Thursday, July 31, 2008

Home, home, where I wanted to go.

The journey home:

Don and I started our way home from the hundred mile wilderness, leaving behind the land of soap-less lake baths and granola.

Don has been looking for a new volunteer opportunity and he was applying to a couple organic farms in Maine. So we took our time, meandering around the countryside, visiting various places. We stopped at one hippie farm that Don was checking out. It was mostly a dairy farm with some vegetables. The leader hippie took us to see the grounds, which started in a barn full of cattle. The floor was covered in straw and we were walking around when all the sudden my foot sinks ankle deep into a HUGE pile of cow poopie. The bad thing was that I was wearing my sandals. The lead hippie woman said, "Oh honey, that happens all the time, we'll hose you off later." We decided to scamper down the state and make our way home.

We made our way down to Acadia National Park on the coast of Maine. But first, Don and I had to accomplish our 2 main goals of this trip: 1. go in the ocean, and 2. get some lobster, fresh out of the shell. Acadia is on a huge island, which is gorgeous. Just before we entered the island park, we stopped at a small coastal Lobster shack. I ended up ordering a 1.5 pound lobster. The woman took me over to a huge tank and said, "which one do you want." So, not knowing how to pick out the most tasty lobster, I made a deliberate gesture and said "That one..." Don ended up naming his lobster Gargoyle because the huge rocks we had to dig out of the ground were called Gargoyles. I named mine Herman. They were delicious, I must say. We would do like a shot of butter with every savory bite.

We spent the night in Acadia. Acadia is simply one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. It is marked by mountains, lakes, streams and the gorgeous coast line. At low tide, beautiful pools of ocean water gather on the rocky granite shore. These pools are full of ocean life, such as star fish, which you can see until the next high tide comes to wash them back to the ocean. We did a good amount of hiking and finally were able to conquer the ocean at a beach in Acadia. We planned to swim in the ocean but after our ill-fated charge into the water, we discovered it was a balmy 55 degrees. We strategically retreated back to the beach and decided to enjoy the ocean from the shore. Nevertheless, the ocean was conquered, much like the lobster. We also climbed to the top of Cadillac Mountain. Cadillac Mountain is the highest point on the northeastern seaboard. So, the sun rises first on our fair country here. We were going to see the sun rise here, but the weather had other plans.

We fell asleep to the quiet, consistent ringing of the harbor bells on the Maine coast. Then, the bells faded away to a calamitous thunderstorm that lasted for over 4 hours. Laura's defective, leaky tent got the best of us once again, so we headed out the next morning to head down south to the land of the pines.

We stopped in New Hampshire at our friend Jen Luoma's home. New Hampshire was probably the most gorgeous place we visited after Maine. Beautiful mountains and lakes made our trip down much easier. Jen and her parents were like saints. The treated us to a meal of pork loin, salad and PBR. Don and I, having not had a meal that wasn't peanut butter or generic fruit loops in about 2 weeks, devoured the food and were quite satisfied. Table....flat....smooth....fork....pointy. Anyways.

Jen accompanied us down to Boston where we met up with my long-time friend Dan. We walked around Fenway which was teaming with Yankees and RedSox fans. I kept saying quite loudly, "What in the Hell is a Big Papi?" The Red Sox fans looked a mix between angry and like the world was about to end. How could anyone not know who Big Papi was? The insanity! We also walked the freedom trail, saw Ben Franklin's grave, saw where Paul Revere left for his fateful ride, and ate at the Boston beer works brewery. We also tried to go to Sam Adams but there was a 4 hour wait for a brewery tour. But, to their credit, they did let us some free samples. Cheers.

After Boston, we went to DC to meet up with my good friend Andy Bender (aka Chat). The highlights of DC included the Lincoln monument, the Washington Monument, and the rest of the mall. But, my favorite part of the city was The Brickskeller tavern. This hole in the wall saloon had 1,032 choices of beer! It is classified as the largest single selection of beer it the entire world. I asked the waitress, "Do you have Miller Light?" She almost punched me in the face. But then I ordered a Coopers from Australia to remind me of days of old. It was all together delightful.

We made our way back to Kentucky and I have to admit, it did feel much like coming home. Kathleen Levil said, "Well well well, look who comes crawling back." Then she whispered in my ear, "welcome home sweetheart." But more on this later. It felt good to breathe the Bluegrass air again. I proclaim this trip a victory! Take that East Coast!

