Something happened to me at the pub in Horseshoe Bay yesterday that I did not share with Winfried or Chris. After lunch I headed to the washroom to empty my bladder before the trip home. A man in his 40s entered the washroom in few metres in front of me. When I entered he was at one of two urinals fit tightly side by side at the far end of room. He glanced over his shoulder at me as I entered.
I assumed he might be pee-shy or or homophobic so I nodded at him and went into a toilet stall to give him his privacy. But from the urinal he tried to engage me in a conversation, not about the weather but suggesting in a teasing manner that I was a drug dealer because I was using the stall. I assured him I wasn't but he continued this line of joking, suggesting instead that perhaps I was a spy following him.
I an excellent at logic and math, except when it comes to equations of human psychology. I had given him no reason to feel he was being pursued or threatened. I tried adding the clues in various ways, but they left me with only one logical answer as to why he would engage a stranger while his dick was hanging out of his pants in a public washroom. He probably wanted me to sidle up to the urinal beside him. As flattering and exciting as that moment seemed, I knew my reaction would have been catatonic and embarrassed. I certainly wasn't ready to do anything with him there.
"Is it true that spies always walk with a limp?" he continued unexpectedly as we washed our hands at the sink.
"I wouldn't exactly call it a limp," I mumbled hesitantly.
"What is it then?"
"I have muscular dystrophy. I am losing my ability to walk so I have some problems with my balance."
He looked at me full on. I hadn't had the courage to analyze his face before then. He had greying hair but a handsome, masculine face. His eyes filled with compassion as his voice softened and lost its jovial manner. "I am sorry to hear that."
Instantly my heart felt naked and raw. I wanted to lay my head on his muscular chest and feel his strong arms around me. I felt a pang of regret as I imagined seeing and touching his cock at the urinal, but my lust was mixed with self-pity.
He asked me if my condition was degenerative and if there was a treatment, but all I had for him was bad news. He wished me luck as he left the room. He reached out to hold the door for me, but I beat him to it. I wanted to show him that at least I could do that much for him. Not that it mattered.
The feelings stayed with me. While I waited in the parking lot an hour at Whytecliffe Park for Winfried and Chris to climb on the rocks below, my mind churned up a toxic, indigestible stew of desire and self-loathing. I must find a solution to this ever-expanding Achilles heel, a way to keep physical and emotional desires at bay or a way to enjoy them without them tearing me apart in the process. Then, and only then, will I be at peace with my condition.
"Today is the first day of the rest of your life." - Advice given by sadistic doctors to cancer patients
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Set free
For the past 3 days I have been hosting couch surfers Winfried and his girlfriend Chris from Cologne. They were wonderful guests, so enthusiastic, interested and respectful of my space. Winfried had contacted me in April to confirm the date. I knew he was anxious to come because of his subsequent e-mails and he had chosen me specifically because I was "interesting". I think that was because I was about their age (most couch surfers are 25 or under), gay, artistic and had traveled to Germany in my younger, more capable years.
Unfortunately, I was not as enthusiastic about their visit. I had already hosted friends and couch surfers 80% of April and May and almost 60% to that point of June to that point, and while all my guests in that period were wonderful, the overall loss of time, space and privacy was draining.
Winfried is very personable and full of questions, locking eyes over the rim of his spectacles while quizzing me on a variety of topics. Chris only spoke half a dozen words in English, equal to my knowledge of German, and was usually quiet as a mouse. After taking me to dinner on the first night I left them on their own the second day. They walked the new seawall by the convention centre and Coal Harbour before renting bicycles for a couple hours. The weather was cloudy but they enjoyed themselves.
Yesterday I took a vacation day so I could guide them around in a rented car. Winfried is not the most organized or best planned person and had not thought carefully about the logistics of how and when to rent cars while on Vancouver Island and traveling around BC next week before they leave on their Alaskan cruise. I had Googled and bookmarked a general website for car rentals in Vancouver Wednesday night but by Friday morning he had still not booked one, so most of Friday morning was spent doing that.
I took them first east to the Second Narrows Bridge and across to Deep Cove. From there I guided them to Lynn Canyon to see the suspension bridge, up through the highest streets against the mountains to get some hazy views of city and down to a pub in Horseshoe Bay for lunch. We visited Whytecliffe Park and took Marine Dr to the Lions Gate Bridge and then through Stanley Park's scenic drive on our way home to my place. I could have taken further, out to UBC and Spanish Banks, but they had seen enough and rush hour traffic was slowing us down.
The weather was excellent really, and I am sure they enjoyed themselves, but I spent much of the day waiting for them at the rented car while they climbed around terrain I would have had difficulty with: 10 minutes at Deep Cove, half an hour at Lynn Canyon, 10 minutes at the Cleveland Dam at Capilaino Lake, 20 minutes at Horseshoe Bay after lunch and nearly an hour at Whytecliffe Park. By the end of the day I had had enough. It seemed that Winfried had had enough too, as he often failed to comprehend simple navigation instructions I fed him. I am sure it was intellectually tiring to translate all day for Chris his questions to me and my responses and comments.
This morning was confused and disorganized as they tried to pack everything in the bags they had brought with them, but they did it and got away just on time to return the car and meet up with their next couch surfer who has a trailer near the ferry terminal in Tsawwassen. I headed off immediately to Joe's Diner for breakfast and a coffee. I could feel my stress and impatience melting away as I sat there.
I have no commitments for the rest of the month or for July, except that Mike from Fernie will be coming for 3 days from the 10th to the 12th. I want to focus on reviewing and editing the last pages of my novel I have written so far. I had set my 'availability' on the couch surfing website to "maybe" and have declined at least half a dozen requests to stay with me in the past week. This coming month will be for me, to honour and nurture myself ahead of any others for a change.
Unfortunately, I was not as enthusiastic about their visit. I had already hosted friends and couch surfers 80% of April and May and almost 60% to that point of June to that point, and while all my guests in that period were wonderful, the overall loss of time, space and privacy was draining.
Winfried is very personable and full of questions, locking eyes over the rim of his spectacles while quizzing me on a variety of topics. Chris only spoke half a dozen words in English, equal to my knowledge of German, and was usually quiet as a mouse. After taking me to dinner on the first night I left them on their own the second day. They walked the new seawall by the convention centre and Coal Harbour before renting bicycles for a couple hours. The weather was cloudy but they enjoyed themselves.
Yesterday I took a vacation day so I could guide them around in a rented car. Winfried is not the most organized or best planned person and had not thought carefully about the logistics of how and when to rent cars while on Vancouver Island and traveling around BC next week before they leave on their Alaskan cruise. I had Googled and bookmarked a general website for car rentals in Vancouver Wednesday night but by Friday morning he had still not booked one, so most of Friday morning was spent doing that.
