Travel - Yosemite

As you can imagine, I do a lot of driving. Fortunately, that driving is usually spread fairly evenly over the year, as not to drive me utterly fucking insane. Well, that's not the case this year. Several national park, NorCal, and SD trips, and the year isn't even close to being over. At tis point, there are very few places I'm willing to drive to that won't elicit some kind of pissy response from me, and unfortunately, Sequoia and Yosemite happened with only a week of downtime in between. Fortunately, Yosemite is one of those areas, that I've been wanting to visit for years. I've been there as a kid, but as a small snot-nosed brat, how could I possibly take in the shear majesty that is Yosemite?

One of our good friends recently moved to England, and before he left, he organized a camping trip to wasp hell Hodgdson Meadow Camp Ground. We had a pretty loose plan on what we wanted to do once we were up there, "Oh yeah, Yosemite. We...should...hike?". Now, I'm always prepared, I immediately sprung into action early on in the planning phase, to make sure we had plenty to drink. Homebrew? Check. Whisky? Check, Case of 2-buck chuck? Check. The first night, the whole group getting to the campgrounds as late as we did, hiking was out. We lit a fire, and immediately went to defcon one (because no matter what TV tells you, one is the highest stage of alert. Go ahead, check wikipedia) on the imbibing scale.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, it can hold an entire bottle of wine.

After a rough night of sleep due to tent-camping (I SWEAR IT WASN'T THE BOOZE), we slowly get mobilized to head into the main valley and find a hike. I'm sure everyone knows this, but large groups are really goddamn difficult to get moving. It usually isn't one particular person's fault, everyone just moves at a slower pace, on the assumption that they're waiting for some other, slower people. Getting everyone out, coupled with a fews' crazy desire for caffein, we don't actually hit the trail until we're well into the afternoon. We chose a hike that ended up being around 7 miles round trip (seems to be my lucky number in painful hikes). Everyone in the group is in pretty good shape, so we don't really think of the distance. "Oh yeah, 7 miles? Sounds like a lovely jaunt up the mountain!". The beginning of the trail is all switch-backs, dozens of them, and steep. The worst part, is that we're only 15 minutes in, and a trail of smug and accomplished faces start walking down past us (THEY COULD HAVE WARNED US). We pass the first main section of switch-backs, and there's a good mile or so of in between. This is one of the best parts of the hike, there are even a few downhill parts and plenty of opportunity for pictures.

No pain, no elevation gain

Fun ends, cue more switch-backs. For most of us, this part is all mental. There's a sense of accomplishment you feel when you conquer a billion switch-backs. Once you hit the smooth part, you pretty much think you're done...then there are more. My mind, body, whatever, had had enough. For the first time since I can remember, I got a terrible fucking hangover. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but a while back, something physiologically clicked, and my body became immune to hangovers. I'm pretty convinced this is the next major step in human party evolution. Something I hope that I genetically pass on to my children, making them near invincible. My body is shot at this point. I have a pounding headache, I'm rapidly going through all of my water, and we're still a good distance to the top. Naturally, we start desperately asking people, "How long to the top?". Turns out the top is 10 minutes to 10 days away since no one can give us an accurate answer.

We make it to the top, and I'm dying. I'm questioning why people who get hangovers ever even drink. It just doesn't seem worth it. As you'd expect, the view was astonishing, but there was no time for majesty, only passing out on a warm rock, eating everything we brought. It's starting to get dark at this point, so we made the slightly less horrible descent to the cars. The was no defcon 1 that night, everyone was pretty shot. We cooked off an indecent amount of food and passed out pretty early.

I'm really not as invincible as I think I am. I'm sure my fiance will tell you the same, especially given how many times she's all but begged me to go see a doctor. I'm certainly still young, but not to the point where my body bounces back from ridiculous injuries and consecutive nights of drinking and poor sleep. Suffice to say, I'm a little burnt out on majesty for a bit.

