Tip #6: Do free things

When I was in Hawaii, I got a text message from Taryn that said "Want to go to a free Jason Mraz concert?" My response: Heck yeah. The Sunday after my trip, Taryn and I woke up early, jumped in Roxie and headed south for San Diego. We spent the morning walking around the coast and checking out the sea. We took a long walk along the rocky coast that lead us to seals, snorkelers, and beautiful homes. We decided that if we lived in California, this may have to be the place we live. It was spectacular. We left the lovely coast for downtown to grab lunch and the Italian Festival. After a tasty sausage that was big enough to split and still be totally bloated, we headed down to Chula Vista for the show. I know just the few Jason Mraz songs from the radio, and to be quite honest, I wasn't expiating much besides a lot of teenage wooers and pop radio songs. The free show, the last show of Jason's Gratitude tour, was hosted and opened by Bush Walla, Jason Mraz's hysterical college roommate. He was captivating and quickly grabbed the crowds attention. When he left the stage, he had already plastered a smile on the audience's face. Before Jason took the stage, a short film preview was shown, based out of the small San Franciscan coffee shop where Jason got his start. I was already impressed that Jason was sticking to his roots despite his pop radio fame. When he took the stage, I found that he was incredibly humble and truly gracious for his fans. Overall, I was impressed with his outlook of health and wellness through happiness and music. He performed a great show packed with humor (an enourmous video of Schwarzenegger dubbed to say "Come on and play 'I'm Yours' already") kudos to the coffee shop and it's owners that supported him (they were all there), and a love for his audience. It was a fantastic show, and wonderfully free.

Tip #5: Watch the sunrise over the ocean.

Hello all!

I'm sitting at the Laughing Goat Cafe in Boulder Co ready to summarize my last exciting month. I have been all over the place since my internship ended. The Monday after my last day at work, I boarded a plane destined for Hawaii. The trip from LAX to Honolulu felt like days, but I eventually landed and power walked to find Bubbles waiting for me with a lei and a huge hug. We grabbed my luggage and skipped out. The humidity was unbelievable considering that I had spent the last 2 months in the desert. We drove from Honolulu to Wai'anae where Bubbles lives. Her apartment is about a half mile from the coast, with a fantastic view of the ocean and sunset. We spent the rest of the day at the pool and then enjoying company with friends for the breaking of the fast for Yom Kippor.

Then next morning, Bubbles headed to school, and like a good tourist I headed for the beach. I trekked downhill in my flipflops with a towel, a beach chair and some sunscreen. The sun was already hot, but I was determined to make it and stay the day. I opened my chair, laid out my towel, and laid back with a view of the open Pacific. About an hour passed when I saw a teenaged boy headed in my direction. Skeptical, I smiled but said nothing. He stopped to talk, and my skepticism increased. He told me that the lifeguard wanted to tell me that there had been an earthquake off of Somoa, and there was a tsunami warning for the area. What? Seriously? Yup. For a moment I thought maybe this is just the way Hawaiians try to talk to girls, scare the crap out of them, then say "just kidding!" When the punch line never came, I figured it was time to get the heck out of there. I started the long journey up the hill when a woman in a pickup stopped and offered a ride. I hopped in the bed, and let the wind and sun spread a smile across my face as I thought "this will be fun to blog about."

The next day I visited school with Bubbles. Wai'anae Intermediate is not like any school I've seen. And fittingly, Bubbles is like no teacher I have ever seen. I am impressed with her volition to facilitate a creative and imaginative environment in a place where nobody expects anything of the children and nobody expects a teacher to venture outside the box. The day was both exciting and frustrating as I witnessed my best friend working hard to break the cycle of the status quo, and yet the hammering law of the administration viciously fighting her retaliation.

With the tsunami warning and a day at school, I clearly needed another attempt at the beach. This time, I had bubbles drop me off at 6:45 on her way to work, and I planned on staying there until she finished work at 3:30. With my SPF 30, a towel, chair and umbrella, I was ready to go. I spent the first few hours napping, reading and playing in the sand. I drew all sorts of sea creatures and messages that live only in pictures after they were reabsorbed by the water. Around noon, I unpacked my lunch and began to much under the umbrella. A lifeguard doing rounds at the beach stopped by to check in, and asked if I had ever been snorkeling in Hawaii. I shared with him that unfortunately no, I've never had the opportunity. And then, you know what he did? He told me he was about to take a break and he had two pairs of snorkels. And he suggested that we go. Next thing I knew, I was paddling a rescue board out into the open ocean with a snorkel, my camera, and Abe. We paddled to turtle rock, about 300 yards out from the coast. It was hard to remember to breathe through the snorkel, because I just wanted to laugh and yell uncontrollably about how amazing this was. There were about 10 sea turtles on the underwater rock and they were swimming only about 10 feet below us. They had no fear whatsoever, just floating around and letting the fish eat the algae off of their shells. We paddled around, and found schools of tropical fish. I wiggled my toes to look like food, and they swam around nibbling my feet. I'm grateful for Abe and his suggestion, as well as my compulsive need to take any suggestion offered, because this is where it lead me.

