Flagstaff aint no staff infection
When things start shakin, they really get a shakin. I have not been able to check in here for the past few days, nor have I been keeping up with my journal. I view this with two sets of eyes. 1) Life has been to amazing to stop and write about it (best kind of life if you ask me) 2) I will now have to sit and try to remember all the goodness so my soon-to-be published autobiography won't have any holes in it.
Well last time I indulged my digital urges I was just outisde Santa Fe, New Mexico. This was a cool town, small, and the third capital I've been to. What I liked about this capital, was its capital building, it was not a grand archetectual feat, no no, it was called the Round House, and was nice and curved, not gaudi, in the sence of boo! I found lights shaped like cacti while I was there, I'm excited to place them in the new pimp shack come Aug. 20th. And you better believe, this year, its gonna be bumpin', with no g.
It was then off to Taos, NM, a rollin little mountain town, which would have yeilded a few hour stay, if it weren't for two things, live reggae, and the chillest parking attendent ever. Before I go further, I must state a wonderful fact about parking attendants, they know their way around, get lost, and ask the guy chillin in a parkin lot.
After a couple standard questions, "know any cheap places to get good mexican food?", "know where I can get some free internet?" and this guy could tell I was a bit on the budgeted side. With this understanding, he let me in on a bit of a secret. This lot I was parked in was his private property, it closes at 10pm, and he leaves at 5, and if I wanted to crash there, he would have no problem with that. Thiw was wonderful to find out, absolutly wonderful. I started to head to the main plaza when the second word of good news came my way in poster form, "Roots Reggae Tonight, at The Katchina 8pm!" Well...we all know how I feel about reggae and free sleeping, so with these two luck-of-the-draw moments, I would find myself in Taos all day.
I have ditched Crime and Punishemnt for Hyduke Lives!, which is by Edward Abby, a Utah native that writes fiction about eco-warriors and their escapades, and non-fiction about the desert world around him. This is far more fitting for my current setting, purhaps when I am in a Russian coffe shop contemplating an anarchist overthrow of centra Panama, then Crime and Punishment will take hold. So I read my new book, read some X-Men and found the record shop in town, I know, suprising activities for myself, I'm trying to branch out.
The show was rockin, but I realized two things, one about my tastes, and one about who I don't want to turn into.
I have decided that Roots Reggae is not quite my bag. I like it, it rolls, but I slide in with the rocksteady, early reggae crowd (well, there isn't much of a crowd like us left, but I smell a revival in the air.) And its not that I dont like roots, which is much more laid back, it just falls a notch lower than rocksteady, ska (1st wave), skinhead and mod reggae, in my humble opinion.
The second realization came in regardds to the crowd. Hippies have no wit or sarcasim, two things I deeply care about. There is no edge to a Taos crowd, their all relaxed with no potential energy to be release in an intense conversation (Gambit would have no power in this town, his power being, converting potential energy into kinetic, think of the possibilities!). And I am a relaxed person, but everything in moderation, please.
All in all, great time in Taos, and as I arose around 8am, it was time for my eight hour drive to the Grand Canyon. I arrived at the canyon friday afternoon, and left this morning. My first night there, I did a little 1.8 miles hike on the South Kaibab (pron. Kybab) Trail, which was a great warm up for the next days (yesterdays) uninformed adventure into the desert abyss. I awoke yesterday morning to the false dawn around 4:30am, and completed the 25 mile drive to the Bright Angles trail on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (I camped on the East Rim). My hike started at 5:18am, and about tweleve minutes into it, the sun came up over the North East Rim. About 4 seconds in the hike, I found myself in an area that has been carved out longer than the existance of man. With this talk of things so epic, there was nothing that could be more powerful than the precence of our Sun. The massive life-giving sphere plunging down on top of us hikers, attempting to sacrifice our sweat and nitroglicerites for an opportunity to explore this massive gash in the Earth's surface. (It's like God gave a 9 yr-old Jesus a plasitc shovel and a pail, and said, GO!, no joke.)
Driving up to the canyon, on my way from Taos the day before, was one of the most amazing drives to date. Coming accross Monumant Vally, these massive stone structures would just appear out of the desert floor, complelty on their own (Jesus's dribble castles), diverting your attention from all these washes under the bridges under your 80 mph car. My extatic hoops and hollars have been put to a hault, for there are no rivers, mear beds and washes. It is beautiful in a way motion could never express.
At 8am, I reached Indian Garden, the halfway point on the Bright Angle, it was 4.5 miles from the rim, and 4.5 miles from the river. This would be my stopping point. I relaxed for a spell by a conversatin creek in the shade, and at around 10am, I started my way out to Plataue Point, a 3 mile round trip out to a massive flat rock in the middle of the canyon. They reccomend that you do not hike between the hours of 10am and 2pm, for that is when Apollo is fryin high, and temperatures reach 120 degrees in the sun. The plataue was well worth the scortching treck, for miles down raged the Colorado, and for miles in all 360 degree around my miniscule self, was a display of what nature is capable of when left to its own vices.
