#Roadside Pullout

[thorsenmark]

Enjoying Tree Time by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While at a roadside pullout along the Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway (California State Route 89) in Lassen National Forest. The setting is with a view to the north-northeast to a nearby hillside with evergreens. Having only flown into Sacramento earlier that morning and made the drive after that, it was a delight to see these tall trees all around!

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Some People Dream in Abstract (Great Smoky Mountains National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: Some People Dream in Abstract Thoughts Like an Expressionist's Painting While other are bizarre, almost seemingly surreal Mine have been both, and sometimes in red But right now, I only dream wonderment for what stands in front Another work of short poetry or prose to complement the image captured one afternoon in the Cades Cove area of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. This was at a roadside pullout along the main park road with a view looking to the north-northwest to a group of black bears (momma bear and three cubs) who happened to be crossing this asphalt road. I captured quite a few images at this location, but this is one of the few that I really liked of the group because the momma bear happened to be looking in my general direction while her cub continued on.

[rabbitcruiser]

Earthquake Point/Broken Mountain, WA

Take a step back in time to December 14, 1872 in what was at that time Washington Territory. Ulysses S. Grant had just been elected president for his second term, and Boston was still recovering from the Great Fire that destroyed much of the city in November of that year. You had to draw water from a well, light your cabin with oil lamps, and typically folks would retire for the night shortly after sundown, when the evening chores were completed, and supper dishes were cleaned.

On that night, at almost 10pm, folks across the region were awakened by a massive earthquake. Contemporary accounts describe the earth rolling from North to South, no jolting bumps, just the feeling like walking on the deck of a ship in rough seas. 

The earthquake impacted an area of the Pacific Northwest over 625,000 miles – from Salem Oregon in the South, to Victoria, BC in the North, across Idaho into Montana and much damage was sustained in the populated areas west of the Cascades. In Seattle buildings rocked, trees shook, items and fell off shelves. Pendulum clocks were stopped by the offsetting rocking, or started up again, if they had been stopped. Plaster walls cracked and lamps tipped over. 

Prior to the event, Lake Union had been flat calm, but the quake caused a tidal wave several feet high. In Olympia there were reports of fireplaces crumbling.

Jack Splawn (also known as Moses Splawn) was a cowboy and resident of Yakima City at that time. He explained that he and the other cowboys on the ranch had just completed the year’s branding and were celebrating at the Sagebrush Saloon, when the building began rocking and they ran outside to see what hoodlums were trying to tip the house over. 

While some folks dealt with milk sloshed out of the pail, and knickknacks falling off the shelf, the residents of North Central Washington, especially indigenous tribes who lived along the Columbia river near Chelan witnessed a far more catastrophic event. It is known locally as “the night the mountain fell.”

As you drive along Highway 97A just past Entiat on your way to Chelan, there is a roadside pullout and marker explaining “Earthquake Point.” Here you can view what the native people named “Ribbon Cliffs”. A giant portion of the hillside of Broken Mountain fell into the Columbia river that night. Of course, the river was not as high then as it is now, as the hydroelectric projects along the river have raised it, however, the amount of earth and granite that fell blocked the river and flooded the lands behind it, including the ranch of the Wapato family. You might recognize that tribal name from the peninsula of land at Lake Chelan, called Wapato Point. 

At some point the following day the water broke through the earthen dam, the flood receded, and the river began to flow again. It must have been a sight to behold if you lived in Wenatchee to wake up to a dry riverbed! Witnesses to the event reported that it took several days for the earthen dam to break up and the river to return to its previous level. 

While there was no seismologic equipment in place seventeen years before Washington became a state, experts studying the damage and geologic features believe the quake was between 6.5 and 7.5 in magnitude. That makes it one of the largest on record in the state. 

For 143 years it was a mystery where the epicenter of this earthquake could be found. In 2015 geologist Brian Sherrod painstakingly surveyed a canyon between Chelan and Entiat, where he found a fault and was able to definitively prove it to be the source of the quake. 

Source

[dopescissorscashwagon]

By Mick Pier 📸 : Took a day trip to Mt. Rainier National Park today. Got this shot at a roadside pullout. Real short trail down to this point. The mountain was hidden behind clouds all day, but we still wasn't disappointed.

