Marathon
13 years ago
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Walla Walla's totem: the sweet onion in effigy (you can find these all around downtown)
before the day ends...
It's already after midnight on the east coast (and remember: this blog's date/time stamps are all set to Eastern time), but it's only 9:20PM as I write this:
HAPPY 11th BIRTHDAY TO MY LOVELY GODDAUGHTER!
I sent a card to you, honey, but I don't know whether it's gotten there yet. I hope you have a great party (I'm assuming it'll be on the weekend, right?) and get tons of presents.
Love,
Kevin
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Wednesday, September 10, 2008
tomorrow's meet-up
Tomorrow (Thursday), I'll be meeting up with Pastor Darold Bigger of Walla Walla University. His writeup is here.
As I still haven't mastered the public transportation system in Walla Walla, I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning and arriving-- I hope-- way ahead of schedule, not only to give myself time to find Pastor Bigger's office, but also to give my knee's screams a chance to subside, on the assumption that I'll still end up doing a good bit of walking. WWU lies outside of Walla Walla proper; you'll recall that I passed the entrance road on my way into town on August 31st.
One thing I hope to take away from tomorrow's encounter, which includes a visit to a Rotary International meeting (read about the Rotarians here), is a better understanding of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and where they stand on interreligious issues. I predict that SDAers probably aren't monolithic in their approach to other religions or to the question of religious diversity in general. I'll be curious to discover more.
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selfishness upon selfishness
I've put my Amazon.com wish list on the sidebar. Feel free to browse it and see whether your tastes match mine. In all seriousness, you probably shouldn't buy anything on there for me: when you're walking across the country, it's not a good idea to be too weighed down with stuff.
Can't remember whether I included that sensual massage manual...
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housekeeping update
Check out the blog's sidebar: I've created direct links to the YouTube videos I had added the other day, so you can now zap over to each video without having to visit my YouTube channel's main page. If you prefer a bird's-eye view of my videos, you can always hit my YouTube main page by clicking the "On YouTube" link under my unshaven image on the sidebar.
I also used the "help" function to try to figure out what to do about my screen resolution, and that's how I learned about the "advanced" setup. Unfortunately, even after I did a "show all modes" command and saw what screen settings are possible, I discovered that I would have to choose between having (1) low resolution with thousands of colors or (2) high resolution with only 256 colors. This is nuts. I know that 2002-era computers already had a "millions of colors" option available to them-- my ancient Mac (1999-era) has such a setting! I'm beginning to wonder whether I need to buy the appropriate system software for this thing, just so I can have the best of both worlds: high resolution and millions of colors (unless the monitor itself can't run all those colors).
I've still got about 90 minutes before I leave here; I'll spend the rest of my time loading vids, photos, and audio onto the laptop's hard drive. Adios.
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back on (for now)
I got kicked off by the wireless network here at the library, but was able to sign right back on. I have no idea whether that's normal, but here I am.
A few days back, I received an email from a gentleman named Jack, who apparently found my blog via the Marmot's Hole. Jack and I had an amicable email exchange, and at one point I mentioned that I've blogged about some pretty personal stuff-- namely, pooping in the open. I just went looking for that post via Google, and found it.
This is for you, Jack. The rest of you might want to avoid that link. The post starts off normally enough, but things go downhill fast. Enjoy.
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wirelessly waiting for Godot
So here I am in Whitman College's Penrose Library, blogging away using WiFi! Unfortunately, I had to log in as a guest, and that means my access is limited to thirty minutes.
So far, the laptop has proved to be functional, though it does have some kinks that need to be worked out. One problem is that I can't adjust my screen resolution, so everything from icons to text appears huge on my screen, necessitating a lot of annoying scroll bar usage. Does anyone know why no other screen resolutions are available to me? Inquiring minds want to know.
So everything works except for Photoshop Elements, which is simply too much for his six-year-old system. I might not have time today, but perhaps tomorrow, after I've had my meeting with Pastor Bigger at Walla Walla U, I'll go and return Photoshop for a refund, and ask the folks to send their older copy of Elements to me. That, or I can try to find a cheap copy of, say, Elements 2 (the version I've used for years) on Amazon.
I'm going to load a bunch of audio, video, and photo files onto the laptop. Once I've got a proper Photoshop, I'll be able to blog more naturally. The laptop is something of a long-term investment: I'm guaranteed a chase car all the way into Boise, then I'll be wintering in Boise. That takes me from now until sometime next March-- at least six months. Plenty of time to earn money, and maybe to buy a better, faster, smaller laptop. This clunker is heavy. But at least it's working.
Gotta run. I don't know how much longer I have on here before the library system kicks me off.
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quick update on the laptop front
I'm checking out of the hotel today and moving over to Mechelle's abode this afternoon. Meantime, I'll be walking over to the library with my gear and waiting for her there; she'll pick me up around 4PM.
I purchased the laptop for $200 plus tax-- a total of $216. The price wasn't $275 as I'd been told; it was $229 plus tax, so haggling down to $200 didn't take much effort.
The computer didn't come with much, not even a charger, so I walked over to a Radio Shack and bought a few extras-- a carrying case, a WiFi attachment, a mouse, and a network cord; I then moved to the Staples next door and bought some software: a scaled-down version of MS Office and Photoshop Elements 6.
The guy who helped me at Radio Shack printed out a writeup about my laptop, which is a 2002 Dell Inspiron with freshly installed Windows XP.
"How much did you pay for this?" the guy asked when I told him about the pawnshop.
"$200 plus tax," I said.
He frowned: "You should've gone for $150. You know that that pawnshop guy didn't pay more than $50 for this." Ouch.
I walked away from Radio Shack and Staples, armed with my computer and new supplies, but a few hundred dollars poorer. Had dinner at a local Chinese restaurant (again, kinda disappointing) and went back to the motel to do as much setup as I could.
The good news: despite the USB1 ports on the computer, the USB2 attachments (mouse, WiFi) seem to work just fine. Also, I successfully installed MS Office, which must mean that the CD-ROM is in good order.
The bad news: Photoshop Elements 6 has system requirements that proved to be too much for the Dell. I'm going to have to take the program back and find an older version. (My family might have one, actually; I could ask them to expedite it to me.)
So I'm packing and moving over to Whitman's campus to wait for Mechelle. The Whitman College Penrose Library is listed as a WiFi hotspot, information I'll shortly be putting to the test. It's also got power sockets, which is important since the laptop's battery is ancient and needs to be replaced.
Gotta run. More news as it happens.
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Tuesday, September 9, 2008
wish me luck
Today, a different member of the housekeeping staff knocked on my door. Instead of the usual nice lady, it was an equally nice guy named Josh. I told him a bit about my ongoing trans-American story ("So you're the guy!"), then mentioned that I was thinking about getting a cheap laptop, and asked where I might shop for one in town.
"There's one on sale right now at the local pawn shop for about $275," Josh said. "I'm off work around 2:30 or so; I could give you a ride there."
Incredible. Simple as that.
I'm about to call the pawn shop to find out more (sometimes you should look a gift horse in the mouth), but if the laptop does all the basic stuff I want it to do, I'm grabbing it today. The result for you, Dear Reader, will be transcripts galore, as well as new photos and CafePress products.
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North Korea on the brink?
I've been following the spate of rumors-- some of them apparently old-- that North Korea's Dear Leader Kim Jong Il may be either very sick... or already dead for several years. Proponents of the second rumor claim that KJI's doubles have been filling in for him ever since he died years ago, which brings up the question of who's doing the actual ruling.
It's an interesting theory, but you'll pardon me if I remain cautiously skeptical. My own feeling is that, if a true power vacuum did indeed open at the highest level, we'd be hearing more noise and seeing more activity from North Korea's generals-- the guys most likely to step in if the government unexpectedly imploded.
While KJI may have a son or two already groomed for succession, I suspect that those sons may be too young to have much pull in an increasingly frail and teetering political infrastructure.