Cheers.

Quote of the day:

"Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."

-Abraham Lincoln

Sunday, July 27, 2008

No soap


MAINE:

After leaving the banks of Niagara and the long, horrible state of New York, Don and I made our way up to Maine. We had no idea at the time that we would also be leaving behind electricity, dry sleeping quarters, toilets and also our deodorant.

The drive up to Garland, Maine took us a little over 12 hours due to several setbacks. Most notably, we blew out a tire on our way through New York near Albany and ran into hurricane like conditions in Southern Maine. But, not even a hurricane could stop our conquering of the AT and the northeast.

We arrived at around 10 p.m. in Garland's "base camp" where the hippie work crews strike out from each week to various points on the AT. The base camp is actually on a working sheep farm. Don and I arrived and got an assigned tent to stay in for the one night before we would leave on the trail the following morning. We were serenaded to sleep by hippies doing who knows what in the surrounding tents and sheep bah-ing in the nearby barn.

The week was to be quite a bit more rustic that I had originally anticipated. We drove up from Garland to near Gulf Hagas which is just about at Mt. Katahdin where the trail ends. The section we were on is called the 100 mile wilderness and it stretches through the last 100 miles of the trail in Maine if one was heading northbound. It earns its name because there are no towns within this stretch and hikers widely consider this section the most difficult of the entire 2170 mile trail. We saw only a few "thru-hikers", hikers who intend to walk the entire trail and are only passing through. Of those we did see, they were quite ragged looking and thin as well. They were also from the looks of it quite mad, as the 2070 mile journey is frightfully daunting. It was the perfect time to barter toilet paper for exorbitant amounts if one was blessed enough to possess such goods...

Our work on the trail consisted of two main activities: digging trenches for drainage and digging massive rocks out of the Appalachian soil and rolling them down the hill to be used as steps. The work was tiring as the bugs were swarming around. The most annoying bugs were called noseeums (no-see-ums). The main reason they were called this was because you could barely see them and they would bite the living hell out of you and annoy you within an inch of insanity. But, we went on with our work, digging out rocks, rolling them down the hill and so on.

The accommodations were rustic - kind of like the old west perhaps - suitable for a homeless former CAP volunteer. We were living out of tents in a field near a serene lake. We ate only what we carried in in coolers and cooked our food with propane. There was no running water or electricity.

On our first day at the camp, Don and I decided to go swimming and take a lake bath. I am a HUGE proponent of the lake bath. So we took our bath and were quite happy. The second day we were there, we were completely filthy from digging. I headed along the shore to take a lake bath, got into the water and took out my soap. Then I hear from the shore, "That's not soap is it!?!". "Uh yeah" I replied, "I'm taking a lake bath. I love lake baths."

"Well, it hurts the environment! Soap is bad for the water!" So, I ceased and desisted with my only remaining pleasure in the wide world.

So, the next day, I came back with some hippie, biodegradable soap to appease this woman. I started to wash in the lake when I heard from the shore, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" To which I replied, "Using this hippie soap to wash, it's biodegradable." "It's still bad for the environment, you have to wash off on the shore!"

So, to appease this lady once more I took a kayak, filled it up, and used a helmet to bathe on the shore. We called it a hippie bath.

Later in the week, Don was walking by a cabin on the shore when he heard a male voice come from within that says, "NO SOAP..." and that's it, just a simple order from a concerned greanie. No hello, how are you, where you from? Just "No soap."

We stink horridly. Fortunately the leaky tent and stormy Maine weather ensure we smell like wet smelly dog instead of just plain old smelly dog. Laura, you should really invest in a better tent.