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 22: Bellarke, String of Lights + Only One Bed

2022 Ficmas #3

Bellamy/Clarke, Modern AU, ~1200 words

For the prompt "string of lights + only one bed"

*

At first, when the snowstorm hits, they all have a wonderful time. No one's going to brave the roads in this weather, but the apartment still has electricity and heat, and Raven and Clarke keep their fridge stocked with plenty of food. An extension of Friends-mas, that's all: they watch another Christmas movie, make another round of hot chocolate—this time, not spiked, but with the extra marshmallows that Raven finds in the back of the cupboard—and huddle together under the blankets Clarke takes down from the top linen closet shelf. Outside, a heavy deluge of thick white flakes, slashing down endlessly through the black. They keep the curtains slightly open for a glimpse of the storm.

Inside, the artificial warmth of the heater, the softness of fuzzy blankets and thick fleece socks, and Clarke's head on Bellamy's shoulder while they watch Elf. Jasper and Monty do impressions. Miller leaves for a moment to call his boyfriend, to make sure he's getting home all right, comes back with a report that Jackson's safe in a roadside motel at least, and even Murphy murmurs a low assent: "That's good." Raven is sitting on his lap, under the pretense that she has nowhere else to go. The living room's not very big but it feels soft and safe in all its details, down to the familiar lumps on the couch, or Bellamy's steady breathing, which Clarke can feel because she's left her hand resting against his chest. Her mouth still tastes of chocolate and sugar.

When it's time to go to bed, the space becomes something of a problem. For a bit, Clarke had wondered if they'd all simply fall asleep on the couch and the floor. She saw Miller nodding off there while the credits rolled. But then Monty mentioned wanting to brush his teeth, and Jasper started stretching and rolling his head back along his shoulders to take out the kinks. Even Bellamy sat up, pulled his arm away from her and leaned his elbows on his knees and looked around, as if wondering what he should do next. The group falls apart along fault lines.

In the end, it's decided that Jasper and Monty will take the pullout couch. Miller volunteers himself to sleep on the floor, in the sleeping bag that Raven pulls out of her closet. Murphy will, of course, be bunking with Raven in her room.

That leaves Bellamy to stay with Clarke.

She changes into her pajamas, slowly brushes her hair while she listens to the water running in the bathroom: someone, maybe more than one someone, brushing their teeth. The evening has left her sluggish and half-asleep. How little it matters, and how much all at once, that Bellamy will be sleeping with her in her bed.

She closes the curtains against the still-raging snow, lines up her slippers next to her bed for the morning, turns on her bedside lamp and turns off the overhead light. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she turns on her Christmas lights, too.

"Clarke?"

Bellamy's voice, tentatively, from the other side of the door. He raps his knuckles against it softly. "Are you asleep?"

"No—" She pads across the floorboards in her sock-feet and lets him in. "Just got a start on turning off the lights. Come in."

He looks softer than she's used to, in a t-shirt and sweatpants he borrowed from Murphy's I-swear-I-don't-live-here stash, the legs too short and the t-shirt too small across the chest, and his hair still mussed because it always looks like that now. He's grown it out so long. She can see the way it wants to curl. He approaches her bed tentatively, and she has to pull the covers all the way back and slide into her side before he clambers in. Soft but large, against the tiny blue snowflakes on her comforter, her flannel pillowcases in purples and greens. Awkward, looking down at the rough palms of his own hands.

"I like your lights," he says, as Clarke pulls the blankets up over them. She's swallowing Bellamy up in her bedclothes, trapping him—they could be kids again, for a moment—she could pull the sheets up over their heads and make them a little fort.

For a few seconds, she doesn't know what he means. Then—"Oh! Yeah, thanks."

She's strung red and green Christmas lights from her ceiling, ringing them around the room. They blink slowly in the darkness. She tilts her head back to watch them, following Bellamy's gaze, and after a moment, she hears the light click of the bedside lamp shutting off. Nothing left now but the string of holiday colors. Slowly shading off and then back on.

"They're festive," Bellamy says, and then before she can answer—more small talk only; her voice, she's sure, would be as distracted and as distant as his sounds—he adds, "Are you sure it's okay, me staying with you?"