Most North Korea experts feel that, with the regime as tightly controlled as it's been since 1953, any significant tear in the governmental fabric would result in a catastrophic failure. It's a nightmare scenario for South Korea, which doesn't really want to deal with the chaos that might result from a North Korean collapse-- the grim possibility of war, the southward flood of NK refugees, the long-term attempt at economic stabilization of the peninsula, the likely involvement of China (which might use the collapse as cover for a land grab, sending in troops to help "stabilize" the region), etc. South Korea carried on a policy of appeasement under its previous three presidents; I have no idea whether the country is truly ready to face a major crisis to its north.
Of course, North Korea has pulled a rabbit out of its hat many times before; rumors of its impending doom are often greatly exaggerated. I guess we'll just have to sit back and wait.
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lost in digital hell
Last night, I had written a post that recounted Monday's adventures-- (1) talking with Adam Kirtley, Coordinator of Religious and Spiritual Life at Whitman College, about doing a talk at the first of Adam's "SpiritualiTea" events for this semester; (2) meeting with my new CouchSurfing host Mechelle, who drove me to her place to show me my digs; (3) meeting Some Random Dude on Whitman's campus grounds and asking him about the pull-along bike stroller he was using (cost = approx. $500); (4) finalizing arrangements with Pastor Bigger, the Walla Walla U. pastor I'll be meeting on Thursday...
...but the post was eaten by the ravenous hellhounds of cyberspace, and that's why you're getting the stripped-down version of it this morning.
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Monday, September 8, 2008
ch-ch-changes
I'm at the public library. Over the course of the next 90 minutes, you'll likely notice some changes to the blog's sidebar. The "followers" gadget will be moved down, for example, and some links for new YouTube videos ought to appear. This latter operation might not be successful; the library's security software makes everything I need to do rather difficult. I'm not even able to right-click here.
Stand by.
UPDATE: I'm about to run out of time. I have all but five of the new videos up; most of the videos are short fluff pieces; one is of substance (it's about one of my cherished convictions: religions are as they are practiced), and that one ought to be available on YouTube before I leave here. I won't be able to put up links to the uploaded videos until next time. Meantime, the sidebar has a link to my YouTube "channel," so you can access all the videos, new and old, that way.
UPDATE 2: The big video might not be uploadable because of a 100MB upload limit on YouTube. Nuts.
UPDATE 3: The proprietary software at Whitman College's Penrose Library won't allow upload of any sort, so I'm gonna limp on back to my motel room. Later today, I'll be meeting my new CouchSurfing host, Mechelle [sic]. On Wednesday, I'll be moving over to Mechelle's place until the end of the month; on Thursday, I'll be meeting up with a pastor from Walla Walla University with whom Becky put me in contact. Wish me luck.
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Sunday, September 7, 2008
bikers and subs
Chuck and Lori roared into Walla Walla today; I met them at the motel lobby and we wandered from place to place, looking for an open restaurant. Both Sweet Basil Pizzeria and the teriyaki-jip were closed, so we ended up at that old faithful, Subway, on Main Street. One of the sandwich-makers lit up when he saw Chuck and Lori in their biker gear; he'd just seen some sort of History Channel documentary about bikers, and was delighted to have two them in his shop.
After we'd massacred our sandwiches, we adjourned to my hotel room, hung out, and talked a bit. Chuck and Lori were planning to visit some friends in town, so after an all-too-brief time, we said our goodbyes and they roared off.
I'm watching "Live Free or Die Hard" right now; I'd hoped to hit the public library today, but it's closed. Tomorrow, perhaps.
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lunchtime visitation
If I'm not mistaken, Chuck will be Harleying his way over here today (with Lori?) in time for lunch. We're two large, hungry guys, Chuck and I, and if Walla Walla isn't a smoking wasteland by the time we finish demolishing our meals, it'll be a miracle. Don't be surprised if you see the results of our lunch on the news-- half-eaten buildings and pets, chunks of asphalt littering manicured lawns... and every motorcycle polished and tuned to perfection.
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Saturday, September 6, 2008
the compromise
The way things seem to be working out, it looks as though I'll be in Walla Walla until the end of the month to give my knee a chance to rest. This decision is the result of some wrangling with my folks.
As my constant readers know, my father's been wanting me simply to stop here in Walla Walla and spend the winter. I, on the other hand, feel it's way too early to think about stopping, and would like to soldier onward as far as I can get before hunkering down for the winter. The problem, however, is that Mom and Dad are about to do some major renovating, and Dad's uncomfortable about coming west and leaving Mom alone in Virginia while this is going on. The renovation may take up to a month-and-a-half.
Mom seems to think she'll be fine at home by herself; my brother David lives close by and can check on her periodically (in fact, he already does, visiting the 'rents fairly often), and the folks doing the renovating are Koreans whom Mom came to know through her Korean Women's Society connections.
So the compromise, based partly on discussions with the parents and partly on arrangements with a CouchSurfer found by recent CS host Amanda, is for me to stay in Walla Walla until September 30. The following day, October 1st, I'll shove off and, hopefully with Chuck's help as chase car driver, will do the 2-3-day walk to Pendleton, where I'll await my father's arrival. Dad will then take over as chase car driver, and together we'll make our way about 220-240 miles along I-84 to Boise, and that's where I'll winter. We should be able to make that distance before Halloween. I'll shack up in Boise, get a temp job, earn some cash, lick my wounds, and join a gym to keep on burning calories.
I'm going to be researching Boise to find out what's there, not only in terms of employment opportunities but also in terms of academic and religious institutions: with whom might I have some interesting religious discussions?
So that's the current plan. It's not set in stone, but it seems to be the most satisfactory solution for all concerned. To be honest, I dislike the idea of being immobile for so long; by wintering like this, I'm kissing my "finish before turning 40" goal goodbye. Then again, if I'm able to use that time to plan the rest of the walk out in greater detail and set up a network of willing chase car drivers, this might be, as they say, a blessing in disguise, and I might even be able to finish the walk before August 31, 2009. While I'm not big on "hidden harmony" theodicies, I do think there's no yang without yin.
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today's agenda
First, an apology to Hotelmeister Adam, whose BBQ I missed last night (will there be other BBQing nights?). I ended up spending a long time talking with my father about the immediate future; by the end of that conversation it was around 8PM, and I schlepped over to the teriyaki place for dinner.
Today, I'm going to try to do several computer-related things. I want to record another video or two for upload onto YouTube; I then need to get over to the public library to try to perform the upload; finally, I want to spend the afternoon seeking out whatever electronics shops are in the area so I can think about purchasing a small laptop.
It's killing me to have all this data and no consistent way to upload it to the blog in a timely manner. I'm coming around to the conclusion that a laptop's benefits outweigh its risks. Those risks, by the way, almost all pertain to the laptop's exposure to inclement weather. If, however, I'm able to walk large chunks of the US with a chase car, this problem should be minimal-- the only major concern with a car is the mini-greenhouse effect during hot weather: I don't want my computer to fry in the summer heat next year.
What I would need is a laptop that has a decent processor (2GB or higher), a decent amount of memory for storing photos and movies (say, 40-80 gigs for starters; I'm not talking about anything larger than YouTube shorts), fast WiFi capability to take advantage of the motels and hotels I stay in, and a suite of programs related to word processing and graphic design (which might also be a way for me to earn a little cash, either by making more CafePress designs or by doing freelance design work for people willing to shell out). I might also be interested in some sort of filmmaking software, but that's out of my price range right now.
Lots to do today.
UPDATE: I might need to scale down my memory and performance requirements, and think about getting something like this. I've been quietly watching the progress of these minis for a while.
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hangin' wif mah PEEPS
Not counting the college student population, the city of Walla Walla has only about five Korean residents, at least half of whom work at the teriyaki-jip down the street from my motel. I went over to the resto again this evening and was met by the same Korean waitress. We spoke in Korean the entire time I was there, which was good practice for me, and which is how I discovered how few Koreans there are in these parts. Upon hearing about the dearth of Koreans, I said, "Ah, so you must be learning a lot of English." The waitress said she was learning mostly restaurant-related English. I guess she either doesn't have much time to mix with the townies or, like many first-generation Korean immigrants through the ages, she's more of an insular, hang-with-da-peeps type, keeping with her tribe.
