Our hike was 8 miles round trip. The first leg was 1.8 miles along the Pihea Trail. From there, another 2 miles along the Alaka’i Swamp Trail would take us to the Kilohana Lookout. The Alaka’i Wilderness Preserve, popularly known as Alaka’i Swamp, is a wet forest located on a plateau near Mount Wai’ale’ale, one of the wettest spots on Earth. Although the preserve is home to alpine bogs, it is not a true swamp.

Our hike basically started inside a cloud. I was pissed because it obscured wonderful views, but it created a moody atmosphere. The trail was muddy, wet, and full of dripping ferns and moss. There was more moss and of greater variety than I’d ever seen before.

Much of the hike was made easier by a narrow, mesh-coated boardwalk that had been installed in the 90s. Walking on the boards created a hypnotizing rhythm and reminded us of how impossible the hike would have been without them.

During the walk, I dreamed up plans for massively-nerdplayer videogame called “Alaka’i”. Four different settlements of people would fight over a centrally located swamp similar to the landscape we hiked through. The terrain would be harsh, forcing players to stick to the safety of the wooden boardwalks. Unfortunately, this would leave them open to ambushes and other issues. Each settlement would have it’s own specialties that passed down to its players. Those from the mountains would be good at clearing paths, those from the arid hills would be good at digging, those from the plains would be good at hunting, and those from the swamp would be savvy in the muck.

But I digress…

The route.

Sign.

Tall waterfall in Waimea Canyon.

Click image for a 3000px wide panoramic of Waimea Canyon.

Inside the clouds at the trailhead.

Me, a little peeved by the clouds.

Cloudy road.

Pandora?

Shafts of light.

Muddy and foggy.

Misty trail.

More misty trail.

I took a piss overlooking a tense hillside of ferns and underbrush.

Moss.

Unfurling fern.

Moss covered tree.

The boardwalk starts.

More boardwalk over the mud.

Blue balls flower.

Trail foam.

Misty trail.

Vine featuring leaves that look tied on.

Blue skies.

Large bank of moss.

Wet, hairy tree.

Forest.

An endless set of stairs.

Flowers.

A toppled tree exposes it stump.

Crossing a creek.

Ferns along the trail.

Underbrush.

Pooled water among roots.

The descent.

Sister and mossy tree.

The Alaka’i Swamp is an otherworldly plateau of stunted trees and muck. The water is blood red.

Broken boardwalk.

A misplaced step.

Red water.

Stunted plants.

Puddles.

Walkway.

Fern.

After 4 miles of hiking, we made it the lookout. What would have been a wonderful view, all we saw was fog. Crap.

Another fern.

Crossing the creek again, this time with the help of a pole.

Clear skies over the forest.

Canyon wall.

Heading back to the hotel.

The hike took around 5 hours, and was a little grueling on the way back. I daydreamed about the scenery and tried not to focus on the never-ending climbs ahead.

About a mile from the trailhead, we came upon an older woman being helped by a lanky asian fellow. The woman’s arm was in a makeshift sling because she had tripped and likely broken her arm.

There was enough sun to get me very close to burnt. But by the following morning, my ruddy skin gradually changed to a healthy tan.

After a half of day of sitting at the beach it was time to head home. After one short flight to Honolulu, a few hours of playing cards outside in the airport’s Chinese garden, and a 7.5 hour sleepless overnight flight, we were back in Dallas. The city was a stark contrast to tropical paradise: cold, rainy, grey, and bleak.

It was time to put my socks on, let my tan fade, and daydream of playing and having fun on an island in the sun. Hey, hey.

True to predictions, this side of the island was sunnier. Grass was drier, ground redder. The whole south side of the island, except for the resort area of Po’ipu, had a run-down and casual vibe. Vast amounts of land were occupied by farms, especially those cultivating sugar cane and coffee. This is the side where industry rules.

Most of our time was spent watching humpback whales from the beach, exploring tide pools, sampling freshly roasted plantation coffee, playing cards, and stealing/chewing wild stalks of sugar cane.

We were not entirely without rain. Various fingers of precipitation kept blowing in from the southwest, obscuring what should have been jaw dropping views of Waimea Canyon and the Napali Cliffs with thick white fog. One day was drizzly at the beach. The lone monk seal sleeping behind caution tape didn’t seem to mind though. Nor did the whales, who seemed to be a daily sight in the distance. I’ve never seen so many whales.

Sorry for blubbering…

Here are a few photos from the southern side of Kauai:

Tree and yellow grasses.

