amandaislost

[amandaislost]

Greece, Pt 1

I am nothing if not a lazy hobbyist. We went to Greece roughly six months ago and I am only now getting to blogging about it. Normally my procrastination doesn’t present a problem, but in this case it does: I lost my travel notebook for the Greece trip. Subsequently, these posts are going to be a little shorter and lighter on details. Three of the four people who are going to read this (because I pressured them into it) are rejoicing. You’re welcome!

We arrived in Athens early and grabbed a taxi to the district we were staying. Our driver, and all drivers we had, was very knowledgeable about the city's history and architecture, pointing out things of interest as we made our way.

After a coffee break, we checked into the AirBnB and then headed into the city to see the Parthenon, the Acropolis, and Plaka. They were cool. I’d say more, but I’d be BS-ing de facto since I lost my stupid travel notebook, as mentioned, because I have the memory of a two year old with ADHD.

But look: I remember it was disorienting and wonderful to see all the history, and I had fun! And look at these sweet photos! Ooh, ahh. Oh yeah, the food was good and there were a lot of cats. How’s that for descriptive writing?

I did have a misadventure that’s very clear in my mind, however. I needed to be hospitalized briefly because pay attention to me, pay attention to me! We piled into a taxi somewhere between midnight and 2am after realizing I would need to make a trip to the hospital. We proceeded to have a Google translate conversation with the driver which resulted in him saying I was already a corpse and that I would surely die and also something about kicking a moose. We didn’t figure out how the moose came to play (sadly), but it became clear after some more conversation that our new friend was saying that I should pretend to be dying or I would never get seen. 

 Our driver, a genuinely cool cat, called the hospital in advance to tell them we were coming and dropped us at the ER. You guys. YOU GUYS. The public hospital’s ER was like something out of a dystopian nightmare. We walked in and were immediately hit by an overwhelming heat and stench that might turn anyone’s stomach. We signed in and stood in a corner of the waiting room as the seats were all taken by people who were, in some cases, actively bleeding from obviously serious wounds while waiting their turn. YOU. GUYS.

As we were waiting and taking in the sights and sounds (and smells), we realized that we standing next to a pile of bloody rags. A big pile. A very big pile of bloody rags just chilling on the floor in their biohazard glory.

At that point, we felt it best to call another cab and get to a private hospital, where I stayed for the next sixteen hours.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 07: San Francisco

We reserved the last day for San Francisco, and I’m glad we did. We were so exhausted by the end of the trip that we wouldn’t have been able to fully enjoy any of the other spots we visited.

We were so tired that we streamlined our planned activities, visiting the Golden Gate Bridge and the Mission District.

In the Mission District, we stopped by several taquerias with the goal of finding the best tamales we’d ever had. It was a challenge, but someone had to do it.

After walking and feasting and drinking and walking and feasting and drinking and walking and feasting and drinking, we drove to our AirBnB, ate even more, and then settled in before an early morning flight home.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 06: Napa Valley

Heads up: This entire post is going to be me shitting on Napa Valley.

But why, Amanda? you may be asking. Napa Valley is so great! I’ve seen the movies and reality TV specials - it’s basically America’s Tuscany!

FALSE. I have been to Italy. Napa Valley is not Tuscany. Napa Valley is a gross, plastic, bullshit tourist-trapping armpit.

Danika and I were both astounded by how ugly Napa Valley is from the moment you enter to the moment you leave. Scabby trees, endless rows of plastic tree and vine supports with little actual produce, over-stuffed and beougie wine compounds, Instagram nitwits blocking your every move to take strategically misleading photos, and everything wrong or ugly about America and the American West. It’s like some higher power said, “how can I take the worst elements of those things and combine them into a giant, steaming pile?”

We bought tickets for a winery that shall remain nameless in advance and picked out a couple additional wineries to check out following our first tour. We arrived to winery number one and were immediately put off by the overdressed horde of bougie grandmas and newlyweds.

There were several tour options available and we CLEARLY chose the street rat option. This place had ropes blocking off gardens, sitting areas, cafes, etc to separate the worthy guests from the proles to a hilariously exaggerated effect. We were so put off that we bounced as quick as our legs could carry, cancelled our remaining winery plans, and headed to Russian River Brewing Company in Santa Rosa.

Confirmed: We are beer people. We are dirty, crusty beer people who should stick to pizza and brews and leave InstaWorld to people who wear dockers and think Adele is edgy.

Confirmed: I’m judgy as f*** ya’ll.

BUT! Our AirBnB was gorgeous and had a pool. Holla.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 05: Lake Tahoe

Tahoe was the relaxation MVP of the trip. We stayed at an adorable hostel, grabbed coffee from an adorable coffee shop, walked around an adorable shopping center, and adorabled adorably. Adorable!

We decided to rent some paddleboards and spend a couple hours paddling around the shore. I have paddleboarded before and warned Danika that it was going to be a boring excursion, but we should do it anyway for the experience.

I was so wrong. One of the guys at the paddle board rental shop suggested that we could paddle board along the shore in different direction than they normally recommended, and we could go past the point people usually go past, and we could hit up some islands if we were so inclined. It’s not like anyone would stop us, necessarily. Wink wink.

And so we did. It was beautiful.

We ended the evening in typical Danika-and-Amanda fashion: with beer.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 04: Yosemite Falls

Day four - our intrepid explorers awake from their hatchback slumber, ill-rested but ready for anything.

We had several hikes on the docket for our last day at Yosemite, but once again, I led us astray.