One thing about establishing friendly relations with Koreans who work in or run restaurants is that you end up with free goodies. Tonight, this translated into extra types of kimchi (only one type, a fairly standard cabbage kimchi, is featured on the menu for a whopping $3 per serving, but I got oi-kimchi, ch'onggak-kimchi, and ggakkdugi for free, and for no reason other than that I can speak the language (well, somewhat).*
When I first met the waitress and her opba** yesterday (he's one of the cooks), he told me "Jaju-osaeyo," or "Come often." Tonight, the waitress said, "Kagi-jeonae ddo-osaeyo," or as I might translate it in this context, "Come back before you move on." (I had told her yesterday that I was only in town for two weeks.)
Dinner tonight also included a tall, unasked-for glass of misu-garu, a drink made with a gritty, grainy powder that might remind Americans of some diet drinks or bodybuilders' protein shakes. Not one of my favorite drinks, but I do like it, and appreciated the chance to have a little taste of Korea. I asked the waitress whether her family had brought the powder from Korea, and she said it had been bought, along with a ton of other Korean products, during a run to a Korean market waaaaaay the hell across the state in Seattle. "A five-hour drive," she said, a mite sadly. The family makes the Seattle supply run several times a year, usually before important events like Ch'useok (the Korean harvest festival), an event with which I'll be out of touch this year.
I'll probably visit the resto once or twice more before I leave Walla Walla, and while I'm likely to give the URL for this site to the restaurant staff, I have no idea whether they'll have the time, energy, or motivation to read it with any regularity. All the same, it doesn't hurt to network.
*A similar phenomenon occurred with the French dudes running the Cordon Bleu academy in the building where I taught in Seoul: once they discovered I spoke fluent French, the world opened up to me and I was told I could come by anytime and take whatever I wanted-- baguettes, various meats, pastries, etc. Some of those guys spoke no Korean at all, and since French isn't a very popular language in Korea in general (English, by contrast, is an academic requirement), the cooks and bakers generally had to get by in Korean society with English. It therefore came as a relief to some of them to find a non-French person with whom they could speak at full speed in their native tongue. My experiences with the Seoul branch of the Cordon Bleu are worth a whole book unto themselves, but I'll stop here.
**Opba (more commonly romanized as oppa; pronounce it "ohp-bah") is the term a Korean woman uses for her older brother; it's also used by women when they're calling out to their boyfriends or husbands.
I had one memorable discussion with a female Korean colleague who found it creepy that Americans would use the same terms of endearment in both parent-child contexts and romantic contexts-- terms like "honey" and "sweetie." I pointed out that the whole opba thing was equally creepy to me. My interlocutor smiled.
Back in undergrad, I had a friend, Paula, who'd spent her junior year in a French-speaking African country (I'd spent my junior year in Fribourg, Switzerland, picking up decidedly German-accented French). She would sometimes make reference to mon mari-- "my husband," so I finally asked her whether she'd gotten married. She laughed and said that many francophone African women say "mon mari" in reference to their boyfriends. I guess that's pretty harmless, as expressions go, when you compare "mon mari" to the way some American boyfriends and husbands say "Who's yer daddy?" to their women --an expression I always mis-hear as "Hoosierdaddy." I can't imagine calling myself "daddy" when talking to my girlfriend.
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Friday, September 5, 2008
and the verdict is...
Not long after I finished my previous entry, the exam room door opened again and I met Dr. J, whose real surname is Jauhiainen (try pronouncing that one, boys and girls). We shook hands and made some small talk about long-distance walking and biking, and then Dr. J got right to it, palpating the knee joint, gently pulling and rotating it in different directions, and asking all the while about where and how intense the pain was. I walked across the exam room floor at one point, did some flexion and extension exercises, and talked about how I thought the problem may have occurred. There was no MRI, X-ray, or CAT scan today, but Dr. J learned enough to diagnose the problem:
Medial collateral ligament strain.
There's no problem with the meniscus (the padding separating and cushioning the upper and lower bones of the knee), but the ligaments on the inside of my right knee have suffered some strain. The good news is that this is nothing serious; I need to continue resting the joint, icing it down, and taking ibuprofen as an anti-inflammatory.
The bad news is that, as I suspected, the problem might not be related to that fall: it may instead be the result of simple overuse. This is bad news because it means the problem may recur simply through the act of walking.
The only way around the danger, as far as I can see, is to minimize the amount of weight bearing down on the knee. There are two ways of doing this: (1) continue using chase cars to keep that pack off my back, and (2) continue losing weight. Both of these are difficult propositions; as long as I'm resting in one location and not walking long distances, the temptation will be to eat at the same rate I've been eating since the beginning of the walk. That obviously won't do, so I'm going to have to find some way to occupy myself, to distract my mind from eating.
The doc also looked at Chuck's brace and decided I needed a new one. "That one's almost shot," he said. My new brace has an enormous adjustable joint (Terminator squared) and is easily belted on by wrapping it around my knee, not sliding it up the leg like panty hose.
Because I have no insurance, I was asked for an up-front payment of $137. If the cost of the exam plus the brace goes above that amount, the clinic will mail a bill to my family's residence in Alexandria (I'll pay for it by check, of course). If the total cost proves to be less than $137, a refund will be sent to northern VA instead.
So I've got a new brace and plenty of ibuprofen; the question now is how much time to take to ice the knee down and rest. I was in Arlington for a week, and despite all the rest, my knee didn't feel all that much better. I'm hoping that an ice-down will help significantly.
We'll soon know.
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in the waiting room
The walk from the motel to Walla Walla General was as close to excruciating as such walks have been, so today was probably a good day to see a doc.
I followed the signs to the hospital's main entrance, having ruled out the ER since my problem isn't life-threatening. When I told the receptionist about my situation, however, she asked a hospital volunteer to guide me over to the ER: "We can't admit you without a physician's recommendation, but the ER might be able to look you over."
So I followed the volunteer over to the reception area for the ER. The ladies I talked to there told me that "there's no such thing as an emergency MRI," and also noted that an MRI would run me $1500 to $2000-- way more than I can afford.
The ladies therefore referred me to the Walla Walla Clinic, a walk-in urgent care facility that, according to them, would be able to look me over for a substantially cheaper cost. That's where I am now: I was just taken into an exam room and had my temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure measured (the latter is high; the nurse says this can be true despite all the exercise-- some people need meds for hypertension).
I'm now waiting for the physician, who I imagine will be coming in any moment. Stay tuned.
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hospital
Just to allay the fears of the people who've written me privately over the past few days: yes, I'm visiting the hospital today. Walla Walla General is located on 2nd Avenue, about a mile or so from where I am. I'm about to shower, shave, and limp on down that way.
I imagine that today's visit will be about scheduling an appointment and determining costs and payment options for someone in my situation; the actual MRI will probably occur on another day (though I'm open to pleasant surprises).
I'm as morbidly curious as everyone else is about what's really happening inside my knee. Here's hoping that the situation isn't too serious.
It's strange... I hadn't really thought of it this way before, but I've been living with some degree of pain since at least Portland, limping for the better part of two hundred miles. I was also struck last night by the thought that the knee problem might not have anything to do with that fall almost three months ago. I'd like to think that that's not true, but to be honest, I really don't know for certain that there's a connection. If the knee problem is the result of some pervasive problem (like being overweight, out of shape, and carrying a heavy pack) as opposed to being the result of a single incident, this could have serious implications for how I continue the walk.
Dad just wrote me and wondered aloud about whether I might simply winter here in Walla Walla. My gut feeling is that it's way too early to think about stopping just yet, though I recognize that it all depends on how serious the knee problem is. I'd rather get the knee looked at and patched up, then continue as far along I-84 as I can before stopping and wintering somewhere.
Much to ponder, but right now it's time to de-smellify. I'll tell you what the hospital says once I'm out.