"Well I'm not going to send you out in the storm," she says. "And I don't think you'll fit in Miller's sleeping bag. And I know you don’t want to get between Murphy and Raven. And—"

"That's not what I meant."

He reaches out and grabs for her hand in the dark. She feels his broad palm wrapped around her fingers, crushing them together, as if he were searching for anchor. Asking a question he can’t ask.

"Yeah," she breathes, into a long silence. "It's fine."

In her heart of hearts, she knows, it's more than fine. She wants to fall asleep on top of him. She wants to listen to his heartbeat with her ear against his chest, and his arm around her. She wants him to feel entitled to splay his palm over her hip.

"We're friends," she adds.

For a long moment, Bellamy doesn't answer. He lets go of her hand and settles himself down on the bed. She can hear him moving against the sheets, and when she glances down, she sees by the glow of the Christmas lights, that he's moved onto his side, facing her. The green and red cast a soft sheen against his skin. "We are friends," he agrees. Smiles a little. "This is a nice mattress. Glad I helped you haul it up three floors."

Clarke slides down beneath the blankets, turned on her side, facing him. "I'm glad you did, too," she answers, and her voice sounds far away, and the words are just something to say as she looks at Bellamy's eyelashes and meet the steady gaze of his eyes.

She asks him if he'd like her to turn off the lights, and he says that it's all right, leave them on, and after a while, she moves closer, so his arm is around her again. But this time in the privacy of her room, the gesture feels like so much more. The cold winter storm rages on beyond her window. But she's warm and at peace in the quiet and the dark, falling asleep to the sound of Bellamy's breathing, soft in the heat generated by her body wrapped around his.

[asprinterandamarathon]

BOTR - Day 29 - July 13, 2024

We woke up early but we were glad to lie in bed for a while. It was cool outside and we had the window open. That and we were able to slip back into our morning routine… Wordle, Connections, Strands, Spelling Bee.

Breakfast downstairs was simple but filling. We had fruit with yogurt, muffins, hard boiled eggs, coffee/tea, and fresh squeezed orange juice. It gave us the calories we needed for the first hike of the day.

We drove out of town past the ski area to the Snodgrass Mountain Trailhead. Although it was around 10am, we had not prepared to the number of people we would encounter. Main parking lots were full and people were looking for overflow. We lucked out at a roadside pullout about a quarter mile from the trail head.

Looking up from the trailhead.

Once on the trail, the draw for the crowds was obvious. The wildflowers were astounding! Initially, we marched up the trail through meadows covered in green, yellow, red, purple, blue, and white. As we climbed higher, we walked through aspen groves with openings that gave us views of the mountains. As we trudged over 11,000’, fir trees dominated the forest. Interestingly, we never got over the tree line. Further north, in Banff for example, the tree line is closer to 6,000’.

Above the crowds.

Fields of wildflowers!

They go on forever.

Coming down the trail puts different strains on your body. Regardless, it felt good to give back the 1,500’ we had gained over 5.5-ish miles.

Max elevation today!

Diane has been working towards a goal of 65 miles hiked in the two weeks before her birthday. With that in mind, we did a second, shorter hike after lunch.

More gorgeous flowers!

Just on the edge of town we hiked the Woods Walk Trail for about 2 miles. Again, the meadows were rich with wildflowers. We also had a lake view and views of the valley across to Mt Created Butte. Also quite visible were peaks that still had more snow than bare earth. This was the perfect cap on the day in advance of a wonderful pre-birthday dinner for Diane.

They go on forever.

The evening started with a cocktail at Eldo on Elk St. Closest thing to a rooftop bar in CB. We sat on the second story deck overlooking the street. A gent, Bobby from Charleston SC, struck up a conversation with us. He has been coming to CB for twenty years and obviously owned a home close by. In addition to talking about how much he likes CB, he also recommended Eldo’s food. We already have reservations for another restaurant so we had to pass on their Himalayan fare (curries, dumplings, etc.).

CB local humor!