Our first hike was up to Yosemite Falls. I had read all about and figured that it would take us three or so hours to ascend and descend based on the mileage and elevation gain.

NOPE! False. Just… no.

We spent about seven hours on the trail and were grossly underprepared: we each had one bottle of water and nothing to eat. I feel so fortunate that Danika didn’t hulk out and throw me from the top of the falls to my death, all the while yelling “it wasn’t four hours, moron! Ahhhhh!”

It ended up being our only hike of the day and it was absolutely brutal. The vast majority of individuals who we passed on our way up and their way down hadn’t finished the hike - the slope was too great and too constant, and the heat didn’t help matters.

The view was spectacular, though, and missing the hike and payoff would have been a tragedy.

The reward at the top was a series of small, cool pools leading to the Falls that you could take a dip in.

After our descent, realizing there wasn’t enough time to complete another hike and find a campground, we drove to Inyo - again, an absolute treasure - and found an open, secluded spot right off the water.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 03: After Six

We were very excited about climbing at Yosemite. Ha!

Climbing ended up being an issue for me. Like, a BIG issue. Turns out climbing a bajillion feet in the air on real rock with no shelter from the wind or elements is a little different from climbing at the gym.

I had a full on, wracking sob, snot dripping down my face freakout. I clung to that wall with every fiber in my body tensed, knowing I was going to die. I was just going to die.

I have a pretty well known fear of heights and habit of whispering mantras to myself during times of stress, so anytime I wasn’t sobbing “I can’t do this” to Danika I was whispering “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay” on repeat to myself.

I wish I could share more about the sights, the smells, the whatevers, but honestly I was consumed by fear and my ability to take in the surroundings was grossly diminished. The view from the top, though? Wow.

(The climb was After Six. If you look it up, it’s rated 5.8 and the People of the Internet insist it’s just, like, SO easy and fun. They are damned liars. Physically easy? Sure. Emotionally easy? NO. Fun?! NO IT WAS NOT FUN, FANCY PANTS BIG CLIMBER PEOPLE OF THE INTERNET, YOU STUPID A-HOLES.)

Our original plan was to do some hiking post-climb, but Danika has her finger on the pulse that is Amanda’s Brainspace and realized a beer (or three) might be in order. We hit up Yosemite’s pizza and beer joint before making our way to a bar.

I have a consistent habit of getting something very, very wrong on any outdoor adventure I go on with Danika.

There were several gosh darn it moments that occurred during this trip. I’d like to call the following gosh darn it moment “Boondocking: An exercise in misunderstanding”.

You regular readers (ha!) will remember I became an expert on boondocking during my honeymoon trip to Alaska. Being such an expert, I knew that we could boondock in any turnaround at Yosemite because it’s a national park.

That’s what I knew until a cop came a’knockin’ at our cramped, four-wheeled abode and kindly informed us that a national park has different rules than a national forest. He told us about a popular backroad that was popular with car sleepers and proceeded to more or less escort us out of the park. We spent the night sleeping on the side of a motel-lined, moderately trafficked “backroad” about ten minutes from the east entrance. Don’t tell my mom.

[amandaislost]

CA Day 02: Inyo, Yosemite

We knew the camping situation in Yosemite was going to be a little hairy and that we would need to be flexible, given that all reservable sites had been booked for months prior to our visit. We were pretty stoked to find a small, gorgeous walk-in campground off of Inyo Lake prior to entering Yosemite.

We set up camp and proceeded to hit a few of the smaller trails in Yosemite. The park takes a significant amount of time to drive through, and I honestly don’t know how there are not more accidents or cases of cars driving off mountain sides because the views are dazzling. I’m amazed I didn’t kill us while rotating my head Exorcism-style trying to catch every sight while driving.

We stopped at several scenic view turnouts before hitting the trails around Tenaya Lake and to Gaylor Lakes.

Tenaya Lake

The Tenaya Lake trail doesn’t provide a long hike and the trail head, a sandy beach, was sort-of kind-of crowded when we started. 110% worth it. Tenaya Lake is so perfectly clear that it reflects at a distance while allowing you to see everything at the bottom around you. As you round the trail further away from the beach and picnic area trail heads, you hit expansive, sloping wildflowers patches leading up to snow-capped mountains. Danika and I took our time completing the loop and made several breaks to take in the views.

Gaylor Lakes

Gaylor Lakes wasn’t on our radar pre-trip, but a clerk at one of the park shops recommended it. I’m so glad he did. The short climb up was steep, leveling off for an overlook and then winding down into a… crater, I guess? I’m not sure what the actual term is, but there was a giant, crater-like expanse instead of a pointed mountain top.

After a long day of driving and a few short but incredible hikes, we crashed hard. It’s a good thing, too, because the next day was taxing. Stay tuned, dear reader*!

*Gag

[amandaislost]

CA Day 01: Death Valley

Danika and I went to California! But, um, that was a year ago. Better late than never!

We flew to Las Vegas at 6am with the intention of picking up our rental car and promptly getting OUT of Vegas. Neon lights, gambling, and crowds aren’t exactly our scene. Plus you are expected to maintain some level of basic personal hygiene in them there cities with those fancy city folk, and that’s just not how we live our dirty, dirty lives.

We touched down in Vegas, picked up said rental, and found the nearest grocery store for supplies. The official site for Death Valley says “Prepare to Survive!” so we loaded up on gallons and gallons of water and enough beef jerky to fuel a small army for a couple of days, as you do.