I took them first east to the Second Narrows Bridge and across to Deep Cove. From there I guided them to Lynn Canyon to see the suspension bridge, up through the highest streets against the mountains to get some hazy views of city and down to a pub in Horseshoe Bay for lunch. We visited Whytecliffe Park and took Marine Dr to the Lions Gate Bridge and then through Stanley Park's scenic drive on our way home to my place. I could have taken further, out to UBC and Spanish Banks, but they had seen enough and rush hour traffic was slowing us down.
The weather was excellent really, and I am sure they enjoyed themselves, but I spent much of the day waiting for them at the rented car while they climbed around terrain I would have had difficulty with: 10 minutes at Deep Cove, half an hour at Lynn Canyon, 10 minutes at the Cleveland Dam at Capilaino Lake, 20 minutes at Horseshoe Bay after lunch and nearly an hour at Whytecliffe Park. By the end of the day I had had enough. It seemed that Winfried had had enough too, as he often failed to comprehend simple navigation instructions I fed him. I am sure it was intellectually tiring to translate all day for Chris his questions to me and my responses and comments.
This morning was confused and disorganized as they tried to pack everything in the bags they had brought with them, but they did it and got away just on time to return the car and meet up with their next couch surfer who has a trailer near the ferry terminal in Tsawwassen. I headed off immediately to Joe's Diner for breakfast and a coffee. I could feel my stress and impatience melting away as I sat there.
I have no commitments for the rest of the month or for July, except that Mike from Fernie will be coming for 3 days from the 10th to the 12th. I want to focus on reviewing and editing the last pages of my novel I have written so far. I had set my 'availability' on the couch surfing website to "maybe" and have declined at least half a dozen requests to stay with me in the past week. This coming month will be for me, to honour and nurture myself ahead of any others for a change.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Changing couch surfers
All of the first week back from Utah I was struggling to catch up on my sleep. I thought I had caught up this past weekend but last night I could hardly get out of bed after almost 9 hrs of sleep. My waking dream was one where I kept thinking I was awake, knowing that it was time to get up, but when I struggled out of bed and down the long hallway to my bathroom the door handle wouldn’t open. Wait a minute, I don’t have a long hallway down to my bathroom and that’s not the right shape of the door handle. I’m still asleep.
And so it went over and over, each time starting over at the bed and doing everything I could to open my eyes. At one time I struggled out of bed in a panic because my eyelids, in spite of my best effort, refused to open. I was standing, leaning on my window sill telling myself not to panic, that the doctors would be able to do something, when I remembered that I do not have a window sill high enough to lean on. By the time I did get my eyelids to open, my heart was pounding like a drum and I was in a total sweat. I have to lay off the melatonin that makes me dream so much.
Fred and Eric (Ereek), my two French couch surfers moved out yesterday to make space for my next two visitors. Of course, living with me had become second nature as we got along so easily. They had lived with me 26 days in March/April and 14 days this month. Their presence had become habitual and although part of me wanted my space back, a large part of me wants them to stay forever. I can be an irritable, territorial cuss at times but then there are some people who I can never be angry with. I had become used to my kettle, iron and certain bowls being put away in new places and somehow that never bothered me. Their presence is more than calming. It seems to alter my very nature, like a stain that fades when constantly exposed to the sun. Even they lamented that the three of us could not find a larger place where we could live together permanently. I can’t receive a higher compliment than that.
They had to move by early afternoon because my next couch surfers were arriving at the airport at 3. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy as they were resisting the move. They had been working most days at the restaurant and yesterday they met with their manager to begin the process to apply for permanent resident papers. When they got home they were more concerned about finding an immigration lawyer than packing.
Their personal belongings had gradually spread to most corners of my condo and they had gradually been acquiring more things as time passed. Once they had their backpacks and other bags packed, I did a quick tour of the condo to gather up things they had forgotten. There were devices plugged into various sockets, hidden under the couch, hanging in the closet and food in the refrigerator and cupboards. Most of these they left behind, along with Fred’s guitar, because they already had more than they could carry. It was also raining heavily, heavier than I had seen it rain in a couple months.
Winfried and Chris, my new German couch surfers, arrived around 5:30. Their plane was late and it took them longer than expected to get through the baggage. The airline had required them to repack their bags to reduce the weight of one of the heavier bags.
That gave me more time to clean. I’m not sure if it was the act of cleaning, the emotions of saying goodbye to the boys or the stress of greeting and responding to new guests that exhausted me so much. It was 3am Cologne time when Winfried and Chris arrived but they seemed to be holding up well. They were excited and a bit confused by the change, but not too tired. After an hour and a half of relaxing and talking we headed out for a sushi dinner at Kadoya, my favourite sushi restaurant. It was a real treat.
I suggested a short walk up Davie St to give the tour of the neighbourhood after dinner, but the first block exhausted their remaining adrenaline and we had to return to the condo. I gave them my room for privacy and comfort while slept on the couch in the living room. Sometimes the noise of the traffic and hooligans on the sidewalks below keep me awake when I sleep there, but not last night!
And so it went over and over, each time starting over at the bed and doing everything I could to open my eyes. At one time I struggled out of bed in a panic because my eyelids, in spite of my best effort, refused to open. I was standing, leaning on my window sill telling myself not to panic, that the doctors would be able to do something, when I remembered that I do not have a window sill high enough to lean on. By the time I did get my eyelids to open, my heart was pounding like a drum and I was in a total sweat. I have to lay off the melatonin that makes me dream so much.
Fred and Eric (Ereek), my two French couch surfers moved out yesterday to make space for my next two visitors. Of course, living with me had become second nature as we got along so easily. They had lived with me 26 days in March/April and 14 days this month. Their presence had become habitual and although part of me wanted my space back, a large part of me wants them to stay forever. I can be an irritable, territorial cuss at times but then there are some people who I can never be angry with. I had become used to my kettle, iron and certain bowls being put away in new places and somehow that never bothered me. Their presence is more than calming. It seems to alter my very nature, like a stain that fades when constantly exposed to the sun. Even they lamented that the three of us could not find a larger place where we could live together permanently. I can’t receive a higher compliment than that.
They had to move by early afternoon because my next couch surfers were arriving at the airport at 3. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy as they were resisting the move. They had been working most days at the restaurant and yesterday they met with their manager to begin the process to apply for permanent resident papers. When they got home they were more concerned about finding an immigration lawyer than packing.
Their personal belongings had gradually spread to most corners of my condo and they had gradually been acquiring more things as time passed. Once they had their backpacks and other bags packed, I did a quick tour of the condo to gather up things they had forgotten. There were devices plugged into various sockets, hidden under the couch, hanging in the closet and food in the refrigerator and cupboards. Most of these they left behind, along with Fred’s guitar, because they already had more than they could carry. It was also raining heavily, heavier than I had seen it rain in a couple months.
Winfried and Chris, my new German couch surfers, arrived around 5:30. Their plane was late and it took them longer than expected to get through the baggage. The airline had required them to repack their bags to reduce the weight of one of the heavier bags.