A holstein on the wrong side of the fence.

Leather on barbed wire.

Sleeping Giant.

Hot chicks.

Man washing a horse.

Tall cook pines.

Goats in the shade.

The lord of the flies watches over an remote dirt road.

Mustang, only driven on weekends.

The green trail down to Ho’opi’i Falls.

An odd flower.

Ferns.

J. about to spit a longan seed.

Sister at the falls.

One of many flowers littering the ground by the falls.

Wood rose.

A Kauai style yard: farm animals and junked cars overgrown with plants.

Goats.

‘Opaeka’a Falls.

Fish tail on telephone pole.

Nawiliwili Harbor.

Pink letters.

70% off.

Recycling center.

Wild bougainvillea.

Menehune Fishpond, made by the old natives.

Cattle staring at me.

Rustic fence corner.

The porch outside our room at Kalaheo Inn.

Old wall.

Lizard on a red leaf.

Another cook pine.

Highway 50 with coffee growing in the distance.

A bean drying tent at Kauai Coffee Company.

Beans.

Plumeria.

The crumbling lava walls of the old Russian Fort.

Father inside the old fort.

A trail from the fort to the beach.

Abandoned car.

Froggy went a courtin’.

Tree and fort.

The oddest feeling neighborhood in Kauai is a single tree lined street of semi-abandoned homes built for employees of the only surviving sugar mill on the island.

Dusty tennis court.

A bird.

A sugar mill home.

The lone lamppost near the mill’s office.

Stuffed animals on display at the intersection of Highway 50 and Hanapepe Road. There were numerous, soggy, and half-hazardly placed specimens. It looked like a memorial to a tragic bus crash.

We asked the owner of a local restaurant what they were there for. She said they were a tradition started by a local man. He used to create elaborated animal displays outside his store, but since dying people had just been placing them randomly.

Scenic Hanapepe Town.

The old Hanapepe Theater.

Prince Kuhio Memorial.

Mother and clear ocean at Shipwreck Beach.

The wave etched cliffs at Shipwreck Beach.

The lone cliffs.

Our first whales were spotted in the distance off Shipwreck Beach. That afternoon we watched about twenty migrating south. Stupidly, I had left my binoculars at the hotel.

Flowering vine taking over a wire.

Banana ice-cream cake with fig newton crust, peanut butter and chocolate sauce topping.

The black cows again.

Pencil cactus.

Red rock, green grass.

Sprouting Horn, a pocket in a lava rock beach that shoots waves into the air.

Thorny tree.

Baby sugar cane fields.

Foot lobster.

Red crested cardinal.

Black brittle stars are creepy, like a slinky aquatic tarantula.

Me and my sister looking at a bounty of tide pools at Po’ipu Beach Park.

A monk seal resting at the same beach.

My father pointing out a fascinating fact.

Toilets and rubble.

Shed.

Abandoned sugar mill.

My prized stalk of sugar cane I harvested from Waimea Canyon.

Float.

A littering of starfruit.

Never photograph a man and his twigs.

J. braided the hair of a local coconut.

Sunset.

Storm rolling in at another sunset.

The Kauai trip was winding to a close, but there was time for one last adventure. On Wednesday, J., my sister, and I set off on an other eight mile hike. This one was to go through a weird, muddy, rain forest plateau. Details are forthcoming.

In the backyard were fruiting banana and papaya trees.

The North Shore was rainy my friends. Daily showers hampered activities, but there was still plenty of time to hike around and hang out on the beach. Hanalei Bay became a favorite destination for body boarding, sunbathing, buying groceries, meals, and shave ice.

On multiple drives, I tried to find where a massive guava orchard was. After plenty of searching in reality, an online search revealed that the place had shut down immediately after my last trip to the island in 2007. I shouldn’t have stolen all those guavas.

Here are a few random photos from the North Shore:

Kilauea Lighthouse.

Two of the thousands of wild chickens on Kauai.

Wailua Falls.

The pool of Wailua Falls.

Flowers.

The view out the living room of our rental house.

Our first day, J. and I constructed this shelter from driftwood during a rain storm. Problem: we built it backwards.

Drift pomelo.

Our rental house seen from the beach.

Mother on the beach.

Crossing a one-lane bridge.

J. in the large tree outside the house.

Waves crashing on Wainiha Beach Park.

Cowrie shell.

Waves splashing.

A car that had plummeted to the beach from the a turn near mile marker 6 in Wainiha.

Our first tired night we ate deluxe saimen (a Hawaiian version of ramen).

