Mount Erie

The first few weeks in Washington were not as pleasant as I’d have liked. It rained all day, every day, for about four months. It was grey and raw, and chilled me to the bone. It was light for no more than 6-7 hours a day. I knew no one, had no friends, and didn’t know where anything was. Lonely, cold, sad. Yes, I cried a lot. I was, for lack of a better word, miserable.

However, at some point, we got a small break in the clouds (literally, a few hours), and I managed to make it to Anacortes to explore a bit. Yes, it took me that long to venture out of the house to go exploring – because with my job, and not knowing anyone, what else would get me outside?

Anacortes is a town on Fidalgo Island, and it’s gorgeous. It doesn’t have the same types of mountains as the Canadian Rockies to the north, or the Cascades to the East, but it’s got running trails, spectacular westward views (“I can see Alaska from my house!” – not really), and the quaint cobblestone main street with the breweries and tchotchke shops that elicit a feel that is reminiscent of the seafaring towns of New England.

There’s also a little mountain – Mount Erie. And the convenient part is that there is a paved road that brings you all the way to the top. And so I drove. And I finally started to appreciate where I’d moved. It was a wet, misty 40F, but the sun was trying to break through, so it made for a stunning view.

Luckily, the rain and mist, coupled with the trying-so-hard sunshine meant I got something like a Lord of the Rings forest view while driving.

When I got to the top, there was a lookout, and it showed the lake, and the Pacific Ocean beyond.  If you look close enough, you miiiiiiight be able to see Canada on a clear day.

There was even a little bridge on the lookout point that had wishing locks.  I didn’t know about them previously, but I wrote myself a note to bring a lock and key for next time.

Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad after all

The Last Leg

 

Don’t worry, I didn’t stop for too long in Wyoming. Might’ve offed myself if I had – there’s literally nothing out there on the state routes. It’s like in the movie Cars, where you drive on Route 66 until you come to a random little town where the speed limit drops, there’s one bar, a run-down gas station, and some random little shops just begging you to stop in. At first, they made me a bit sad, but after a few of them, you start to notice that it’s peaceful, and you see that these people truly love the town they’re in, the land they live on, and the visitors driving through.

When I crossed into Montana, another place I’d not been, I ended up in Billings. It’s your very normal Big Sky “city,” which is to say it’s a very, very big Suburbia. That’s the other thing about the states out there – they are very, very big. It took several hours to drive across to Bozeman, and then to Missoula (even on the Interstate 90), and it blew my mind that you could own 10,000 acres of land and still have such a small portion of the state. The air is clearer, the sunsets are more spectacular, and the people live a little slower, and enjoy a little more.

I got excited when I got to Idaho, which was short lived. Not because of anything bad happening, it’s because I spent barely an hour driving through the very skinny tip.

It was also the crossing into the Pacific Time Zone, which made it a bit more real that I was heading towards my immediate future, that was farther away from home than I’d ever imagined it would be.

Must-See Macau

Macau is a 1.5 hour ferry ride from the terminal in Hong Kong, and it’s worth a day trip.  Everyone knows about the lavish casinos and the huge party town (it’s like the Vegas of Southeast Asia), but here are three must-sees – aside from the glitz and glamour – that will make your Macau visit even more fun.

Old Town Macau

Check out the fortresses from when Macau was a Portuguese colony.  See the architecture, take in the decidedly European influence (there’s even a Port wine museum!), try to figure out street signs in Portuguese…

One stop for spectacular views of the city is the old fort, Fortaleza du Monte.  It has panoramic views and really shows you the dichotomy between Old and New Macau.

The cannon is pointed directly at the casinos….hm….

The Ruins of St. Paul are right next to the fort, and are gorgeous.

You can also see the Chinese influence that still hasn’t will probably never go away, in the forms of older temples and shrines, and even more modern propaganda in the form of the 1950s Mao posters in every store.

Pandas!!!!!!!!!!