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"followers"?
[NB: For whatever reason, I'm currently able to surf from my motel room, so I'm taking advantage of this to write the following post.]
There are several jokes I hear repeatedly on this walk, two of them more frequently than all the others. The first is the "Ah, just like Forrest Gump!" wisecrack, given in response to my saying that I'm crossing the country on foot. I saw "Gump" when I was in Korea in the 90s, but didn't realize how deeply the story must have affected American pop culture. It's 14 years later, and people are still making "Gump" references as though the movie had come out yesterday.
The second joke I hear is that a guy on a religious pilgrimage (I've already expressed my discomfort with this word) might end up attracting followers. I realize it's a joke, but this is a truly disturbing prospect. Anyone who gets to know me well enough will realize that they'd be better off seeking wisdom from a pile of horseshit than from me. While my ego would love for me to play the role of guru, my conscience would know it was all a sham. To imagine people latching on to my walk and following me... that would give me the heebie-jeebies.
If I acquire a traveling companion (the word "companion" is derived from Latin roots that point to the idea of sharing bread), I hope it happens something along the lines of Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef's cool collaboration in "For a Few Dollars More," which is still one of the best buddy flicks out there. So, no: acquiring a gaggle of lost souls and then ministering to them just ain't for me.
This brings me to the Blogger "follower" feature, which is apparently some sort of new cyber-gadget I can tack onto the blog. Over the past few days, whenever I sign in to Blogger to write a post, I've been seeing a line of text informing me that I have X number of followers. You can imagine my chagrin-- my inner pansy is cringing in a corner and screaming "Oh, no! It's happening!"
I'll need to find out more about what Blogger's "follower" feature is; more likely than not, it's just some innocent gizmo I can add to my sidebar (unless it's there already...?). I'm hoping it's not a tool that makes stalking easier.
Keep your fingers and tentacles crossed as I find out who my followers are, what they want, and whether they plan to eat my brain or take me to the mother ship for anal probing. I've currently got four followers, according to Blogger, and in East Asian numerology, four represents death.*
*In Chinese, Japanese, and Korean, the pronunciations of the Chinese characters for "4" and "death" are the same, despite the fact that the characters look completely different. In Korea, you'll often find yourself in buildings with either no fourth floor, or an "F" floor instead of a "4th" floor (you'll see "1, 2, 3, F, 5" on the elevator buttons, or just "1, 2, 3, 5, 6").
I guess it's no more ridiculous a superstition than our obsession with the number 13.
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Thursday, September 4, 2008
"Styx" by Deborah Butterfield, 2002 (bronze, not wood)-- Whitman College, close to the library
Whitney Houston, we have a problem
I'm sitting in a teriyaki-jip (yep, it's Korean-owned, like the others I've seen and written about) and still having trouble surfing the Web from my browser. This is a bit worrisome. For the moment, I'm assuming the problem is external to the BlackBerry.
When I first arrived at this motel, the situation was actually different: the signal while inside the room was weak, but I was able to surf the Web. Now, for reasons known only to the cell phone gods, the inside-the-room signal is strong (the "many bars" promised on those AT&T commercials) but I'm unable to surf, and the problem seems to have followed me outside, which means it <i>might</i> be a device-related issue. If it is, and if it turns out that this BlackBerry will also need to be exchanged, I'll have gone through two BlackBerrys ("-Berries"?) in three months. That's got to be a record.
In other news:
A walk over to a local sporting goods store led to the discovery that a "gear bag" (that's a fancy term for a small backpack with many specialized pockets) would run me $50 before tax. If I could find the same sort of bag for about $30, that would be nice.
A clarification about the local library's policy: townies can check books out as long as they've got a library card; the "live more than 50 miles away" rule applies to all other people without cards.
I received an email from the Whitman College's Associate Dean of Campus Life and Director of Residence Life and Housing, Nancy Tavelli, that confirmed what I had learned yesterday: there's no guest lodging currently available on campus. That's too bad, but not unexpected, what with the start of the fall semester.
I also learned that Walla Walla University's semester doesn't begin until September 29, which is surprisingly late in the year. I'll be curious to look up the rest of their academic calendar online; WWU is Seventh Day Adventist, so they move to the beat of a different drum. Whitman College started off as Christian but now has no religious affiliation (at least according to Wikipedia).
More updates to come.
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sortie imminent
I'm about to go out on several errands. In case you left a comment over the past fifteen hours or so, be assured I'll approve it soon. For whatever reason, I'm unable to surf on my BlackBerry from my hotel room despite a strong signal, so I've been Net-blind since yesterday evening. (I can, for some reason, check email.) If the Net-blindness continues while I'm out and about, have no fear: one of my errands is a stop at the nearby public library, where I hope to upload some photos and some YouTube clips. I'll be sure to approve comments then. Meantime, thanks for your patience.
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Wednesday, September 3, 2008
blog improvements
Over the next two weeks, I hope to be making some small additions to the blog's sidebar. The first is a new "Interactions" section that will be devoted to links of wholly or partly transcripted interviews, as well as to reflections on interactions that weren't recorded (you have no idea how many conversations I've had that should, by rights, have been recorded).
The second addition will be a "Video Podcast" section devoted to links to whatever goofy or not-so-goofy videos I stick up on YouTube. Because YouTube tends to attract a lot of idiotic commentary, I never allow comments, ratings, etc. on that site, so if you want to react to a video, please do so here. There will almost always be a post on this blog announcing the placement of a new video on YouTube.
Stay tuned. Things are changing.
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nothing to show for it
So in the end, I did rest a while, first watching a censored version of "Uncommon Valor"* on the American Movie Classics channel, then wobbling out in no particular direction to grab a bite to eat.
I ended up at a small pizzeria called Sweet Basil, where I ordered two slices of their Luau pizza and one slice of Margherita. The latter was good, but damn-- the Luau was fantastic. It's a variation on regular ol' Hawaiian pizza; like Hawaiian, the Luau has cheese, ham, and pineapple, but it also has pork sausage and uses a sweeter-than-normal sauce whose exact ingredients I couldn't identify. The combination of flavors, though, was memorable, and before I leave Walla Walla I'll have to go back to Sweet Basil and order a few more slices.
From the pizzeria I limped over to an ATM, then made my way over to Whitman College's campus, which isn't far from where I'm staying. I was delighted to see that the college has language houses; not ten minutes ago, I passed by the French House, which was quiet as a graveyard. I was tempted to barge in and start speaking French to everyone I met.
I also went into the Campus Center, where I hoped to get information on cheap housing. Alas, the young lady (God, I'm old) at the information desk told me that no spaces were available. According to her, the campus has only one(!) guest room, and because there was a larger-than-normal influx of freshmen this semester, there were no empty dorm rooms for rent. Before I left, I gave her my blog's URL and my standard line: "This is just so you know I'm not some random crazy perdon." I say this to almost everyone I meet, but it never gets me chicks. What's that all about?
So I guess it's a bust for housing at Whitman College. While part of me wonders about housing at Walla Walla University, I'm hesitant to stay there because the campus is actually outside the city proper, way over on the west side. It's likely that I'll simply stay at my motel (a very nice motel, by the way; I've got a patio!) for the second week.
So today's search for cheap housing ended in a crash-and-burn, but I'll keep looking. Hope, like intestinal gas, springs eternal.
*"Uncommon Valor" is probably the only good movie of its subgenre: the Vietnam War prisoner extraction fantasy. While Stallone's "First Blood" was in some ways a sympathetic look at the psyche of traumatized vets and their subsequent mistreatment by American citizens (remember Rambo's tearful rant at the end of the movie?), "Rambo: First Blood Part 2," which was part of the prisoner-extraction subgenre, was positively insulting to US war veterans. (Trivia: Stallone caught flak in the 1980s for playing soldier after having dodged the draft.)
"Uncommon Valor" was, by contrast, a movie that showed how a prisoner extraction might plausibly work: you'd need private funding, recruit gone-to-seed veterans who would have to be retrained; there would be painstaking planning (not constant improvisation with bows and arrows), and great emphasis would be placed on the importance of teamwork.
