Well children the day has come. It actually came about one week ago, no, precisely a week ago. The road trip has officially ended. Well sort of.
Allow me to divulge. The road tripping tandem, (Tim and I obviously) is no longer intact, but the adventure is just beginning. Now that we have left the comfort of company and couches to surf it is time to actually go out and do all the things we planned. I don’t want to speak for Timothy but hes got some rock star stuff hes gotta go do, and i got some river bummin to do. First things first though, I gotta get a job. There is work to be had on the South Fork of the American river but its not peak season yet so i just gotta hold tight. The river is fun though I had a chance to g out and paddle around with a veteran guide who taught me about the rapids and where its appropriate to dumptruck a boat load of girl scouts and where they should probably remain in the boat.
Currently I am in a library in Placerville California, just outside of Coloma where the river is. Workin on resumes and applying for jobs is the most work I’ve done since leaving my home, my numerous jobs, and Maine. Weeeeiiirrrrdddd. Gotta get back on the horse though, a horse with no name, and ride it around to all 24 rafting companies in the area. Then eat some PB and J. Then sleep in a Subaru. With no name.
Despite a deep routed sense of uncertainty at my current juncture, I know it will all work out in a week or so. Oh, the libraries closing, gotta be moseying. Tim, godspeed.
I am currently sitting on a couch, looking out a window, past a beautiful front porch, that looks right up Mt. Crested Butte. A mountain that hosts an abundance of extremes, which Lily (our gracious hostess) and I opted to attempt with out the use of poles. Easy peasey. Despite some buckling knees and quivering arms, curious looks and a couple falls, we made it, and made it look reeeeeaaaaalllllyyyy… hard probably, real hard. For lunch we sat out on a porch at a restaurant on the mountain called the Butte. After an encounter with the least personable and possibly the meanest bar tender I have ever met, we feasted on fried pickles and free water. The weather has been absolutely beautiful here and the temperatures have allowed T-shirts, sandals, and plenty of 40 square. The first night we were here we made the obnoxious acquaintence of a pro skier named Wiley Miller. Who was also possibly the drunkest person I have ever met. There is some debate about whether it was actually him or not, but he claimed to be Wiley, and had a terrific vocabulary for insulting girls.
In more serious news, the end of the road trip is now in sight. Not that the road tripping mind state has to be completely abandoned, but its lookin more and more like Coachella will be close to the last stop. I have started the application process to rivers and guiding companies in California, and have good friends in Tahoe who boast they have jobs and room for me to get myself going. Also I may have a real job lined up working with troubled teens. But no time to worry about all that important stuff right now, its time to get geared up, packed up, and shipped out, from Crested Butte to Denver. Next stop is with Adison who we just saw in Texas at Sean Carey’s.
Theeeeeeeennnnn after Denver it will be Salt Lake City, Bryce Canyon, Grand Canyon (Dad we need to work out a meeting time and your flight), then southern California. After Coachella on April 16th basically I will have to work my way north up to Tahoe and to some white water fun. MMMM Tim is cooking up some delicious ramen and tuna casserole. Chow time.
Some how Texas seems to have dug its claws into the protagonists in this tale of adventure and fortune. Our heroes have been in Texas for just about a week now, with the exception of sorta being stuck in Asheville for a week, this is the longest we have been anywhere. Its been a blur of Baggo (an exceptional game consisting of bean bags and two small targets) sun, strippers, and hot tubs, well at least the Dallas portion has been. Sean Carey a grad school student and a good friend has been our gracious host in Dallas between tests and examines of the medical variety.
Last night we made our way back to Denton for a friends birthday party and we are currently gearing up for the return trip to Dallas. Its looking like tomorrow maybe bringing us into Santa Fe to check out some hiking and some hot springs. After that we will be on our way up to hollerado, I’m sorry Colarado, Hollerado is a fun band from Montreal though if y’all want to check them out. They are sort of like a mix of Weezer, The Fratellis, and the Kooks. Aannyyyywaaaaaaayyyyyyyy… My good friend Adison has joined our ranks for our trip to Denton and then back to Dallas and despite my best efforts he has denied entry into the ranks of our coast to coast spiritual and intellectual (yeah right) adventure.
Everyone come to Coachella. Seriously the line up is killer. Y’all.
So let me just rant real quick before Tim gets back and needs to use his computer. I haven’t had a chance to sit down and catch up with this little bloggy blog for quite some time. I would just like to go ahead and say that Georgia was beautiful. Really, I know there are some stereotypes, especially among some of the youthful dreamers I associate with, that the south is trashy and a haven for mullets and a lack of dental hygein but its beautiful, and the people are very friendly. We wandered around in the woods for an afternoon and saw a whole bunch of nature. Like an abundance of nature. We also saw a mountain that would have been absolutely delightful had they not ruined it by putting an enormous tower and tourist center at the top.