Did you really think I’d skip the pandas?  Come on….

There are two pandas in Macau, and they are awesome.  The panda park itself is interesting – it has panda EVERYTHING (so it’s basically my version of heaven), and you can watch them till your heart’s content.

These were absolutely huge awesome pandas made from carnations.

If you catch them on a good day, they’ll do flips and entertain you, but on a bad day, they’ll just stay in their little cave area and not come out.  Luckily for me, it was a good day, and I got to see it up close and personal.  Now if only I could figure out how to get one home…

 

Grand Prix Museum

I realize this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a really short museum and if you like cars or appreciate it at all, it’s worth a trip.  Inside, you will see Aryton Senna’s car and race suit, an entire wall devoted to Michael Schumacher, and various other cars from other forms of racing (Porsche, BMW, even Toyota).  It’s a throwback homage to the days when racing was insanely dangerous, drivers were rugged men, and parties were wild and debauchery ran amok.

And if the Museo du Gran Prix isn’t your thing, the Port wine museum is right next door. Cheers!

IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE!

The last time I had any experience with wanting something so fluffy I was going to die, I got it.  I mean, not exactly, but sort of…Maybe it’s not a live panda, but it’s something!

But Jenna, didn’t you take a trip and see a bunch of critters in 2015?  Why yes, yes I did, but believe you me, I did not want to go up and hug that moose.

As this wasn’t going to be a road trip where I was expecting to see any sort of wildlife, I had resigned myself to relaxing, and looking out for sunsets instead of appreciating the animals of an area I’d never seen before.  Luckily, I am fairly adept at camera phones, and was able to catch some of them in their natural habitat.

First, the rams!  Go Rhody! Look at those horns!  Ahhh, the college memories.  All they need is a blue and white URI shirt.  These were spotted in Badlands National Park, and while I wanted to go pet one, I figured they’d head butt me, and therefore refrained.  Next time though.

Ahhh, buffalo.  Or bison.  I’m not actually sure what the difference is, but either way, it’s delicious.  These are a pretty common sight while traveling across the country, but I’ve never seen one so close.  They’re BIG.  Like, really big.  I could eat for months.

IT’S SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’M GONNA DIEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay maybe not die, but this was the best thing ever!  It’s a mountain goat, and he was just hanging out on the path around Mt. Rushmore.  I approached cautiously, but it was just sort of staring at me with this bored look, and as I walked by, he didn’t even move.  He was this giant fuzzy animal and those horns looked pretty sharp, but I was about 6′ from this giant ball of fur.  I think I deserve an award for not cuddling it (though he was so calm, he might’ve let me).

Mr. Goat won’t ever replace Big Panda, but he’s a close second.  Very close.

Mount Rushmore

Because it was November 8, and this was by far the most absurd election year ever (listen to the deconstruction here), I spent the night after Badlands National Park glued to the TV in a crappy hotel in Rapid City, SD.  Around 10pm, when it was announced our new president was a billionaire businessman from New York, I shut off the TV and stared at a black screen.

Fitting, it was, that the next day brought my trip to see Mount Rushmore.  Four of the greatest presidents our nation has ever had.  Something that not many people from either coast ever get to see in person, and plus I was a 20 minute drive from it, and when would I ever be in South Dakota again?  Off I went.

Getting there at 8am is certainly the way to go.  No crowds, barely any people, and the light was pretty amazing.

There might even be enough room for President Trump on the right…though maybe not enough to fit his hair.

There isn’t really too much to take a look at, but there is a short walk around the whole mountain.  It allows you to view the monument from several different angles, and also to take in the foliage.  I will say, East Coast, you win hands down in the Sunrise category.

When South Dakota says “Big faces,” they really do mean big.  BIG faces.  Though I half expected Team America to come flying out of the rocks.  I might have been humming the song the entire walk.

