Sadly the road trip ended over a week ago

Yes, I had to leave Seattle on the 16th, which was a pretty fun town, by the way. The view from the top of the space needle was very cool. They have some good breweries and an excellent little Belgian brewpub called The Stumbling Monk. For more tourist stuff, there is of course the Pike's market. Yes, they throw lots of fish around. Shoppers would also get lost in the multi-levels of gift shops plus the produce and flower market area. I'm not a big shopper, so I wandered through it all fairly quickly.

The Seattle-Tacoma zoo is very well done. In land area it's not particularly huge, but they do a great job with the programs. I'm sure it helped that I was there on a Saturday, but it seemed like almost everywhere I went in the zoo, staff was feeding animals, putting on a show, or giving talks about the animals. In that sense I thought it was better than the more famous (and costly) San Diego zoo, though I think I went there on a weekday.

I've been back to work for a little over a week now. Bleh.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's a little politics: A US government intelligence report apparently says that the war in Iraq has actually worsened the terrorist threat to the United States. Gee, ya think? You mean we're not "fighting them there so we don't have to fight them here"? Of course not. Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 and wasn't a credible threat to the US. Now many more of them hate us. Mission accomplished?

Beer, elk, and holy men

I'm in a little town called Forks, Washington, west of Olympic National Park near the coast of northwest Washington. There's a bed and breakfast here that while kind of overpriced IMO, it was the only thing that showed up on expedia or hotel.com for this area. So here I am. It was getting dark on the drive out here along yet another two lane highway through the forests. Just before sunset I had to completely stop on the highway because a not too bright elk was standing on the road and was in no big hurry to move when cars approached. Then later when it was fully dark, I was driving shortly before the turnoff to a Hoh Indian information center, and there was a man in what looked like some kind of light colored robes walking down the side of the highway. So at that point I was afraid I'd hit either a large, hoofed animal, a Native American holy man, or both before I reached Forks.

Yesterday and earlier today: Yes, Portland has great beer. In my brief stay I made it to a McMenamin's, Rogue, and the Laughing Labrador brewpubs. I stayed in Portland a bit longer than intended today because finding the Labrador was a bitch. For the southwest end of town, Portland seems to have brought in Boston's city planners to design the roads.

Anyway, I tried to order around five beer samples at Labrador's, and a happy, hyperactive, much tattooed and pierced bartendress saw to it that nine generous samples made there way to me. Obviously I couldn't say no. So I stuck around longer and made sure the buzz wore off before I drove for five hours. Sunday (the aforementioned bartender's actual name) was very helpful with travel tips, having lived up by Seattle for years. I was also directed to a bar down the street with a computer I could use. Finally! That was much needed since I hadn't booked tonight's lodging yet and wasn't even sure there was any available on this side of Olympic. Then there was the store called John's Market another block down the street. They have something like 900 different beers. Damn it, why do I have to be traveling and unable to haul much back with me?

----
In the news, there was another attempt to cast Lance Armstrong as guilty by association today when the NY Times published an article about former teammates confessing that they used EPO while on Armstrong's team in the '90s. This is old, recycled news. Armstrong has issued a statement in response to this article. The named teammate who confessed (the other was anonymous in the Times article) was Frankie Andreu.

Per Armstrong's statement, Andreu testified that a) he had no knowledge that I ever took any performance enhancing substance; b) had no reason to believe I had ever done so; c) had never been told by any reliable source that I had done so; d) that I never mentioned, much less suggested, adopting a doping regimen; and e) that the only observation of drugs (among the hundreds of races in which Andreu had participated with me as both a teammate and roommate on the road) (Andreu was a teammate from approximately 1993 to 2000, while Swart rode for only one year, 1995) was a single occasion taking caffeine.

So what's with the attempt to make Armstrong look guilty by association here? It's more bullshit.

The Sun is trying to kill me

As I drive through California and now Oregon, I have a few observations from the road...

If it's called the Happy Inn, the Pleasant Inn, the Almost Heaven Resort, or perhaps the Shiny Happy Fantastic Orgasmic Hotel it's a shithole (the first three are actual motel names that I spotted). These establishments were all in the $25-30 a night range in areas where the Motel 6 was fifty bucks. The buildings I saw looked like they should be condemned. It turns out the "Happy Inn" was in fact condemned and torn down, but a lone billboard remained. I can't figure out how a stay at these places could qualify as happy, pleasant, or "almost heaven", but hey, I guess they're optimistic.

Speaking of names, I also passed the "Aristocrats Mobile Home Park". I know when I think of noblemen, I think of trailer parks! That was of course my first thought. My second thought was that if that park is where the disgustingly perverted family described in countless versions of the Aristocrats joke lives, I sure as hell don't want to stay there.

Finally, it's clear from the road signs heading out north from Crater Lake, Oregon that I am going to die. I was already on a section of road encompassed by the yellow windy road warning signs. Then I passed a yellow sign that simply said "ELK". Okay. That was immediately followed by one that said "ROCKS". Oh shit. Obviously a boulder will soon crash through my window, smashing into my head as my car plows through an elk on the road before plunging off a cliff at the next sharp curve. This sucks.