As a gift, Bubbles had bought us plane tickets to go to Kauai, one of the more remote islands. It was really just a hop skip an d a jump away, as it took us longer to go through the check in process and security than we spent flying. The view of the island was spectacular as we came in. Enormous green mountains with fog around the peaks erupted out of the water, with a skirting of white beaches. We found a place to rent a car, and drove to the Coconut Festival. We spent the afternoon walking around sampling Hawaiian spices and looking at jewelry and local hand made crafts. From there, we drove to the north end of the island, via the road traveling east. There is only one main road, and it makes a semi circle around the island. The northern coast is not navigable by vehicle, only by foot because of the sheer cliffs into the ocean. The eastern side is much more tropical and lush than the west, because of the rain. Which is what we encountered on our drive. The mountains were covered in trees and gushing with waterfalls in the drizzle. We got to the end of the road to find a beach with a trail leading up into the cliffs. We blatantly ignored the hazard of hiking on a cliff in the rain, simply because we could not resist the opportunity to find where the path led. We hiked for about a quarter of a mile before we saw the potential danger, and snapped a few prize pictures before traveling back down to swim in the bay.

Our plan was to camp somewhere on the island, but we arrived too late on a Friday to be able to buy a camping permit. Rather than risk the $200+ fine of camping without a permit, we stayed at a hostel in Kapa'a and spent the evening dripping in humidity and sweat and singing disney songs alone in the dormitory. The next morning we rose early to head to the eastern side of the island to hike on the other side of the cliffs. Our walk started near a canyon, known as the grand canyon of the pacific. We walked through the woods until we came to a clearing that gave us the most spectacular view I have seen of the ocean. We were standing on the edge of a cliff that rivaled Angel's Landing, staring at the ocean. To put things in perspective, we saw helicopters flying tours of the coastline below us. The ocean was a spectacular blue, scarred with sporadic white lines of motor boats. We climbed a few risky rocks and took a few fantastic pictures before hiking back to the car. We napped for a short while, and continued on to meet up with a friend for the night.

Bright and early the next morning, or rather, dark and early the next morning, we woke up and headed back to Kapa'a for a kayaking adventure. We watched the sun rise over the ocean as we waited for the owners of the tour to arrive so we could purchase our spot on the trip. They arrived on Hawaii time (20 minutes late) and we headed out shortly after. As the only two with kayaking experience, we took the lead and journeyed upriver towards secret falls, our destination. The river narrowed and narrowed until we had to dock our boats on a root, lash them together and head into the woods to hike. Bubbles and I thoroughly enjoyed hopping from rock to rock, balancing on roots and humoring the other tourists with some of our stories. When we finally arrived, I wasted no time at all stripping to may bathing suit and board shorts and paddling up to the falls. The rest of the crew quickly followed suit, and we spent about an hour splashing and climbing on rocks. Hiking back to the kayaks, we took the long route, lost a few tourists but found them again, and made our way back to the boat launch. It was a fantastic adventure, and we completed our Kauai adventure at a beach where we tossed the disc in the waves until it was time to catch the plane back to the city.

Although our planes departed from the same airport for the same destination at the exact same time, we were not on the same flight, so we hugged and said goodbye late wednesday night at the airport. I spent the entire flight with a blanket over my head sleeping and arrived in LA at 5 the next morning. Taryn picked me up and we swapped stories and began our planning for our adventures to come.

Travel Tip #4: Keep on Smiling

San Frantastic

Last weekend, Taryn and I set out for yet another adventure. On Friday night, Taryn took the LAX to Bakersfield Airport sketch-machine-on-wheels arriving at 10pm. I picked her up with 2 cups of coffee and a bag of pirate's booty ready to travel. We drove with our adrenaline  and TamTam the TomTom leading the way. We took advantage of the time and the maps to plan our trip home. With the mind-numbing combination of adren

aline, caffeine, and a large bag of booty, we planned and we even made a theme our week of halloween trip home. The 5 hour trip flew by, possibly giving the illusion that the trip was quicker than it was. We arrived to find our lovely host, Rupal, waiting for us. Any normal person in this situation would have gone to bed, but we spent almost 2 hours talking and sharing stories. We reenacted our first half of the trip, talking about our late night drives and our encounters at Zion. We told her about the rule of suggestions, and when she asked if we had really done all of the suggestions, we said yes, with the exception of the Pinnicles. We talked until we decided that it was way too late, and that we had a big day ahead of us. 

Rupal lives in Mountain View, about 45 miles away from the city. We woke up, had some breakfast and hit the road. We changed worlds a couple of times, diving in and out of mountains in the clouds until we reached the land of San Fran. I find that cities are generally all the same, with their outskirts looking dirty and brown, and their insides full of tall buildings with tall executives. I was excited by the amount of color. Pinks and purples and greens and reds. All blended tog

ether with houses that are literally on top of each other, rolling along the hills like waves. The overcast sky 

was a welcome sight, and the cool air was the most refreshing taste of fall that I could have asked for. Our first top was the market. We had brunch just walking around tasting fruit, cheese, and dips. The art for sale was impressive as well, but not your run-of-the-mill craft fair prices, and so my only souvenir, a bracelet, was from China Town, our next adventure. We walked downtown until we heard it coming. We stood, looking up an impressive hill, the parallel parked cars ushering us up, their front wheels in perfect synchronization, guiding us to the sounds of gongs, be

lls, and sizzling foods. We reached the top, each pretending not to be out of breath, took a good look around and said "let's go that way." We wandered in an out of street vendors and performers, looking at the sky filled the red lanterns backlit by the 

sporadic sun and intensely blue sky.