That gave me more time to clean. I’m not sure if it was the act of cleaning, the emotions of saying goodbye to the boys or the stress of greeting and responding to new guests that exhausted me so much. It was 3am Cologne time when Winfried and Chris arrived but they seemed to be holding up well. They were excited and a bit confused by the change, but not too tired. After an hour and a half of relaxing and talking we headed out for a sushi dinner at Kadoya, my favourite sushi restaurant. It was a real treat.
I suggested a short walk up Davie St to give the tour of the neighbourhood after dinner, but the first block exhausted their remaining adrenaline and we had to return to the condo. I gave them my room for privacy and comfort while slept on the couch in the living room. Sometimes the noise of the traffic and hooligans on the sidewalks below keep me awake when I sleep there, but not last night!
Friday, June 19, 2009
JUNE 15 – the route home
We ate breakfast early, shortly after the restaurant next door opened at 7 am. Then, after a couple of shots of the Manti Temple, we headed north on Hwy 89 to Ephraim where we waited half an hour for our flat tire to be repaired.
I didn’t plan this to be a day for taking pictures. I had researched various routes beforehand looking for the shortest way to get back to I-15 and north to Salt Lake City before noon so that we could relax and take it easy before our flight. I found a small side route that would reach the freeway in less than an hour, but Michal’s GPS told him the fastest route would be north on the bigger Hwy 89 to Spanish Fork Canyon which was clearly longer on the map, and it joined the freeway half an hour further north. 
Michal scoffed at me for suggesting that I thought I knew more than his GPS. He said I was just like his uncle, who two days earlier he had described as incapable of adapting to changes around him, adding that it was best just to put up with him without trying, and that real societal change wouldn’t happen until his uncle’s generation (i.e. my generation) died off. I took his assessment as a personal insult and it really hurt.
He was pissed off at me too, for taking my role as navigator too seriously and teasing him for having an addiction to his GPS. We scarcely spoke to each other for the rest of the trip. It didn’t help that both the top end of Hwy 89 and Rte 6 through Spanish Fork Canyon were under construction with several points where we needed to stop and wait before proceeding. I said nothing but to reassure him that we still had plenty of time, but the real salt in his wound was a small pebble that broke our windshield at the end of the construction zone just before we reached the freeway. It’s a small star-shaped crack that might to fixable with a glue treatment but we won’t know the cost for couple more weeks.
We returned the jeep and caught the shuttle to the airport and made it through security in plenty of time. The first leg of our trip home was a flight to Phoenix where we had a 4 hr stopover. We shared two greasy mini-pizzas in the airport, the only food we had after our early breakfast that day. Michal left me to wander around the terminal while I read my novel. The flight to SeaTac arrived half an hour early and by 8:10pm we were speeding north on I-5 towards Vancouver.
I waited until we made it through the border before I tried to mend the hard feelings between us. I thanked him for watching over me and helping me whenever I needed help throughout the trip. I reminded him that I could never so such a trip on my own and that I was very grateful to him for making it possible. We exchanged a warm handshake as he dropped me off, his sole gesture of affection during the trip. As a parting chide, I asked him if he knew how to find his way back to his route home, a trip he has made dozens of times. Before he could answer I suggested he enter his home address into his GPS. That made him smile.
No one was home when I opened the door to my apartment. It was around 11pm. I hurriedly made some scrambled eggs and toast to settle my rumbling stomach.
PHOTO 1: Manti Temple
PHOTO 2: in Ephraim
PHOTO 3: Hwy 89 at Birdseye
I didn’t plan this to be a day for taking pictures. I had researched various routes beforehand looking for the shortest way to get back to I-15 and north to Salt Lake City before noon so that we could relax and take it easy before our flight. I found a small side route that would reach the freeway in less than an hour, but Michal’s GPS told him the fastest route would be north on the bigger Hwy 89 to Spanish Fork Canyon which was clearly longer on the map, and it joined the freeway half an hour further north. 
Michal scoffed at me for suggesting that I thought I knew more than his GPS. He said I was just like his uncle, who two days earlier he had described as incapable of adapting to changes around him, adding that it was best just to put up with him without trying, and that real societal change wouldn’t happen until his uncle’s generation (i.e. my generation) died off. I took his assessment as a personal insult and it really hurt.
He was pissed off at me too, for taking my role as navigator too seriously and teasing him for having an addiction to his GPS. We scarcely spoke to each other for the rest of the trip. It didn’t help that both the top end of Hwy 89 and Rte 6 through Spanish Fork Canyon were under construction with several points where we needed to stop and wait before proceeding. I said nothing but to reassure him that we still had plenty of time, but the real salt in his wound was a small pebble that broke our windshield at the end of the construction zone just before we reached the freeway. It’s a small star-shaped crack that might to fixable with a glue treatment but we won’t know the cost for couple more weeks.
We returned the jeep and caught the shuttle to the airport and made it through security in plenty of time. The first leg of our trip home was a flight to Phoenix where we had a 4 hr stopover. We shared two greasy mini-pizzas in the airport, the only food we had after our early breakfast that day. Michal left me to wander around the terminal while I read my novel. The flight to SeaTac arrived half an hour early and by 8:10pm we were speeding north on I-5 towards Vancouver.
I waited until we made it through the border before I tried to mend the hard feelings between us. I thanked him for watching over me and helping me whenever I needed help throughout the trip. I reminded him that I could never so such a trip on my own and that I was very grateful to him for making it possible. We exchanged a warm handshake as he dropped me off, his sole gesture of affection during the trip. As a parting chide, I asked him if he knew how to find his way back to his route home, a trip he has made dozens of times. Before he could answer I suggested he enter his home address into his GPS. That made him smile.
No one was home when I opened the door to my apartment. It was around 11pm. I hurriedly made some scrambled eggs and toast to settle my rumbling stomach.
PHOTO 1: Manti Temple
PHOTO 2: in Ephraim
PHOTO 3: Hwy 89 at Birdseye
JUNE 14 – Escalante to Manti
This was the big day that took us through the major national parks that inspired our trip at the beginning: Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks. We also needed to come most of the way north to be within easy reach of the Salt Lake Airport the following morning. We got an earlier start after a breakfast at The Outfitter restaurant and gift shop. I had a rather severe headache from lack of food and coffee and very blurry vision from reading for hours while Michal slept. My first cup of coffee cured my headache but my blurry vision took longer. I accidentally bought an XL T-shirt for a friend instead of a medium size.
The morning sun behind us gave a warm glow to the hills around Henrieville and Tropic as we headed west on Hwy 12 towards Bryce Canyon. We would have stopped for photos at points but I was in a panic. My coffee was working for Roto-Router and shortly after we left Escalante I was in desperate need of a toilet. Michal did his best but there wasn’t much open in small Mormon towns on a Sunday morning. Finally we found a KOA Campground in Tropic that was open. Wheeewwww!!
Bryce Canyon NP starts just beyond Tropic. It’s not really a canyon: it’s the eroded edge of a huge mesa, eroded into an astonishing, uncountable number of hoodoos and other colourful, decorative formations. The panorama from the top of the cliffs is totally breath-taking. Similar coloured cliffs and formations are found throughout the region, even outside the state and national parks, but never as ornate or intense as at Bryce Canyon. Bryce was one of the first Mormon ranchers in the area. As he once said, it’s a hell of a place to lose a cow.