Dinner was at Marchitelli’s based on Paul H’s recommendation. It’s his favorite in town. And we can understand why, the food was quite good but the owner and staff were wonderful. Michael, the owner, gave us an excellent, private, cool (no AC) table after I mentioned Paul’s name. Michael also made a point of sitting with us to get acquainted and check on our satisfaction. Stacy, our server, was attentive and made sure that we had a nice relaxing meal at the slow pace we were looking for.Just an FYI, Diane enjoyed the elk cannelloni and I very much enjoyed the osso buco (with an abundance of bone marrow)!

Osso buco. YUM!

The meal left us satisfied and exhausted. We were back to our room before 10pm and asleep shortly after!

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

@sicktember #24: “I Need You To Pull Over!”

Fandom: Marvel (Spider-Man: No Way Home)

Characters: Peter One (Tom Holland), Peter Two (Tobey Maguire), Peter Three (Andrew Garfield)

~

This wasn’t a problem Peter Three ever expected to face. It wasn’t going to be a problem at all, in fact, because he was absolutely not going to consider motion sickness as a possibility when he parkoured from a web every single day. He would not be bested by a winding mountain road.

No sooner had he made this vow did the car dip wildly sideways. The resulting rattle and clunk reverberated in his bones and he sucked in a harried breath.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter One cringed, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Pothole!”

“It’s alright. If you see another one coming, try to slow down beforehand,” Peter Two advised, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror with furrowed brows when he noticed how pale Peter Three had gotten. “You okay back there?”

“I think my stomach got dropped off back there in the pothole.” The quip was halfhearted as excess saliva pooled, bearing the aftertaste of vinegar and grease. Now that he was thinking back on it, he had crammed down his fast food lunch rather too fast. His ears popped, a queasy burp bubbled up in his throat and he stiffened. “P-Peter…I need you to pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Pull over!” He lurched, clapping a sweaty hand over his mouth. “I-I think I’m gonna—ghh—”

Miraculously there was a roadside pullout just around the bend. The car juddered as Peter One slammed the breaks but Three was already halfway out the door, vomit pouring into the rocks and greenery. Everything somersaulted around him; he would have tumbled headfirst had Peter Two not scrambled out to grab his nearest arm. The next mouthful splashed back at their shoes and pant legs and he spat out a strangled apology, followed by an unproductive gag.

“Soonest…rest stop…” he panted once he managed to recover enough of his voice and his composure. “Napkins. Barf bags.”

“Got it.”

[mountrainiernps]

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” J.R.R. Tolkien from The Hobbit.

Have you ever been swept off your feet by the roads of Mount Rainier National Park?

First you saw one great view and stopped at a pullout to take a picture? A little further on, you saw another great view and stopped at a picnic area for lunch? Then you drove all the way up, as high as the road went and were gob smacked by Mount Rainier?

This mountain has a way of sweeping folks off their feet. The roads here are a bit special. They weren’t built just to move people from point A to point B. They were also designed to make the trip enjoyable. Pull-outs were built so that folks could stop and enjoy their surroundings. Picnic areas and trails were constructed so that folks could get out and enjoy the beauty of the park. Special places like Sunrise Point were made and labored over just so we could step out of our cars, breathe the fresh air and look at the mountain in all it’s volcanic, glaciated glory.

What’s your favorite roadside stop? What memory of Mount Rainier’s historic roads is seared into your memory? ~ams

Only one Mount Rainier National Park road stays open all winter – the road from Nisqually Entrance (near Ashford) up to Paradise. All other roads must be dug out (and melted too) from under the snow. This takes time. Please stay up to date by using our Roads Status webpage.

NPS Photo. Car on dirt road at Nisqually Entrance arch circa 1918. Sign reads “Mount Rainier National Park”. NPS Photo. Car on road at Chinook Pass entrance arch (and foot bridge). NPS Photo. View of Mount Rainier from Stevens Canyon Road before it was paves. 1949. NPS Photo. Equipment at Sunrise Point during construction of road to Sunrise. Rock guard wall around area that will become the road and parking lot.

[desertdollranch]

On my drive back home from Arizona, I went north and east on US Highway 60, passing through the beautiful Salt River Canyon in the eastern part of the state. The Salt River originates in the White Mountains, and winds its way south and west through rugged hills and volcanic formations. It also forms the boundary between the San Carlos and White Mountain Apache nations. The fifth photo shows a view of faraway and flat-topped Escudilla Mountain, the third highest mountain in Arizona at over 10,000 feet! It’s still quite snow-covered this time of the year. 