The movie also wasn't afraid to show show what happens when plans go awry: the team ends up losing four of its members, and team leader Colonel Rhodes's search for his POW son Frank turns out to have been in vain: we find out that Frank has died of disease in the POW camp.
"Uncommon Valor," despite its frequently cheesy moments, allows for actual plot and character development; it's a human film, unlike the robotic actioners by Stallone and Chuck Norris (the Missing in Action series), both of whom portray ruthless killing machines. You learn to like and respect each team member.
Best UV moment in my opinion: the old guys are undergoing an accelerated boot camp with young rookie Patrick Swayze as their drill instructor; Swayze is facing off against old vet Sailor (former kickboxer Randall "Tex" Cobb in one of his best roles) in a team contest where each team has to chop away at logs-- planted vertically like telephone poles-- until one of the logs falls first. Sailor gets through his log; Swayze's character sees Sailor's log topple and stops chopping: the contest is over. Except that it isn't: Sailor rushes over to the log that's still standing, and over Swayze's protests, chops that one down, too. Sailor then whirls on Swayze and rages, "You never give up!" While not an Oscar-winning acting moment, it's probably the best moral lesson in the film, one I fail repeatedly.
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torii? Stonehenge? JK Rowling's gateway to death? (Whitman College campus)
in my new digs
I survived the walk from the Comfort Inn to the Walla Walla Vineyard Inn thanks to Chuck's brace and two painkillers. Adam the manager was there to check me in, as was Suzanne.* I'm thinking about getting some lunch right now, but am also tempted to stay and rest my knee.
Which impulse will win out? Stay tuned!
*Last night as I was making my reservation, Suzanne rather suddenly asked me whether I was left-handed. I said I was. She then told me that all the Kevins she has met have been left-handed. The only right-handed Kevin she knows wasn't named Kevin at birth.
So now I'm curious: is Kevin Bacon left-handed? What about Kevin Kline? Kevin Costner? Kevin Dillon? Kevin Spacey?
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via dolorosa
Tuesday was a symphony of pain. It's funny: I managed 24-point-something miles to walk from Mile 312 on Route 12 to the Comfort Inn, and had done a twenty-mile day just before that... but apparently, if you put me up in a nice, comfortable hotel for a few days, my knee becomes a nova of agony.*
My limp into downtown should have been filmed; I was actually chuckling at my own gimpy shadow at one point. I walked less than two miles into town, spent an hour on the computer at the public library, and found a motel to which I'll be shifting my base of operations. Many thanks to the hotel manager, Adam, and to the front desk clerk, Suzanne, for charging me a cheap rate despite the downtown location.
So for those who are tracking this sort of thing on Google Maps: I've reserved a room at the Walla Walla Vineyard Inn at 325 East Main Street. The reservation is for a week, and might be extended to two weeks. At $55/night, the price is hard to beat. Here's hoping tomorrow's short trudge into town goes more smoothly than today's excruciating foray.
*The staff at the Comfort Inn has been great. I just wish I was paying less than $107/night (before tax) to be here.
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Tuesday, September 2, 2008
computer usage: the narrow pipeline
My CouchSurfing correspondent Becky (how're things out east?) had told me that Walla Walla University probably wouldn't be able to cater to my computer usage needs because they operate on something like a members-only system: no guest logins.
I therefore called the other big college in the area: Whitman College, and found out that the library would probably not be able to help me out because the school year has started, which means the computers will all be occupied (it astounds me that so many students are still without computers, given how cheap the midrange ones are). Not only that, but Whitman College also allows students to log on for only fifteen minutes(!).
The librarian I spoke with suggested I try the Walla Walla Public Library, so I called them and was told they would indeed allow guest users, but only for 90 minutes per day. The library also has a bizarre policy: the guest-user courtesy is extended only to those who can prove they live more than fifty miles away. I didn't ask the staffer why they had such a policy, but I imagine the library sees itself as helping out-of-towners on the assumption that local yokels would have their own easy-to-access computers at home or at the office. Come to think of it, that's not such an outlandish rationale, especially if you're a library IT person trying to minimize the amount of virus cleanup you have to do every day.
There's a community college in town as well; I might limp over to them, too, but right now the object of the game is to find a new place to stay. The Comfort Inn at which I'm staying is over $100 a night; I'm used to prices in the $40-$65 range.
I sent an email to a contact that Becky had given me; haven't heard from him yet, but hope to hear from him soon. He's attached to WWU, as is Becky, and I'm hoping that a meeting with him will also lead to meetings with local students. We'll see how things go.
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rise and shine!
Woke up at a more normal 7:30 this morning and am finishing up a complimentary Continental breakfast* at Comfort Inn. I'd rather have a baguette with real butter and jam dipped in a steaming-hot bowl of chocolate milk, but I'll settle for danishes, cereal, fruit salad, and apple fritters. I skipped the do-it-yourself Belgian waffles; am feeling too lazy to make them.
I can't afford to stay in this hotel another day, so I'm hoping to secure either dorm housing or another, cheaper motel. More on this later today, so stay tuned.
*Those who know me know that I rarely eat breakfast.
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teacherly wisdom
My good friend Charles has written an excellent essay on what he learned from his previous semester of teaching.
Check it out.
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Monday, September 1, 2008
solar-powered depilation
I ended up falling asleep without showering last night, and woke up today (Labor Day Monday) at the crack of 10:30. Guess I was tired.
The morning shower involved scrubbing off several layers of dead skin from my face and forearms, as well as saying goodbye to a lot of hair. To be baked in the sun is, effectively, to suffer radiation burns, and as might happen to the victims of a nuclear plant disaster, my hair fell out in startling amounts as I was scrubbing my scalp clean.
I exaggerate, of course: I didn't exit the shower half bald, with fistfuls of hair in my tub's drain. But I did lose a lot more hair than the usual five strands, and I do think the loss had a lot to do with my near-constant exposure to sunlight.
The list of things to do over the next few days includes:
-laundry (always a must)
-leg exercises
-familiarizing myself with the path ahead (i.e., reading maps, gauging distances, looking up city info online)
-sending out feelers to colleges along my projected path to see about gathering some profs, students, and interested locals for talks on religion (as well as to help me navigate the path ahead)
-finding out about a hospital visit (thanks, Lori, for the contact info)
-contacting some of the folks on the list Becky gave me (to arrange meetings)
-to see about whether I can find some cheap on-campus housing for a week or two (I want to take advantage of my pause in Walla Walla to do more transcription at a university library computer)
-to finalize dates and locations for my dad so he can come out west and be my chase car
-to learn how to get around Walla Walla if there's a public transportation system here
There's probably more that I need to do (I've actually got a few ideas for mug and tee shirt designs I'd like to slap online), but I need to jog my memory about what those things are. Tomorrow, I'm going to visit the nearby Walla Walla University, whose access road I passed a couple miles back while on my way into town yesterday evening. This week, I also need to visit Whitman College where, according to Becky, I'm more likely to find computers I can use. I'd also like to visit the Whitman Mission, which promises to offer a great deal of insight into how two very different cultures and religious systems interacted.
Much to do. Saegyae-ga neolb-go hallil-i mantda-- the world is wide and there's much to do. (This was the title of a long-ago Korean bestseller.)
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Sunday, August 31, 2008
in Walla Walla at last
A quickie before I shower: I arrived at the Comfort Inn that sits on the western edge of Walla Walla at 8:30PM on the dot-- exactly as I thought I would. My walking speed was a gimpy 2.67mph; the distance, according to Chuck's odometer, was a little over 24 miles. I would never have made it without Chuck's help (he brought along my huge backpack, which I left at the hotel in the morning), my painkillers, and Chuck's knee brace. Take away any one of these factors and I would have been a quivering, weeping mass of Kev-jello. Instead, I moved along at a decent clip, was twice offered a ride into town, and even saw Marti (my massage therapist) and her hubby Merlin, who were heading west on Merlin's bike. Merlin struck me as a laid-back guy, and there did seem to be something of the wizard about him. In all, a good birthday. My thanks to everyone who sent in birthday wishes, as well as to the folks who called me while I was on the road.