Our next adventure took us to the piers. We parked by Pier 39 and walked to Ghiradelli Square. The fruit we ate was quickly burned off during the China Town excursion and our stomachs were suddenly rumbling. Rupal, enduring a cultural fast of only fruit and water, allowed Taryn and I to make the call regarding food. Our legs must have hoarded all the energy from the fruit to propel our curious bodies, leaving nothing for our hungry frontal lobes therefore creating the perfect situation for poor decisions and impulsivity. The scene plays out like this:

Walking down a busy San Francisco street, Taryn and Amanda spot an In-n-Out burger joint. 

Amanda: Look. An In-N-Out.

Taryn: People always say that is good.

Amanda: Yeah, people say it is the best.

Taryn: Should we go there?

Amanda: Yeah I'm so hungry. 

Taryn and Amanda order a burger and fries each. They pay, wait for their food and then devour it quickly. 

Taryn: I feel like crap.

Amanda: This place sucks. 

Taryn: We're idiots. 

Amanda: Yup. 

Tip of the day: In-N-Out sucks. Don't believe what they say. 

Jealous of Rupal's inborn cultural sense to eat natural and healthy things, we continued on our way to the Square. Upon arrival, we were immediately distracted by the ships that closely resembled pirate ships and had to investigate. We took fun pictures, caught a great glimpse of Alkatraz, and moved on to the Square. We spent a quick 10 minutes to get a free piece of chocolate and move on to the next destination. We walked back to pier 39 to walk around and see the sea lions before heading to the car to go to a park with a great view of the golden gate bridge. 

As we rounded the corner of the street that brought us to the park, our eyes immediately went skyward and so did our excitement. A kite festival! This was better than we could have hoped for! We saw dragons and pirate ships denying gravity its desire to ground them. We saw the opportunity to make our own kites and took advantage immediately. Such a simple craft brought so much fun into a blustery and overcast sky. There were orange papers and pink streamers swirling and diving everywhere you looked. Strangers were suddenly friends when 

their kites bonded and danced with strings entwined together. We even took the opportunity to fly our own wings. We tied a kite string to my sweatshirt pocket and attached a tail out my back pocket and Taryn had to hold on tight to keep me from soaring off and away through the mist over the golden gate bridge, or from buzzing the tops of the sky scrapers that disappear when you stand below them. 

We drove until we got to a "secret" beach with a great view of the bridge. Taryn and I couldn't resist climbing the biggest rock we found to get an even better view. After a few minutes of taking fun pictures, we all decided we were tired and drove around the city for a bit before we headed back home. 

Despite the fact that my esophagus felt like I swallowed a lighter and a match, we decided to go out to a sketchy local bar for some pool and darts. Although we discovered that there was no dart board (I use discover quite concretely because it was news to the bar tender that it was gone) we kept ourselves amused with games of ping pong and the local crowd. We stayed until close and snuck out without fulfilling the obligation to leave our numbers with the increasing amount of sketchy men. 

We awoke early the next morning so that we could head to San Jose to visit a friend from college. Unfortunately due to technical mishaps and miscommunication, we realized as the time got later and later that we would not be able to make it there, eat, and then get to the bus at 5:30 for Taryn to leave at 6. Discussing options, we decided to go just a little west and hit up Salinas and Monterey Bay. We hit the road immediately to enable us to see as much of Steinbeck's home as possible. We whisked our way down route 1, trying to find out where in the mist the ocean was. We finally found it and laughed as we tore down the hill leading to the water. The waves were impressive, and the surfers tackling them were even more impressive. Knowing we were pressed for time, we left quickly and decided to head further south on route 1. The scene before us grew increasingly beautiful. The clouds disappeared almost immediately, leaving a view of the bay that was better than a postcard. The blueness of the water rivaled that of the sky, and the beach glistened in the sun. We took the next exit in hopes of finding a cafe with a quick breakfast. We found a perfect place just inland, where we were the only ones and the cook took our order and made us sandwiches that weren't even on the menu. While we waited, we calculated what time we had to leave. How long would it take to get from Salinas to Bakersfield? Let's see, mapquest said 3.5 hours. Lets say 4 to be safe. And we have to get there at 5:30? So if we leave by 2:30 we'll be fine. And no, that isn't a blogging typo.

With emotions as high as kites in San Fransisco, we found the road to Salinas and soared over the hilltops until we arrived into town. A quaint place that was inspirational to on

e of the greatest inspired us to grab a cup of joe and take a walk. When we failed to find the house that Steinbeck grew up in, we decided to get in the car and use the map to get there. We found it,

 took some pictures, and made sure to get back in the car because we definitely had to make it back to Bakersfield by 5:30 so Taryn could make the last bus out of town. When we got in the car we realized we went over our time by 10 minutes. Could be worse. We turned on the GPS and plugged in home. And then we realized. We are idiots. Apparently not only does it take 5 hours, but we counted wrong too. The GPS estimated we would be back at 7 pm. The bus would be halfway to LA by the time we got to Bakersfield. Our only option was to get Taryn to the 3 AM bus. Knowing that the mistake was entirely ours, we laughed. And laughed. The only option we had was to find something fun to do along the way. Taryn opened up the map and scanned down the 101. The only option almost made our jaws fall off our face. The Pinnicles. You've got to be shitting me. 