There was a $25 admission fee. We followed the scenic drive 18 miles south and back. By 1:30 we were headed west again through Red Canyon to Hwy 89, and from there south to Hwy 9, where we turned west to Zion National Park.
Zion is nothing like Bryce, except for the admission fee. Its main features are giant rock “kolobs” of red stone towering thousands of feet above the valley floor, like giant loaves of bread cut in half. Hwy 9 becomes a narrow red path squirming its way around red sandstone mounds and gullies across the south end of the park. Then it cascades in switchbacks into a lower valley. The Visitor Centre is near the west entrance. From there visitors can take a shuttle bus up the scenic Virgin River valley, but we didn’t have time for that. We stopped for lunch in Springdale just outside the park, a heavy prime rib dinner that threatened to put Michal to sleep.
We skirted around the south edge of the park and re-entered it at the NW corner where a short road climbs to a high viewpoint over a panorama of incredible kolobs. They face west so the afternoon sun lit them beautifully.
By then it was late afternoon and we were under the gun to reach Manti many miles to the north by nightfall. We passed Cedar Breaks National Monument while crossing the mountains back to the east. There we reached out highest point on our trip, 10,000 ft (3000m) and there were occasional patches of snow still lingering in the meadows. We sped downhill from there, past Panguitch Lake to the town of Panguitch where we reconnected with Hwy 89. We lost half an hour at a gas station there trying to get gas out of pumps that weren’t pumping properly. North of there Hwy 89 went through a series of narrow canyons as we chased storm clouds and gusty winds buffeted our jeep. The twilight faded to black in the closing miles coming into Manti.
The town was as dead as a cemetery that Sunday night but we did manage to find one convenience store open. I bought myself a stale ham and cheese sandwich that had survived the weekend and Michal bought corn chips and salsa. That was dinner. Our final hotel of the trip had a hot tub and two queen-sized beds, much to Michal’s relief. The hot tub was a disappointment as the water was lukewarm at best, but at least he had his own bed and Quasimodo was a safe distance away in the other bed.
PHOTO 1: Bryce Canyon, Sunset Point
PHOTO 2: Moi, and the Natural Arch, Bryce Canyon
PHOTO 3: tunnel in Red Canyon
PHOTO 4: Hwy 9 through Zion NP
PHOTO 5: Virgin R Valley, Zion NP
PHOTO 6: Michal & Kolobs, Zion NP north
PHOTO 7: Cedar Breaks National Monument
The morning sun behind us gave a warm glow to the hills around Henrieville and Tropic as we headed west on Hwy 12 towards Bryce Canyon. We would have stopped for photos at points but I was in a panic. My coffee was working for Roto-Router and shortly after we left Escalante I was in desperate need of a toilet. Michal did his best but there wasn’t much open in small Mormon towns on a Sunday morning. Finally we found a KOA Campground in Tropic that was open. Wheeewwww!!
Bryce Canyon NP starts just beyond Tropic. It’s not really a canyon: it’s the eroded edge of a huge mesa, eroded into an astonishing, uncountable number of hoodoos and other colourful, decorative formations. The panorama from the top of the cliffs is totally breath-taking. Similar coloured cliffs and formations are found throughout the region, even outside the state and national parks, but never as ornate or intense as at Bryce Canyon. Bryce was one of the first Mormon ranchers in the area. As he once said, it’s a hell of a place to lose a cow.
There was a $25 admission fee. We followed the scenic drive 18 miles south and back. By 1:30 we were headed west again through Red Canyon to Hwy 89, and from there south to Hwy 9, where we turned west to Zion National Park.
Zion is nothing like Bryce, except for the admission fee. Its main features are giant rock “kolobs” of red stone towering thousands of feet above the valley floor, like giant loaves of bread cut in half. Hwy 9 becomes a narrow red path squirming its way around red sandstone mounds and gullies across the south end of the park. Then it cascades in switchbacks into a lower valley. The Visitor Centre is near the west entrance. From there visitors can take a shuttle bus up the scenic Virgin River valley, but we didn’t have time for that. We stopped for lunch in Springdale just outside the park, a heavy prime rib dinner that threatened to put Michal to sleep.
We skirted around the south edge of the park and re-entered it at the NW corner where a short road climbs to a high viewpoint over a panorama of incredible kolobs. They face west so the afternoon sun lit them beautifully.
By then it was late afternoon and we were under the gun to reach Manti many miles to the north by nightfall. We passed Cedar Breaks National Monument while crossing the mountains back to the east. There we reached out highest point on our trip, 10,000 ft (3000m) and there were occasional patches of snow still lingering in the meadows. We sped downhill from there, past Panguitch Lake to the town of Panguitch where we reconnected with Hwy 89. We lost half an hour at a gas station there trying to get gas out of pumps that weren’t pumping properly. North of there Hwy 89 went through a series of narrow canyons as we chased storm clouds and gusty winds buffeted our jeep. The twilight faded to black in the closing miles coming into Manti. The town was as dead as a cemetery that Sunday night but we did manage to find one convenience store open. I bought myself a stale ham and cheese sandwich that had survived the weekend and Michal bought corn chips and salsa. That was dinner. Our final hotel of the trip had a hot tub and two queen-sized beds, much to Michal’s relief. The hot tub was a disappointment as the water was lukewarm at best, but at least he had his own bed and Quasimodo was a safe distance away in the other bed.
PHOTO 1: Bryce Canyon, Sunset Point
PHOTO 2: Moi, and the Natural Arch, Bryce Canyon
PHOTO 3: tunnel in Red Canyon
PHOTO 4: Hwy 9 through Zion NP
PHOTO 5: Virgin R Valley, Zion NP
PHOTO 6: Michal & Kolobs, Zion NP north
PHOTO 7: Cedar Breaks National Monument
Thursday, June 18, 2009
JUNE 13 – Capitol Reef NP and the Burr Trail
One night’s sleep wasn’t enough to catch up but it sure helped. We awoke to sunshine. The hotel, located on a rise, had beautiful views all around to Capitol Reef in the distance and of the town of Torrey on the other side. We sauntered over to the restaurant and helped ourselves to the breakfast buffet. The powdered eggs had the consistency of cushion foam but I ate them anyway. They were as friendly as the people of Torrey. They visited me off and on for the rest of the day.
We had an encounter with the cutest little lizard of the way back to our room. When Michal crouched down to photograph it, it tried to take cover by hiding under his heel and he almost crushed it.
We bought rocks, T-shirts and postcards at the gift shop and then went to the post office to buy stamps. Torrey is a quaint, tree-lined village of less than 200 people so there wasn’t much of a grocery store. We planned to spend most of the day on back roads far from any highway or town so we bought a couple bananas, a package of dried mangoes, two samosa-sized ham and egg croissants and two large bottles of water on the off chance we might be stranded. We would not pass any other towns before we reached tonight’s destination, Escalante.