Cheers.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Mainers are Mainicas because in Maine, the rain falls constantly on the plain

DAY 1, The Beginning:

Last Thursday, July 17th, Don and I started our adventure up to Maine to work on the Appalachian Trail (AT). Our journey began near Louisville and ultimately would take us to Garland, Maine. Our first day of driving was about 13 hours and took us to Niagara falls. Neither of us had ever seen the falls before and so we thought we'd take a little detour before heading across the long, horribly boring state known as New York. It was about midnight when we got to near the falls, Grand Island precisely - a huge island near Niagara falls. We planned to stay the night in some one's back yard and then see the falls on Friday morning. So, there we were; midnight, driving around Grand Island, looking for a back yard or an abandoned lot to sleep in. But, due to the tenacious boarder patrol, the grand island police and the Buffalo police forces, we couldn't find anything nearly suitable enough.
We were painfully tired. We had been driving for almost 14 hours and were exhausted. We took several turns down side streets into a suburb-like part of town when I spotted a light on at "The Village Inn". I ventured up to the door, quite tentatively, and saw there were 2 men inside, the barkeep/owner and his friend. I asked if they had any rooms because it was called the Village Inn. The owner said it was just a bar/restaurant and there were no rooms, but why don't we come on in and have a beer. Not being one to offend a new friend, I decided to take him up on his offer and have a beer. The bar owner's name was Mike and the man who was sitting at the bar was also named Don, oddly enough. The bar Don said to us, "how in the world did you get to this place?" We told them about how we had been driving around and looking for a place to sleep and asked if we could stay in their back yard. Bar Don was quite inebriated at this point and said, "SURE, you can stay in my yard, but you have to drink some of my home made beer first!!" Keeping with my manners and remembering how I hate to offend, Don Schaeffer and I drank some of this guy's home brew which he kept bringing in from the front seat of his car. Apparently, he had a whole keg of home brew in the front seat of his car and kept bringing it in for us to "sample". It was quite potent and had an alcohol content of maybe 13 or 14% I would estimate. It was quite tasty though, I must say.
Mike, the owner of the Village Inn, showed us hospitality you never hear of today and rarely experience in a lifetime. He heated up some of his home made New England clam chowder as well as a heaping plate of home made "Buffalo" wings - free of charge. He said, "you guys have been traveling and must be tired, so this is on me." So, we chatted with these two guys, drinking their home brew and eating New England clam chowder and Buffalo buffalo wings until around 1:30 am. Bar Don was giving us reasons for why he doesn't pay taxes and I was talking home brew techniques with him.
After a while, Bar Don realized he was too inebriated to drive so Don Schaeffer had to drive his car while I drove Don Schaeffer's car back to this guy's house. The man lived right on the Niagara river and we ended up sleeping on the beach right in front of his house. He apparently lived with his mother and couldn't invite us in, but I bet he would have if she allowed it. He kept saying, "Man, I love you guys, I don't know where you came from or how you got here, but I love you." We helped him inside and laid down on the banks of the mighty Niagara, well fed and ready to sleep. We left the next morning without seeing our friend, but not wanting to see the Mounties either.
We saw the mighty Niagara Falls around 7 a.m. and then decided to scamper on to Maine. The falls were quite impressive really, but the surrounding town was a complete dump. People say there is a better view on the Canadian side but due to the fact that Canada sucks, we stayed in the good ole' USA and decided to leave.

Cheers to the Village Inn on Grand Island near Buffalo, New York.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Good Article

Here is an interesting article I came across on ESPN.com about a professional soccer player retiring to enter the priesthood. You should check it out.

http://soccernet.espn.go.com/news/story?id=555353&sec=mls&&cc=5901

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Headed West from the Cumberland Gap

"Well, I'm back."

I'm sitting here in the quiet Illinois plains pondering the year past and all that has happened since I last left nearly a year ago. The corn is only about waist high and the lingering smoke from the fireworks last night has long blown away.
Surprising to me, it was very hard to leave CAP. I thought, after all my friends had gone, it would be much easier to journey for the last time out of the mountains. But, as I prepared to leave, leaving became much more difficult. I made my tour of all the areas I had been before to visit all the people I have served and served with. I went down to McCreary Co. to work with the McCreary boys and Kevin. I went to the Berea house to bid them farewell. Then I went out to the Johnson house for the last time. At each location, I received the same general reaction. As I gave hugs for the last time (for a while) we always agreed that, 'this stinks.' As I visited each place I would drive back around sunset through the familiar hills and past familiar hollars. Playing Old Crow Medicine Show and smelling the mountain air, I could finally understand the desire to stay in the mountains. Throughout my time here I have left pieces of my heart here and there. I didn't go back to say goodbye and recollect those pieces, I went to make sure that they would remain there always.
I then visited many of my old participants. My motivation was two-fold; to see them for one last time and to make sure that my work had not completely fallen in. The work was fine and the good-byes emotional. Shirley and Miss Connie, the two perfect storm jobs were particularly hard to say farewell to. They both assured me that I was always welcome back, and in truth it was as if I never left. I expected to see Ross walking around the corner with a saw, Brittney to be dancing around like a maniac or Katharine teaching some lost college student. But all of my friends have gone away, and now it was time for me to do the same.
The last person I saw on my way out was David Frank, still up at camp and one of the last remaining volunteers from this year past. he was wearing some cut off jean shorts, a sleeveless T and a maroon trucker hat. He waved goodbye with our traditional Kentucky wave saying, "Go on home now GITTTTT." It was most appropriate.