Now I need a shower, and possibly some dinner, though as always I'm more thirsty than hungry.
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6 miles out from Walla Walla: a good example of the perils of intercultural (and interreligious) encounter
Route 703 and Lowden Road: the most incredible bird house you'll ever see
lunchtime reading
A very good post on the deterioration of Sino-Korean relations can be found over at the number-one English-language Koreablog, The Marmot's Hole, written by fellow Hoya Robert Koehler. As always, enter the comments section at your own risk.
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hee hee hee
[Pic removed after reader objections.
While I agree somewhat with the nature of the objection-- "Joking about something potentially tragic is fine as long as the joking remains general in tone and doesn't involve anyone in particular"-- I'm curious about what it is that makes joking in general about tragedy all right.
We might agree, for example, that deaths resulting from drunk driving are a horrible thing. My own father was nearly killed by a drunk driver in 1997. If drunk driving is already horrible in the abstract, how is the sin compounded by making jokes that might involve specific people? I suspect the dark and uncomfortable rationale is that joking about tragedy is all in good fun unless it has a human face. As long as it's not somehow "my" tragedy, it's fair game. There's a deliberate "hear no evil" dynamic at work here: "Your joke is funny as long as you don't force me to think about it in specific terms."
The pic I removed showed a street sign that said "Please Don't Drink and Drive." I had photographed the sign with my index finger covering the "Don't." I hadn't bothered to read the sign below it, which said "Sponsored by the (X) Family." Two commenters felt my humor went too far because I seemed to be mocking that family's pain.
The objection works if we grant two assumptions: (1) that I made my joke in full awareness of the "Sponsored by" sign, and (2) that the family had indeed suffered a drunk driving-related tragedy, which is why they had sponsored that cautionary sign. As it turns out, (1) is false and (2) is unknown unless we ask the family.
Should we always err on the side of caution when we joke around? Should we always be at pains to make sure that we're not hurting anyone, or is it enough to unleash our humor as long as the potentially hurt or offended parties aren't in the same room with us? How do we determine when a line has been crossed, and is it possible that where that line is may depend on who's doing the joking and who's doing the listening?
Discussions about the nature of humor are almost always unfunny, but I invite you to voice your opinion on the subject in the comments.]
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24 miles to go today
Many thanks to the folks who've wished me a happy birfday. The big Three-Nine today, 31 August. Chuck drove me all the way in to Walla Walla so I could reserve a hotel room and leave my large pack there, then he drove me back to Mile 312 on Route 12, which is where I'd stopped yesterday.
I'd like to spend more time thanking all the folks who've been so generous with their time and resources, but because I need to reach the hotel at a decent hour, I'm gonna leave off here and pick up again whenever I have the time and energy. There might be a few photos along the way, though.
Later.
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Saturday, August 30, 2008
walked 20 miles
Not quite the 25 I had aimed for, but I gimped 20 miles today. According to Chuck, I've managed a total of 60 miles since my arrival in Irrigon, an average of about 15 miles per day. I'll be walking to Walla Walla tomorrow-- a trek of around 25 or so miles that I plan to take slow and easy-- and shacking up in a hotel for a couple nights. I won't be able to meet Becky, who's off on a two-and-a-half-week trip with her hubby to New England, but I still plan to hang in Walla Walla for a while, doing transcription, possibly arranging a hospital visit, talking with some folks recommended by Becky (and other folks recommended by Chuck and Lori), etc.
More later.
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where am i?
I'm about two or so miles past the border, back in Washington. The going was rough for a while until I decided to take a second painkiller. While I'd rather not slip into the behavior patterns of an ibuprofen junkie, I see no other way to avoid hobbling. So: drugs it is.
I doubt I'll make my stated goal of 25 miles today. If all goes well, I'll make 15-18 miles, and will count myself lucky if I manage 20 miles before Chuck comes by to extract me from the LZ.
Right... gotta move on.
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a full day
Friday was a pretty full day. I left Kyle and Amanda's house around 8AM and walked a few miles before pausing to write the earlier thank-you entry. I ended up walking all the way to the Hat Rock campground, where I stopped to eat lunch and refill my water containers. The walk in to the "store and grill," which follows Hat Rock Road inward from 730, is a bit less than a mile; while walking back out, I ran into Chuck and Lori, who were in their truck and trying to track me down to see whether I had made it all the way to Sand Station. Had I walked that far, it would have been around fifteen miles. Having walked into Hat Rock State Park and partway back out, I'd guess I walked close to fourteen miles.
Chuck and Lori drove me to Sand Station and told me they'd be willing to keep hosting me at their home, dropping me off each morning so I could walk successive segments to Walla Walla, and picking me up wherever I decided to finish for the day. I thought it'd be a good idea to take this opportunity; one never knows when such generosity might recur down the line.
So we went back to Irrigon. Lori told me that a friend of hers, a professional massage therapist named Marti, was offering me a free session across the river in Tri-Cities; we had also received a dinner proposal from Amanda, who thought we all could meet in Tri-Cities along with Kyle and his mother, who was purportedly interested in meeting me.
Lori did my laundry while I showered and de-funkified myself. When my pants and socks were sufficiently dry, Chuck, Lori, and I piled into an SUV belonging to their daughter and headed across the river to Tri-Cities.
The massage therapy session at Tranquil Waters lasted about an hour and was focused entirely on my right leg. Marti employed a gamut of gentle but firm techniques to my knee and ankle while calming music played in the background. I nearly fell asleep at least twice; at one point I caught myself in mid-snore.
Marti told me that she had found at least two problems:
1. A patellar tracking problem. This refers to how the kneecap (the patella) is supposed to move over the femoral and tibial bones of the knee joint. According to her, my kneecap doesn't roll properly along the bone grooves. She recommended a set of leg exercises to help counteract the problem.
2. An ankle flexibilty problem. It seems my right ankle is unusually inflexible, which may be affecting how the foot rolls on both even and uneven surfaces. Marti recommended a battery of stretching exercises, to be performed at least twice daily.
I thanked Marti for her generosity (the session was indeed free), and we drove over to a Mexican restaurant where I had the pleasure of meeting Kyle's parents, as well as two friends of theirs. Kyle and Amanda arrived not long after we had all settled, and Kyle's mother peppered me with questions while we all chowed down. Amanda very thoughtfully gave me a Dry Pak, which is a waterproof container for one's cell phone-- something I've been needing for a while.
Kyle's mother was concerned about my knee, so as we left the restaurant, she did a "laying-on of hands" for it, in which she put her hand atop my knee and prayed for its healing. We don't normally do such things in my church, but I certainly appreciated the gesture.
While Chuck, Lori, and I drove home, we discussed my itinerary to Walla Walla. Earlier in the day, I had resolved to try to walk 25 miles on Saturday; Chuck would (1) drop me off at the beginning of the walk (somewhere by Sand Station), (2) visit me at about the halfway point with fresh water, and (3) visit me again at the very end in order to make me back to Irrigon for the night. Assuming I can walk 25 miles both Saturday and Sunday, I can make Walla Walla on Sunday afternoon.
So that's the plan. Wish me luck... and my sincere thanks to all the people who are helping me in some way or other, as well as to the people I had a chance to meet Friday evening.
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Friday, August 29, 2008
Marti at the Tri-Cities Tranquil Waters Massage Therapy Clinic (I got a free session!)
thanks, guys
A big thank-you to Amanda and Kyle for hosting me last night.
A and K are a young couple who'll be moving into a new house soon; they've got two happy dogs, Jack and Elle (Jack spent a good part of yesterday evening licking the salt off my right forearm*), and many stories to tell.
I think I was an overly talkative guest, though: we went on for about four hours, covering topics ranging from abortion to homosexuality to racism to jobs to teaching abroad (Amanda has taught in both China and Georgia [the country]) to differences between Assembly of God, PCUSA (my denomination), various types of Buddhism, etc.