Papaya.

Open faced sandwiches and tacky upholstery.

Full 180° rainbow in Kapa’a.

Sunrise on ‘Anini Beach.

A random farm road on the way to Wailua Falls.

Jacob’s shack?

Tropical litter.

Wild cock.

Vines hanging above the Ha’ena Beach dry cave.

Ladies inside the cave.

Looking out.

Mushrooms.

J. and horizon.

Surfer.

Cone and pipe.

Nuts coating the ground.

Massive exposed roots at Ke’e Beach.

Sand becoming stone.

Trees at Ke’e Beach.

Garden spider.

Awapuhi.

A rival beach shelter.

Papayas.

Our backyard banana plant.

J. sunning in Hanalei Beach.

Me, body boarding in Hanalei Bay.

Palm.

Lunch at the reasonably priced Panda’s Kitchen.

Shave ice with macadamia nut ice cream on bottom.

Looking over Hanalei Valley.

Historic Hanalei Bridge with taro fields in the distance.

Taro, taro everywhere and not a poi to drink.

Wild flowers.

Family walking on Hanalei Pier.

A little boy was fishing for small tropical fish.

Paddle boarding.

A shrimp.

The clear blue water of Hanalei Bay.

J. at sunset.

Me at sunset.

Fishing supplies.

Boards.

Church.

A lone horse in the morning mist.

Grove of trees by the beach.

Pink oyster mushrooms for sale at a farmer’s market.

Jackpot.

Rambutan.

I had forgotten how much I liked fresh longan berries. They will always remind me of Thailand.

High contrast river ripples.

The Monday before our Thursday departure, we relocated to the south. That batch of drier photos is coming next.

Mahalo.

We started the hike at the Ke’e Beach trailhead before noon. The trail was in shadow for most of the way there, making for cool temperatures and a dark jungly atmosphere. The amount of tropical greenery was astounding: lush succulents, dangling vines, banyan and other odd tropical trees with hanging roots, wild flowers and small purple orchids, ferns, palms, moss, rustling grasses. Wildlife was scarce aside from wild chickens and an assortment of lizards, frogs, and spiders.

Luckily, the trail wasn’t that wet. There were a few steep, slippery, and rutted areas and a couple stretches of mud. The hike was slow going on the way there as my parents aren’t used to the combination of elevation changes and tropical scenery.

About a mile in, we were able to see the overlapping cliffs of the Napali Coast.

Our 8 mile hike.

Father at the start of the hike.

The top of the first hill.

Climbing over roots.

Looking at the flora.

Textured tropical trunks.

Seed pods.

Banyan roots.

Freshly pruned jungle.

Wild orchids.

Blue waves below.

The first glimpse of the Napali Coast.

Sleeping giant.

Pods.

Shaded trail with a view.

More roots.

Spiked spiders everywhere.

Water.

Fern.

Mud puddles.

Moss and ferns.

Another view as the trail got sunny.

Walking towards the sun.

Ferns.

Me and my pint-sized pectorals.

Crossing a little creek.

Trail.

Mossy trunk.

J.’s ascension.

Muddy stairs.

Ants on a trunk.

The shafts of light.

Warning sign.

Another warning sign.

Lush.

Leaf.

Crossing the Hanakapi’ai.

Hanakapi’ai Beach.

By the time we reached Hanakapi’ai Beach, the sun was overhead. We forded the rocky Hanakapi’ai Stream and sat under a tree for a lunch of boiled eggs, cheese and crackers, trail mix, bananas, and water. The waves pounded on the the rocky beach in front of us. It was relaxing.

My sister, J. and I decided to hike another two miles up the stream to see a waterfall. My parents would head back on their own and wait for us at the starting beach.

The hike to the falls was scenic too. It followed the stream, crossing a few times. The crossings involved skillful jumps or accidental soakings. The trail passed through ferns, bamboo forest, and under wild guava trees. Some guava had fallen, but it was very tart. Hanakapi’ai Valley was at one time populated with native Hawaiians that thrived off the bounty of the sea and by farming taro, bananas, and sweet potatoes. Around 1900, coffee was also planted and farmed in the valley by non-natives. However, by 1920 the valley was abandoned as native Hawaiians opted for less isolated locations to live.

The jungle had retaken all the scantiest evidence of habitation.

Life preserver.

Hanakapi’ai stream looking into the valley.

A nasty bathroom.

Fern.

Little grasshoppers on the fern.

Bamboo.

Sister and bamboo.