The Beaver: The Beaver was never heard from again. However, it has slipped into local legend. Children at camp have frequently reported that they saw a fuzzy creature lurking across the lake on a misty evening with a sling tied around its stomach and ham in its mouth. The beaver will most likely terrorize children for years to come either as a ghost or some kind of mutant beaver that eats children who go out at night against the rules.
Jesse: Jesse got many votes this year and Ross and I feel confident that our cabinet positions are secure. When Jesse left, he refused to tell me where he was going. Watch out for a Timmons near you.
Jackson vs. Johnson: Johnson was always and will always be a nice place to visit. But, I am quite partial to Jackson. We liked it there.
Cap Corps vs. CAP: Cap Corps has more of a spiritual center but CAP gets more done. Both could use more Bamberger. But then, who couldn't.
Facebook: I left facebook because I consider it a vapid and vacuous form of communication. Plus, I think it deludes friendships. So if you want to talk, just call.
Will I be back?: After Lance Armstrong ran the New York marathon, he considered it the hardest physical thing he ever did. When asked if he'd be back he said, "No. But I reserve the chance to change my mind." He ran the marathon the very next year. No promises. I go where the Lord asks.
Socioeconomic: Why are poor people in this area poor? Quite simply, there are no jobs. There is no industry so most people just spend their time focusing on entertainment. Particularly in the younger generations, the focus is not so much on survival and improvement of the quality of life, but more on living how modern media tells them they should live. This has a two-fold effect; 1. greater dependence on welfare and 2. loss of vital Appalachian culture and traditions. People usually respond to this, "Why don't people just move." Good point. People don't move because their family is there/was from there, they have always lived there and/or they have an attachment to the land. The first two are fairly easy to understand but the attachment to the land is a bit harder. However, after driving around for a couple days, saying goodbye, I felt this effect to a large extent. The mountains hold you like a warm embrace. They shelter you, support you. The air, the streams, the woods and the little rivers make you feel like you're at home and call you home when you are away. Now, the real question is, are these reasons enough for subjecting your family to such harsh conditions? Probably not. But for many, these reasons are enough.

As for me, my time is over. As Gandalf says, as he is about to depart at the Gray Havens -


'My time is over: it is no longer my task to set things to rights, nor to help folk to do so. And as for you, my dear friends, you will need no help. You are grown up now. Grown indeed very high; among the great you are, and I have no longer any fear at all for any of you.'

I commend all I left into the able hands of those I leave behind. I have a few plans ahead. Don (aka the Donminator) and I will be heading up to Maine to do some volunteering on the Appalachian Trail doing maintenance. Then I have a wedding of two dear friends, John and Debbie, at St. John's. Finally, around mid-August, I will go out to Oregon for a season to work as a manual laborer at a winery called Owen Roe. This is the plan as it exists.

The blog will continue, because I'm sure the adventures ahead will be far too priceless not to blog.

Stay tuned for chapter 2: Andy and Don's big adventure and chapter 3: No money, lots of wine.

Cheers.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Darth McCrackin

P.S. My new padewon learner Chris, a HUGE Reds fan, said today:

"I hope Harry Carry comes back to life and choke slams Dusty Baker into a table that is on fire and has barbed wire on it."

The End has Come

My last day with CAP is on Friday when I will begin my next journeys. These last days have been marked by my training our two new housing guys, Chris and Ryan (aka, my padawon learners).

For my last post with CAP, I will answer any unanswered questions you may have about this year; volunteering, the beaver, DavidFrank's smell or anything else. Just respond to this post with your questions. (after all these months, I am out of new ideas).

Cheers.