Travel - Champagne (Reims/Epernay)

I feel like a lot of people don't understand Paris. A lot of people seem to hop off the plane, expecting to be overwhelmed by the world's most romantic city. Paris, as unique as it is, really isn't different from every other major metropolitan city in the world. At any given time of the day, there are thousands, millions of people jammed into subway cars, fighting their way through traffic, and stepping on people to get the next taxi cab to make it to work on time.

I grew up in and around big cities, and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. My top cities to live in for the US are always something around SF, LA, and NYC. I feel like it takes a certain type of person to function in and love cities like, while at the same time not letting it turn you into an asshole. Anyway, I love Paris, for the same reason I love big cities. Always energetic, always something to do and see. The people? learn a few French words, and you'll be fine for the most part. Will you get the occasional jerk? sure, you'll get that no matter where you are, people just let themselves be colored a bit too much before visiting Paris themselves.

As much as I love Paris and metro areas, I think there's nothing better you can do in traveling than to get out. One of the best out trips I've ever taken was to the champagne region of France. So as not to get some other details muddled, I'll just throw out a few things that happened...you know...like getting engaged. Some other important things happened, I'm sure, but let's stick to the point. About an hour outside of Paris (quick and fun train ride), is the Champagne-Ardennes state capital of Reims. Don't even try to pronounce it, I guarantee you're saying it wrong. Reims is a great city billed for their adorable old style architecture and small village feel. Throw in a bunch of champagne houses and a cathedral or two, and you've got yourself a soiree (see what I did there?). We spent a lot of time in the beginning wandering around the quaint, but pain in the ass cobble-stone walkways, and of course got to the champagne drinking. Now the way we do wine tasting in the US, or at least in California, is that you basically pull up a map of wine country, throw a dart, and get down on some delicious wine. France does things differently. Pretty much everywhere you go to taste champagne, reservations are required. Not only are reservations often required, but you need to take a tour at every place you go. A single tour? great, but a tour at every tasting? I'm sorry, but if you've seen the champagne method once, you've seen it enough.

We were pretty dejected at the lack of free-flowing champagne (especially given the engagement). I expected to be swimming in lakes of it, literally. Fortunately, Reims isn't the only champagne capital, it's hotly contested with an even smaller village called Epernay (go ahead, you can try to pronounce that one, you'll be okay). Unfortunately, Epernay had the same deal. However, in the town center, there was a place called Banque du France. Banque meaning bar. France meaning champagne. Jackpot. It was an empty place with a jolly bartender with innumerable champagnes by the glass, bottle, or even to go. We did all three. After some time there, we had to catch the train back (since getting stranded there was a possibility). We got back to the hotel room feeling pretty damn smug about our day.

Not sinister enough? I didn't think so, either.

A few days later, we decide it's time to ditch Paris again for some more champagne. I try not to repeat my steps when I travel like this, but I felt like we didn't have a choice. PLACE. TOO. GREAT. This time we just went straight to Epernay, as it had been crowned the true capital of champagne in our minds. We got there early enough to hit up a tour at Mercier, which of course started with a protruded tour of the caves, complete with a video talking about how great Mercier is. Finally ended in a tasting, and okay, you can brag, it's some of the best champagne I've ever had. BUT A LITTLE HUMILITY CAN GO A LONG WAY. After wandering the streets some more, we decided again to hit up a few more champagne houses to try our luck at finding a place that was just pouring wines. We found one that was known for doing slightly weird things with their champagnes while still appeasing the AOC. After, it was time to visit our favorite lonely bartender at the Banque. Another day of champagne trifecta and we were off to another champagne bar, where we met a group of drunk French and American people to help us celebrate yesterday's engagement.

I know what you're thinking, and yes I did try knocking someone into it.
Preferably someone English.

