No Regrets!

The alarm went off. It was still dark and cold. Stef and I made our way to the lodge’s observation deck to watch the sun rise over the Tetons. Hot chocolate kept my hands warm as we found a spot on the edge of Willow Flats, the huge expanse of mushy scrubland between the lodge and the mountains.

Elk bulls pierced the cold morning air with passionate bugling. The mountains slowly changed color as the sun came up behind us.

We returned to Horseshoe Bend for some more scenery.

Up to this point, Stef and I had seen bison, elk, and bighorn sheep, but we agreed that moose and bears were the coolest animals and were disappointed that we hadn’t seen any.

As Stef drove is up the winding road on Signal Mountain, Stef screamed out “Holy fuck, a bear!” Sure enough, about 50 yards ahead of us, a black bear was crossing the road. I fumbled with my camera and tried to get a few quick shots.

We stopped the car and I hopped out. The bear was quite small, so I looked around for a large, mean Mommy bear and gingerly took a few more pictures before the bear disappeared into the foliage.

Vans and cars stopped around us. Camera-toting tourists curiously crowded us to ask what we had seen, but the bear was already scampering off. Stef and I were proud to have had our quiet moment with the bear.

A short walk up the Signal Mountain trail took us to the Jackson Point Overlook for an impressive view of the park. The air was crisp, the scenery was a lesson in geology, with every conceivable landform within view. The spot would be cool field trip for a geology class.

From there, we headed down to Jenny Lake for a short ferry ride and a couple of highly rated hikes. Hidden Falls was surprisingly dull for something hidden, and Inspiration Point offers a surprisingly uninspiring view of Jenny Lake.

We hit the road again and made our way across the rather flat interior of the park. The maps are deceiving. The park is tiny, and you could very easily drive through the whole thing in a day. Stef, always the outdoors type, groaned every time she saw a runner or biker, wishing she were doing the same. What a glorious place to be active.

At one of our stops, I ran into a Trek America driver. I worked for Trek America in the summer of 2004, and I tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he wasn’t interested or even friendly. Was he threatened by the fact that I had already done what he’s doing? Scared that I might be critical of him? Or did he just not like my toe socks?

We came upon a group of people gathered along the bank of Snake River. A moose bull was resting in the foliage on the opposite bank. Everyone was taking photos and waiting for the rest of his family to show up. We had seen a bear and a moose on our last day!

Just before saying goodbye to Grand Teton National Park, we drove up to the Snake River overlook where Ansel Adams took his famous photograph. I wanted to pay homage to Ansel and take a similar photo, but conditions made it difficult. I tried my best.

We’ll be spending our last night in Jackson. We fly home tomorrow morning.

With green ski slopes surrounding the town and streets lined with empty bars and restaurants, I could tell that Jackson really hops in the winter. For us, it seemed quiet and sleepy.

After checking into our room at the ironically named Virginia Lodge, we headed back to the center of town where Stef treated me to a fabulous birthday dinner at Snake River Grill. After consuming some delicious pork shank, we strolled into the store next door called By Nature Gallery that sold upscale fossil relics. Very cool!

The famous Million Dollar Cowboy Bar was pretty empty, but we took a moment to sit in the saddles by the bar before leaving.

The Silver Dollar Bar was packed and had a great band. We sat and chatted with some fellow travelers for a moment, but we couldn’t stay out too long as our flight home was scheduled for early in the morning.

At dawn, I headed over to the reception desk at the lodge to catch some wifi. I plopped down in a giant, overly soft leather couch on one side of the. I’ve always felt a little weird about public leather furniture. Do people’s germs stick and fester on leather more than on velour or wood or plastic? I get skeeved out when public leather touches my skin.

Checking our flights, I noticed that our flight home was delayed for a couple of hours. A great thing for Stef, because she really needed another couple of hours in bed.

Outside, the sun slowly rose behind the mountains, turning the sky blues from dark to deep to cheerful to pale. When I start sensing the end of a trip, I start thinking about home, about what may changed while I was away, even though in this case I’d barely been gone a week. As I cling to my last few hours of adventure, I wonder what mundane things my friends and family are doing at home, and I get depressed knowing that I’ll be doing those same things very soon.

It’s been one of those trips where everything just works out perfectly. We always missed the crowds, doing hikes and seeing sights and finding wildlife before buses full of tourists showed up. Wrong turns resulted in tremendous viewpoints. We’re quite satisfied with the wildlife we saw without even trying. Except for a night in the car in Yellowstone, we booked rooms where and when we needed to. And the weather was perfect. There was no rain despite a continuous forecast for it, and the sun always came out when we stopped the car.

When we dropped off our rental car at the airport, the odometer revealed that we had covered a total of 1703 miles on our trip, an average of 213 miles a day. Sounds like a lot, but it seemed quite manageable.

Before we knew it, we were home. We headed straight to the bar, where Stef and other friends had organized a surprise birthday happy hour for me. My friends are pretty cool sometimes. 🙂

Now, it’s back to real life…

Almost immediately after sitting in my familiar chair at my familiar desk in my familiar room, the trip I just took seems like it was all a dream. Did I really spend the last 10 days in Europe?

It was truly a whirlwind tour of Europe. The pace was challenging, the walking destroyed my feet, and I got really damn tired of being hot and sweaty. But trips are like relationships. When you’re in it, you tend to focus on the bad, but after it’s over, you only remember the good. Memories of being hot and sweaty and tired have been replaced with the memories of being in great places doing great things with great people.

Of the cities we visited on this trip, my list from best to worst might be:

1. Prague
2. Berlin
3. Venice
4. Český Krumlov
5. Bled
6. Krakow
7. Vienna
8. Budapest

Not having to worry about the daunting task of organizing accommodation in cities or transportation between them made it all possible. Intrepid took care of everything, allowing us to spend most of our time enjoying ourselves. I’d definitely consider taking another trip with them in the future.

I’ll be busy for the next few months, if not years, finishing this blog and working on the thousands of photos I took on this trip. It’s a lot of work, but I know that when I’m old and gray (well on my way), I’m going to love looking back at this stuff.

No Regrets.

That last night before leaving, I didn’t go to sleep. It was a mad crush of house chores, laundry, and packing. Somehow, perhaps irresponsibly, I managed to condense two month’s worth of essentials into a single suitcase. We shall see how that works out for me.

My flight to Portland was with Southwest, an airline I’ve had some problems with recently but compensated me with some travel vouchers. But the vouchers didn’t make me feel any better about the airline’s “no assigned seating” policy, which I find very frustrating. Just like the last time I flew Southwest, I found myself pacing up and down the aisle looking for a window or aisle seat, with each person looking at me awkwardly as they wondered if I would sit down next to them. When you choose not to sit next to them, do they take it personally? Or are they relieved? Or some weird combination of both? Alas, the best option was an aisle seat next to an athletic-looking guy with a massive, V-shaped upper body that surged over the armrest and invaded my space. He looked comfortable, but for me, acute scoliosis set in at 15,000 feet. That, and the emergency row seats don’t lean back. That, and my inflatable airline pillow became soggy and pathetic after about five minutes. (more…)

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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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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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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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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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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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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