More bamboo.

And more.

Tart wild guava.

Moss.

The stream.

Plants clinging to the underside of a dripping hillside.

Hanakapi’ai Falls.

Hanakapi’ai Falls!

Ferns at its misty base.

Wet flowers.

Hanakapi’ai Falls drops 120 feet into a large pool. There are a few smaller cascades just downstream from the pool. Beautiful. Signs warning of falling boulders were there to discourage people from getting too close, but we hiked up to the pool. Surrounded on three sides by towering cliffs, we listened to the roar of the water and were cooled by the misty breeze. A large slope of ferns and flowers was thriving.

Green peaks.

Muddy.

Tree and water.

The blue water of Ke’e Beach.

Kauai’s water is so beautiful.

We began our hike back. It was hot and long, though not as muddy. We were more tired than we expected. Four miles later, and eight miles total, we were back at Ke’e Beach. The chickens ran up to us like our children. They were either expecting hugs or grain. We gave them neither.

The Daums (and J.) got into their Escape with smiles of physical satisfaction. We drove to weird melodies of Brian Wilson. The rest of the afternoon was spent sunbathing at the beach of Hanalei Bay. Beautiful mountains loomed behind us.

Full posts with photos when I return on the 28th.

Around noon, we crossed the causeway over West Bay and onto the northeast side of the island. It was time to roll the windows down and blast the heat. We were at the beach, but the air was cold. Before nightfall, we crisscrossed the island and saw as much as possible. I had visited the island a few times with my family when I was younger, and I had hoped that I would remember certain sights. But most of my childhood memories were of sand, surf, and trying not to step on beached jellyfish. The only tourist piers that I might have remembered had been rebuilt.

Galveston is a weird mix of the historic and new, the ugly and beautiful. It’s surprisingly big: 208 square miles, with a population in tens of thousands. Most of the homes are built on risers. The city is a treasure trove of historic buildings including the Strand National Historic Landmark District which is composed of ornate and beautiful homes from the Victorian Era. Unfortunately, we didn’t spend much time exploring the old homes.

Most of the damage from Hurricane Ike was repaired, but there was evidence of its effects everywhere. Lots of windows were still boarded up. Plenty of stores were out of business or for sale. Galveston was paradise for my aesthetic tastes. It’s beautiful and oceanside with a touch of ugly and home to quaint and rusty industrial areas.

Bridge over troubled waters.

Stop, else you drive into the gulf.

The remains of the Flagship Hotel, a pier built hotel thrashed by the 2008 hurricane.

Another view. This one shows a missing wall.

The ramps from the coastal road to the hotel had collapsed.

The low white Moody Compress warehouse.

A damaged side door marked by a cone.

A damaged house on risers, getting ready to be relocated. Perhaps, it will be relocated to a place free of hurricanes.

Sun’N'Fun has had better days.

Historic Hotel Galvez.

An abandoned snow cone stand?

Missing bricks on a wall.

The red poles along a sandy road to beach parking.

The trashed Sandpiper Hotel.

A flock of healthy pelicans sitting in a tide pool grooming their feathers.

What the flock?!

A sea of poles demarcate parking spots on the beach.

The end of the road.

Olive oil tanker coming from Italy.

Across the bay, a row of oil refineries are smoking.

A heron eyes two fishermen.

A leaning palm.

The battered Martini Theater.

A historic building in downtown.

Floating dry docks.

Old corrugated warehouse near the cruise ship docks.

A faded sign.

Tracks.

This building has seen better days.

A makeshift dump houses debris.

J. running on a boardwalk towards the ocean.

Portable toilet is dwarfed by the largest toilet of all.

J. jumps.

I jump.

Beach house.

Beach cattle.

An old beach farmhouse.

Dented home.

A metal teapot building.

Jetty in black and white.

Woman in patriotic colors walks two dogs along the sea wall.

Dead bird in the sand.

Stop! Quonset hut time.

A beached fishing boat.

Cranes in the distance.

Rodeo to the right.

Stewart’s Night Life?

Sheep and a donkey.

A small town’s public sculpture that’s a little Hellraiser.

Two of a team of six American black vultures picking at the corpse of a red fox.

On Monday around lunch, we started driving back to Dallas. Rather than take the interstate the whole way, we went north along smaller country highways. From waterways, bays, refineries, and bridges, the scenery changed to woods, farms, and lakes. We didn’t dally much, as I wanted to be home by darkness.

Because when the night falls, the loneliness calls.