And so at that point we just decided that some sort of fate or destiny had stepped in allowing us to make the simple calculation error that caused us to be so late and for us to have decided to go to Salinas in the first place which would be taking us down the 101 to Bakersfield. Obviously, we had to go. We took the incredibly winding one lane road to the park, where we had no idea what to expect. We went inside the rangers office to get an idea of what to do. She gave us a map with the advice to take a trail up to the rim, and if we had a flashlight to come back through the cave. Perfect. Another splunking adventure! It was about 4:30 when we arrived, and we hiked for a short while. The bouldering was amazing, but without gear we were hesitant to do too much. We scrambled up rocks and laughed at the world and shouted "I love my life!" from a cliff. We occasionally just burst our laughing at ourselves, and really appreciated each other as a traveling companion. We decided that most people would probably be really angry that they had to catch the 3 am bus, or that they made a stupid mistake. For us, we couldn't have been happier. Anyway, what could we have done? It was meant to be. 

Whether it was meant to be or we just have a wonderful tendency to only see the positives in life, I have decided that the mindset should be applied not only to travels and adventure, but all aspects of life as well. To be positive and productive in life is infectious, let's start an epidemic. 

Tip: Update loved ones frequently, they start to get worried after a while

And so I apologize! I have been so incredibly busy out here in sunny California, it has been a blast. I hardly know where to start....how about the beginning?

The Arrival

I departed from LA giddy with excitement for my new apartment and job. I headed north east, with Ugly Monkey pointing the way. Gradually, the stores, gas stations, and houses began to fade. Winds picked up and dust began to swirl. The mountains that are a smoggy mirage from LA began to take shape, and Roxie rumbled with the ascent. Signs warning "avoid overheating: turn off air conditioner" and "radiator water ahead" are probably enough to describe the desert scenery. The trip up the mountains is a slow, long journey. Trucks with their rhythmical flashers perpetually flank the right hand lane. Skeptically, I pushed on the gas ever upwards. When it seemed like the dusty dunes were a trip to nowhere. We crested. And as soon as the road flattened out, we were on our way down. A smile crept across my face. Here is my new town! Here is my new opportunity for knowledge and friendship. Just around the corner. Like Pochahontas, everybody together now, just around the river bend! Here is...hell on earth? Dear God what is this place? Allow me to elaborate. All the eye can see for miles and miles is the patchy quilt of the desert pretending to be bountiful. But I was not fooled. Watertowers and irrigation systems were hardly discernible through the smog. Roxie was descending the mountains as fast as my expectations. The entrance to the flatlands is guarded by oil drills. Tons of them. Slowly bobbing always sucking away at the earth. And much smaller than I had imagined. Even they were disappointing. 

Bakersfield, California. Now I understand that look people give me when I tell them where I am headed. Their head turns to the side, a deep breath sucked in through gritting teeth. Eyebrows furrowed. That breath is released with a judging "ohhh...Bakersfield...why?" Yep. Bakersfield. Because that is where I can have that hands on opportunity to work with the complicated population that I find so fascinating. 

The Centre For Neuro Skills

Fortunately, in the midst of the 105 degree days, I find solace in the work I have come to love. Brain injury is a sudden and catastrophic change in every patient's life. It can happen to anyone, and it can be totally innocent. So many diseases and disorders in our culture are preventable, detectable, or immediately curable. So many of my patients were simply going through their daily routine when somebody merged to quickly, when somebody was driving drunk, or when their work machinery suddenly fails. Too many cases of the wrong place at the wrong time. And then there are some where you know they will always regret that extra beer, or that helmet that was strapped to the back of his bike and not his head. 

Almost every person that I treat should have died. Some twisted fate allowed them to live. Many, after coma and respirators can tell me with their own breath that they shouldn't be alive. For some, this is motivating, and the therapy I provide along with my co-workers is a challenge to live and get better. Some become depressed and wallow in the memory of what they were before the fateful day. Most can say that they are not the person they used to be. 

For those unaccustomed to the way of the brain, just remember this: your brain controls everything, therefore anything can be altered. For many people, it is the ability to move their bodies. The motor cortex is susceptible to damage as it is on the outer surface of the brain. Many patients have difficulty with coordination, strength, and control of muscle tone. I provide ways for them to perform their daily activities while healing those deficits and supplying compensatory strategies to live independently. Vision is often disrupted after brain injury. The eyes are controlled by tiny muscles, but muscles nonetheless that can be impaired in the same way as the bigger muscles of the limbs. We treat for poor ocular coordination and strength. We also treat for visual perceptual deficits. A person's eyes may see 20/20, but their brain has to make sense of what they are seeing. The ability to see something and remember what it was, the ability to see letters and interpret them correctly, the ability to see half a picture and know what the rest is are all brain functions that are commonly disrupted. OT has the responsibility of reintroducing these topics and rehabilitating individuals with these deficits for functional use. This gel is toothpaste and you use it to clean your teeth. This is an unsafe situation and here is what could happen. Things we take for granted every day but is as complicated as calculus to some of our patients. Which leads into the patients with injury to the front of their brain, controlling their executive functioning. These people are unable to solve the problems they used to and have difficulty controlling their emotions and desires. Many patients present with inappropriate behaviors after brian injury. Sexual comments are common, there are even who brain injury therapists refer to as the "butt grabbers." But they have simply lost the ability to filter their thoughts and behaviors. Because all of this is controlled in the brain. In the same sense, people lose the ability to regulate their emotions. They cry at an instant and laugh inappropriately.  And in some cases, people experience the change in personality. 