The small outskirt of Vegas we saw was like some bizarre scene laid out in a movie marketed to adults about the inanity of suburban American living that sophomoric teenagers find, like, so deep.

Everything was pristine and uniform: rows of perfect box houses and identical storefronts on wide, perfectly paved roads. The grocery store we hit up was super well lit in a fluoro kind of way to illuminate how exactly stacked the 97 varieties of spaghetti sauce were.

Gross.

We avoided being Stepford-ized and made our way west. On the way out we encountered several burro and wild horse crossing signs, which we of course came to a screeching halt on the busyish road to snap a picture of.

I don’t want to be that person who tells you that the national parks service is over reacting about lethal Death Valley, so instead I will tell you we were over prepared. We had the National Geographic topographical map, 12 gallons of water, plenty of food, and a tarp. We also shared our mile-by-mile itinerary with Josh and told him to call the park rangers by 6pm if we didn’t check in from our motel.

Guys, this place was a overridden with tourists and flush with gas stations, visitor centers, hotels and motels, campgrounds, and so on*. We could have been much less prepared and done just fine given our plan was to drive to a point of interest, walk around for a few minutes, hop in the car, and drive to the next point of interest. Had our plan been to hike extensively (which would require visiting during a cooler season), we would have been appropriately prepared.

That all said, we did manage to get a steep hike in at our first stop: Dante’s View. We arrived fairly early in the morning and Dante’s View has enough elevation that we weren’t at risk of baking. We spent a good, long time exploring the rocks and taking the views of the Devil’s Golf Course salt pan and Owlshead Mountains.

If we had only stopped there, I would have been content. It was Wanderer above the Sea of Fog-level heady.

We noticed a bee or wasp warning sign at various stops along the way, including Dante’s View. Don’t know what that’s about, but I can say all two insects we encountered in the sweltering heat were perfectly polite.

We spent the rest of the day driving to various scenic points, hopping out of the car for ten to fifteen minutes, attempting not to die in 120 degree weather, and running to the car to gulp down water. I would do it again in a heartbeat.

20 Mule Team Canyon

There were no mules. Bullshit.

Zabriskie Point

I wish I had the vocabulary to describe how incredible this was. The landscape  is comprised of ridges that fold in and out of themselves like brain corals, peaking to frame the open sky behind them.

Devil's Golf Course

Devil’s Golf Course is a salt pan where the salt forms sharp, irregularly peaked formations that would make Eli Roth’s sick little heart soar. There’s a sign posted off the gravel road you take into the flats warning visitors to be careful when walking as falls could result in serious injury, and that’s because this place is nature’s medieval torture device. I cut my finger feeling over a formation to see just how sharp it was because mama did raise a fool, and it’s me. I’m the fool.

Badwater Basin

More salt!  The view, like all of the views, was absolutely gorgeous: open sky punctuated by mountain ridges, beautiful blues, and bright, clear whites and beiges. This was about the point where the significant heat started affecting our general enthusiasm for continued living.

Artist's Drive

We renamed this F*cked Up Penny Drive because there were roughly three colors: Beige, green, and copper. It was beautiful, it really was. It was also vastly more colorful than the rest of the park. Danika and I are just crusty, you know?

OVERSHARE: Fun side note, this is the point where I took of my socks and crocs. I don’t know what kind of evil chemical sorcery occurs between 120 degree days, thick black socks, and rubber crocs, but damn, ya’ll. Danika spent this entire leg of the drive alternating between gagging and laughing hysterically about my stank feet rotting off.

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

Desert! Real desert! Movie desert! I was born in Arizona and lived there for a couple years, but I cannot remember having seen the desert. This was something else for both of us. My eyes actually hurt from the lack of green.

We saw a number of snake, lizard, and small animal trails in the sand and it filled my zoophile heart with great joy.

*That’s an exaggeration, but it’s not nearly as desolate as you might be led to believe

[amandaislost]

Alaska: Days 05 and 06

Real talk: I’ve been avoiding writing about the last two days of our Alaskan adventure because, frankly, they were kind of lame. I thought about skipping over them altogether and moving on to better, brighter things, but a friend convinced me I should write about the good and the bad.

There wasn’t any bad, though, so much as meh. There was PLENTY of meh on days five and six.

I don’t even have photos to share.

Day five was meant to be spent whale watching, but the waters were too choppy and the day trip we booked was cancelled. We figured we would head back to Anchorage and check out the city instead of putzing about Seward any longer.

I’ll be honest: I wanted out of Seward by then. I’m a big sky kind of girl, raised in BFE in a plains state. The mountains and spruce trees and ocean were beautiful and enchanting at first, but by the end of our stay I felt claustrophobic. Everything loomed and towered and buttressed and prohibited. I crave openness. I was glad to leave.

But oh man, I did not know what I was leaving for.

I would like to tell you what we did in Anchorage, but I can’t really remember. We walked around downtown. We went to the Anchorage Museum*. We had lackluster beer at a few different breweries, all of which produced thin, bodiless, whatever beer.

We were so bored that we called our return flight airline to see if we could switch flights and spend our last day in Seattle before heading home to Columbus, but it was prohibitively expensive.

An alternative title for this post could be “Meh, I’ve had better: Anchorage”.

None of that changes the fact that our Alaska trip was an incredible adventure filled with beautiful landscapes and a few otherworldly and magical experiences**. I hope to return one day with a backpack and a topo map of Denali.

If you have an opportunity, go. Go North, young man, go North.