Our car had an auxiliary input jack, but we had no cord. Instead, our road trip was scored with only 4 CDs: Devandra Banheart’s What Will We Be, Monsters Of Folk and Broken Bells’ self-titled albums, and Malajube’s Labyrinthes. The radio in Austin was good too.

Austin is not only the capital, but also regarded as the best city in Texas to live. It’s artistic, funky, progressive. Bike lanes are more common, the busses are okay, and the natural scenery of the hill country is beautiful. Plus, at the right time of year, one of the bridges is host to tens of thousands of bats. Winter isn’t the time for bats, though. We arrived in the early afternoon and orientated ourselves to the town. Then we checked into our hotel.

Agave Americana capped with holiday balls.

Beautiful old house on the top of a hill.

Wall problems.

A shack mixed between high value homes.

A public dirt bike park.

Corinthian columns.

Our hotel: the funky and expensive Hotel San José.

Heated pool.

Our room.

Our sink and window toilet paper.

After checking in, we went for a freezing walk down South Congress to the river and back. Along the way, we saw a car wash that had frozen over in icicles and white and pink frosty foam. We got back to the car and drove to Zilker Park to see what all the fuss was about. The park is beautiful but empty during the winter. Along Barton Creek is a locally famous set of five springs that people swim in during the summer. The water was perfectly clear.

The capitol building at the end of Congress.

River through a bridge’s fence.

The small gauge kiddy train at Zilker park was closed for the winter.

The adorable little track.

Eliza Spring near Barton Spring in Wilker Park.

Clear, blue Barton Spring.

Turnstile.

The far end of Barton Spring.

Ball moss growing in a tree.

J. holding a ball.

Underbrush by a creek.

LOVE truck.

J. and I stumbled on a massive pile of maybe 1,000 old Christmas trees getting collected for recycling. Inspired by a father and his kids that were leaving the pile, we decided to climb through. Footing was tricky and prickly, but by walking along the trunks it was nearly impossibly to fall into the dark pockets below. In mass, the needles were surprisingly soft. All the trees on top bounced under our weight. We cross the pile and left with big smiles, and smelling strongly of sap.

We took a long winding drive around Lake Austin before stopping for dinner and retiring for the night.

A pile of Christmas trees being collected for recycling.

A stack of fragrant pines four trees deep.

The Ghost of Christmas Awesome!

J. hiding in a tree.

Sloppy decoration.

Limestone cliffs at sunset.

Bridge.

On Saturday, we woke up and went on a drive in search of coffee, pastries, and wedding rings. Afterward, we wandered around the capitol building.

The capitol building.

Coconut Monkey in the gallery of past Texas governors.

Looking up at the dome.

Looking down at the floor.

Inside the empty Senate room.

Beautiful ceiling.

The empty House of Representatives room.

The chairs of the House of Representatives.

Looking down from the 3rd ring in the gallery.

Banister.

Hallway.

Construction walkway.

Old train trestle in the middle of downtown.

In the nearly dry creek bed.

A fitness DVD amongst the river stones.

J. approaching me in a graffitied storm drain.

Don-Mar Motor Court sign.

Afterward, we went to the Cathedral of Junk, a labor of eccentric love by Vince Hannemann. The place was like stepping inside a wilder version of my parents’ house. The structure is a shrine to the holy trinity of the pack rat, artist, and weirdo.

The house in front of the Cathedral of Junk.

It’s hard for a picture to show how large and complicated the structure is. It has many rooms and is nearly as tall as a three story house.

“The Sisters” rabbits.

The main entrance to the cathedral.

Bottle cap cross and blue bottles.

A roof made of box springs and bottles.

Looking down from a second story nook.

A wall of junk.

A shrine behind the cathedral.

Another shrine, this one housing the ashes of people that wanted to be left at the cathedral.

The back wall of the cathedral. Note the spiral staircase on the right.

Rooster.

Lunch/dinner was from a BBQ place far outside of Austin called The Salt Lick. The drive was scenic and rural, passing an incongruous Hindu temple along the way. Our $11 plate included beef, sausage, german potato salad, vinegary slaw, and a fist sized roll.

After lunch, we headed to the top of Mt. Bonnell to watch the sun set.

Meat grilling at The Salt Lick BBQ far outside of Austin.

Making meals.

Our lunch. Not pictured: Dr. Pepper and peach cobbler.

Vineyards.

The entrance to Barsana Dham, a large Hindu compound in the middle of nowhere.

Empty parking lot outside the temple.

Another view of the temple.