I also passed by the Very Large Array in western New Mexico, hoping to take Luciana for an up-close look at the radio telescopes that are listening to and collecting data from deep space. But unfortunately the VLA is completely closed to the public right now because of the pandemic. This roadside pullout is as close as I could get to it. I promised Luciana we would go back for a full visit as soon as it opens!

[americasgreatoutdoors]

Under a brilliant night sky, the twisted branches of Joshua trees reach for the stars. Boasting some of the darkest nights in Southern California, Joshua Tree National Park offers many visitors the chance to admire a star-filled sky. Winter nights provide more time to stargaze, and constellations like Orion, Sirius, Gemini and Taurus are prominent. Whether from one of the campgrounds, while backpacking the vast wilderness or from your car along a roadside pullout-- look to the stars, and you'll see how Joshua Tree earned International Dark Sky Park distinction. Wishing you many starry night skies this coming year and a wonderful New Year’s Eve. This community continues to be such a beautiful bright light for us. Photo by Beihua Steven Guo (www.sharetheexperience.org).

[thorsenmark]

A Light and Hope for Things Outside (Jasper National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the southeast while taking in views as I walked around a Medicine Lake overlook and roadside pullout in Jasper National Park. What I wanted to capture with this image was the setting of the lake with the mountains as a backdrop.

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Even Bears Have to Obey the Posted Speed Limit! (Blue Ridge Parkway) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While at a roadside pullout along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The setting is looking to the south with a black bear that was meandering down the road. I captured a few images as it moved back-and-forth from one side to the other. This one image I liked most out of the collection as it had the bear seemingly looking at the posted speed limit sign.

[fisherken]

Amazing and Great Sand Dunes (Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: At a roadside pullout a little before the visitor center in the national park. The view is looking to the northwest. While capturing this image in the direction of the sun, I was able to meter and adjust the shutter speed enough, so that I could later pull out some of the highlights in the clouds and blue skies while still working with the less brighter and more earth tone shades in the lower portion of the image.

[graveyard-tales]

Road Trip AU

Korra and Bolin are in charge of the snacks. The only reason there are some homemade snacks as well as some healthier options is because Opal had tagged along. 

They have gps but it’s on mute because they kept mocking the tone of the voice. They all agree it sounds so damn condescending. They often forget about it, to the point where they almost stop using it completely. 

Bolin laid claim to the music. It’s not too bad, he has a little something for everyone, but it’s mostly all upbeat tunes. Sometimes something punk/rock/alternative comes on and they all try to guess if it’s Mako’s influence. He never confirmed and Bolin never says that some of it’s in there just for Opal. 

They all sing! Bolin is the loudest of course. Mako is the quietest. He and Opal are the most shy about it but she’s more open to singing louder thanks to Bolin’s praises and Korra’s encouragement. 

Most of the expenses are paid for by Asami and Opal. Korra and Bolin don’t really care, they pitch in a bit. Mako kind of hates it, though he doesn’t say anything. He pays for as much as his and Bolin’s share as he can. 

Mako and Asami do most of the driving. 

Asami can be a little fast but is the best driver of the lot. She grew up building and fixing cars, she learned to drive before she could even get her permit. Of course she is the best. 

Mako follows every rule there is, the car doesn’t move until everyone is buckled. But if there is a long stretch of road and no one is around?? Who's to say if the car is moving faster than it should. No matter who is in the passenger seat, he will do that thing where he puts his arm out to stop them if he has to break suddenly. 

Korra is the worst! She’s full on turning in her seat to look in the back seat. Mako’s yelling at her to keep her eyes on the road, Bolin clutching his seatbelt and Opal, Asami who saw this coming, already has her hand on the wheel. If no one is on the road with her she sways the car to the music. Korra doesn’t drive often and she likes it that way. 

Bolin isn’t as bad but he’s not great either. He has the music going, he’s in the middle of a conversation. One hand is on the wheel, the other is in a bag of snacks. He’s paying just enough attention not to hit the car in front of him. Good thing Opal and Mako are ever vigilant of where he has to turn. 