*Okay, the Anchorage Museum is spectacular. The museum focused heavily on Alaska Native history and its intersections with Russian tribal history as well as the effects of colonization by both Russia and the US. I don’t want to mangle anything or do injustice to anyone, so I would encourage anyone interested in the history of the Alaskan peoples to read up.

**Yes, I realize that sentence is not one anyone would ever expect to hear come from my mouth. No, I am not being sarcastic. Yes, I am capable of genuine feelings.

[amandaislost]

Alaska: Day 04

Day four was devoted to a guided tour much like day two. We grabbed a quick breakfast from the grocery store and made our way to Exit Glacier Guides for a guided ice hike on Exit Glacier. We don’t have too many opportunities to hike around glaciers in Ohio and subsequently entered the experience equipmentless and lacking in knowledge.

And again like day two, we were fortunate to have a very knowledgeable guide. Or maybe he was just good at lying. Or both. Who knows?

We took a van back up Exit Glacier road where we had come from with our guide, Jack. We lucked out and were the only two going out with him that day, which probably added a lot to the experience. We didn’t have to go any faster or slower than we cared and had a dedicated walking encyclopedia to answer questions tailored to our interests.

We hiked up the Exit Glacier trail and shortly after beginning ran into park rangers doing trail maintenance. I know trail maintenance occurs and is important, but I’d never seen it happening before. There was a guy sweeping up after the rangers who were cutting through branches and shrubbery with chainsaws. He was using a broom to sweep leaves and branches off of the trail. Bear Gryllserella.

Jack pointed out several edible plants on our way up, took a look at a nasty nettle blister on my hand that was itchy as hell and suggested possible plant offenders, showed us how to determine new growth from old growth in the area based on tree type and color differences, and gave us a history of the glacier and its near-unbelievable rapid recession.

After a while of climbing, we took an unmarked side trail that isn’t maintained by the park directly to the glacier. In a matter of minutes we left a familiar canopy and entered an alien expanse of white and blue ice.

We strapped on our crampons and helmets - Remember kids, safety is cool! - and followed Jack out onto the glacier where he spent the next couple hours showing us crevasses and moraines. Crevasses, apparently, are formed by stress whereas moraines are caused by debris placement resulting in uneven melting rates. Big ol’ disclaimer here: I’m recalling from memory how all of this works at a very high level, so you should probably look this up before repeating it. You know, unlike me.

I didn’t realize how expansive the glacier was until we were smack dab in the center of it and could see tiny, tiny people on the trail we took to get there. The depth of field was deceiving.

The ice had an otherworldly, reflective quality to it and ran the spectrum of blue from near-white to near-black depending on what we were looking at. It was beautiful in the same unknowable way that a valley from a mountain is: it exists in some plane, but how can you really know? That feeling persisted even though we were on the glacier. It was completely surreal.

[amandaislost]

Alaska: Day 03

Josh and I left day three open intentionally thinking we would poke around town and get some hiking in. We started the day with coffee because we aren’t savages or Mormons before checking out Seward’s Alaska SeaLife Center (ASLC).

The ASLC functions as an aquarium and education center with a focus on Alaskan marine life research. It’s not a large facility, but I probably could have spent all day there between the aviary and marine mammal tanks if not for Josh’s teeny tiny attention span.

We wandered around the center, checking out the artist’s gallery, exhibits, fish tanks, and touch tank. Sidebar: sea urchins “hug” your finger if you put it in the center of their spines by closing said spines around said finger. It’s actually a defense mechanism, but somewhere along the lines of when a tiny kitten tries to bite you with it’s tiny mouth and accomplishes nothing but encourages you to continue whatever behavior led to biting because ohmygosh it’s so adorable!

Post-touch tank we peered into a rehabilitation room where the facility was caring for an orphaned/abandoned/lost walrus calf. Because walruses have significant “maternal investment” and this guy was sans-mommy, he had round-the-clock volunteer cuddlers with him to make sure he received the high level of affection and socialization a walrus calf needs to grow up into an emotionally stable walrus adult who contributes to walrus society.

I don’t think I will ever be as disappointed in my life as I was when I learned walrus baby cuddling is a job and I would never have it.

I thought that was a s good as it was going to get before we found ourselves in a marine aviary.

I love aviaries. A lot. Like, I LOVE aviaries.

Holy shit guys, you can get so close to the puffins!

And they’re sleepy! They’re napping! Napping puffins! N’uffins!

We spent a long time in the aviary and took multiple photos of every single bird from any possible angle until Josh practically dragged me out to see the seals and sea lion.

They were cool too, I guess.

Once we finished at the ASLC we decided to go check out Seavey’s IdidaRide Dog Sled Tours. I was apprehensive at first, unsure about how the dogs might be treated and wondering if sled racing might constitute as some kind of cruelty. A tour and history of the kennel quickly abated my fears.

The dogs went nuts the second the mushers began pulling out harnesses. They pulled the exact same jump-drag-whine-cry-freak out tomfoolery Otis does when I ask if he wants to go for a walk. They clearly love what they do.

The ride itself was a fun and silly experience. Roughly six people including Josh and me loaded into a golf cart with a team of 10ish dogs and a musher. We took a two mile lap around the facility, through huge spruce trees and beside a river.

The best part of the experience was getting to hold and snuggle the new puppies. They were just so small and sleepy and sweet. I think my brain broke a little from the joy of it.

Knowledge bombs:

Each of the sled teams gives three two-mile rides per day. We went in July and the dogs stopped for several breaks in the 55ish degree weather so they wouldn’t overheat.