It is the ultimate challenge to help these people get their lives back. Most who are admitted can not live independently yet, and Centre for Neuro Skills (very cleverly abbreviated CNS as in Central Nervous System) has apartments for these individuals to live in. Rehabilitation assistants offer the amount of support needed and take critical notes for the case managers and rehabilitation staff to use for therapy. CNS offers an incredible system for patients and their families to return to a life ready for society. I have been thrilled to be a part of this system, and the knowledge I have gained from the direct contact would have been impossible to teach in school. With a solid neuro training from Ithaca and the preparation from my previous clinical instructors, I have succeeded in my attempts to gain as much knowledge as I could in 8 weeks about rehabilitation in brain injury.

Bakersfield Living... probably not a best selling magazine

Quite honestly, Bakersfield has been a blast. When I moved in, Ally, a PT from Ohio, was about halfway through her rotation. We had a great time being roommates and we got along with the other staff beautifully. Two times a week we would head to the rock gym and excitedly conquer new bouldering challenges. Of course, since the rock gym went past Moo, we stopped for ice cream frequently. Not just ice cream, but The. Best. Ice. Cream. Ever. Really. Ever. They make their own rediculous flavors. Guiness, Coffee Toffee Crunch. Butterscotch Pecan, Red Wine, Jalapeno Sour Cream. Cookie Monster. Stop Drooling On Your Computer. Yeah, that good. We made "muffins of the week" and went on a hiking/camping trip to Yosemite with some of the work crew. Unfortunately, Ally left me in the dust for home, and I can't say I blame her. Although I have had fun in the valley, I'm aching for the changing of the leaves and apple picking. I even tried on fall jackets at Target today even though it was a high of 95 today.  Of all the things that I have come to realize and learn, it is that home is home, and it is pretty hard to change that. 

The Weekend Warriors

Of the total of 8 weekends I will have been here, I have spent 2 in Bakersfield. Which is safe to say it is the only way it is tolerable. I have been wine tasting in Paso Robles, camping in Yosemite, and exploring the crevices of LA. Just last weekend I spent the long weekend in LA with adventures that could span a novel. To start, I fulfilled my promise to visit Greg, a college friend who was throwing a house warming party. I drove to Long Beach with excitement to see him and to forget about the stresses of work for a while. He showed me into his house and began introducing me to his friends when a very familiar face appeared around the corner. I can not describe my facial expression except to say every one who witnessed my face when Eric walked out said "You should have seen your face! It was awesome!" What I can describe are my thoughts. They are.         .  Then, the nausea and loss of balance. Then the fake anger. "You never told me you were on a plane! You said you were at the Tavern in Saratoga! What the hell!?" Then the hugs and kisses etc. Fake angry glares at Greg. And then a great night and weekend. Eric and I spent a day at the beach and playing in the waves. 

We met up with other friends and enjoyed the small town feel of the beach colonies. We took our chance to be ultimate tourists in Hollywood, taking pictures with the sign and with stars on the boulevard. We even watched Ferris Beuler's Day Off in a cemetery. I mean really, it was quite a weekend. 

Next weekend the Taryn/Amanda Duo adventures resume as we are headed to San Francisco. 

From here, I have two weeks left at CNS. I'll be heading to Hawaii (Allooooohaaa!!) to visit my Bubbles! I'm sure our visit with be just that refreshing breath of home that we are both craving so desperately. After, I'll be in L.A. for 2 weeks doing mini-trips and preparation for the adventure home. Home. A word that has never sounded better. 

Tip #4 Hang on for adventure...literally

We did it! I am currently in Bakersfield writing from my new apartment. I have a kitchen table instead of a dashboard, a refrigerator instead of a cooler, and front steps instead of a mountain side. 

It has been quite a journey since Tuesday, so I will start from there.

Tuesday

Tip: Listen to the weather forecast

On Tuesday morning, Taryn and I woke up early, excited to explore Boulder. The night before we visited the Dark Horse, a bar sketchier than the Chanty, and for those of you unfamiliar with the Chanty, it is pretty sketchy. Anyway, Tuesday morning we woke up early, packed our hiking gear, and walked to the base of the Rockies. I am amazed by the number of people in Boulder that use a bicycle or their own two feet. Our journey to the hike was only an extra 2 miles, and the sights we found along the way would have surely been missed had we traveled by car. 

As recommended by Schlenks, we hiked the royal arch trail. The trip was only about 3 miles, but I would say we had to stop at least 10 times. The trail lead us up a mountain that is at a higher elevation than any mountain in the east, and we clearly had not acclimated to the change in O2 levels! The hike was beautiful, and of course, ugly monkey traveled the entire way with us. Although we did not check the weather, we lucked out. We had cloud cover for the majority of the ascent. When we reached the summit, there was excellent bouldering and wonderful views. 

