Seattle: where to start?

At the beginning I guess...

We drove straight to Seattle from Portland which did not take us long. The directions I had saved on the desktop did not work so we meandered through the city on the phone, receiving verbal directions. Soon we were in the home of my great friends Brittnie and Chuck.

Seattle!! What should we do?!

1) Send Jon off for a long weekend in Duluth, courtesy UMD

2) Be a nanny

3) Go out and spend nanny money!!

Yes, Seattle. Where you can make great money being a nanny to pay off all of those student loans (does anyone else notice anything wrong with this?).

We loved this city for many reasons.  To start with, Brittnie and Chuck are there (scroll down and observe exhibits A and B.) Also, art is everywhere- literally! Under bridges, in the parks, in buildings - and most of it you can play on! As for outdoor activities it is similar to Duluth in that it is near a large body of water, has a lot of green space, and much of the city is on a hill ensuring scenic views (but it's better because it's more expensive). Finally, a must in every awesome city, there is fantastic climbing only a couple hours away in a small town called Index, nestled between mountains with a fast flowing river and sheer granite walls.

How could a city be any better? I don't know, maybe a free ice cream stand on every block. Ok, you've read between the lines. My idea of the perfect city is one actually on the inside of Wanka's Chocolate Factory.

Exhibit A. And I know what your thinking: Yes we are both wearing shawls!

Exhibit B. An intoxicating (intoxicated?) moment captured.

The Fremont Troll

A stroll through the park. Picture by Brittnie Rosen

The art is everywhere! Everywhere? Everywhere.

A nice overlook

May Day in Seattle

While climbing at Index we ran into Katniss from the Hunger Games!

Ok it is Brittnie, who is going for the finger lock. Nice!



Brittnie and Chuck

10 points to anyone who can identify this guy. (hint: from a previous blog)

The Rest of the West (almost)

Hello again. With so much to write about where do we start? How about just a good 'ol fashion, chronologically organized, general update.

The last time you heard from us, we had made our way up through Santa Cruz and the Bay Area, stopping to visit friends along the way. We left the culturally extroverted Southern California for the more contemplative Northern California whose mighty and ancient Red Wood Forests made us feel young and naive. Visiting more friends that we had met previously, we explored the mountain sides by foot and the rivers by raft.

We pushed on toward the token college town of Humboldt county, Arcata, where our dear friend Jorge lives. You may remember him from our previous Joshua Tree blog where we referred to him as "the campground social butterfly". His social networks extended deep into the Arcata community where we reaped the benefits of being in the "in" crowd while there.

Although our time in Arcata was far too short to fit everything in, we did manage to play an intense game of chess using the most beautiful playing pieces; hand forged by Jorge's roommate. And on April 20th, which is something of a holiday for Arcata folk, a week of rain gave way to generous amounts of sunshine and we were able to climb on the beach at one of Jorge's favorite spots. Climbing proved rather unproductive, though, as we spent a great deal of time and energy trying to convince roving bands of transient beach stoners that, despite what their pot-addled senses seemed to be telling them, rock climbing is dangerous and gravity will win.

Leaving Arcata behind, it was a full day's drive to Portland. Portland was one of those towns that we had high expectations for because of how liberal, bike friendly, and cool it's always portrayed to be. In these respects, Portland's a great place to visit. Unfortunately, we were unaware that leaving our bikes on our truck outside overnight was the same as asking someone with bolt cutters to graciously take them off our hands, thank you very much. Luckily we found a new use for the bike rack in the mean time. But the show must go on, and Seattle is the next pin point on our map.

A day on the river



At the oars

Yup, there are two full size trees growing out of this mother tree

Hiking the Allen Trail

Science vs. Myth

Arcata locals in good hands :)

Beach climbing in Arcata

'Jorge the Great'

Finding ways to cope

(insert pop culture reference to California)

We left San Diego without any real plan as to where we would end up next. California, unlike most of the other states in the US, has very limited free or affordable camping. Campsites in the state parks run $35-$55 per night which simply doesn't fit in to our budget. We headed back to Joshua Tree National Park. We had left there at the end of January and would now revisit the climbing mecca two months later with the promise of night time temperatures that would stay above freezing.

When we drove into the infamous Hidden Valley Campground there wasn't a vacant campsite in the whole place. Luckily, just as we had begun to accept defeat, a young man named Bud approached us. He told us that his camp mate was leaving that evening and he welcomed us to stay.

Over the next several days we realized two things. Firstly, it had been way too long since we had climbed last and our muscles and tendons were still on beach mode. Secondly, Bud was a strong climber. A very, very strong climber. In fact, he had just finished an American Mountain Guide Association course. In the summers, he crewed on Yosemite's Search and Rescue team. From the moment that we came in to his life, Bud seemed to have only one goal: to watch us climb as hard as we possibly could for as long as we possibly could- and then climb harder and longer.

Bud and his girlfriend Joy became our new climbing companions. They broaden our Joshua Tree horizons and we explored climbing areas within the park that we hadn't even know existed before meeting them. We tore up our hands on the crystallized granite and two weeks later, as I'm typing this, I can still look down at the last remnants of scars and scabs that serve as a reminder of our time there.

After Joshua Tree, Juliet and I decided to skirt the Eastern Sierras and make our way up to Bishop, a small town at the base of the mountains known for its climbing. Time only allowed us a couple of days there and so we spent our time hiking to the sunny climbing spots during the day and sleeping at the Pleasant Valley Pit at night.

Some spring storms had closed off many of the passes through the Eastern Sierras. We headed North of Bishop for several hours until we reached Hwy 89 which nearly skirts the southern edge of Lake Tahoe as it winds its way through the mountains. The drive was among the most scenic we had done thus far and we both felt the craving to engage in some snow sports. But by the end of the day, we found ourselves in sunny Santa Cruz among surfers that never seem to age.