Sled dogs aren’t huskies! That fact surprised me given the countless times I rewatched Balto as a kid. Turns out sled dogs are typically random and unidentifiable hodgepodges of this-n-that. All the dogs we saw and met were roughly fifty pounds of rangy mystery mutt.

Mitch Seavey can trace almost all of his dogs’ lineages back sixteen generations. Any puppies that result from inbreeding or unknown parentage are spayed and neutered so as to prevent possible continued inbreeding.

After dog sledding we headed north on the Seward highway to the Carter Lake trailhead. It was drizzly all day long so we made sure to pull on our rain gear before beginning our hike.

A large section of the trail was uphill, uphill, uphill through coniferous trees with no view, but we continued on having been promised a significant payoff nearer the lake. The trail leveled off about a mile-and-a-half in and we found ourselves in a subalpine valley with spectacular views of meadows, wildflowers, mountain peaks, and Crescent Lake.

We didn’t finish the trail as it was getting later and we were pretty wore out, but I can’t complain. It really was a gorgeous trail, made moreso by the lack of people. We passed two people the entire time we were out there.

Like the night before, we ended up boondocking due to rain. Not a bad view, eh?

[amandaislost]

Alaska: Day 02

Day two started with a delicious meal of Clif Bars (mmm, cardboard) and a quick stop off at one of two Seward coffee houses. We headed off to Kayak Adventures Worldwide where we met our guide, Sid, and a traveling New Yorker, Carlie.

Josh and I aren’t exactly experienced sea kayakers - we’ve been kayaking together in Puerto Rico with temperate and calm waters that weren’t remotely similar to the cold, rain, wind, and waves we experienced kayaking in Alaska’s Resurrection Bay.  We thought it best to book a guided trip rather than end up those dumb Ohions that drowned a few years back because they thought they knew stuff. Tourist idiots.

We caught a water taxi on a small, personally owned boat that looked like it could have been the set for a body-dumping scene in an 80s B-horror movie about murdering fisherman, but in a good way.

The boat’s captain, Louie, dropped the four of us off at a hostel on the bay called Kayaker’s Cove. If I could have changed anything about our trip, it would have been to book a night there. The hostel was a series of small wooden cabins connected by winding paths and wooden bridges through huge coniferous trees that you accessed via a big, beautiful wooden gazebo. Materials had been cleverly salvaged and there was an organic tilt that gave the whole place a very Lost Boys (of Neverland, not California’s rad vampire scene) feel.

Plus there was a john on stilts we got to use before starting our kayaking adventure, which is probably the coolest toilet ever.

Sid ran us through the sea kayaking safety talk and we began our paddle around the southern side of Fox Island. He was a walking (paddling?) encyclopedia of the area and local marine wildlife and we definitely took advantage of that knowledge. I mean, he could also have been a master bullshitter and everything I think I learned about Resurrection Bay could be total falsehood, but I choose to believe.

One of the most immediate things we noticed kayaking was the clarity and color of water. The water was clear here and turquoise there - it’s probably never even caught on fire! Looking at you, Ohio rivers.

We stuck to coastlines except for one channel crossing and you could see a very clear demarcation on the rock where the tide hit - if I recall correctly, the tide difference could be as much as twenty or thirty feet throughout the day. Don’t fact check that.

All along those rocks were starfish upon starfish upon starfish ranging in color from mottled, muddy browns to bright orange. These guys were EVERYWHERE.

It wasn’t too long before we saw harbor seals, which are apparently curious but people-shy after years of being hunted by kayak.  Fun fact: did you know some Alaska native tribes made raincoats out of seal intestines? You can fact check that.

The whole scene was a little eerie as there was a continuous mist and fog, but it lent to a feeling of remoteness that made me so happy. I must not have been the only one because every time I turned around Josh had a big goofy grin on his face.

In addition to starfish and seals we saw Steller sea lions, so named after a Russian dude that went around Alaska in ye olden days sticking his name on everything, sea otters, puffins, bald eagles, and a host of gangly black birds whose name I cannot recall. They were pretty chill, though. I’d invite them to dinner.

The first four or so eagles we saw each elicited a little kid in the candy store response: wide eyes, oohs and aws, and a feeling of wonderment. And then they just kept coming. And coming. And coming. By the end of the trip I wasn’t even impressed by them anymore because they were just everywhere. #smartphonegeneration

We stopped for a while in our kayaks to watch puffins (attempt to) fly and (attempt to) land. I think puffins might be my spirit animal - strangely proportioned and ungainly as they are. We would watch them take off from the water flapping their tiny wings so fast in an attempt to get their plump, barrel shaped bodies into the air and laugh as they tried to land only to fail, circle back, and repeat the process over and over.

Fun fact: did you know a group of puffins is called a circus?

Near the end of our kayaking adventure we landed on a rocky beach called Sunny Cove to have lunch and take a break. The beach sloped steeply and leveled off into the remains of a chalky-white petrified grove before turning into a hilly wood surrounded by bluffs. Sunny Cove missed its calling center stage of an Ingmar Bergman film.

All-in-all our guide estimated we kayaked around seven miles. I can’t speak to the accuracy of that but I will tell you a seven mile float down an Ohio river is a significantly different experience  from paddling seven miles in the ocean. My upper back was certainly alive that evening.

We returned to Seward in the same water taxi we left from and made our way to a local coffee shop to charge our phones and get something warm to drink.

