and gentleman, is the moment my American Dream came true. I sat at my table at home about 6 months ago and told my dad how much I wanted to drive America. My dad said "Do it then". Ever since then I've been waiting for the moment to road trip America, and here it was. I drove around the car park for a while to get my bearings, and then we set off. Me, and the open road. It was amazing.

As we drove further and further, with the sun setting behind us, and the views of lakes, and trees and other breathtaking views, I couldn't contain my joy. And I can't thank Drew enough for having the faith and trust in me to drive his car. With the sun very close to setting, we were driving parallel to a disused rail track with literally miles and miles of freight trains on them, covered in graffiti, unmoved for months, probably years. We parked up and walked up to the tracks. We climbed onto the roofs of the carriages, and it was breathtaking. (due to the impromptu nature of the top, I didn't take my camera with me!) The sun finally set, and it was pitch black, with just the moon guiding us (and the flashing hazard lights of the car pulled up by the road). We set off again, stopping on the way for some groceries. We eventually pulled into the Northern Lights Lakeside Resort, and we all had smiles from ear to ear. Despite it being pitch black, the place was beautiful, and when we entered the main office (which was just a little cabin itself) the owners John & Loxia were there to greet us. They were the sweetest couple imaginable, and even had a home baked cake waiting for us. Drew went to the lakeside beach to start up a fire, and dinner was prepared in the cabin. The rest of the evening was spent by the fire, melting marshmallows under the stars...