There’s a lot to take in, but you don’t need more than an hour, even if you stop to think about all the work that went into the carving, and all the great things those presidents did during their time in office.  When you do contemplate, just be sure there isn’t some mischievous imp behind you taking pictures.

 

Badlands National Park

Ahhhh, South Dakota.  Great faces, great places.  There are four (and a half, but more on that later) BIG faces, but there is definitely at least one truly great place:  Badlands National Park.

On day 2 of driving, I made it to South Dakota and had two stops in mind:  Mount Rushmore, and Badlands National Park.  I’d not known about the latter until I did a bit of research, and it seemed like I’d be racing against the clock to get there, but I was determined to try.

I rushed to get to the park before the sun set, and I made it at 5:05 pm…just barely enough light to drive through.  It was definitely a blessing in disguise because a) there was no one there to charge me the entry fee, and b) you seriously cannot beat the sunsets in the west.  Luckily, it’s more of a driving excursion than a hiking one, and with about an hour before it was totally dark, I put my Michael Schumacher skills to the test.

The rock formations are not as crazy as some of the other parks (I’m looking at you, Bryce Canyon), but they were just as majestic.  And with that pink/yellow/blue background slowly changing to vibrant oranges and red, you really couldn’t beat it.

I’d been hoping to get out and walk around a bit, but unfortunately, my choices were “see the whole park” or “drive through a deserted area with no lights and who knows what kinds of critters.”  I chose to drive through, and am actually pretty damn pleased with it. Where else could I get the requisite shot of a road, heading off into the sunset?

Eventually, I made it to the end of the Grand Tour, and was able to follow the magnificent sunset all the way out.  It’s not every day you see things like this – I was irritated I had to rush and to change my hiking plans, but this made it all worth it.

 

The Route Less Taken

My move from TX to WA could have taken one of several routes.  After figuring that driving through Denver proper with nothing but booze, guns, and underwear might not be the best idea, the weather looked to be good enough to drive straight north from Dallas into South Dakota.  I promise there’s a method to the madness:  when would I ever be in a position to go to South Dakota, and able to see Badlands National Park, Mount Rushmore, and then maybe hit Devil’s Tower in Wyoming on the way out?

Intimidating, right?  I mean, 41 hours in a car on mostly state routes is pretty ambitious, if you ask me.  There was a lot of nothing for a while, though the sunsets got progressively prettier (and harder to drive in).

And yes, it does say 41 hours, which is a really long effing time, but I was able to be a little productive in the form of knitting a sweater for my cousin’s baby.

Otherwise, it was a big flock of nothing.  Except for major concentration, because of course, no adventure would be complete without some inclement weather.  It rained so hard on the first three hours of the drive that I thought I was going to be swept away in a flood.  The only bonus was the double rainbow when I finally got into Oklahoma.

South Dakota was calling me, so I didn’t have much time to check out Kansas and Nebraska, but it’s ok.  It mainly looked like this in the morning, which wasn’t too shabby, but at the same time it was EARLY.  Like 5:30 am early.

I know I complain about the drive, and the empty road, and the terrible hours in the car with fast food and nothing great. However, the open road is magical, and while my bitching about the lack of scenery was frequent, I did take a break once in a while to admire the future in front of me.

 

One Way Ticket on a West-Bound Train

Sometimes, you just have to YOLO and figure you aren’t getting any younger, so you might as well just buy the shoes!  Take the trip!  Kiss the guy in the bar that bought you a drink!  Move across the country….again!

Back in June, I got a new job in a new location, and therefore bought new shoes.

No….wait, that’s not the point (though they’re pretty, and I’ve actually worn them!).  The point is that I quit my job at Yale, packed up everything I owned into two small shipping boxes, and flew to my new home: Dallas, Texas.

Dallas was….fine.  Not bad, excruciatingly hot in summer, and traffic was awful.  Not the best place, not the worst.  So when the opportunity to move to the PacNW came up, I thought, “Hey, I’ve always wanted to live there, it will be wet and raining, but it will be lush and green.  Let’s go!”  Of course, it wouldn’t be Seattle (damn), but it would be halfway between Seattle and Vancouver, BC, which is almost as good.