Most people get spiritual when looking at the canyon, I feel that spirits have nothing to do with this, for if they did, the Ghost Busters would have been on this gold mind of ghosts years ago, Murray is no slouch, and definalty not Akroyd. To look at this canyon is to see a beauty that only nature can produce, and can't it be admired for that alone? Its a beautiful rock, not a beautiful rock created by something. And what I truly loved, was looking out into the canyon, looking to the rocks at my feet, the creek talkin away in fron of me, and the clouds chillin high above, and seeing the same beauty in all of it, the exact same beauty.
It was the last three hours that would yeild that uniformed portion of this day. Hiking up this canyon is a never ceasing stairway to nothing, feuled by heated water, and nothing can prepare you for the climb to come. I waited until 3:20pm to start my asent, which was the smart move, for the last two and a half hours were again in the shade, a much needed crutch.
I met a handfull of fellow hikers throughout the day, and as soon as you look these people in the faces, a bond forms, you are connected by the overwhelming emotion of awe, and the sweltering pain coarsing through your bodies. It is amazing how socity has even taken roots in something as natural as the Grand Canyon. Everything from the rest areas to the hiker-passerby ediquite (throughout the day I tried out different greatings, everything from howdy to Greetings! was attempted, my favorite being the quiet "morning" at 5am) reminds you that your car, bank account, worries and fellow man are waiting for you when you get to the top. And you wonder why I spent 13 hrs in this canyon, 13 hrs to the minute.
It was 6:18 pm when I once again reached paved ground, and I realized that I was no better than the people screaming throughout the canyon, just so they could here their voices sond like gods. Or the folks talking more pictures than looks at the world around them, or even the hikers, hiking to brag. For when I got to the top, I felt as though I had accomplished something, the only difference between me and them, its not the accomplishent that matters, its what was experiencd from 5:18am to 6:18pm, the moment before I felt a sence of conquerer inside me, that matters. It didn't last long, and I did take three pictures, but bryce was right, "what we hate we make" We're not much different than those we don't want to be.
With liters of hot water and salty trail mix in my stomach, I had no choice but to donate it to the local porclen god before I scarfed down my burger and fries.
For one dollar and fifty cents I got to take a five minute shower this morning. Best damn five minutes I've had since the last time I actually lasted five minutes in bed. Harsh, but true.
And now I am in Flagstaff, Arizona, chillin at Northern Arizona University, and the quaint mountain town until The Format show tonight, for which we can thank Kelly, thanks Kelly!
And Tony G.- We may have a trade on our hands. I have just aquired The Eagles of Death Metal vinyl, which you may or may not have. Let me know.
For the first time in five days, I'm back in shants and feelin nifty.
Peace, Love and super fly cacti lights
Well last time I indulged my digital urges I was just outisde Santa Fe, New Mexico. This was a cool town, small, and the third capital I've been to. What I liked about this capital, was its capital building, it was not a grand archetectual feat, no no, it was called the Round House, and was nice and curved, not gaudi, in the sence of boo! I found lights shaped like cacti while I was there, I'm excited to place them in the new pimp shack come Aug. 20th. And you better believe, this year, its gonna be bumpin', with no g.
It was then off to Taos, NM, a rollin little mountain town, which would have yeilded a few hour stay, if it weren't for two things, live reggae, and the chillest parking attendent ever. Before I go further, I must state a wonderful fact about parking attendants, they know their way around, get lost, and ask the guy chillin in a parkin lot.
After a couple standard questions, "know any cheap places to get good mexican food?", "know where I can get some free internet?" and this guy could tell I was a bit on the budgeted side. With this understanding, he let me in on a bit of a secret. This lot I was parked in was his private property, it closes at 10pm, and he leaves at 5, and if I wanted to crash there, he would have no problem with that. Thiw was wonderful to find out, absolutly wonderful. I started to head to the main plaza when the second word of good news came my way in poster form, "Roots Reggae Tonight, at The Katchina 8pm!" Well...we all know how I feel about reggae and free sleeping, so with these two luck-of-the-draw moments, I would find myself in Taos all day.
I have ditched Crime and Punishemnt for Hyduke Lives!, which is by Edward Abby, a Utah native that writes fiction about eco-warriors and their escapades, and non-fiction about the desert world around him. This is far more fitting for my current setting, purhaps when I am in a Russian coffe shop contemplating an anarchist overthrow of centra Panama, then Crime and Punishment will take hold. So I read my new book, read some X-Men and found the record shop in town, I know, suprising activities for myself, I'm trying to branch out.
The show was rockin, but I realized two things, one about my tastes, and one about who I don't want to turn into.
I have decided that Roots Reggae is not quite my bag. I like it, it rolls, but I slide in with the rocksteady, early reggae crowd (well, there isn't much of a crowd like us left, but I smell a revival in the air.) And its not that I dont like roots, which is much more laid back, it just falls a notch lower than rocksteady, ska (1st wave), skinhead and mod reggae, in my humble opinion.