A Hindu peacock.

Clear water on the low side of Lake Austin.

Tom Miller Dam, responsible for Lake Austin.

View of the lake from Mt. Bonnell.

Wind blown tree on the cliffs of Mt. Bonnell.

Looking south down the Colorado River.

Big home along the lake.

A nimble bird feeding on seeds.

Branch at sunset.

Most of downtown Austin in the warm light of a chilly evening.

On Sunday morning, we packed up the car and hit the road for Galveston Island.

Without further ado:

Me.

Walking along a country road on a winter day.

Ponies.

Rusted barrel.

One of hundreds of amazing old barns.

Snow-dusted hay bales.

Barn and bird.

Modest and patriotic house.

Dead cat in the grass.

Cemetery.

Braying donkey on a hill.

Roadkill. I cropped out the eyes that was dangling from the socket.

Sorghum Sweet Gum pod on a wire. (Thanks Dane!)

Collapsed barn in the field.

Red blooms, blue sky.

Half cow, half buffalo, all good.

Gate in the snow.

Snowy woods.

Marking my territory.

Sliding with R.

Indian and pink elephant sculptures.

Sad Sam’s grocery, gas, and fireworks.

I like pig butts, I cannot lie.

The side of circus wagon.

The weirdest national anthem.

Lady and horses.

Healthy menu.

Grocery store.

Hunters auto detailing.

Weiss Liquors.

Our sweet ride, an 80s Grand Am.

The windshield.

Train bridge over the Cumberland River.

A well maintained appliance.

The store for all.

OWEN sign. I don’t know what OWEN sells.

An abandoned building at the old Nyhoff Packing Plant.

A ramp.

The guard dog.

Water tower; hydrant.

Concrete plant with downtown Nashville behind.

Old car manufacturing plant.

Lonely house on blocks.

Liquor and ice cold beer.

Fence and dollar values.

King Fish; Car dealership.

Park-Johnson Hall.

Bent vent.

Water tower; Sexy BBQ pig.

Hobos at Nashville’s scale Parthenon replica.

Berries and bird.

Geese eating bread.

Drooping log.

J.’s beautiful blue eyes reflecting a bench.

Me, throwing wood chips.

Last night’s homemade dinner: steak, home fries, collard greens, spinach, and caramelized onions.

More soon.

Impatience is one of my many character flaws. It has been put to the test numerous times over the last few days.

On Sunday, J. and I drove to Kentucky to drop off her nieces and spend some time with her sister’s family. Unfortunately, on the second evening an ice storm blew in. And it was a doozy.

We woke Tuesday morning to no electricity. The storm knocked out the power to most of the area. Some counties were 100% without power. It was easy to see why: the ice had built up on tree branches and the added weight broke the top off nearly every tree. These tops crashed on roofs, cars, and power lines. On our street alone, there were numerous broken utility poles and snapped sections of wire. This was the stuff of an electric company’s nightmares. Even a thousand men in trucks couldn’t repairs the tens of thousands of fallen lines. The roads to most of them were iced over and impassible.

We made the most of the ice by taking some sleds to the streets. The thick ice made an excellent sledding surface, through we had to be careful of falling branches.

I played games with the kids, colored books, and kicked balls around. The munchkins of ages 1 and 3 were cute and fun to be around, but in constant and noisy need of attention.

That afternoon, the family decided to pack up and go to a relative’s house nearby. There wasn’t going to be power anytime soon and the temperature was falling. The relatives had a huge generator to keep the power going. J. and I decided to stay and make sure the pipes didn’t freeze.

We spent the next 5 hours watching/helping the family get ready. I was anxious, as was everyone, during the packing process. I’ve never had to relocate a family in the middle of an ice-storm. It’s a stressful time. When they left, J. and I were alone in the cold. It was like we had checked into a mountain cabin. The place was eerily quiet.

That night was a dark and cold one. J. and I had only candles and blankets. We ate year-old tuna lunch packs and apples for dinner. It was dark at 5. We went to bed at 7 like olden day farmers. We were serenaded to sleep by the booms, cracks, and smashing of branches falling. Romantic.

Chainsaw man approached by neighborhood dog.

Ice on tree branches.

The downed cable covered with before and after icicles.

Snapped pole.

Mailbox and downed wire.

Sunlight and the broken canopy of trees.

Every tree basically looked like this.

Neighborhood dog greets the host’s dogs.

Chair.

Steps.

Ice covered berries.

J.

Sleds.