Opal is more of a cautious driver. Checks the mirrors, makes sure everyone is buckled, keeps the volume of the music down. No one would suspect she’s the most prone to road rage. If the horn is being used it’s most likely Opal cursing out the moron who recklessly cut in front of her.

Mako and Korra are banned from riding in front with each other within hours of their trip. “Korra you just made the wrong turn. It’s gonna take thirty minutes, if not a whole hours to get back to the main road.” “Jeez will you relax, consider this a detour into a nice town.” “This town has “last place a group of friends was seen in” written all over it.” “Judgmental much? Where is your sense of adventure!”

They only attempt to drive through the night once. Asami takes her turn, Mako takes his turn, Bolin takes his turn and they spend an hour the next morning trying to figure out where they are and how to get back to the main road. 

They only attempt to sleep in the car once. One of the boys was hit in the groin. There was a rancid fart that was obviously a crime against nature. Opal kept blinding people with her pen light she used to read with. Asami kept checking her phone. Bolin kept shifting. Korra tried to get them all to tell ghost stories, Bolin protested greatly. After Mako and Bolin (whom can sleep practically anywhere, even all cramped up) were the only ones to get any real sleep, they all agreed they’d splurge for a hotel room. 

Bolin, Opal, Asami and Korra all quietly agreed that they’ll all just squeeze into one room because they didn’t want to make it awkward for Mako. Mako meanwhile is like “this is so much more cost effective.” They generally get those rooms with the two beds and the pullout couch if they can . If they can’t it’s usually Korra, Asami and Opal squished in one bed and the boys in the other. On occasion Korra claims a bed at the Fire Ferret Fortress and crashes with the boys after she makes a blanket fort out of it. Mako has on occasion bunked with Asami and Opal when Bolin and Korra get too rambunctious. 

Bolin “Giant ball of yarn!!!!” Mako “We’re not stopping” Bolin, Korra, Opal, Asami chanting “giant yarn ball” until he finally gives in. They’re bored almost immediately only now Mako is keeping them there. If they wanted to see it so badily then he sure as hell going to learn why the stupid thing was even there in the first place. 

Bolin gets carsick the most, mostly on winding mountain roads. Asami is close behind, neither of them are used to mountain roads. Mako gets carsick once and no one even knew until the last minute because he was quietly staring out the window until he told them to stop the car and had the door open before it was fully pulled over.

They pull into a rest stop and Korra is leaping out and running to the bathroom. Mako nearly pushes Opal and Asami into the bathroom with her because they need to use the buddy system! Who knows what creeps are lurking about, Korra we talked about this! 

Of course It’s Mako who looks away for one second to find Bolin gone. It takes just a panicked second to find him (he’s in his 20’s now Mako, chill). Bolin is talking to a stranger who is standing too close for Mako’s comfort. 

Something goes wrong with the car at some point resulting in having to fix it up on the side of the road. Korra wanted to stand outside with Asami but they all agreed they didn’t want to risk the attention two young women could draw so Mako stood out with his best scowl fixed. Mako also knows more about cars than the other three, most of his knowledge is learned from Asami. (Though most of his mechanical knowledge is for his bike.) Someone still pulls over and asks if they needed help. Mako’s the one that tells him no and puts himself between the man and the car/Asami. Bolin is the only one who thinks he seemed nice when they all are back on the road. The girls blame Mako and that’s valid.

C A M P I N G

Korra finally gets her ghost story time. They all learn that Bolin has good reason to hate this because despite Mako’s generally shit story telling skills, he’s great with ghost stories. And just scaring the shit out of his little brother. He leaves to get something from the car only to appear on the other side at the climax of Opal’s story. He’s pelted with marshmallows for it.

Asami swears she hears something that night. Bolin’s too wired from the ghost stories. Their whispers wake up Opal, which ends up waking Korra. They all get hyper alert. Mako’s dead to the world. They all huddle close to each other, putting Mako between them so he doesn't die separated from their cuddle pile.

They almost crash twice. 