We sped off NE to Capitol Reef NP where the Fremont River cuts a narrow canyon through the giant reef that runs 150 miles from Cathedral Valley to its southern tip. Its tall cliffs and domes stood impressive and colourful on either sides of Hwy 24 which follows the winding river. We made a brief visit to the Visitor Centre and the ancient Fremont Indian petroglyphs before following the scenic route south along the base of the western edge of the “reef” and explored the stunning Grand Wash and Capitol Gorge. I had hoped our jeep could make it through the tight canyon of Capitol Gorge to the east side of the reef, the route used by Mormons in the 19th century to cross the Reef, but the passage was blocked to prevent imbeciles n RVs from trying to go through.
We returned north to Hwy 24 and followed it east to the Notom-Bullfrog Rd, a dirt road that runs south outside the park boundary along its east side of the Reef. It follows the valley floor of a broad fold as long and impressive as the Reef itself, called the Waterpocket Fold. I was concerned that it might be as rough as the service road we had used the night before, but for the first half hour it was paved and we made excellent time. The steep sides of the Fold were far away at this point and we passed several ranches and the occasional irrigated field.
The paved road ended but the dirt road was in good condition. We reached a fork in the road where there was no clear indication which way to turn. Michal’s GPS didn’t give us much assistance. We tried the right fork first which led to private lands. A second fork led to another private estate, Sandy’s Ranch, so we tried the east fork. For the first few miles it looked right as it followed the east side of the Fold, but then it turned into a rugged canyon and climbed the steep cliffs. I knew it was the wrong road then but wanted to see the canyon.
We climbed to the top hoping to get a view of the Fold for our efforts, but the road turned east across the broad, featureless desert. Michal continued to follow it in spite of my complaints that it was heading in a completely wrong direction. Finally, out of worry and frustration, I told him I would not navigate if he continued. It would have been more appropriate to say I couldn’t navigate the route wasn’t showing up on GPS and I had not researched anything east of the Fold, but Michal didn’t like my tone and sat in a silent huff for an hour hundred miles away on the other side of the jeep.
The correct but unsigned route was through Sandy’s Ranch. The “private property” signs had deceived us at first. The ranch was set on top of a small plateau in the centre of the Fold and afforded us some compelling views of the valley ahead, which helped ease some of the icy tensions inside our car. We dropped to the valley floor as the road continued south. The canyon walls of the Fold closed in around us and the landscape became surreal. On our immediate left were a rolling series of grey clay-like humps about 50 ft high, streaked with bands of burgundy-coloured soil. Next to us on our right, jagged 30 to 50 ft ridges of harder, gold-coloured rock jutted up diagonally away from us, like pressure ridges of Arctic ice. Behind these formations the steep cliffs of the sides of the Fold rose a thousand feet on either side.
Forty miles south of Hwy 24 (not counting our unexpected detours) we finally reached the intersection with the Burr Trail that leads 40 miles west to Hwy 12 south of the village of Boulder. After half a mile, it climbs a series of narrow, harrowing switch backs the full height of the tall cliffs. Near the top it became increasingly scary.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar signal light came on and Michal stopped the jeep. We checked the manual and it told us there was a leak in one of our tires. I was silently freaking out as Michal walked around the jeep as the edge of the unguarded drop off checking the tires. The left rear tire was half flat. Michal was hesitant to proceed to the top of the cliff for fear of damaging the rim of the tire but it was too dangerous to try to change it where we were.
We continued on half a mile to the flat top of the mesa. Neither of us were experienced at changing tires. Michal fiddled with the jack while I read the manual, being useless at doing much else as I was unable to get down on the ground and back up again. The desert wind was strong and filled with sand, but our situation soon improved. Two local men in their 50s stopped their car and came to our rescue. A few minutes later the spare was on and we were rolling westward again.
Our mini-crisis melted the ice between Michal and I and we chatted like happy friends again. The flat tire warning indicator light came back on and caused us concern but it was a false alarm. Just in case we hurried towards Hwy 12 in case we might need to be towed. The scenery along the Burr Trail, especially around the Circle Cliffs and in the Long Canyon, was spectacular but we didn’t want to stop long for photos.
It was a great relief to reach Hwy 12. The smooth surface and increased traffic was reassuring, given our malfunctioning indicator light, but there was still no sign of a second flat. We were now in a region called the Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument, a high plateau of whitish rock carved up by streams and rivers. At one point, the highway followed the crest of a ridge that separated two deep canyons.
Michal was silent again, this time out of tiredness. We rolled into Escalante and into the Circle D Motel where I had booked a cheap room for the night. It was nothing classy. The toilet was gurgling and there were cracks in the bathroom paint. The proprietor showed us menus for the restaurants in town and couple of them looked very interesting, but Michal was over-tired and fell asleep right away. I didn’t want to disturb him as he really needed the rest. It was my itinerary that had exhausted him. He woke up after the last restaurants were closed so we went without dinner.
PHOTO 1: Scenic drive, west side of Capitol Reef
PHOTO 2: Waterpocket Fold overview
PHOTO 3: surreal landscapes, Waterpocket Fold
PHOTO 4: Burr Trail approaching the switch backs
PHOTO 5: in Long Canyon, Burr Trail
PHOTO 6: Hwy 12, Escalante Grand Staircase
We had an encounter with the cutest little lizard of the way back to our room. When Michal crouched down to photograph it, it tried to take cover by hiding under his heel and he almost crushed it.
We bought rocks, T-shirts and postcards at the gift shop and then went to the post office to buy stamps. Torrey is a quaint, tree-lined village of less than 200 people so there wasn’t much of a grocery store. We planned to spend most of the day on back roads far from any highway or town so we bought a couple bananas, a package of dried mangoes, two samosa-sized ham and egg croissants and two large bottles of water on the off chance we might be stranded. We would not pass any other towns before we reached tonight’s destination, Escalante.
We sped off NE to Capitol Reef NP where the Fremont River cuts a narrow canyon through the giant reef that runs 150 miles from Cathedral Valley to its southern tip. Its tall cliffs and domes stood impressive and colourful on either sides of Hwy 24 which follows the winding river. We made a brief visit to the Visitor Centre and the ancient Fremont Indian petroglyphs before following the scenic route south along the base of the western edge of the “reef” and explored the stunning Grand Wash and Capitol Gorge. I had hoped our jeep could make it through the tight canyon of Capitol Gorge to the east side of the reef, the route used by Mormons in the 19th century to cross the Reef, but the passage was blocked to prevent imbeciles n RVs from trying to go through.
We returned north to Hwy 24 and followed it east to the Notom-Bullfrog Rd, a dirt road that runs south outside the park boundary along its east side of the Reef. It follows the valley floor of a broad fold as long and impressive as the Reef itself, called the Waterpocket Fold. I was concerned that it might be as rough as the service road we had used the night before, but for the first half hour it was paved and we made excellent time. The steep sides of the Fold were far away at this point and we passed several ranches and the occasional irrigated field. 