Tuesday evening we took Schlenks up on her second recommendation, to visit the Mountain Sun Pub and Brewery. Despite the overwhelming crowd and tight accommodations, I gorged on the most amazing burrito (try not to drool, Eric) and a stout as thick and dreamy as Guinness. We walked Pearl street a few times before catching the bus home to sleep. 

Wednesday

Tip: Never ignore the fortune in misfortune

Another early morning and we were off towards the Rockies. Although there was groaning and moaning about our sore muscles, the whining was quickly overtaken by the ooh's and aah's from the ever upward crawl of the car. And by crawl, I am being quite literal. Roxanne was struggling to maintain 45 in a 65. After a few SUVs the same size as mine flew by, Taryn and I agreed that stopping and checking the oil and engine just might be a safe bet. We pulled off at the next exit, Silver Plume. Slowing down, we saw that all that Silver Plume consisted of was a general store and a parking lot. I needed to let the engine cool and the oil settle, so we figured we would go inside and ask about altitude and cars. We ventured in and met the woman

 working there. To my relief, she told us that cars sometimes have trouble with the altitude and that whatever was happening was probably not a problem. And fortunately, the Silver Plume General Store had postcards. Taryn and I bought a few, and the woman told us the post office was just around the corner. Apparently, there was more to this town than we realized. After checking the oil (which was fine) we took a left down a short road to downtown Silver Plume. It consisted of a street, about 1/2 mile long. And there we discovered our first mining town. Have you ever been to Disney World? Have you ever ridden on the plume ride Splash Mountain? That is where we were. It was an old mining town with a 4 cell jail, the Plume Saloon, and a post office. We were so excited by the friendliness and authentic feel of the town. 

We left Silver Plume to rise and plunge through the rest of the Rockies. The scenery was always changing. Every turn brought a new horizon, and every 50 miles brought new scenery. As we passed from Colorado to Utah, the rocks became more red, and the mountains became more cliff-like. We were awestruck the entire drive to our campsite in the Dixie National Forest. After a fabulous meal of fire roasted hot-dogs and corn, we set our alarm for 5:15 the next morning and went to sleep with the antiicpation of Zion National Park in the morning. 

Thursday

Tip: Trust Instinct Before Technology

I'm laying in my sleeping bag, swaddled in sweatshirts and blankets, and I hear a distant noise. A strange beeping. It is different than the whistle of the wind that has been blowing through the trees, different than the sounds of the bugs chirping in the grass. I open my eyes and roll over. I remember that we set an alarm last night before we said goodnight. "Is that us?" I boarderline incoherently ask. Obviously it is us. What other cell phone alarm would be going off at this time in the morning in the middle of a national forest? "Yeah" is Taryn's response, "But it is so dark out." It is strange that the stars are still out. I guess we can sleep for another half an hour until 5:45. 5:45 and it is still dark out. We can't get ready for hiking Angel's Landing in the dark, can we Taryn? "Nope," is her reply, "let's sleep for another half hour." 6:15 and still no light. Maybe we are so far west and close to the time zone that the sun comes up really late. 7:00. We really need to get out of the tent and get ready for the best hiking of our lives. We unzip the tent and crawl out. Our muscles still hurt from Boulder, but we change our clothes, fill up the camelback, and chomp on dry granola. Still fuzzy in the brain, we start the car and pull out of the campsite and out of the Te-aH campground. I turn to Taryn, and the puzzled look on her face matches the look on mine. 6:15? Why does the clock say 6:15? Didn't we get out of bed at 7? Strange. 

We drove east on Rt 14 toward Rt 89 that will take us to Zion. A beautiful sunrise lead us on our way. We were perplexed about the time until we passed through a town with the time displayed for the passing traffic. Yup, it is 6:45. Taryn's phone mysteriously decided to change back to central time. Doesn't it know we were clearly in the mountains? And although one may think that getting up earlier than necessary would be a nuisance, one would be sorely mistaken. Not only did we get a head start on one of our most exciting days, but we also got to the park before it even opened. We passed through the gates without paying a cent of the $25 entrance fee. We crept into the canyon with the sunlight, truly speechless by the spectacle that lay before us. Hairpin turns in switchback roads lead us through red rock valleys speckled with cacti and even offered a glimpse of a bighorn sheep. 

Knowing that our first hike of the day would be Angel's Landing, we caught the shuttle bus to the Grotto, where we could find the base of the trail. We made our way through the desert sand, up to the first switchbacks, deep into the narrow canyon, and up Walter's Wiggles. We stopped to take "pictures" (catch our breath) plenty of times walking up. We were amazed by the views and the consequence of falling. The Angel's Landing portion of the hike was the rocky climb with 1.500 foot drops on either side, but it only lasted .5 miles. We had done more difficult bouldering in Co, but the fact that one slip meant you had about 30 seconds to say goodbye made the climb that much more interesting. There are chains to hold during the most difficult durations, but we find that using them only lifted your center of gravity, and it was actually much safer to find a good hold on a solid rock. The view from the top was as breathtaking as the look down, and we sat and ate and soaked it all up. Ugly monkey is featured in a fabulous picture from the top as well. 