We had met Allen in Baja at a well regarded surfing location. He would run bare-footed down the beach in the morning and stop to chat with us. We told him of our road trip and how we would soon be making our way back North to follow the spring weather. He immediately invited us to stop and visit him in Santa Cruz if we happened to be in the area. Our time in Santa Cruz was everything we hoped it would be. We caught a show, drank locally roasted coffee, went to the farmer's market, studied the local surf break, traded stories on the beach, explored the town's bike lanes, and witnessed a spontaneous jam session. The trek to Santa Cruz was well worth it and Monterrey Bay was just as beautiful as we had hoped. But we had a schedule to keep and so had to leave.

Juliet had a friend who had lived in Duluth when he was in the Coast Guard. As our luck would have it, Jake and his girlfriend Leah now lived in Emeryville, a small town sandwiched between Oakland and Berkley. They welcomed us in to their home with open arms which we were very grateful. They showed us the art of silk aerials, let us taste home-brewed beer and kombucha, took us to a local climbing crag, showed us Art Murmur in Oakland and the University of California- Berkley campus, and brought us to a play. We were only there for three days but there never seemed to be a moment of down time. On our way out of town, we walked through parts of the Golden Gate Recreation Area. Winding up our time there, it only seemed fitting that we leave over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Somewhere between the Bay Area and Oregon there is a dramatic shift in climate and culture. Northern California feels a bit like Minnesota, only the trees are bigger and the mountains more pronounced. This is the land of the mighty Redwoods. The people that live here are few and far between compared to the densely populated coastal areas of Southern California. However, there is also a distinct down-to-earth vibe that the people radiate and we are happy to be getting a small taste of this area.

Ryan Mountain: looking down on Joshua Tree

"The Iron Door"

Bishop

Allen's place in Santa Cruz

Allen and Juliet study the surf

Beach walk in Santa Cruz

Collecting spring water near Berkeley

The San Fran crew: Leah, Jake, and Johnny

Spring flowers

Berkeley clock tower

Burning man sculpture

Golden Gate Exodus

Following Spring

Spring has finally arrived in the northern hemisphere.

It was on March 9th somewhere near Todos Santos, BCS, that Juliet and I looked at each other, sunburned and sweating with no shade in sight, and decided that it was time to begin migrating North again. We had successfully followed fall. We followed it for 7 months and it took us more than 3,000 miles from home, but we did it. For once in our lives we had a snowless, frost-biteless, winter.

And to all of our friends and family back in Minnesota, let us assure you that warmer weather is on the way.

It took us about a week to make our way back up Baja. We stopped at the Bay of Conception to enjoy the crystal clear water and were fortunate enough to see a whale shark swimming off one of the islands there. From the Bay of Conception we continued North until the clouds began filling the sky. They turned grey and the wind began to howl. The air temperature dropped by 30 degrees and it rained for three days until we finally reached San Diego. Yep, spring was upon us.

We took our climbing gear out of the storage unit we had rented for two months and headed back to Joshua Tree for a few days of climbing.  We will then weave our way up the West coast, saying hi to old friends we haven't seen for a long time and new friends that we've met along the way.

Whereas winter challenged us to stay warm, spring will find us trying to evade rain storms and biting insects. 

One of our favorite past times was to pose in front of hotels we couldn't afford to stay in.

Another such hotel

Being a gringo in Loreto

Gaining a bird's eye view of the Bay of Conception

The fanciest camp toilet we had seen in two months.

A uhaul outside our storage locker which featured the Kensington Runestone of Minnesota

On our way to grab some pizza in Little Italy, San Diego.

Surfing: a metaphor for life

With all corniness intended, surfing is a metaphor for life.

There you are, bobbing up and down in a vast expanse of space.  You know that something is out there- in fact, you are certain that an overwhelming number of somethings are out there- things you can't even begin to imagine.  The ocean hosts a multitude of microcosms that are both living in symbiosis while at the same time unable to comprehend the complexity of all that surrounds them.

And there you are, bobbing up and down in a vast expanse of space.  You can make out something on the horizon, some subtle change, the butterfly effect of a winter storm off the coast of Alaska thousands of miles away that happened weeks ago.  But it's hard to be certain how this might impact you in this instant or the next, because as you are bobbing up and down in a vast expanse of space, you can only catch fragmented glimpses of these nuanced changes.

As your legs dangle in the crystalline waters below you they cease to be a part of your conscious world and they enter an oceanic netherworld whose residents make the fairyland absurdities of goblins and elves seem as everyday as traffic jams and income tax.

The culmination of a million factors beyond the collective comprehension of the most astute chaos theorists is a single wave.  And it is coming right for you.  Your legs are employed to join your conscious realm once again as they,  accompanied by your arms,  execute a sort of wild and spastic pre-surf dance ritual.  The wave raises you towards its apex, tauting gravity to show its strength by tearing you back down into the trough.

But you're ready.  You stand up on your board and use the inconceivably mighty forces of the ocean and the Earth to do your bidding by propelling you forward.  You smile with a Cheshire grin as the wave breaks behind you, toppling the magic balancing act that had allowed you to defy the very forces of nature that weaves together the fabric of space and time. 

And once again, there you are, bobbing up and down in a vast expanse of space.

Cross training

SUPing (Stand-up paddling) - the new rage

Fish 1 - Jon 0

An old fashioned fiesta

I spun him around maybe 15 times :)

Let it rain! (note that we stopped using blindfolds to expedite candy consumption)

By day 10, we upgraded to a legit long board

Ten days of hard work

Looking bored on the small stuff

Jon enjoying a (very rare) lone moment at Los Cerritos

The taste of success is o' so sweet

Another full moon in baja to the East

Another perfect sunset to the West