That evening we checked out a couple local bars before settling into the Seward Alehouse. The Alehouse had a great small-town feel, a decent beer selection, and free pool, so it seemed as good as any.

But then!

Enter Rapey Rod*. Rapey Rod was in Seward for a few days fishing with a pal of his from [state redacted]. Rapey Rod had seven hands, a disappearing wedding ring act, and a queer inability to comprehend Josh’s role in my life. After a couple games of pool with RR and his pal, we decided to turn in for the night and bid adieu to our awful new friends.

We headed back to camp and, reviewing our gear situation, realized we didn’t have the best setup for the rain that started coming in. If we stayed in our tent, we were going to get soaked.

Remember earlier in our story when our brave adventurers rented a Honda Fit?

I bet you guessed what comes next:

*Names have been changed to protect the totally guilty and gross

[amandaislost]

Alaska: Day 01

Our first stop on day one of our Alaska adventure was to the Snow City Cafe in Anchorage, where we tucked into a breakfast of three kinds of eggs benedict (vegetarian for Josh, salmon and king crab for me) and a mandarin orange stuffed french toast. Of all the places we ate out, this was my favorite. It was also the most vegetarian friendly by a significant margin.

We used Uber to get between the hostel, breakfast, and the car rental agency - per our driver (who we kept getting), there are roughly three Uber drivers in Anchorage.

We loaded up the Honda Fit - this comes into play later - and swung by REI for some bear spray before starting off to Seward with The Milepost to guide us.

The Milepost. Wow. I am in love with this thing - it’s a mile-by-mile guide to Alaska's major highways and scenic byways that gave the anal retentive oh-my-god-I-have-to-know-all-the-possibilities-or-meltdown-is-possible half of me a love chub. Seriously guys, I’mma have to buy a new copy to replace the one I borrowed* from a pal because this thing was well loved by me.

Wink wink. Get it? Get it? I got jokes. Sophisticated jokes.

Getting from Anchorage to Seward is a straight shot on the Seward Highway because Alaska - It’s Easy!™ We were forewarned by our morning Uber driver and The Milepost that wrecks exiting Anchorage are pretty frequent because the tourists are too busy rubbernecking to pay attention to the road and it became very clear why.

Southcentral Alaska is breathtaking. Snow capped mountains, clear blue lakes, red and yellow and purple wildflowers, rocky streams, and waterfalls are everywhere you turn.

It’s. So. Pretty.

Luckily, we had a handy dandy copy of The Milepost (I LOVE IT, OKAY?) with us to guide which turnouts and viewing platforms we wanted to hit.

Beluga Point: We parked in the HUGE turnout with a view of the Turnagain Arm and supposedly frequent whale sightings. We sighted no whales, so false advertising there, Alaska. The whales weren’t even needed, though. The view was amazing, and there were some great rock formations to scramble** for even better views.

Creek Picnic Area: We stopped here for the incredible view of the Turnagain Arm. There were a few trails branching off of a trailhead past the parking lot and picnic area, but we passed on them figuring we had a lot left to see.

Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center: Ah! Ah! Ah! Animals up close! Animals up close! This was one of my favorite parts of the trip. The AWCC is a conservation and research facility with over 200 acres to house their furry residents, including orphaned and injured animals. The enclosures here were incredible - large, well maintained with endless natural features, and designed in such a way that animals could get up close and personal or tuck away into quiet, shady wooded and shrubby areas. Not to mention the views! I kind of wish the AWCC would care for me.

Our lodging plans were fairly loose: get to Seward-ish, check out the primitive Exit Glacier campground, and make camp if space was available OR find somewhere to camp OR panic a little because ah shit, we really left this one open.

I’m sure you can guess what happened - the Exit Glacier campground was full. Probably because it was super sweet, so I guess yeah… full. Makes sense.

We drove into town to regroup, hit the Seward Visitor Center, and were given the greatest news: boondocking is about as legal as legal can be in AK, or at least where we were. If a turnaround is on public land and there are no signs posted explicitly stating that you can’t stay overnight, you’re good to go. There were also tucked in first-come-first-serve campsites right off the road nearing Exit Glacier.

We grabbed dinner in town at the Seward Brewery. Awesome food. Beer? A solid meh. I could spend some time on the meh-ness of the microbreweries we hit up in AK, but I think I’ll save that for a later post.

After dinner it was time to figure out where we were sleeping. We swung by the Seward city campground which was right off the water BUT insaaaaaanely crowded, especially with RVs. What I hadn’t known up to that point was Josh was panicking a little about having nowhere to stay. He wanted to set up camp there and call it a night.

Guys. I’m not proud of what happened next, but in my defense, I was a terrible combination of tired, buzzed, and AMPED FOR NATURE! HARDCORE! BEARS AND CAT HOLES AND THE ELEMENTS! GRR ARR!***

At Josh’s suggestion of staying at the crowded RV park, I began a stone-faced silent treatment - remember, communication is the key to a healthy relationship! - that after persistent pestering on Josh’s part ended with me saying something along the lines of, and I kid you not, “Sure. I’m fine with staying here tonight as long as you promise it’s just tonight and we can go somewhere better tomorrow. I mean, it is soul achingly disappointing but I’ll just deal with it.”

Someone get this kid an Oscar!

Like I said, I’m not proud of it.

Josh, being the saintedly patient man he is, stepped well outside of his comfort zone and set about finding a better spot with me.