The paved road ended but the dirt road was in good condition. We reached a fork in the road where there was no clear indication which way to turn. Michal’s GPS didn’t give us much assistance. We tried the right fork first which led to private lands. A second fork led to another private estate, Sandy’s Ranch, so we tried the east fork. For the first few miles it looked right as it followed the east side of the Fold, but then it turned into a rugged canyon and climbed the steep cliffs. I knew it was the wrong road then but wanted to see the canyon. We climbed to the top hoping to get a view of the Fold for our efforts, but the road turned east across the broad, featureless desert. Michal continued to follow it in spite of my complaints that it was heading in a completely wrong direction. Finally, out of worry and frustration, I told him I would not navigate if he continued. It would have been more appropriate to say I couldn’t navigate the route wasn’t showing up on GPS and I had not researched anything east of the Fold, but Michal didn’t like my tone and sat in a silent huff for an hour hundred miles away on the other side of the jeep.
The correct but unsigned route was through Sandy’s Ranch. The “private property” signs had deceived us at first. The ranch was set on top of a small plateau in the centre of the Fold and afforded us some compelling views of the valley ahead, which helped ease some of the icy tensions inside our car. We dropped to the valley floor as the road continued south. The canyon walls of the Fold closed in around us and the landscape became surreal. On our immediate left were a rolling series of grey clay-like humps about 50 ft high, streaked with bands of burgundy-coloured soil. Next to us on our right, jagged 30 to 50 ft ridges of harder, gold-coloured rock jutted up diagonally away from us, like pressure ridges of Arctic ice. Behind these formations the steep cliffs of the sides of the Fold rose a thousand feet on either side.
Forty miles south of Hwy 24 (not counting our unexpected detours) we finally reached the intersection with the Burr Trail that leads 40 miles west to Hwy 12 south of the village of Boulder. After half a mile, it climbs a series of narrow, harrowing switch backs the full height of the tall cliffs. Near the top it became increasingly scary. Suddenly, an unfamiliar signal light came on and Michal stopped the jeep. We checked the manual and it told us there was a leak in one of our tires. I was silently freaking out as Michal walked around the jeep as the edge of the unguarded drop off checking the tires. The left rear tire was half flat. Michal was hesitant to proceed to the top of the cliff for fear of damaging the rim of the tire but it was too dangerous to try to change it where we were.
We continued on half a mile to the flat top of the mesa. Neither of us were experienced at changing tires. Michal fiddled with the jack while I read the manual, being useless at doing much else as I was unable to get down on the ground and back up again. The desert wind was strong and filled with sand, but our situation soon improved. Two local men in their 50s stopped their car and came to our rescue. A few minutes later the spare was on and we were rolling westward again.
Our mini-crisis melted the ice between Michal and I and we chatted like happy friends again. The flat tire warning indicator light came back on and caused us concern but it was a false alarm. Just in case we hurried towards Hwy 12 in case we might need to be towed. The scenery along the Burr Trail, especially around the Circle Cliffs and in the Long Canyon, was spectacular but we didn’t want to stop long for photos.
It was a great relief to reach Hwy 12. The smooth surface and increased traffic was reassuring, given our malfunctioning indicator light, but there was still no sign of a second flat. We were now in a region called the Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument, a high plateau of whitish rock carved up by streams and rivers. At one point, the highway followed the crest of a ridge that separated two deep canyons.
Michal was silent again, this time out of tiredness. We rolled into Escalante and into the Circle D Motel where I had booked a cheap room for the night. It was nothing classy. The toilet was gurgling and there were cracks in the bathroom paint. The proprietor showed us menus for the restaurants in town and couple of them looked very interesting, but Michal was over-tired and fell asleep right away. I didn’t want to disturb him as he really needed the rest. It was my itinerary that had exhausted him. He woke up after the last restaurants were closed so we went without dinner.
PHOTO 1: Scenic drive, west side of Capitol Reef
PHOTO 2: Waterpocket Fold overview
PHOTO 3: surreal landscapes, Waterpocket Fold
PHOTO 4: Burr Trail approaching the switch backs
PHOTO 5: in Long Canyon, Burr Trail
PHOTO 6: Hwy 12, Escalante Grand Staircase
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
JUNE 11-12 - trip to Capitol Reef, UT
This day was hugely long, all 41 hours of it. It began at 6am the morning of the day before we left and ended at 11pm the following day. It had a lot of parts to it. There was the laundry, packing and some last minute cleaning, and of course I spent 8 hrs being a civil serpent.
I had enough time though. Michal didn't get away from Kelowna as early as planned last Thursday. He didn't get to my place until almost 10. Meanwhile Eric, one of my two French couch surfers, was suffering from resistant cold and we had filled a bowl of half boiling water and eucalyptus oil for him. He had his face over the bowl with a towel over his head to trap the fumes in. He looked a bit like the Elephant Man. Problem was, I had added too much eucalyptus oil and the fumes were frying our nose hairs. We were playing a game of seeing who could last the longest breathing the fumes when Michal arrived. He hit it off with the boys well so I left them chatting enthusiastically while I slept for an hour and a half, the only sleep I got that day.
At 1:30am we set off in Michal's jeep for Seattle and made it to SeaTac airport around 4am. We reclined our seats and tried sleeping for an hour in the most contorted positions, something no chiropractor would recommend unless he wanted to increase his practice. So the day of arrival began in the chilly morning air of an ugly parking lot already aching for sleep.
The shuttle picked us up around 4:50 shortly after Michal discovered he had misplaced his wallet and ID. He found it at the last moment. I wasn't sure I'd be able to climb into the shuttle but I did. It wasn't pretty. Not long after we were airborne and headed for somewhat sunnier skies. The airline offered us complimentary juices and Trick-r-Treat-sized packages of peanuts for $3. The feature movie was "Snacks on a Plane".
Michal and I had only brought carry on bags so our escape was swift. Finding the shuttle bus to our car rental place, which was located a few miles from the airport, was another matter. The shuttle was even harder to get into than the first one but I'm sure I was great entertainment for the small audience watching. The 4-wheel drive Michal rented on-line turned out to be a 2-wheel drive, "...but for an extra $20 per day we can offer you this special deal on what you requested in the first place." Michal talked them down to $10/day more and we took it. The 4x shift never worked anyway, but it was the increased clearance from the road surface that we really wanted it for.
Our first destination was Temple Square at the heart of Salt Lake City, the Mormon heart of this Mormon State. The entire area seemed to be under construction. There was no place to park and the two shots we got of the famous Salt Lake Temple were marred by traffic lights and construction cranes. We took a short run up past the State Capitol Building to get a hazy view of the city from Ensign Vista Park. The snow-covered Wasatch Mountain Range to the east was the most impressive part of the view. SLC is low-rise with a small central core, with a very small city feel. At this point I realized that I had put a 32 mb memory card in my camera instead of the 2 gb one, and the memory card was already full less than an hour into the trip.