After Angel's Landing we were feeling tired but nowhere near finished. We took a short walk to Emerald Pools (not reccomended for a serious hiker...we called it the Zoo because it felt as if that is where we were) and made a decision to go to the furthest bus stop and walk at every stop. The furthest stop was the Narrows, where the canyon gets narrow (duh) and you hike through the river. Unfortunately, thunder was threatening from afar, and we heeded the many warnings about flash flooding and decided we had chanced death enough that day. We walked 1 mile to the base of the trail, played in the silty water and walked back to the bus. We traveld from there to the next stop, and continued by foot to the next. At this stop we saw a few signs for hikes. The first hike looked like another Zoo because it was a simple walk to an interesting view of Weeping Rock (where water is seeping out of the sandstone from rain that fell hundreds of years ago). The hike Hidden Canyon caught our eye, not only because of the name but also the impressive climb. 850 vertical feet over 1 mile. Let's do it. We encountered only about 10 other people on this hike (as opposed to the 100 on Angel's) and the cliff faces and views were just as spectacular. In heavy rain, the canyon would be a small stream, but in the heat of the summer desert, it was all sand, rocks, and dead trees. Very notable bouldering indeed. Although the maintained trail lasted for only a mile, we hiked another mile into the canyon. The hike was exhilarating and liberating, passing no one for more than an hour. 

We stayed around the canyon until after dark when we hoped to catch a glimpse of the moon on the Three Patriarchs rock formation, but unfortunately  (but also fortunately) the rain that threatened us all day finally broke. We drove back wary of the many deer and pulled our sweaty bodies out of our clothes into our sweats and slumbered in the quiet and serenity of the tent in Dixie. 

Friday

Tip: Go wherever the tumbleweed takes you

Friday morning we woke up with the sun (sooo...between 6 and 7) feeling well rested and very hungry (pretzels and sunbutter are not nearly enough after hiking 13 miles and 2,000 vertical feet). We had a can of beans and a bag of cous-cous that we were drooling just thinking about. All we had to do was light our fire and start the camping stove. Sounds oh-so-simple, right? WRONG. Apparently, the same campfire that we had made with only one match two nights before was a 15 match and lighter disaster. We couldn't even get paper to ignite. Matches sizzled in the still air, paper smoked and fizzled. Propane gasoline shooting out of its small canister simply blew out a match. Gasoline? Blowing out a match? Ridiculous. Stomachs and emotions growling, we threw down our sticks and headed into town in hopes of finding a diner. Duck Creek Village was only about 5 miles away, and we pulled in to find Aunt Sue's Chalet. Perfect. Two eggs, over medium, please. A glass of orange juice to start.

 In accommodating fashion of small town people, when we asked about good hiking trails in the area, not only did the person we ask have something to say, but so did everyone  working an d eating at the restaurant (well wait, that was only one other table, but anyway...). We learned of a cave you could hike in just down the road. All it takes for Taryn and me to hop on board is a good suggestion. Done. We're going. We ate our breakfast, paid our bill and headed back to pack up the tent. Heeding Eric's travel tip (Watch out for the red ants!) we used sticks to flick the intruders off of the tent, packed up and headed for Mammoth Caves. 

The caves were in the middle of an old lava field (really not as exciting as you would think) and with the accumulation of excitement and suspense (we got lost a few times getting there) were couldn't help but be a little disappointed at arrival. There were kids crawling all over and overly large women yelling at their sheepish husbands. Yikes. Here we are with the camel back, a shockproof camera and hiking boots. Is this for real? We walked around the open desert area surrounding the cave entrance until we decided it had quieted down enough to begin. the first cave we tried was a few feet off the floor requiring some minor bouldering skills we had picked up along the way. A very short distance in we went from crouching, to ET walking, to hands and knees, to army crawl. Without a headlamp and flashlight it would be almost pitch black. Had we been there 15 years ago, we would have fit a little further down into an open room in the cave, but we were just too big and too nervous to risk getting  stuck in a cave. We went back and attempted the next. Pure mud. Squelchy, sucking-on-your-boots mud. It didn't take much time before a good slip and we foot-farted our way back to the entrance. And the last cave opening. Ding! A winner! We hiked to the end, scrambling over rocks and wondering just how much guano was under our hands. 

Crawling out, we stomped the mud off our boots, wiped ourselves down with a few cushy-tushy baby wipes and hopped in the car shouting "on to LA!" which became a new word: Ontoelay! Arriba Arriba! Ontoelay! 

Our drive took us past a very scenic view of Zion from above, with ugly monkey 

obviously starring in the picture. We continued through the desert past Arizona and into Nevada. Vegas was a strange mirage in the distance for what seemed like forever, and although we toyed with the idea of getting off the highway, finding a place to bet a dollar, then hopping back on, the traffic said there was no way that was possible. So we stopped at a gas station to fill up the gas tank and empty our own tanks and we saw 3 slot machines lined up begging us to pull their handles. We grabbed a dollar and played a few games, and now we can say that we gambled in Vegas. 