The next morning, we pulled the jug of milk off the snowy porch and ate some Kix. All of the food was going to spoil, so we ate it up like the kids in Jurassic Park did when they got back to the visitor center after getting chased by dinosaurs. Even the ice cream was melting despite being stored in snow.

About an inch or two of powder had fallen that evening. Even more trees had tumbled. We tried sledding again, but not only did we break the device, but the powder was slowing us down. For lunch, we fired up the camping grill and made some soup and burgers. They were some of the best patties I’d ever had. No fooling.

That afternoon, we decided to get a ride to the relative’s house. Power wouldn’t be coming back soon, and thoughts of heat danced in our heads. The house wasn’t far away, but the roads were solid ice and slick. The whole route was a wasteland of fallen branches and destruction. After a lot of fish tailing and branch scraping, we arrived.

Our driver was truly skilled on the ice.

The house was packed with 13 people, all family of J.’s sister’s husband. This put me very low on the totem pole. Luckily, the family ran a heavy equipment parts/repair business and was in possession of a huge trailer mounted diesel generator. It was burning through 40 gallons a day to keep the basics running. Even wireless internet. We were very lucky.

The destruction at the relative’s house.

Fallen limb.

Muddy tread marks.

Stubby corn field.

Icicle grill.

Icicle trailer.

Barn behind the corn.

Immaculate racer.

Work desk.

Clearing debris.

Machinery.

Snow angel.

Trucks.

Machinery.

Man-sized tires.

Machinery.

Table.

Frozen pond.

Going for a walk.

Icicle grass.

A patchwork barn.

Gauges.

Treads.

Icicle birdhouse.

Enormous generator.

Michigan.

J. and the jumbo dozer.

C.H. in uniform.

Parker’s burnt down drive-in.

Now THAT’S flame-broiled!

Out of the countryside.

Everyone in the house had thick Kentucky drawls and were very friendly. People had to sleep in any available spot. J. and I slept on the floor at the foot of the homeowners’ bed, like dogs.

Thursday, we woke and were ready for action. The plan was to head with J.’s sister’s family to the other house to get vehicles for heading back to Nashville. Two hours of packing later, we were sliding down the road. We got to their house and began the mysterious and frustrating process of clearing branches and loading up different cars.

The smaller roads were still in bad shape, so the husband (who has ice driving experience) to drive both cars to the main road. Another hour later, we were off along interstate.

After a short 3 hour drive, we were back in Nashville. I was so tired of being around people that this impatient monster retreated to the shower, then the upstairs room. Sweet, sweet seclusion.

It was not a fun few days in Kentucky, but it was certainly memorable. Patience is a virtue I wish I had sometimes.

Many moons ago, I used to go on long family road trips from Texas to visit my father’s relatives in big sky country. While I’ve seen a few faces since then, it’s been at least 14 years since I’ve seen many of them on their home turf.

Numerous factors brought this trip about: my uncle from California was heading to Helena for an annual marathon; my other uncle wasn’t in jail, my father was able to get off work to meet them, I needed a place to live between Portland and Thailand, and my sister had room at her apartment, my sister also had a car just itching to be broken in, and my grandmother had a place for all of us to stay.

Opportunities like that happen only once.

The sister’s Hyundai was gassed up, stocked with jerky and water, and on the road by 6:30AM. Most of the morning drive was during desert rainstorms. By 1PM, we had made it to the suburbs of Denver, Colorado, to pick up my father who had flown in to avoid the first part of the drive. The first few hours until my father’s pickup went quickly, but once entering Wyoming the journey became eternal. The state is beautiful, but there is nothing but repeating scenery along the highway. By the time we rolled into Billings, it was nightfall. I was getting sleepy, but safely got us across the pass and into Bozeman. By 11:45PM, we pulled up the driveway to my grandmother’s house. For all 17 hours I was the driver. It was a crazy decision on my part, but I get nervous as a passenger on the highway. It’s not a high nervousness, but it means having a hard time relaxing for the journey. Instead, I chose to be exhausted by driving. But 17 hours is a pretty long time, both in distance and in stamina. I don’t know how my parents could make such long drives every year, especially with two small-bladdered kids in the back seat. Maybe they feed of our energy as shadow soul stealers.

The route (red is the return route):

Here are some photos of the trip:

The endless, green hills and open road of Wyoming.

A strange cloud formation in Wyoming. I expect God to hammer a square cloud into it any day now, if he’s capable.

Sunset on the dirt road my grandmother lives along.

The mountains as seen from her front yard. It’s a pretty ridiculous view at this time of day.