It was a grey, unsettled day that threatened to rain. It mirrored our rather over-tired mood. We stopped for an enchilada breakfast at a taco chain restaurant beside the freeway and then headed east on a side road into the American Fork Canyon in the Uinta National Forest. Traveling up the canyon the views from below were impressive, as were the views of the valley and Mt. Timpanogos from the top of the switchbacks at the end of the valley. The narrow road twisted like a pubic hair through an aspen and pine forest, the contrasted greens looking so beautiful together.
The road ended at a small highway that led SW to Provo, where we drove around Brigham Young University, the largest private college in the country. To attend it, one has to agree to do two years of assigned Mormon missionary work in some part of the world and swear off booze, cigarettes and coffee. We checked out the cute blond Mormon boys walking around in their starched white dress shirts and black ties, looking sweeter than French vanilla parfaits. Perhaps it's a good thing I am diabetic.
We headed SE through Spanish Fork and Price River Canyons and followed the east side of the Wasatch Mtns south to Capitol Reef National Park. It was late in the day when I steered Michal into a service road that climbed high onto a mesa before dropping 3000 ft into the Valley of the Cathedrals. The road was painfully rough and unmaintained. My elbows were bruised the next day. It took forever to reach the edge of the drop off where the road plummeted down in switch backs often too narrow for two cars to pass and without railings of course.
The valley was already cast in shadows by then as the day was winding down. The road below was in much better condition and after a couple dozen pictures of the fantastic landscapes Michal sped as fast as he could to get back to the highway we had left two hours before. It took another hour to get there and it was fully dark by then.
We continued into Torrey where our first night would be spent. Both Google maps and Michal's GPS had different and incorrect locations for the hotel and we ran around for the better half of an hour looking for it. It had already turned out its sign. I found the manager closing office for the day. Nothing was left open except a pizza place, not usually my idea of a meal just before bed, but it turned out to be the best and only evening dinner we shared during the trip. I was so tired by this time that I could scarcely walk or get up again after sitting down. Michal had to catch me at the point of falling at one instance. It was a miracle that I made it safely to bed that night.
PHOTO 1: old Mormon temple in Emery
PHOTO 2: Cathedral Valley from the top of the mesa
PHOTO 3: "The Wall" in Cathedral Valley
I had enough time though. Michal didn't get away from Kelowna as early as planned last Thursday. He didn't get to my place until almost 10. Meanwhile Eric, one of my two French couch surfers, was suffering from resistant cold and we had filled a bowl of half boiling water and eucalyptus oil for him. He had his face over the bowl with a towel over his head to trap the fumes in. He looked a bit like the Elephant Man. Problem was, I had added too much eucalyptus oil and the fumes were frying our nose hairs. We were playing a game of seeing who could last the longest breathing the fumes when Michal arrived. He hit it off with the boys well so I left them chatting enthusiastically while I slept for an hour and a half, the only sleep I got that day.
At 1:30am we set off in Michal's jeep for Seattle and made it to SeaTac airport around 4am. We reclined our seats and tried sleeping for an hour in the most contorted positions, something no chiropractor would recommend unless he wanted to increase his practice. So the day of arrival began in the chilly morning air of an ugly parking lot already aching for sleep.
The shuttle picked us up around 4:50 shortly after Michal discovered he had misplaced his wallet and ID. He found it at the last moment. I wasn't sure I'd be able to climb into the shuttle but I did. It wasn't pretty. Not long after we were airborne and headed for somewhat sunnier skies. The airline offered us complimentary juices and Trick-r-Treat-sized packages of peanuts for $3. The feature movie was "Snacks on a Plane".
Michal and I had only brought carry on bags so our escape was swift. Finding the shuttle bus to our car rental place, which was located a few miles from the airport, was another matter. The shuttle was even harder to get into than the first one but I'm sure I was great entertainment for the small audience watching. The 4-wheel drive Michal rented on-line turned out to be a 2-wheel drive, "...but for an extra $20 per day we can offer you this special deal on what you requested in the first place." Michal talked them down to $10/day more and we took it. The 4x shift never worked anyway, but it was the increased clearance from the road surface that we really wanted it for.
Our first destination was Temple Square at the heart of Salt Lake City, the Mormon heart of this Mormon State. The entire area seemed to be under construction. There was no place to park and the two shots we got of the famous Salt Lake Temple were marred by traffic lights and construction cranes. We took a short run up past the State Capitol Building to get a hazy view of the city from Ensign Vista Park. The snow-covered Wasatch Mountain Range to the east was the most impressive part of the view. SLC is low-rise with a small central core, with a very small city feel. At this point I realized that I had put a 32 mb memory card in my camera instead of the 2 gb one, and the memory card was already full less than an hour into the trip.
It was a grey, unsettled day that threatened to rain. It mirrored our rather over-tired mood. We stopped for an enchilada breakfast at a taco chain restaurant beside the freeway and then headed east on a side road into the American Fork Canyon in the Uinta National Forest. Traveling up the canyon the views from below were impressive, as were the views of the valley and Mt. Timpanogos from the top of the switchbacks at the end of the valley. The narrow road twisted like a pubic hair through an aspen and pine forest, the contrasted greens looking so beautiful together.
The road ended at a small highway that led SW to Provo, where we drove around Brigham Young University, the largest private college in the country. To attend it, one has to agree to do two years of assigned Mormon missionary work in some part of the world and swear off booze, cigarettes and coffee. We checked out the cute blond Mormon boys walking around in their starched white dress shirts and black ties, looking sweeter than French vanilla parfaits. Perhaps it's a good thing I am diabetic.
We headed SE through Spanish Fork and Price River Canyons and followed the east side of the Wasatch Mtns south to Capitol Reef National Park. It was late in the day when I steered Michal into a service road that climbed high onto a mesa before dropping 3000 ft into the Valley of the Cathedrals. The road was painfully rough and unmaintained. My elbows were bruised the next day. It took forever to reach the edge of the drop off where the road plummeted down in switch backs often too narrow for two cars to pass and without railings of course.
The valley was already cast in shadows by then as the day was winding down. The road below was in much better condition and after a couple dozen pictures of the fantastic landscapes Michal sped as fast as he could to get back to the highway we had left two hours before. It took another hour to get there and it was fully dark by then.
We continued into Torrey where our first night would be spent. Both Google maps and Michal's GPS had different and incorrect locations for the hotel and we ran around for the better half of an hour looking for it. It had already turned out its sign. I found the manager closing office for the day. Nothing was left open except a pizza place, not usually my idea of a meal just before bed, but it turned out to be the best and only evening dinner we shared during the trip. I was so tired by this time that I could scarcely walk or get up again after sitting down. Michal had to catch me at the point of falling at one instance. It was a miracle that I made it safely to bed that night.