We toiled ever onward toward California. We sat, camera ready, anxious to cross our final state boarder. It seemed like nothing but desert. But just in the distance was another very small city. Looking around we noticed an amusement park, Whisky Pete's, flashing lights and excitement all around. We passed through in a matter of seconds, and the next sign we came across said "Buckle Up California." Buckle Up WHO!? Continuing on, we fully expected a sign with bright letters and possibly even some great pictures of the sun, or a bear, or the state outline. A green metal sign with reflective letters would be more satisfying than nothing. We agreed that there was no possible way that California had no sign, but then again we were creeping away from the state line on the GPS. There was only one thing we could possibly do. The next exit had nothing more than a small factory and a few trucks, but it was good enough. Miles and miles of chasing the sun and here we are in fast retreat. Heading north on 15, we quickly re-approached the funny little park and Whiskey Pete's. Yep, there was the sign, welcome to Nevada. Off and on again, resuming our pursuit of the sinking sun. Merge Right. Speed limit 70. Mojave National Preserve. Buckle Up California. Buckle Up California. There it was again. Dejected, we pressed onward as the sun sank behind the mountain dunes. Our spirits hardly lifted until we saw our first sign for L.A. 221 miles. Ontoelay!

We drove straight to the ocean. Parking the car, we grabbed the camera and ugly monkey (at this point lovingly referred to as ug mo). A quarter mile of beach stretched out at my footsteps, and I sprinted headlong towards the pacific. I could smell it, I could taste it and I could hardly stop shaking with excitement (possibly hunger, it was 10 and we had no food), but still, I was excited. I splashed and jumped and screamed. The Santa Monica pier was to my right, whirring lights galore. And to my front were waves and darkness. We never caught the sun but it had lead us through the most amazing journey of our lives. We made it across the country. 

And now I sit in Bakersfield, excited about the next part of my journey. I will be heading to the Centre for Neuro Skills tomorrow morning, ready to help people with brain injury on with their own life journey. For some, just taking a shower, or making their oatmeal by themselves will be as big an accomplishment as my own. I have learned so much about myself and why I need adventure and excitement to keep me going. Thank you to everyone who inspired me to travel, and thank you for everyone's generosity that helped me accomplish my goal.

And a special note to Taryn...You were a fabulous driving partner! Here is to the power of suggestion and an open mind! I can't wait for more adventure to come.  

Just an update

Taryn and I are heading to Utah today, and we will not have internet again until we arrive in L.A. Pictures and stories to come!

Tip #2 Ugly Monkey Says Never Let Your Gas Tank Get Below 1/4 of a Tank

We made it to Boulder!

Taryn and I are currently blogging away at a coffee shop in a Colorado collegetown with a spectacular view of the Rocky Mountains. I'm sipping my mocha latte and pretending that I slept for more than two hours last night. 

We left on schedule Sunday morning at 9:15 AM. We drove. And drove. And drove. New York.

 Pennsylvania. Ohio. Indiana. Illinois. Iowa. Talking, laughing, and singing songs, we kept ourselves entertained. We found endless amusement in

 taking pictures of "Ugly Monkey," a specially knit creature randomly sent to me from Bubbie in Hawaii. He graces pictures at the entrance to each state, celebrated at our "only 1,000 miles left" 

party, and even took a turn driving the car.

Stopping only for gas, we drove until about 2:30 AM, central time, so 3:30 AM Eastern time. A timely bout of insomnia allowed me to thoroughly enjoy humming along to Guster and Counting Crows while traversing the plains until the wee hours. We didn't stop until a deer stopped to admire my headlights a little too closely...daring us to see ju

st how effective Roxanne's (the Forrester) brakes and handling were. They, in addition to the mushroom clouding f-bombs and praise of the savior screeching from my throat, proved themselves able to avoid a very very messy start to our trip.  

We stopped short of Nebraska at a rest stop to sleep. Curled up in the front seats of Roxie, we slept until 5 AM. And then, firing up our engines, we hit the road again. I-80 Westbound stretched out like the red carpet before us. With a "night's" sleep, we were able to continue happy and safely onward. 

As I was advised by my Papa Neil, I never let the gas run below 1/4 of a tank. Out there in the plains, you never know just how far the next station may be. We exited when we saw a BP gas station sign just when we dipped below 1/4. 

Though we followed our tip cautiously, it doesn't mean that the precaution reached the

 midwest. It was my turn to pay for gas, so I popped the cap, swiped my card and grabbed the regular. But the gas never came. I squeezed, I rearranged, I even re-swiped. Still nothing. I figured I would inquire inside the store. To my surprise, the woman at the counter just chuckled and said, "Oh, well it looks like we've run out." Ran out? What gas station runs out of gas? Who do you call for that problem? AAA? 

Fortunately, another station was just down the road, and thankfully, we followed our helpful tip from Papa. We were able to scoot to the next station, fill up, and continue on our way. 

Taryn drove the long but final leg of the trip, brining us to our destination in Boulder. We

 laughed and screamed like kids in a candy store when we saw the Mountains, admiring their grandeur and reveling in the moment. With a cardboard cutout stating "Enjoy Life" taped to the dash, we completed our 30 hour journey in good spirits. 

And here we are, sleep deprived and exhausted, slurping the dregs of our coffee, searching for the energy to enjoy this new and exciting town. I think with a caffeine, we'll have a brand new set of adventures to blog tomorrow. 

We will be in Boulder and Denver through the day tomorrow (Tuesday). On Wednesday we head out for the Te-aH campground in Utah. Stay tuned.