We didn't really pay attention to the time. Oops. We missed the last train from Epernay to Paris, so we figured our inly hope was to catch the 15m train to Reims, then Reims to Paris. We miss that train by a minute or two. We're stranded in Reims. Whatever, it's cool. Wait, no it's not, cue me freaking out. This did not fit into my perfectly laid out plans for the day, AND I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE MY BACK-UP DEODORANT ON ME (I always have deodorant with me, I'm scared to death of smelling bad). Indi, probably still drunk, had a much better attitude. "Ooohhh noooo, we're stranded in Champagne, France! Looks like we'll have to get a room and party all night!". Best travel mistake ever. We got a great and inexpensive room, and split a bottle of champagne on the main street watching the entire city slowly close around us until we were the only ones left on a dimly lit street.

It will always be one of my favorite memories. Wherever you go, always get out. Always make time to see what's beyond the ticker-tape that's peddled for tourists. I'm not saying that's all bad, but that it's the best way to get to know a countries culture and it's people. France in the city, and France in the country, like everyone else in the world, is night and day. Reims and Epernay had some of the happiest and most genuine people I've met, down to the two creepy guys who invited us to a (supposedly) giant house party once they saw that we were stranded. More than anything, champagne is pretty great.

TO DO - Himalayan Trek

At least in my head, I'm always planning the next place to travel. I usually plan pretty far in advance, just in case a friend or two wants to come with.

Trekking the Himalayas

This one has been on my list for only about the last year or so. We're aiming for late spring or early summer 2014. Ideally, we could start in Nepal, go through Lhasa, and end in Bhutan (or the other way around). Now, the problem with this schedule, is that I'd like to do as many days backpacking as possible, but with the time it takes to get between (and spend time in) all three destinations, there may have to be some driving. Another problem is the altitude. As you may recall from my previous blog post on Pear Lake, my body turns into a little bitch once the altitude hits 8,000 feet or so, while just the city of Lhasa is sitting pretty at around 15,000 goddamn feet. A large chunk of time, unfortunately, may be spent acclimatizing to the altitude.

Why the hell would you do this?

It's kind of hard to explain. There's something oddly enchanting about this whole area. Everything is rooted in this deeply reverent spirituality that's extremely unique to that part of the world. I'm also increasingly a fan of the outdoors, and especially mountains, even given the unbelievable frustration I experience while trying to scale them. Oh, yeah, bragging rights.

Soon to be made inadequate person 1: "Oh yeah, I've backpacked Yosemite, NBD".

Me, ender of worlds for all braggers: "Oh yeah? Cool, man, let me know when you've trekked around Mt. fucking Everest.'

(finish all drinks on the table, stand up, flip table, strut)

How the hell are you gonna do this?

With a lot of planning. Most people seem to go through trekking services, and they basically set everything up for you. I'll probably do some mix of trekking services and my own planning to get everything done. The idea of hiring porters and the like to take care of your ignorant ass in the back-country of the Himalayas sounds like a strange necessity. I won't even hire a cheap maid to clean up our usual mess of an apartment. On the other hand, this being one of the most challenging and dangerous places to trek in the world, it might be a good idea. I'm a heavy guy, it's gonna take a few strong porters to carry my inevitably broken body down from the mountain.

Now, the interesting part, is going to get all of the necessary visas organized for the tip. Apparently, in order to be in Bhutan, you have to be prepared to shell out around $200/day. Now, this covers plenty, such as hotel, meals, guides, etc., but it's not really the type of traveling I like to do. I also plan on staying in a hotel as little as possible, so not quite sure how that's all gonna work out. Lhasa is an other place that may be difficult to get into. Be it that Tibet is now owned by China, I heard that one does not simply walk into Lhasa, but when you gain entry, at least there's plenty of freedom (haha!) to go around. Nepal should be easy, they just might wonder why some giant American is roaming their street eating everything he can get his hands on.

Upcoming Travel - India

Booked honeymoon tickets to India last night. Mostly staying in Kerala with a few days in The Andamans for diving, and Dubai on the way back. I plan to journal a lot while we're there so I can start having a more detailed travel blog. More updates to come soon.

Nets for catching man. The most dangerous game is an Indian delicacy.