PHOTO 1: old Mormon temple in Emery
PHOTO 2: Cathedral Valley from the top of the mesa
PHOTO 3: "The Wall" in Cathedral Valley
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
ready to leave
Everything's a go. The plane and 4-wheel drive jeep have been booked. Accommodations in Torry, Escalante and Manti are booked. My bags are packed, my ticket and itinerary printed. I am just staring at the door, waiting for the time to pass. I will wash the last items of clothing for the trip tomorrow night, including my sheets so they will be clean for my return. I am focusing on getting lots of rest and staying centered.
Work is quite dead. I am so not there half the time. I find myself getting impatient with all the stupidity the clients throw at me. I am trying to read Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gadsby between calls.
Eric and Fred have moved back in with me until the end of the month, except for the days Winfried, my German couch surfer, and his girlfriend Chris visit on the 25- 26th. Not sure what the boys will do then. They have been very kind to me since they moved back in yesterday. They have cleaned everything and straightened the living room. They will be working most nights so they will be here more in spirit than in fact most evenings.
Tyler (Stitch) paid me a visit last night, our first time together in several weeks. We walked up Davie, first taking a tour of the community garden. I had been afraid of walking on the spongy, uneven cedar chip pathways but I handled them without a problem. The gardens themselves were a quite inspiring and beautiful. There are some who have planted too tightly, obviously unpracticed gardeners, while others have just as obviously had lots of practice. It was fun looking at the wide variety of plants, about half of which I could identify.
We continued up Davie to Melriches and had non-alcoholic, non-caffeinated drinks and shared a strawberry rhubarb dessert. The air was perfect and the light magical. The street was alive with happy and energized people, active but mellow. I could relive it again and again.
Work is quite dead. I am so not there half the time. I find myself getting impatient with all the stupidity the clients throw at me. I am trying to read Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gadsby between calls.
Eric and Fred have moved back in with me until the end of the month, except for the days Winfried, my German couch surfer, and his girlfriend Chris visit on the 25- 26th. Not sure what the boys will do then. They have been very kind to me since they moved back in yesterday. They have cleaned everything and straightened the living room. They will be working most nights so they will be here more in spirit than in fact most evenings.
Tyler (Stitch) paid me a visit last night, our first time together in several weeks. We walked up Davie, first taking a tour of the community garden. I had been afraid of walking on the spongy, uneven cedar chip pathways but I handled them without a problem. The gardens themselves were a quite inspiring and beautiful. There are some who have planted too tightly, obviously unpracticed gardeners, while others have just as obviously had lots of practice. It was fun looking at the wide variety of plants, about half of which I could identify.
We continued up Davie to Melriches and had non-alcoholic, non-caffeinated drinks and shared a strawberry rhubarb dessert. The air was perfect and the light magical. The street was alive with happy and energized people, active but mellow. I could relive it again and again.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Nana Nana Nana Na Na
Aunty Tinkerbell, Dwaine and Luis joined me for dinner at Kam's Place, a local Singaporean restaurant, to celebrate my birthday last night. It was a raucous good time for us and the tables around us who joined in the fun. The food was great and the laughs kept coming. It was a real treat. I get a lot of pleasure from life as an observer but I rarely feel like an active participant. I rarely have FUN. Kam, the owner, gave me an Oriental tea set and the table a free round of Grand Marniers for good measure. I actually felt special. (I am so glad I took the initiative to organize the dinner!)
"You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire Universe, deserve your love and affection." -- Buddha
"You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire Universe, deserve your love and affection." -- Buddha
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Last day of 54
My quiet period continues. I hardly spoke to anyone at work today because my pod was empty except for myself and there hardly anyone in view around me. It was dead on the phones too. I had a couple ranters who just needed to blow off steam repeating the same complaints multiple times although they had already talked to other agents earlier in the day and had nothing to add. I just let them rant on for 10 minutes each and didn't let them get under my skin.
The sidewalks around Harbour Centre where I work are torn up as City workers lay new concrete. Because I can't get around the obstacles with my disability I cannot get to or from my building without using the bus. In a day or two the sidewalks will re-open.
It is quiet at home today too, so I took the opportunity to visit the Cafe Bollagio where my two former couch surfers Eric and Fred work. Last week Fred had asked me to pay them a visit this week so I did. Fred was there in all his handsome sweetness. I caught him by surprise. He came over to my table and, turning his cheek, invited me to give him a little kiss. There is no greater statement of friendship than a straight boy inviting you to kiss him in public while he is at work. I kissed him gently on his lower jaw just below his ear and he wasn't a bit self-conscious.
I told him he looked great, which he always does, but he was looking a bit worse for wear. He was sick with a serious hangover yesterday and, in a masochistic binge, has also decided to stop smoking. He says he's ready to slit his wrists. But he says it will be better tomorrow. His new Iranian girlfriend is cooking him dinner.
Eric wasn't working so I didn't get to see him, and Fred was quite busy so I watched the video playing in restaurant of views of southern Italy from the air. It was very captivating, but definitely a terrain I can no longer handle. Fred paid my bill though I hope he did not think I was visiting the restaurant for that reason. I left him a big tip and sauntered home in the 28C heat.
My first birthday card this year, from friends in Winnipeg, and a large tax refund waiting for me at home. I will lay back in the dark of my over-heated apartment and watch on a DVD rental that arrived in the mail yesterday, a gay parody called "Dear Boys".
"I don’t know why people have a problem quitting smoking. I’ve done it a thousand times." - Groucho Marx
The sidewalks around Harbour Centre where I work are torn up as City workers lay new concrete. Because I can't get around the obstacles with my disability I cannot get to or from my building without using the bus. In a day or two the sidewalks will re-open.
It is quiet at home today too, so I took the opportunity to visit the Cafe Bollagio where my two former couch surfers Eric and Fred work. Last week Fred had asked me to pay them a visit this week so I did. Fred was there in all his handsome sweetness. I caught him by surprise. He came over to my table and, turning his cheek, invited me to give him a little kiss. There is no greater statement of friendship than a straight boy inviting you to kiss him in public while he is at work. I kissed him gently on his lower jaw just below his ear and he wasn't a bit self-conscious.
I told him he looked great, which he always does, but he was looking a bit worse for wear. He was sick with a serious hangover yesterday and, in a masochistic binge, has also decided to stop smoking. He says he's ready to slit his wrists. But he says it will be better tomorrow. His new Iranian girlfriend is cooking him dinner.
Eric wasn't working so I didn't get to see him, and Fred was quite busy so I watched the video playing in restaurant of views of southern Italy from the air. It was very captivating, but definitely a terrain I can no longer handle. Fred paid my bill though I hope he did not think I was visiting the restaurant for that reason. I left him a big tip and sauntered home in the 28C heat.
My first birthday card this year, from friends in Winnipeg, and a large tax refund waiting for me at home. I will lay back in the dark of my over-heated apartment and watch on a DVD rental that arrived in the mail yesterday, a gay parody called "Dear Boys".
"I don’t know why people have a problem quitting smoking. I’ve done it a thousand times." - Groucho Marx
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