No Regrets!

Woke up to the most glorious blue skies and sunshine in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. An absolutely perfect morning. We’ve really lucked out with the weather, somehow avoiding most of the smoke and haze from the Canada wildfires and hardly seeing a drop of rain for the whole trip.

Our drive to Gettysburg took us past red barns and deer, both of which we’ve seen every day on this trip. The number of red barns we’ve passed is uncountable, and deer have made daily appearances in cemeteries, in run-down residential neighborhoods, at place crash sites, and walking through outdoor patio furniture displays and across parking lots in small towns. They really are everywhere, and they’re pretty chill around humans.

Gettysburg on a sunny Saturday morning is swarming with tourists. The visitor center was packed with old folks, families, and school groups of rowdy kids who were really just there to goof off. We picked up a map for an auto tour of the Gettysburg battlefields, Rob got his souvenir squished pennies for his girlfriend, and we were on our way.

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Just outside of Cleveland is the grave of deadball baseball star Ed Delahanty. He’s an interesting figure in baseball history.

Edward James Delahanty (October 30, 1867 – July 2, 1903), nicknamed “Big Ed”, was an American professional baseball player, who spent his Major League Baseball (MLB) playing career with the Philadelphia Quakers, Cleveland Infants, Philadelphia Phillies, and Washington Senators. He was renowned as one of the game’s early power hitters, and while primarily a left fielder, also spent time as an infielder. Delahanty won a batting title, batted over .400 three times, and has the fifth-highest career batting average in MLB history. He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1945.

Delahanty died when he was swept over Niagara Falls in early July 1903. He was apparently kicked off a train by the train’s conductor for being drunk and disorderly. The conductor said Delahanty was brandishing a straight razor and threatening passengers after he consumed five whiskies. After being kicked off the train, Delahanty started his way across the International Railway Bridge connecting Buffalo, New York with Fort Erie (near Niagara Falls) and fell or jumped off the bridge (some accounts say Delahanty was yelling about death that night). Whether Delahanty died from his plunge over the Falls or drowned on the way to the Falls is uncertain. His body was found at the bottom of Niagara Falls two weeks after his death.

Calvary Cemetery is huge with meandering roads over gentle slopes. There are some impressive tombstones in this one, making our slow drive through serenely beautiful. Using the map posted by the entrance, it was easy to find Delahanty’s section. He rests in a Delahanty family plot right next to road, buried between his parents and sister. There were no baseballs or memorabilia this time, just a standing tombstone with the family name and small markers for each family member, all of them filthy.

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Woke up this morning to reports of air quality conditions reaching unhealthy levels in many east coast cities. Those Canadian wildfires are really messing things up. Outdoor events and at least 3 MLB games in the region have been postponed or canceled due to the horrible air quality. We must be in a lucky pocket of clean air. Aside from a light haze, things seem mostly pleasant around here. I hope we stay lucky for a few more days as we continue our road trip.

We loaded up the car, said goodbye to our little Red Roof Inn, and hit the road. Shortly after getting on the interstate, Rob hit a bird with the windshield. We debated for a moment whether or not it was dead before cranking up the music and continuing on our journey.

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Rob and I woke up early to load his adorably sporty Kia Forte with clothes, gear, and snacks. GPS was configured. Wheels up at 6:11am with an odometer reading of 29,195. Rob immediately fired up “Beep Beep” by the Playmates, one of the songs from our western US road trip that still gives us a giggle.

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After years of talking about it and a couple of months putting together a plan and getting our schedules lined up, Rob and I are finally taking another baseball road trip.

Rob’s a guy I went to high school with. We bonded by riding the bench together on our high school baseball team and shared the somewhat dubious honor of winning the 110% Hustle Award, a plaque to players who shag fly balls and don’t complain about it. It’s basically a participation trophy that our coach signed with a worn out Sharpie because he couldn’t be fucked to find one that wrote properly. Since then, we’ve become good friends for things baseball and otherwise. He’s a cool guy to shoot the shit with and he loves to drive, both great qualities to have for a road trip partner.

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The jack-ass sitting in front of me decided to fire up Lord of the Rings on his phone’s tinny speakers. Of course, when the flight attendant came by and insisted that he put on headphones, he put them on, fell right asleep, and started obnoxiously snoring. Meanwhile, the woman to my left whose arm was encroaching on my personal space kept unabashedly wide-mouth burping through her mask without a single “excuse me” for 6 hours. Some people are just born to be annoying.

My research had suggested that sitting on the right side of the plane would offer the best views for the trip up. For most of the trip, it didn’t matter, as most of Canada was blanketed by clouds and I couldn’t see much. Every once in a while, through some of the clouds and haze, I could see some lakes partially frozen. As we continued northwest over the top edge of British Columbia, the lakes completely froze over and all vegetation was gone, replaced by scraped, rippled, dark brown wasteland. The rolling hills gradually grew steeper and pointier and whiter with snow. By the time we approached the Alaska border, the mountains ere getting really big. I peered out the window the whole time, loving all the scenery, but most others were not. Most had their shades down and many were sleeping. Leads me to believe that it’s mostly regulars and locals who do this route, not tourists.

Through breaks in the clouds, I could see glimpses of majestic mountains as we flew into Anchorage.

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Mostly thanks to COVID, it’s been a while since I’ve done any real traveling. So it was with great jubilation when I learned my work would be flying me and our whole department to a fancy resort in Alaska for our off-site team event this year. It’s nice to work for a company that has money. 🙂

Once getting the itinerary from my company, I decided to take full advantage and go up a few days early to have my own little adventure before joining the work team. I booked a little hotel in Anchorage, and I’ve got some fun activities planned, including a Matanuska Glacier hike, a train ride from Anchorage to Seward, and a Kenai Fjords cruise for some whale-watching.

This is my first trip after the federal mask mandates have been lifted in airports and on planes. A few people, including me, are still voluntarily wearing them. I’m seeing about 25% masking in the airport and on the plane. Such a polarizing issue, isn’t it? I will say that I was especially aware of a guy coughing a few rows back from me, and I’m sure a few people sitting nearby are on edge.

A customary northbound take-off from Reagan National Airport took us by the monuments on the National Mall and offered a fleeting glimpse of the White House before we disappeared into a layer of low-hanging clouds. A few moments later, we punched through the clouds and were flying up into brilliant blue sky. So cool.

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After checking into my Seattle hostel, I set out to explore the city. Compared to Portland, this is a proper city. And with the beautiful weather, friendly people, scenic skyline, I got a great vibe from Seattle from the very beginning.

I walked around a bunch, hitting the famous Pike Place Market a few times. It’s a crowded collection of outdoor stalls and indoor shops filled with art, photography, fish, produce, flowers, and lots of other great stuff. Kind if a neat place, if not a little claustrophobic with all of the tourists cramming through there.

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Woke up early this morning and made one more attempt to hit Voodoo Doughnut, but again found the line around the block. At 7am. Crazy.

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So at night, all of the shuttered storefronts transform into bars with live music and booming nightclubs. Portland’s social youth get dressed up and pour onto the streets. And the ruckus doesn’t scare away the homeless people. They hang out and watch or go to sleep right there on the sidewalk in front of the club.

At 1am, I visited Voodoo Doughnut and found the line around the block. Are the doughnuts really that good?

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