Travel - NYE in NYC

I'd like to proudly state that I had the brilliant idea of celebrating New Years Eve (NYE) in New York City (NYC) this year. Well,  guess that distinction belongs to our friends who already live there, BUT I WANT SOME CREDIT, TOO. This trip basically capped off a giant vacation spanning a week with friends in LA, SF, and now NY. As you can imagine, a lot of what we did was eating, and drinking, and eating, then drinking some more.

For those of you who've been there, you already know that NYC is a city unlike any other in the world, in that you don;t need to own a vehicle and bars close at 4AM. We (List: Me, Indi, Chad, Maggie, Zain, Vincent, other people I'm forgetting) took full advantage of that. Our schedule was basically wake up late, eat a bunch, then meet up at some agreed destination to drink the day away. Now, our goal wasn't necessarily to drink all day. We mostly needed a place to meet up so we could do touristy things during the day, and what better place to meet than some great bar that someone knows! As you can imagine, we never really got anywhere or did anything, which was mostly fine because we were there to see people, and not landmarks.

New Year's Eve itself was probably one of the best NYEs I've ever celebrated. Our whole group had booked VIP tickets to a place called Times Scare just off of the main drag of Times Square (meaning a hell of a lot of people, but not as bad as it could have been). Equipped with an open bar with super nice bartenders (for those of us who learned to tip, even if it's an open bar) and a cheesy magic show, we were able to find a great area to sit and enjoy the evening as the clock counted down to 2012.

Not surprisingly, after three weeks straight of partying, I felt like hell. When it was finally time to board the plane home, I was exhausted, sick, and my clothes didn't fit correctly anymore. THen I realized how unhappy I get when I let myself go like that. I've always been a person who's body doesn't do too well when I eat fattening food. Eating poorly for a week will tip the scales in a pretty noticeable way. More than anything, this trip has taught me that even when you're on vacation, your health really matters. Every time I finish traveling somewhere, I get slightly depressed, and poor health is usually one of the causes. Recently in my travels, I've been sticking to paleo (you know, besides beers here and there) and really trying to work in physical activities, and I've noticed it's pretty easy to keep your weight in check. Now, this isn't me trying to be a shining endorsement for paleo, it's worked for me, I don't care what you eat. What I'm trying to come down to, is that even though traveling is usually a time widely thought to put aside health, being good to your body really fucking matters. Why? YOLO. See what I did there? That's what the actual meaning of YOLO should be, "Oh man, I'm being dumb and not taking care of myself!" "Yeah, man, you gotta be more careful YOLO, you know?".

If my belly before NYC were the size of a basketball,
 my belly after NYC would be the size of the Haydensphere!

Travel - Sequoia (Pear Lake)

I've always considered myself an outdoor person. Growing up, many of my weekends consisted of loading up in whatever sort of camping vehicle (tents, to tent-trailer, to trailer, etc.) we had at the time to head a few hours down the road to embrace the great outdoors. I like to think that I've done it all, and that my camping expertise is as good as the next adventurous person. Then I went backpacking.

Now, backpacking, different. fucking. animal. Even though we were only heading out on a 14 mile round trip for a day, planning was a nightmare. What should I bring? How much will I eat? How much does comfort matter? I'll simplify the answer to all of those questions by saying "roughly a metric fuckton". As you can imagine, I was pretty stressed figuring out all of these factors that I had previously thought I was an expert on. "Pfft, I've been to Burning Man and survived, it's just backpacking". Yeah, that statement was made...poorly.

After a night car-camping with Indi and our friend Jeff (an actual backpacking expert), we parked in the lot, I threw on my ill fitted and weighted pack, and we set out for Pear Lake. 10 minutes in, I fucking hurt. 10 damn minutes and I'm already thinking "10 minutes? Yeah that roughly translates to about 2 miles when backpacking, so we're almost there!". My guesses on distance travelled were starting to get a little depressing, so I stopped at where I thought was mile 55. One thing Jeff had warned us about, is that we're hiking at high altitude, and gaining 2k+ elevation on our way to our destination. He also warned us about something called "elevation shitiness" where pretty much everyone just starts to hate everyone else and everything around them. I didn't believe him, BUT I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED. Somewhere around the actual half-way point, this hit me. I had a headache, everyone was moving too quickly, and I kept getting left behind whenever I took a photo, and the realization finally hit me that Pear Lake was not just around the goddamn bend.