Of course none of those things happened, but the most dangerous natural occurence did NOT have a sign! Why not?! The setting sun came far closer to sending me plunging off a ledge than any of those nonexistent ELK and ROCKS hazards! It would be conveniently behind the pine trees for miles, lulling me into complacency. I'd put the car's sun visor up again because having it down makes me feel like I'm wearing blinders. And then it would happen... I'd round a curve and suddenly the miles of pine tree blockers would end and there it would be, that cursed yellow orb shining right in my eyes. I'd jerk away from that evil brilliance, only to see it reflected in a blinding glare from the dirt and bug splats on my windshield. I couldn't see! GAH!

Yes, the sun is trying to kill me. Realizing that skin cancer was a long shot, especially since I've mostly remembered sunscreen lately, the sun is now going for the more direct route of running me off the road. Bastard...

Anyway, Sequoia, Yosemite, Redwood, and Crater Lake national parks were all really fucking cool. Now I'm in Portland. Two words: Rogue Brewpub. That's it for now.

Crikey... RIP

It just isn't right. Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin died today of a sting ray attack. Of all the risks he took for his show, it wasn't even a high risk situation that killed him. Sting Rays almost never attack people and in the very rare instances when they do, it's almost never fatal. Their venom isn't fatal. It just hurts like hell. They think what happened is the sting ray hit him right in the chest, possibly piercing the heart with its barbed tail. It was described as a "one in a million" thing. He was a great entertainer and a great conservationist. Rest in peace, Croc Hunter.

Still 100+ degrees

I thought when I left Palm Springs and the desert that I'd be leaving the hundred degree plus temperatures behind. I thought wrong. About 300 miles later, as I pulled into Visalia, a small city around thirty miles west of Sequoia National Park, it was still 102.

I have a bit more time as this ancient computer (Pentium 2 and I think they got the dot matrix printer from an archaeological site) can only be rented from my hotel in full hour blocks. So here's a brief recap...

First night in San Diego... I only got three hours of sleep before my flight out since I had a lot to do before I left and I did almost all of it the night before. Yeah procrastination! So when I arrived in San Diego, I was tired. After hanging out at Pizza Port (mmm... beer), I found the hotel and decided to sleep a couple of hours. I failed "how to set an alarm clock properly". Eight hours later I finally stirred. It was well after midnight. So much for going out. I found a little Irish Pub a couple blocks from the hotel, had a couple drinks, and called it a night.

Day 2 - Beer for breakfast! Okay, not quite... I had an early lunch at Shakespeare Pub, the place I'd planned to spend a couple hours at the night before. It's a great English pub that had been highly recommended to me. It's British right down to the wait staff with their English accents. Then it was off to the aquarium. The San Diego aquarium isn't bad, but the last aquarium I'd visited was the Shedd in Chicago, which may be the best in the world. So compared to that, San Diego is much smaller and considerably less impressive.

Then it was over to Alesmith brewery for their Barrel Aged Old Numbskull release party. It was the first one in two years. There was great beer to be had on tap and of course the barrel aged bottles. I wish I could have bought an extra to take home, but given my travel plans, I figured it would end up stuck in a really hot car and ruined. So I drank the big bottle the following night in Palm Springs. That was certainly no chore. The revelers at Alesmith were fun, friendly people, so it was a good time. I left with loads of brewery recommendations for my trip, a promise to e-mail the first self-proclaimed "beer slut" I've had the pleasure of meeting, and a bar recommendation and better directions to Palm Springs from Greg Koch, CEO of Stone Brewing Company. Thanks for the recommendation, Greg. The Yard House was great. 150 beers on tap... wow.

Day 3 - I headed for the north west entrance to Joshua Tree National Park. The temperature was in the triple digits, as it had been since I rolled into Palm Springs about 9pm the night before. The first mile hike I took in the park was incredibly draining for such a short hike. Luckily a storm to the south dropped the temperature below 90. Much better! There are Joshua Trees everywhere on the northern side of the park. Looking across vast areas of open terrain that transitions into the mountains, there are thousands of them and they're the only tree growing in many parts of the valley. It's a harsh, but beautiful landscape. Later a hike up Ryan Mountain was tough and tiring, but well worth it for the great views at the top. As darkness fell, I drove out the southern park entrance and tracked down the aforementioned Yard House for dinner and brews.

Odd business in Yucca Valley - "Dig Your Own Cactus - 59 cents!"

Day 4 - I dragged my tired ass out of the hotel in Palm Springs in time for lunch, then drove a few hundred miles. Driving up from the valley north of LA was pretty cool. I'd never seen a sign on the highway before that says "Radiator Water - 1 mile". Sure enough there was a small parking area with a water tank and a couple cars sitting there with their hoods up. It was a long climb at 106 degrees this afternoon, so the older cars weren't doing so well.

hmm... I don't know if I'm going to type up these recaps for the whole trip. It takes awhile and probably gets dull, kind of like showing everyone your vacation slides.

west coast road trip

This will be brief. I've got a few minutes at the internet cafe that should be known as Highway Robbery for their rates.

The San Diego to Seattle road trip heads north today. I'm leaving Palm Springs and driving a few hundred miles to Visalia outside Sequoia National Park. I spent yesterday hiking in Joshua Tree N.P. in 90 to 100 degree heat. Yes, I'm quite possibly insane, but the people who live here are moreso. It's about 100 outside right now and I passed a couple of joggers. Joggers... what the hell?

Seattle is my endpoint. Time to go.