Of course, I got all excited and forgot about the actual moving part.  This means lots of packing and shipping (again), but it also meant a road trip for the things they wouldn’t ship, like firearms, booze, and liquids.  (Also, for things that I refuse to ship, like some of my pandas).  I took some time off of work, rented a car, and mapped out a route for the 2400 miles between my old home in Texas, and my new home in Washington.

After some whirlwind packing, tearful goodbyes, and one last burger from my favorite Dallas burger place, I set off on my one-way road trip, leaving Dallas in my rearview.

 

 

 

Traveling Without Moving

In the last two months, I’ve done a bit of traveling.  And moving.  And I have to get better about posting when this stuff happens, because there was a lot of stuff in a really short amount of time, and now I am afraid I’m going to forget it…

Think of this as an interim post where I need to at least write down where I went and remember what happened….

First, I was in Jackson, Wyoming for a wedding (it was cold).

Then, I traveled to Minnetonka, Minnesota for my first work trip (it was cold).  I have no photos of this, because I was in a hotel or an office the whole week, but trust me.  It was cold.

Finally, just two weeks ago, I took a road trip from Dallas, TX to Anacortes, WA (it was cold). I got to see Mount Rushmore, Badlands National Park, and Devil’s Tower, so suffice to say, it was a successful trip, even if it was a bit short.  I think I spent 3.5 days driving over 2700 miles.

The reason for the road trip, you ask?  I relocated to upper Washington state, halfway between Seattle and Vancouver, BC.  Yes, it’s cold here too.  And raining.

But at least it’s pretty, and I’m sure I’ll have a lot to say when I finally cross the border into Canadia.  I wonder if I’ll run into any Hollywood people there, who are finally fulfilling their promise to leave the country should a certain someone be elected POTUS….

You Can’t Go Home Again

That’s what Thomas Wolfe once said.  And Heraclitus said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”  And I am sure I could find a hundred other quotes about how we are constantly changing and everything is different from second to second.  But it was Andrew Lloyd Webber (via Glenn Close) that said this:

P.S. Listen to the song – it’s great.  And she’s great in it.

And every time I go back to racing, despite whatever cerebral fears I have about being unwelcome, or having lost my speed, and no matter how long it’s been since I have walked a course or sat in a race seat, it’s as if I never said goodbye.

This past weekend, I helped out at a rookie school, and I was late to the party, so there were more than enough instructors.  I ended up doing registration and working the grid for one of the elements (aka, telling people when it was their turn).  I didn’t get to ride along, I barely got to walk the course, and the most information I got was in the form of two ride-alongs, both of which I was trying to figure out why a certain element was so freaking confusing. I’ll spare you the details, but it was not a great visual.

Someone I’d never met (but somehow knew me) came over and offered me a ride in his car at the end of the day, when volunteers are allowed to take fun runs.  He’s a relative newcomer (one season under his belt), but he’s hooked and wanted an “experienced driver’s opinion” on the new setup.

I was afraid I’d be super slow, but I ended up reverting back to my old habits, and beat the other person (who is generally much faster, and a guy) driving the car.  I was afraid my driving style wouldn’t suit this car, but it was actually a lot better than I’d thought.  We’d each had two tries, and I matched his time and then beat him.  It felt good, and I felt at home.  I was one with the car, and while it was a new meeting, we were talking and dancing together.

At dinner, we had a lot of fun reminiscing, telling stories, and getting back in the swing of things.  I realized that the best thing about racing is that if you truly love it, it becomes part of you, and will always be your home.

No matter how much time I spend away from it, or how much I tell myself I don’t need it, racing brings me back to center.  It helps me focus, and makes me happy.  My friends are there, my heart is in the driving, and despite taking a good 1.5 seasons off, it’s as if I never said goodbye.