After a lot of swearing, pain, hunger, and dehydration, we finally arrive in Pear Lake. Oddly enough, I'm displeased that the damn hike was actually worth it. This is one of the most beautiful places I've ever hiked to in my entire life, and what's better, I'll have an opportunity to see sunset as well as rise since we're camping there. Now, I say displeased, because whenever I do an awful hike, I feel justified in my bitching if the end destination just isn't that great. (Un?)Fortunately, this destination was absolutely worth it.

Hello! I'm California's majesty! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!

Everyone's mood is immediately fixed once we got to Pear Lake, so we set up tents and even went for a dip in the hypothermia inducing lake (that swim didn't last long). Cue unbelievable hunger. Turns out, when you hike 7 miles through the mountains at 9k feet of elevation, your body requires a few more calories than sitting on your ass at home watching HBO GO. Cue ripping through nearly all the food we have. I've never been so hungry in my entire life. Taste didn't matter, I just needed calories. On top of our feeding frenzy it was now starting to get damn cold. Cue wearing most of the articles of clothing I brought.

My pride in my camping preparedness is now more than a little damaged right now, as it's 3AM, and the sky, after a bright and sunny day, opens up a and pours. Okay, I'm done, as soon as the sun comes up, we're getting the hell out of here. Everyone pretty much had the same sentiment in the morning. We packed up and got the hell out. The hike back was more pleasant and a lot faster. There's something about the return trip on a hike that makes your particularly smug, especially to the poor bastards going through the same outing that you just endured. There's nothing sweeter than getting back to the car and starting the long drive home.

Okay, so, maybe I'm not the expert I think I am. Even people who I though would be an expert (Jeff) struggled at certain points. While he was certainly more prepared, he wasn't exactly waltzing through the mountain meadows whistling tunes from The Sound of Music. Plenty of times in life, I've though I was an expert at a damn hefty handful of things, and what I've learned so far, over and over, is that no one is really an expert. There is always more to learn. Thinking you're an expert makes you overly comfortable, it can sometimes kill your ambition to strive to be better. Even if you are an expert, sometimes not everything works out perfectly, sometimes you aren't prepared. All you can do is learn and do a better job next time. You can always do a better job next time.

Travel - Kernville

I wanted to blog about this before I forget too many of the details. Chad was in town a few weeks back taking an in between jobs vacation. We basically had the entire time booked with activites, with enough gaps in between for spontaneity. Everyone likes camping, right? Well that happened to be one of the spontaneous things we did, camping...in Red Rock, CA, in the middle of the goddamn desert...during summer. Of course, this was to serve as a launch pad for a river tubing trip an hour or so away in Kernville. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We show up at Red Rock Campgrounds later in the afternoon (you know, as the sun was setting, and it wasn't balls hot). Everything is as going pretty well, including finding an easy campground next to a climbable rock formation. We end the night with a campfire and dinner made on a fire over some sticks.

The next morning, we wake up early, as in, 6AM early, which doesn't make me too happy when you consider how late we went to bed. We all get up and start getting ready to head to Kernville when the camp ranger comes by presumably to say hi (and also that we needed to pay for the second night). He gets out of his SUV, looks around, and starts acting like we're fucking crazy for camping in Red Rock in the summer. "So, what do you guys have planned for today?". "We're heading into Kernville for some beer and tubing." "Yeah...that's a good idea...". There's a pretty long pause, and we're all waiting for this guy to say something horrible like, "YEAH, THIS IS A STAGING AREA FOR THE NORTH KOREAN INVASION, MOVE ALONG". Turns out, it had been getting into the 100s with intense sunlight, not as dramatic, but still a good reason to get out.