One trip back up to Exit Glacier and I think we found it:

Stay tuned for another chapter in Alaskan Adventures! Will our soon-to-be-wed adventurers be mauled by bears? Will they survive the frigid waters of the Alaskan Gulf? Will they make it through Amanda’s epic grumpy-sleepy tantrums or will murder ensue? Find out!

*No seriously, I think I have to replace the copy of The Milepost I borrowed. NEVER lend me books. It’s gonna end up a dirty, dog-eared, coffee-stained mess at best.

**Of course, we didn’t. That would be trespassing on Alaskan Railway something or the other land and we totally don’t trespass. Because America?

***Yeah yeah, car camping in a well-established campground off a major paved road in a national park isn’t exactly hardcore nature. Shh.

[amandaislost]

Kayaking with a Blue Heeler...

… is an ordeal. A fun, exciting, wet, and often terrifying ordeal.

Otis is nearly a year old now and has probably spent more of his time in a kayak or canoe than most American adults in a lifetime. He’s a little adventurer, whether he wants to be or not.

And, to be perfectly honest, sometimes the answer is not (more on that later).

So far our river trips have been limited to Hocking River, the Olentangy, and the Little Miami, but I’m hoping to take my little dude* far and broad for continued exploration.

Below are just a few of the people-and-mutt quirks I’ve become familiar with as a boating dog owner.

Life jackets

The reaction people have to seeing a dog in a life jacket occurs in two phases:

1.      The sidelong Glance of Judgement: Putting a life jacket on your dog incurs the same level of judgement intensity as feeding your baby non-organic breastmilk from your Twinkie-eating nips in the bathroom at a Mommy Bloggers’ Convention. You can see the wheels turning; after all, what kind of a dog can’t swim? The answer is my kind of a dog. My dog. Cannot swim. At all. The speed with which his big ol’ fluffy butt sinks the rest of his body down, down, down is astonishing.

2.      Laughter: That’s right, people will laugh at you. Oh no!

In all seriousness though, I’d wrap my dog in bubble wrap and pool floaties if it meant he was safer (and happier) in the water.

Boat hopping

Otis is a boat hopper. He’s a dirty, slutty little boat hopper.

Riversnipe.

He is great in a canoe when his people are all safe and sound in one river vessel traversing the terrifying Class Negative IV, two-foot deep waters of Ohio rivers, but separate boats?! Aw hell no. That won’t stand.

He will hurdle his little body into the water so he can move from kayak to kayak to be with Josh for a brief time or his best doggy buddy Lucy and her mom Danika* or me, chopped liver. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. This, as you might imagine, is the best conceivable way to take on impossible amounts of water. Otis adds a guaranteed 20lbs of water to every single trip.

In case you were curious, that’s 70lbs of boat, 20lbs of water, 50lbs of dog, and 150lbs of me. It’s a workout.

Boredom

Anyone who has had the pleasure of owning a blue heeler knows that they are high energy dogs that get bored easily. Now, if you will, imagine the most terrible, tantrum-throwing little gremlin of an ADHD five year old** being strapped to a chair with minimal external stimulus for three hours after chugging a Monster post-nap.

Now imagine that five year old is my dog, that chair is a kayak, and that Monster is just a sometimes treat that I give my dog because I am a responsible dog owner and he gets crazy when he has had too much taurine.

Otis is a boredom yowler. After hour two or so, he’s usually pretty sick of the kayak and, being a terrible swimmer, has probably tired of splashing around in the water. That’s when I have to start bribing him with sticks, toys, and treats to stop disturbing the peace.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: she’ll make a great human mom someday.

Wrapped up in a bow

At this point you might be thinking kayaking with a dog sounds awful, but that is where you would be wrong. Kayaking with a dog – a puppy, really – is hard work. Your float will be rocky, your hull will get sloshy, your muscles will ache, and your kayak will track like it’s drunk, but you will have The Most Fun Ever hanging out with man’s best friend.

And if you happen to own a spastic, dopey, overeager dog with a weird love for zucchini (too specific?), man is he going to love the ride.

 *Yes, I call dogs babies and owners parents. I’m not ashamed.

**I can say this because I have ADHD cred. See: father, brother, boyfriend. Knapsack!

[amandaislost]

The AT and Freewill Nashville

[Pictures are forthcoming]

I don’t know how to begin describing my time in Tennessee in a way that can accurately capture the feeling, so I suppose I’ll go about it chronologically.

Honestly, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to share any of my experience; it was perfect, and I want to keep every part of it happily tucked inside of myself.  Forgive me for keeping many of the details to myself. 

We got to the hostel, Kinkora, on Friday night at around 11:30. Bob had already crashed, so some through hikers pointed us toward our bunk. 

It was the best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time.  We found out later that Aldo, a friendly section hiker, had vacated the bunk for us.

We met Bob in the morning.  He was just as sweet and spirited as everyone said he would be. 

We packed into the van at 8:45am and headed to the trailhead in Erwin.  I think Saeko, who was driving, was concerned we were going to get ourselves eaten, lost, blown up, dismembered, or shot to death by laser-wielding aliens.  He very kindly gave us his card and told us to call if we needed help.

We started hiking, and as the initially-level trail became steeper and steeper, realized that, just maybe, backpacking up a mountain with thirty pounds on our backs might be kind of challenging.

We also realized very quickly that Melissa is a BEAST of a backpacker, while I am a frequent stopper and incurable tra la la-er.

At our first milestone, Curly Maple Shelter, we met a few through and section hikers.  One of the through hikers, Rampage, told us there would be trail magic (definition to come) on Beauty Spot.

Off we went.  And went.  And went.  And went.