One side effect of all the religion-speak was that at least one dog fell asleep. I, on the other hand, had a great time listening to the sound of my own voice. What a blowhard. A and K have interesting religious backgrounds; Kyle is a former Assembly of God member; if I'm not mistaken, he and Amanda are now Seventh Day Adventist (or am I still mixing you guys up with Becky in Walla Walla? this might be an idée fixe).
I didn't get to see Kyle's mother, who is apparently interested in meeting me, but we might all be getting together at some point along the way to Walla Walla.
My thanks, once again, to A and K for their hospitality, and also for their patience with the fact that, for a long time, I couldn't give them definite arrival dates. I hope we all keep in touch.
*Man... talk about a sentence that can be taken out of context.
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Thursday, August 28, 2008
pleasant surprises
My overnight stay with Lori and Chuck was the result of a command decision by Amanda in Umatilla, something of a freak accident from my all-too-human point of view, but it's yielded some unexpected fruit (Chuck, by the way, says there are no accidents).
First, I think I've made two more friends. Chuck and Lori were cool and relaxed from the beginning, and keenly interested in my project. While we have many differences (e.g., what the heck do I know about biker culture?), we share an interest in religious matters and, dare I say it, a desire to live deeply.
Lori, it turns out, runs a women's ministry, which I think is great. She and I had a far-ranging talk about life, the universe, and everything, and it became clear that she is a passionately giving person; I admire her dedication to the service of those in need.
Chuck, for his part, has offered to be my chase car (well, chase bike) to and from Walla Walla, which will allow me to make better time to the city. He also took my backpack off my hands this morning, allowing me to walk to Umatilla unencumbered, which came as a great relief (you'll recall that Dave Underwood did something similar for me in Centralia, WA).
Well, Chuck's good-heartedness apparently knows no bounds, because he also rumbled up to me on his Harley and gave me one of his old leg braces ("I've had four knee operations," he said)-- one of those reinforced braces with metal joints on either side of it.
The difference to my leg was like night and day. No joke. For the first hour after I put the brace on, I was walking full-speed down the road. The pain eventually began to creep back, but at nothing like the level it had been at earlier in the morning. I made steady progress to Umatilla, first along the comfortably sandy Heritage Trail, then along 730 again when the trail became too overgrown. (That was where Chuck found me hobbling along.)
Later in the afternoon, Chuck and Lori met me at G and J, a burger joint in Umatilla. Chuck had stuck my pack in a cycle trailer and had left the trailer at the home of Kyle and Amanda, my Thursday night hosts. The plan is for me to walk about fifteen miles to a campground just beyond Hat Rock (Sandy Station, if I remember correctly), and I'll call Chuck in the afternoon and ask him to tow my pack from Umatilla to the campground. Lather, rinse, repeat: Chuck says he's willing to help out over the weekend to get me to Walla Walla, and if I need to go back south to I-84 on a weekend, he'll drive my stuff back to I-84 to help speed me on my way.
Amazing. Humbling. I'm very thankful.
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arrived, arrove, arriven
I made it to Irrigon much earlier than expected; the 12.2 miles flew by, if limping qualifies as flying. I didn't meet Lori and Chuck right away; they were out, but their good friend Gennie (I know the spelling thanks to a text message from Amanda) was house-sitting, and she let me in. Very nice lady.
Lori and Chuck arrived a couple hours later, rumbling in on their bikes. They're as open and friendly as advertised (thanks, Amanda!); we've already had some interesting conversation.
Chuck brought reality crashing down on me, though: in his opinion, I should simply stick to I-84. "Lewiston sucks," he said in reference to the weather. "And I guarantee that by the time you hit Missoula, there's gonna be snow." (Yes, he's talking about October.) Further harshing my mellow, Chuck also noted that Route 12 past Lewiston goes up and down a lot, is generally a high-altitude route, and is serious bear country.*
So it looks as though I've got some rethinking to do if I decide to head south. Will this mean canceling on Walla Walla entirely? Poor Becky... she's been prepping for my arrival. And what about Dad and the chase car? Will I be postponing dad's trip west until I hit a barren patch in, say, Wyoming? Or will anyone in my vast (cough) readership be able to do a bit of "chase carring" for a few days? I may be getting to a point where the only way forward will be with the help of a chase car.
Chuck's idea for a southward route brings Salt Lake City back into the picture; we at Kevin's Walk have been going back and forth about this city since at least Seattle, I think; my manager Alan's recently emailed list of possible routes included SLC as well.
So there's plenty to ponder, and it all has to be pondered quickly. Meanwhile, it's time to rest. I'm bizarrely proud that I made it through the day on a single ibuprofen tablet; tomorrow's walk to Umatilla promises to be short, so here's hoping I'll need only one tablet again.
Many thanks to Lori and Chuck (both now asleep) for their hospitality, especially on such short notice. See y'all at 6AM.
(A reminder to readers that this blog's time and date stamps are still set for Eastern time; subtract three hours for Oregon time.)
*Note to Dad: Chuck also gave a much smaller mileage figure for the Lewiston-Missoula route-- around 100 miles shorter.
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Wednesday, August 27, 2008
an immense field of... something (the plants are no more than eight inches tall)
the trudge
I left late this morning because I had to wait at the pharmacy for my prescription to be filled (90 800mg tablets of ibuprofen-- take one tablet at a time, no more than three times per day; it's actually cheaper than buying even the house brand ibuprofen), and the pharmacy, while not far off, was nonetheless across town from where I was, which made for a few minutes' extra gimping.
Amanda, my CS host in Umatilla, very kindly sent me the address of the folks who will be taking me in today (thanks, Lori and Chuck); at the rate I'm going, which must be barely two miles per hour, I suspect I'll be arriving in the evening. I'm about a mile or so onto Route 730, and a little less than seven miles from my destination. At a healthy clip, I could be there by 4 or 5PM; as things are, I'm guessing significantly later-- say, 7PM.
I did something I haven't done in a while: I used MapQuest to plot my route. This was prompted by my irritation with Google Maps, whose route calculator inevitably displays longer routes than does MapQuest. GM kept telling me that today's walk would be around 16 miles, but that didn't seem at all correct when I looked at my large map. My own guesstimation was about 12 miles, and when I ran the starting and ending points through MQ, that's what I got.
But in plotting the path toward Route 730, MQ routed me through the back roads, not along Route 84. Shrugging, I decided to follow MQ's suggestion, going from Main Street, where my motel was (and where I saw that "I love me" graffito on the bike path), to Wilson Lane, which runs straight a little over three miles until you reach Bombing Range Road (not a random designation: there really is a bombing range here), which leads right to the I-84/30/730 junction..
While Wilson is a quiet, two-lane road, it's also a farming and residential zone, which means dogs. I had a scare today when, while passing one residence, three large dogs followed me along their fence until there was no fence, at which point they all ran toward me. I didn't raise my voice or make any sudden movements; I merely continued to walk along without making eye contact with the animals. There was a moment where I felt that matters might have spiraled out of control had I done anything rash, but luckily, nothing happened. The dogs rushed up to me on the street, barked a bit, then retreated to their property as I passed beyond their territory.
Sometimes the creepiest dog encounters involve silent dogs-- the ones that stare alertly at you, sometimes relaxed, sometimes in a posture of readiness. That also happened today when I passed a different residence: a little dachshund, leashed to a tree, began yapping away at me. Thanks to experience, my eyes swept the property for another dog, and there it was, way back from the main road: a huge German shepherd sitting on the gravel driveway, still as a statue, ears up and directed my way. I thanked my lucky stars that it wasn't moving, but that focused stillness gave me the willies.
I'm sitting on a dirt road by a huge field of... something, just off Route 730 and out of sight of traffic. The wind and sun today make for an exhilarating combination, and 730's shoulders have thus far been wide enough to make me feel I don't need to dodge traffic. I'm resting my knee, but will get up in a few minutes and plod on. I really don't have far to go, but it's going to take a while.