An hour or son on the road, and we show up in Kernville. Now, being the beer geek that I am, I start giggling like a little girl about going to Kern River Brewing (you know, the makers of Citra DIPA, and Class V stout, and J.O. IPA). Unfortunately, the place is closed, so we head into the closest village looking area and sit down to some breakfast. So far, the only thing we've heard about the Kern river, is how horrendously dangerous it is, and how people die left and right. We're smarter than they are, right? Anyway, everything boiled down to "Drinking without a life vest on the river is a bad combination", simple enough. After we have breakfast, we wander around town, collecting supplies and gear for the rafting trip. The main problem that we have to overcome, is that we only have one car, in a small town, that has no taxi service. Typically, when you go rafting, you have a car at the river entry point, and a car at the end, so you can collect both cars at the end. We wrote it off as a trivial detail that we would figure out at the end, you know, after we had been drinking on a river all day.

Look, man, it's the only photo I have

After a quick stop for a morning beer at KRBC, we started driving up the road to start rafting down. After several people giving us serious warning about the danger of the river, I really didn't get it. The river was calm enough, some rapids here and there, only a few deep spots. Us 1 - River - 0. Everything is going pretty well, we're towing all the necessities in quintuple bagged plastic and a dry bag where we're dragging drinks. Half-way down, Chad makes an announcement (that in retrospect, seemed to be more cheerful than it should have been), that the dry bag had split open...Drinks were gone, my lucky flask is gone, Chad's wallet, oh yeah, THE ONLY SET OF KEYS TO THE CAR. All of these were somewhere on the bottom of Kern River, and we now had no way to get into my car, or get home. Lovely. Now, I'm not really prone to freaking out, but I definitely let things like this ruin my day, my mood just gets completely shot. Oddly enough, I really didn't care. As soon as it happened, I though "You know, this happened, what can we do about it? Nothing. We're still halfway down this river, and I'm sure as hell going to enjoy myself." Right then and there, I just decided that I'd still enjoy my vacation and worry about the consequences later (when we could actually do something). Everyone pretty quickly gets over it and we float the rest of the way down the river.

When we reach the end (about two hours later), we realize that the first thing we should do is return our life vests. Honestly, I just think we needed a victory. We run across the road and find that the shop hours are over, but there are still people inside. They let us in to return the vests, and we start brainstorming about what we can do. We really don't have any choice but to start calling parents (who live in Simi, the only other place with a spare key to my car), and start begging them to come get us. My mentality was "Okay, I was a pretty good kid, I never did drugs, burned anything down, or got anyone pregnant, maybe this will be my long, overdue screw-up!" After a few calls, my parents, graciously agree to drive 3.5 goddamn hours to bring us extra keys in Kernville. Now we just have some time to kill. Chad had the only wallet on the trip, which was now floating around somewhere on the Kern River. Explaining our plight to the cashier at the vest rental company, she said "Well, I have an etching of your card from when you rented the vests, let me see what I can do". She grabs a pen and write "These kids lost everything on the river, please be nice to them". We appreciated the gesture, but didn't expect it to do much good.

After leaving the vest shop, naturally, we went to the brewery again to try our luck with the piece of paper, a sad story, and a promise that we'll pay back whatever we eat and drink. Our bartender was amazing, she accepted our paper, and started serving us whatever we wanted on good faith. We had three hours to kill, so we got to work. As one last credit to the awesome people in Kernville, our bartender said "You know, if you guys can't get out of here tonight, you're more than welcome to stay at our place, you guys remind me of my kid who's done the same thing more than once." You don't get that in LA. Parents eventually show up to rescue the day, and after a drink with them, we head out to get my car. We were all pretty done camping at that point, so we went back to the campground, grabbed our stuff, and stayed in a hotel at California City.

That was the first time I can think of a time where I quickly and correctly analyzed a potentially disastrous situation, and I didn't freak out, and I decided that it wasn't going to ruin my day. I finally learned and put into practice that you can only take care of a problem, when you can take care of it. Sitting in the middle of a river, with no way to contact anyone, and no way to find our things, wasn't a time to take care of our problem, but it was a time to enjoy the scenery and great company. Except for Chad, because he fucked us.