In the rain.

In my case, without rain gear.

I don’t think I’ve ever struggled with such a conflicting inner conversation, vacillating between wanting to jump off of the mountain and let the bears eat me and wanting to own the mountain SO HARD.

We took a break at around 4:30 at a campsite and talked about making camp.  By then, the sun was hidden behind fog and clouds, and the never-ending mist was maddening. 

THEN!  Out of the fog, smiling and hoofing happily along, came two hikers (The Honeymooners, or Tumbler and Ratman).  They told us we were close to Beauty Spot, so we decided to forge ahead.

By the time we reached Beauty Spot, it was so foggy that we couldn’t see thirty feet in front of us.  I had to stop for a moment as Melissa continued because A) I was exhausted and B) I was laughing so hard, for no reason other than fingers and toes and people and mountains all seemed impossibly stupid.

Of course while I’m grinning like an idiot in the fog and rain, two hikers pass me.  They both smiled at me, and I wonder if it’s the same sort of smile you give to a glinty drunk who yells a joke at you as you pass by on the sidewalk.

Probably.

I got over it and found Melissa, who had herself found trail magic.

And trail magic?  Sorry, respectable friends and family reading this, but holy shit.  Trail magic is AWESOME.

Apparently there are people in the world who, every once in a while, of their own volition, do nice things for other people.  That is trail magic.

People bring food or drinks or supplies or any combination thereof to tired hikers just because it’s nice.

I felt like I was cheating.  Eight hours in and I was sharing something amazing with an exhausted bunch who had been trekking for more than a month.

(Sidenote: the trail magicians brought Boca burgers in case of vegetarians!)

Freezing up there in the rain, we got to talk more with Rampage, Tumbler, and Ratman, and met Eddie, Tyvek, and Nanner (nee Nannerpuss), most of whom we would be fortunate enough to spend the next day with.

And if you are wondering by now how in the hell this is the abbreviated version of things, here you go:

We were snowed and rained on in our non-contiguous nights in the tent.  We took a couple of zeros, spent time with some of the best people I’ve met in my life, screamed along to raucous music, danced in the street, met a cowboy named Bleu, made friends with Betty Page, poked holes, decided to through hike in 2014 (well, I did), played hangman with sunshine, fought an Australian, conquered Nashville, (don’t read this part, mom) stepped on a copperhead, stood on top of the world, hiked for days, built a boss fire, lost the world and breathed it in.

The rest of the story is mine to keep.

[amandaislost]

Russian Winters, Pt. 3

Yesterday after work, the team went to the Italian restaurant that I wrote about earlier. 

It was quite nice, though I'll admit we all seemed exhausted.  Who isn't on a Monday after work?

I wasn't able to get a photo of everyone together due to camera angling difficulties, but I did snap a few good ones of people here and there.

The past week and a half has been incomprehensibly productive in terms of work, and I've seen more of St. Petersburg than I could have hoped to.  I also got to catch up with friends, the yorshas and the klutzes of the world.  It's been a good trip.

That said, it's off to bed.  Tomorrow I will be back in the midwest with family and old friends, and that is a very nice thing indeed.

[amandaislost]

Russian Winters, Pt. 2 Continued

Today's start was near perfect.  Why?  I got seven hours of sleep last night!  Jet lag makes sleep a near impossibility, so it was lovely to wake up this morning feeling refreshed(ish). 

The first destination on today's itinerary was the Peter and Paul Fortress.  It's built on an island whose surrounding waters are all rivers, which is pretty nifty.

Once there, we visited the cathedral in which several famous Russian commanders, many Emperors and Empresses, and the Romanovs are entombed.

What was more interesting still was the prison.  It housed a number of anarchists and revolutionaries in the years leading up to the Revolution, but then became a Bolshevik prison for counterrevolutionaries. 

What I found disconcerting was the size of the cells.  They were bigger and better furnished than contemporary American prison cells.  Granted, their prisoners were typically well-known and influential, but it still made me feel uncomfortable.

Following the prison and an exhibition on the history of the fortress, we walked on top of the outer wall.  The view was extraordinary.

While we were up there, we noticed several people walking on the frozen Neva River.  A little crazy?  Maybe.  But what kind of a deterrence is that?

So we, of course, began our own trek on the river.  (Yes, that photo below is the river.)

We initially wanted to use the river to cross to St. Isaac's Cathedral, but a narrow center strip had been driven through for cargo boats.  Unsure of our talents in successfully navigating subzero waters, we chose instead to walk parallel to the shore.

There were several older gentleman ice fishing on the Neva.  Now, I have done some ice fishing in my day, but this?  This was ice fishing.  The men didn't have sheds and were using manual augers.  Manual!  MANUAL!!!  I can't even imagine how long it took to drill through the ice.  I really hope they all caught something.

When we made it to the other side, we went into St. Isaac's and explored the many paintings and gilded icons.  Afterward, we went back to the Church of the Savior on the Blood with Marina.  Why on the blood?  It was built on the spot where a tsar was assassinated and dedicated to his memory.

I can only imagine that someone really, really liked him.

The church was the last item on today's itinerary, so we went in search of a meal and some wine.  I was beyond happy when we found a cozy restaurant offering mulled wine.  It's been a favorite of mine since my youth (bwa ha ha) in Germany, where glühwein was a necessary accompaniment to any city winter excursion.

It warmed me right up and, with a belly full of wine, I was able to make it back to the hotel.  I am happy to say that, having finished this post, I will now be going to bed.  Good night!