Georgia seems like forever ago now, we have been so many places and seen so much since then, and that was less then a week ago. Nawlins was a treat. We got a hotel room a short walk from the convention center and the French Quarter and hung out for part of St. Paddy’s day doing some much needed laundry and resting up for the first time in what seemed like years. But we made up for all that rest but wandering most of the city that afternoon. Our friend Ayn sent us out an a scavenger hunt that she had prepared a week in advance. Despite some sneaking suspicions that the hunt was going to lead us into a shady neighborhood and eventually to an encounter with the friendly neighborhood knifer, we pressed on. I just got to say, if you are ever down in a place like New Orleans on a trip cross country with an ill fated Subaru, and you relay this story to the locals who are wondering why you are on your hands in knees searching for clues under a rock that probably has only ever housed hepatitus, you will be an instant hit. On a trolley car headed towards the last clue we started chatting with our fellow riders who found our story and our journey to be exceedingly entertaining. By the time we exited the trolley we were trailed by the good wishes, and blessings of our co-passengers which sent us out into the night with refurbished resolve and a thirst for treasure.
Skip ahead a couple days. Currently I am sitting on a patio at the most expansive ranch, well really the only ranch I’ve ever seen, but a really big freakin’ ranch. In front of me is a nice pool and a stone arch framing a view of Texas which would make John Wayne envious. Spoiled. That’s what I am, spoiled. I love it. Tim is practicing for a show he was invited to play earlier today so we will head into Granbury for a concert, and then into Denton this evening for who knows what.
Texas: rocks, cacti, trucks, guns, horses, dogs, cheap beer, tex-mex, dirt roads, rock parks, big hats and bigger belt buckles. Big fan, big fan.
Topic of the day, crotch beer. After hanging around for most of the morning with no pants on, (pants are for standing not laying or reclining) I finally broke down and strapped some denims on. While hoisting my dungarees I got an all too familiar waft of old beer. Turns out these pants were victims of a spill last night and I’m paying for it now. Laundry is abundent and washing machines limited. So my crotch will be tempting beer starved ladies from New York all the way to DC, where we will be later today.
Also on topic today, songs that encourage early morning drinking. Roadhouse Blues, Any Meatloaf song, Gin and Juice, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies’ Zoot Suit Riot, Tubthumping, Tears in heaven, Jurassic Park’s theme, Beer for Breakfast, Whiskey in the Jar, Pacobel’s Canon (Taco Bell), and this song
The Big Apple. The big red juicy apple, filled with hurried people and the sounds of car horns. Despite signage on some streets admonishing horn blowing at the cost of a hefty fine, the sounds fill the air. Some cars just seem to honk for the novelty of honking, or just being noisy. Because if they weren’t belching out brass like tunes no one would know they were there. If these drivers, predominantly taxi drivers, want due attention at the push of the center of their steering wheels maybe they should get a little more creative with horn sounds. A horn tribute to Paginini would certainly get my attention, and probably earn the admiration of other music lovers as well. Or a horn that says what the driver really means, like: You dumb mother fuck@r, your in the way. A little on the lengthy side i know but one can not be brief in the use of expletives for he then runs the risk of looking unlearned in the art of profanity spewing, and not knowing how to swear in the city would leave you like a de-clawed house cat in a den of ROUS’s (rodents of unusual size).
Last night we saw a great live show from the Super Seaweed Sex Scandal, an experimental Jazz, dare i say fusion, six piece jam ensemble. The sounds achieved were analogous to a STOMP band with out a definite time signature, with a few King Crimson like climactic moments. The musicians were obviously all talented and no two notes were predictable. The hour long scripted cacophony was driven by a very talented drummer who somehow incorporated his entire body, a bow, and a light sprinkling of angst into his playing.
Today we are gong out to see the free side of New York, or what little of that side we can find. The Smithsonian and whatever other museums/exhibits/demonstrations we can find. Then tonight, we go out to Brooklyn.
Real Quick. Sitting on a couch in Mandsfield CT. Just experienced Burlington at its absolute bead-iest. Had a nice little sunny day drive with some Red-Bulls given to us free just for writing an e-mail. Planning the next step. Kentucky then Florida or the opposite? Best not to think too hard on it
Currently I’m thinking about blue skys and blue seas and maybe a drink with an umbrella and a citrus garnish, but we are taking our sweet slow time stopping every where we can on the way. Next stop upstate New York (maybe… maybe the city, maybe no NY at all we will see) unless we find something shiny on the way that draws our attention elsewhere. Also Wednesday if you read this, I hope your wrist heals quickly so you can get back to your painting.
Currently Tim and I are sitting in the radio booth at WWPV 88.7 out of Colechester Vermont. Tim is playing a few tunes from his album, future albums and the Forever Wild soundtrack. The studio is small, but lavish and comfortable after hanging out in the snow and slush all afternoon. We had a slow drive from Montreal and its wintery filled streets, almost ran out of gas close to the border, but we made it on pure adrenaline and a Nalgene filled with rocket fuel. After our arrival in the B-town we wondered with out aim, except maybe some coffee and a wi-fi connection. We did manage to find a couch to crash on despite our wet feet and failing batteries. Anyway Tim is playing his first song live right now, Dandelion Wine off Telephone lines. I can only imagine that all the female listeners are gazing longingly at their radios and Ipods with pod casts picturing Timothy in all his plaid glory. Thank you Canada. Your welcome Vermont.
Tim will be doing an in studio appearance at WWPV tonight. Tune in at 12:30!
A special thanks goes out to our new friend Phil. An Ottowan with a slight preference for swinging and a desire to prove that canadians were down for the cause, but really he was just avoiding a prgnant wife apparently. A real good dude either way. Then later on at the very same establishment we met a kid named simon with a propensity for revolution and general dislike for America. Eventually he ended up admitting that we weren’t total mindless self indulgent americans ended