The second realization came in regardds to the crowd. Hippies have no wit or sarcasim, two things I deeply care about. There is no edge to a Taos crowd, their all relaxed with no potential energy to be release in an intense conversation (Gambit would have no power in this town, his power being, converting potential energy into kinetic, think of the possibilities!). And I am a relaxed person, but everything in moderation, please.
All in all, great time in Taos, and as I arose around 8am, it was time for my eight hour drive to the Grand Canyon. I arrived at the canyon friday afternoon, and left this morning. My first night there, I did a little 1.8 miles hike on the South Kaibab (pron. Kybab) Trail, which was a great warm up for the next days (yesterdays) uninformed adventure into the desert abyss. I awoke yesterday morning to the false dawn around 4:30am, and completed the 25 mile drive to the Bright Angles trail on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (I camped on the East Rim). My hike started at 5:18am, and about tweleve minutes into it, the sun came up over the North East Rim. About 4 seconds in the hike, I found myself in an area that has been carved out longer than the existance of man. With this talk of things so epic, there was nothing that could be more powerful than the precence of our Sun. The massive life-giving sphere plunging down on top of us hikers, attempting to sacrifice our sweat and nitroglicerites for an opportunity to explore this massive gash in the Earth's surface. (It's like God gave a 9 yr-old Jesus a plasitc shovel and a pail, and said, GO!, no joke.)
Driving up to the canyon, on my way from Taos the day before, was one of the most amazing drives to date. Coming accross Monumant Vally, these massive stone structures would just appear out of the desert floor, complelty on their own (Jesus's dribble castles), diverting your attention from all these washes under the bridges under your 80 mph car. My extatic hoops and hollars have been put to a hault, for there are no rivers, mear beds and washes. It is beautiful in a way motion could never express.
At 8am, I reached Indian Garden, the halfway point on the Bright Angle, it was 4.5 miles from the rim, and 4.5 miles from the river. This would be my stopping point. I relaxed for a spell by a conversatin creek in the shade, and at around 10am, I started my way out to Plataue Point, a 3 mile round trip out to a massive flat rock in the middle of the canyon. They reccomend that you do not hike between the hours of 10am and 2pm, for that is when Apollo is fryin high, and temperatures reach 120 degrees in the sun. The plataue was well worth the scortching treck, for miles down raged the Colorado, and for miles in all 360 degree around my miniscule self, was a display of what nature is capable of when left to its own vices.
Most people get spiritual when looking at the canyon, I feel that spirits have nothing to do with this, for if they did, the Ghost Busters would have been on this gold mind of ghosts years ago, Murray is no slouch, and definalty not Akroyd. To look at this canyon is to see a beauty that only nature can produce, and can't it be admired for that alone? Its a beautiful rock, not a beautiful rock created by something. And what I truly loved, was looking out into the canyon, looking to the rocks at my feet, the creek talkin away in fron of me, and the clouds chillin high above, and seeing the same beauty in all of it, the exact same beauty.
It was the last three hours that would yeild that uniformed portion of this day. Hiking up this canyon is a never ceasing stairway to nothing, feuled by heated water, and nothing can prepare you for the climb to come. I waited until 3:20pm to start my asent, which was the smart move, for the last two and a half hours were again in the shade, a much needed crutch.
I met a handfull of fellow hikers throughout the day, and as soon as you look these people in the faces, a bond forms, you are connected by the overwhelming emotion of awe, and the sweltering pain coarsing through your bodies. It is amazing how socity has even taken roots in something as natural as the Grand Canyon. Everything from the rest areas to the hiker-passerby ediquite (throughout the day I tried out different greatings, everything from howdy to Greetings! was attempted, my favorite being the quiet "morning" at 5am) reminds you that your car, bank account, worries and fellow man are waiting for you when you get to the top. And you wonder why I spent 13 hrs in this canyon, 13 hrs to the minute.
It was 6:18 pm when I once again reached paved ground, and I realized that I was no better than the people screaming throughout the canyon, just so they could here their voices sond like gods. Or the folks talking more pictures than looks at the world around them, or even the hikers, hiking to brag. For when I got to the top, I felt as though I had accomplished something, the only difference between me and them, its not the accomplishent that matters, its what was experiencd from 5:18am to 6:18pm, the moment before I felt a sence of conquerer inside me, that matters. It didn't last long, and I did take three pictures, but bryce was right, "what we hate we make" We're not much different than those we don't want to be.
With liters of hot water and salty trail mix in my stomach, I had no choice but to donate it to the local porclen god before I scarfed down my burger and fries.
For one dollar and fifty cents I got to take a five minute shower this morning. Best damn five minutes I've had since the last time I actually lasted five minutes in bed. Harsh, but true.
And now I am in Flagstaff, Arizona, chillin at Northern Arizona University, and the quaint mountain town until The Format show tonight, for which we can thank Kelly, thanks Kelly!
And Tony G.- We may have a trade on our hands. I have just aquired The Eagles of Death Metal vinyl, which you may or may not have. Let me know.
For the first time in five days, I'm back in shants and feelin nifty.
Peace, Love and super fly cacti lights