Slow and steady saves the knee.
_
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Umatilla finally within my reach (and the way forward)
I'll be leaving Boardman tomorrow morning, armed with painkillers, and marching to the town of Irrigon, a distance of about 12 miles. From there, Umatilla is less than ten miles away, so I'm hoping to stay only a single night in Irrigon.
[Note to Amanda and family: this means I'll be arriving in Umatilla this coming Thursday, probably mid- to late afternoon. Is that OK? If you prefer another weekday, that's fine with me; there are several motel and camping options in the area, including Hermiston, so I can hang back if you need me to.]
After Umatilla, my next stop will be Hat Rock State Park, which will mark my final stop in the great state of Oregon; after Hat Rock, I follow Route 730 north back into Washington, then turn east to Route 12 at Wallula Junction, and follow 12 past Touchet to Walla Walla.
I'm not sure where my next stopping point will be immediately after Hat Rock; I see nothing on any of the maps I have that lies within a 20-mile range of the state park, so I may have to play it by ear. My manager tells me there's an RV park/campground about eight miles west of Touchet on Route 12 (somewhere close to the town of Reese, I imagine; the campground's not shown on my map); I won't be able to reach it immediately, but will definitely be there the second day.
So my itinerary looks this way:
1. Boardman to Irrigon (motel)
2. Irrigon to Umatilla (CouchSurfing)
3. Umatilla to Hat Rock State Park (camping)
4. Hat Rock to unknown point in Washington (Route 730; possibly illegal camping)
5. Unknown point to campground at or near Reese, WA (camping)
6. Campground to Touchet (likely a motel)
7. Touchet to Walla Walla (CouchSurfing)
After Walla Walla, it's a matter of following Route 12 to Lewiston, Idaho and beyond. Route 12 will, in fact, be my companion for the next 400 miles; it's about 125 miles along 12 from Walla Walla to Lewiston, and around 275 miles (give or take) from Lewiston to Missoula, where I hope to hit the University of Montana in full academic swing (I imagine the semester's already under way). My father will be my guardian angel during the Lewiston-Missoula leg of the trek; he'll be helping me get through the narrow part of the Rockies.
I hope that answers questions for those who've been wanting to know what my path ahead is going to be. Beyond Missoula, I'm not sure yet how things will go, but the path through the Rockies is essentially a 275-mile sprint, just to get me through that distance. With Dad in the chase car, I'll have supplies and a place to stash most of my gear so I can travel light and make better progress than I have thus far.
So by the time I hit Missoula, I'll have logged approximately 280 + 164 + 400 = 844 miles. Let's just round that down to "over 800 miles," pending more precise calculations. And that, in turn, would seem to put me almost a fourth of the way across the country, though I won't really know if that's true until I know exactly how far I'll have walked.
_
Monday, August 25, 2008
able to walk (more or less)
I took six aspirin last night and feel a lot better this morning. Not only had I gone to bed with stiff muscles and a screaming knee, but I also had a slight fever and a runny nose-- very possibly my first cold of the Walk. Whatever it was, it was mostly gone by this morning, though I don't think I got more than four hours' sleep.
I'm doing laundry right now; clothes are drying. Once they're done cooking, I need to hobble off to the local Wal-Mart (I thought I saw a sign for one) and buy my ibuprofen and water purifying tablets (if the store's outdoor sports section carries them).
One thing this pain has taught me is never to take a simple thing like walking for granted. While I repeatedly learn-- and forget-- this lesson whenever I stub my toe or bark a shin, I'm now in pain so frequently and for such long durations that I'm pretty sure the wisdom will be burned indelibly into my psyche.
I don't want to give you the impression that I'm in agony, however. I'm not. While the pain did get bad enough last night to make me, at one point, afraid to get out of bed, I'm not down for the count. I imagine that I'll be ready to hit the road again by tomorrow morning.
What worries me, though, is this "one day's walking, two days' resting" business. I'm hoping that, when I start my trek through Idaho and beyond, my knee will have a chance to heal while it's unencumbered. My father's going to be the chase car operator, helping me through the Rockies, which means I won't be carrying much with me during that segment of the walk-- just some water, fall/winter clothing, bear spray, a knife, and little else. During that time, I'm counting on going faster and with little if any pain.
A few of us are discussing the route from Lewiston. After hearing several possibilities from my father and from Alan (many thanks to Alan's brother as well), I'm leaning toward Route 12 again. This will mean a mostly isolated 270-mile stretch that will get me out of the Rockies more quickly than other routes might. Because I'll simply be walking the route and not zigzagging among different towns, I might be able to do the entire stretch in two to three weeks (this assumes some 15- and 20-mile days along with 10-mile days). By the end of that stretch, I'll have logged at least 850 miles since beginning in Canada.
That reminds me: an article about George Martin's walk says he averaged 22 miles per day... but the walk took him around nine months to complete and was almost exactly 3000 miles. If so, that's about 333 miles per month, or a little over ten miles per day. While I'm averaging less than that right now, I don't feel so bad about taking it slowly.
_
not 12 miles
The walk from the Exit 151 campground (two days' camping for FREE!) to the town of Boardman (Exit 164) was a bit more than thirteen miles. Most of the walk actually went quite well for me: since my week-long stay in Arlington, I'm back to using two trekking poles, and like a Venetian gondoliere, I use the poles to push myself along at a faster pace than I can muster without them.
So I was able to maintain a decent clip for most of the distance, but I did have to rest three times-- twice for about forty minutes, and the final time (at the Mile 161 rest stop) for about an hour.
I lost $1.50 in one of the rest stop vending machines; not having eaten a bite in nearly three days, I had punched "F8" in the hopes of getting a danish. The coil in which the danish was trapped obediently rotated to let my prize out... the danish tipped forward... and then it stopped in mid-lean like a fearful diver. I stared, exasperated but unsurprised, at my quarry. The vending machine was shielded by an enormous blue cage to prevent exactly the sort of violence I was thinking of unleashing; because of the cage and because I was in a public space, I simply walked away.
Strangely enough, when I checked the machine almost an hour later, no one had come by to claim the danish. Had they put in their own $1.50, they might have gotten two pastries for their trouble.
The sight of Exit 164, Boardman, came as a relief. It had been a long, hot day of rushing cars, honking trucks, and little brown grasshoppers leap-flying everywhere. My knee was holding up, but I could feel that it wasn't going to last much longer, and I knew that after two days in the bush I wanted a motel.
The town has at least three motels; two are on the side of the exit closer to the river, and the third is on the opposite side (to the right, from my eastbound perspective). I called the front desk of one of the riverward motels; they were full up. Not seeing many vehicles at the nearer hotel, the one on the right, I limped over to it and booked a room for two nights. At 50-some dollars, it's not a bad deal.
All my clothes are in desperate need of laundering, but I'll take care of that in the morning. Tonight, it's all about resting the knee, which after two hours became so painful that I could barely put any weight on it. Funny how it was obedient all day, but let go as soon as I stopped walking.
So, tomorrow: laundry, painkillers, get a new grill lighter, see whether the town has a sporting goods shop, and perhaps grab a decent meal. I limped over to the nearest Shell station earlier in the evening and got two microwaveable burritos, but I think I'll scarf down some real food tomorrow.
A word about water treatment: despite precautions, I think some surviving microorganisms got happy in the Sunday heat: toward the end of the walk to Boardman, my stomach was starting to feel funny from swallowing the filtered river water in my Camelbak. Perhaps I should have invested in a UV Steri-Pen (earlier, I noted why I decided against it), but a cheaper solution may be, as one commenter suggested, to go with chlorine or iodine tablets. I remember using iodine tabs in Switzerland; they make the water taste horrible, but probably do kill all the critters.
Now I need to take a fistful of aspirin and get to bed. It's after 2AM, and I have to wake up before housekeeping barges in.
_
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Mile 161 rest stop: one of the most bizarrely structured picnic tables I've ever seen
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