One morning, I walked along the trees planted as snow breaks at the edge of her property. Apparently, a deer had babies somewhere in there and I intended to find them. I did not.

But the mother eventually showed herself at the bird feeders in the backyard. She was systematically testing the rope for weaknesses. She remembers.

On Friday, we went to a construction site to pick up my uncle.

My father and uncle hauling supplies and watching their footing in the mud. My uncle hadn’t changed in the ten years I hadn’t seen him. Despite his incarcerations and hard living, he’s just as funny, friendly, and smart as I remember.

While my uncle got cleaned up for dinner, I sat outside his apartment and tried to get as close as possible to the Magpies.

That afternoon at my grandmother’s house, we had an early feast of homemade lasagna, salad and other vegetables. It was washed down with tea, pies, and coffee. Afterward we packed up the cars and drove and hour and a half to Helena to register for the race.

On the way through a neighborhood in Helena, we passed a family of deer eating a row of bushes. The people from Montana were quick to mention that the capital is infested with deer.

The starting line of the 5k race. My uncle was the only family member to tackle the full marathon. He started at 6 in the morning. Throughout the day, various races started. All finished at the same line, around the same time. My uncle brought an entourage with him from California. Combined with the rest of the family, we made a large racing group.

Aunt, sister, grandmother, and uncle.

Discarded water cups.

One of the judges staring out his apartment window.

My uncle, heading toward the finish line. He made it in 5 hours.

Someone who didn’t quite make it.

Three brothers and a mother: the core of Team Dauminator 75.

Orange slices at the finish line.

Back at the hotel, we had a surprise visit from my grandfather. I hadn’t seen him since I was a boy, and it was a little awkward at first. He’s a little bit like a living John Wayne: a tough, solitary man more comfortable around oil and cows than people. My sister, uncle and father ate dinner with him at a nearby restaurant. It felt a bit like a Chris Ware comic.

On the way out of Helena, we passed the bulk plant where my grandfather drove every day for 41 years to fill his fuel truck. I have vague memories of riding with him to this plant. Back then, we stopped to fill up the tanker and I ate some Pop Rocks.

A rollerskating pig eating a hot dog on a gas station sign.

That night, we got back to Bozeman. My uncle reserved a table at a lodge on the outside of town. The lodge overlooked snow-capped mountains and a small pond that stocked trout for the restaurant. Everyone’s meal was delicious, but heavy on the meat. I had a strip steak with vegetables and a salad. Others had duck, fish, and pork. But not rollerskating pork.

Sunday was a lazy day at my grandmother’s house. It started with a big breakfast and ended with a big dinner. Again, more meat around every bend. I ran around outside a little, kicking and punching a tennis ball. Early the next morning, we began our journey home.

Instead of heading back the same way, we decided to take a route that led through Yellowstone National Park. We entered through the North Entrance and left through the gates at the south end into Grand Teton National Park.
Cuss words cannot describe how beautiful the park is. But holy @*&#!

Mineral deposits and mountains.

A pack of bison wandering through the woods.

A herd of elk.

The closest we came to a bear. It’s in the center of the image.

One of the numerous shallow rivers flowing through beautiful valleys.

Chipmunk looking at me.

A large roaring waterfall.

More bison roaming in front of the smoking earth.

Scalding blue water of one of the Fountain Paint Pots.

A bubbling soup of minerals nearby.

Eagle sized black birds eating trash out of someone’s truck.

After my sister went to the bathroom and missed Old Faithful geyser, we headed south. When we reach the continental divide, the scenery became snowy. It was a whole other landscape.

A view of Yellowstone Lake, the largest mountain lake in North America.

My father and sister.

The foggy tops of the Grand Tetons loom ahead, as my father disobeys a warning sign and goes looking for bears.

As we got higher into the Grand Teton National Park, it started snowing. One section of mountain had collapsed onto the road and was being repaired.

A partially frozen stream.

A picture of the scenery as we waited for passage.

Within an hour of leaving the park, the landscape changed first into moist green woods, and then into weird ruddy badlands.

Rounding the bend.

It took forever to get to the interstate. The sun fading behind us. For hours, there was nothing but a view: no people, few cars, just us chasing the curve of earth as nothing more than a speck in its vastness.

I kept on driving.

Night fell and we rolled through Denver. We were all very sleepy. I was driving in a dream. We stopped at a motel to begin the journey again this morning. Now we’re back in Santa Fe.

Onward to Dallas and then Thailand and beyond!!!