The first time Bolin and Korra were fucking around in the back seat. Opal got elbowed in the boob and Mako got kicked in the head. Mako was the one driving. Asami was the one that had scolded them this time around. Bolin and Korra kissed the back of Mako’s head and apologized. They did not kiss Opal’s boob.

The second time Bolin was driving and a drunk almost hit them causing Bolin to swerve to the roadside. The drunk had enough sense and conscience to pull over and check on them. Korra and Opal nearly launch themselves out of the car at him. Asami’s trying to comfort Bolin and prevent him from hyperventilating. Mako’s just as livid because they could have been hurt and Bolin’s terrified. But he reigns them in because he realizes they are quickly on the path of being the headline “group of young adults beat a drunk man on the side of the highway”.

If Korra is triggered or just has a bad night it’s really hard for her to stay in the car for long periods. So they take a lot of long breaks that day so she can walk out some of those nerves if she can. 

Both Mako and Korra get flare ups, mostly when the weather suddenly shifts.

When her legs are doing bad Korra can hardly walk but it hurts just as bad to keep her legs all scrunched up. So she’s either in the front where she can get the most leg room or she has them stretched across the very back seat or across the lap of whoever is next to her.

Mako’s is a little easier for him to ignore. He can more or less drive with one arm but if it gets too bad it makes it hard for him to concentrate on the road or follow the directions. He still keeps his sling tucked away to help keep it still, but he rarely ever uses it.

Both of them are too stubborn about it and usually don’t bring it up until it’s hurting too bad to ignore.

They drive through a safari park. 

Bolin did not heed the window warning and screamed when an ostrich head was suddenly through the window.  A truck of hay drove past them and a heard of bison walked up to the road.  They got stuck for nearly an hour when a particularly stubborn and lazy Emu parked itself in the middle of the road.  They got lucky with the tiger that was laid right near the fence but could barely see the cheetah across her enclosure.  They spend the rest of the day in the walk through portion. 

They bar crawl in a big city. Mako remains sober, he didn’t really get a choice but he doesn’t mind too much. Asami and Opal don’t get that drunk, Bolin and Korra get smashed. On the way to their hotel, Bolin and Korra try to have a competition on who can lift Mako. They both win much to his disdain and embarrassment. Asami is in her own little world giving Opal a piggy back as they sing to whatever was playing in the last bar. Mako realizes they should have at least done this back home instead of a city they hardly knew. They all agree the next day that it was really dumb.

Bolin and Korra are always trying to wingman Mako. If he so much looks at a girl they’re like “don’t work, I’ve got your back” and he has to desperately try and reel them back. Asami and Opal are much more subtle and successful about it. Mako never keeps any of the numbers. 

The only time Mako gets a number on his own is with a guy he didn’t realize was flirting with him until he was given the guy’s number. Cue quiet day for Mako as he reflects on shit he spent the whole time pushing down as a teenager. (Because Mako knows on some level he just spent so long pushing shit down that it’s second nature. And truth be told he had been thinking about it a lot more since Korra and Asami came out and started dating. Holy shit I’m bi??? He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. The girls are actually kind of surprised. Bolin really isn’t.) He doesn’t keep the number.

They absolutely hit up a beach and camp in the sand. Korra found and caught a crab but Bolin had instantly became attached to it. They end up letting it go. Opal and Bolin go hunting for seashells. Bolin adds many to ever growing collection of things. They nearly all get drunk around the bonfire they made.

Korra pokes and tries to get Mako to open up a little about his revelation in the car but he gets embarrassed and shrugs it off. They tell him they’ll don’t think of him any differently, which, duh. Bolin gets them all started on saying how much they love Mako. They do, of course, but they also all say it because they know how embarrassed he gets. His face is absolutely burning and he tries to walk off into the ocean before Bolin drags him back. Mako knew he would.

They most definitely go to the aquarium the next day. They spend nearly the whole day in there. 

Bolin just wants to share a romantic kiss with Opal with some serene nature background. 

Korra shares this sentiment. 

Mako’s tired of having to take pictures of his friends kissing in nature, he just wants to enjoy the waterfall, guys please, no more pictures. Why do you need me to do it? Why can you take the pictures for each other?

Opal takes the most pictures of nature. Bolin takes the most selfies and gathers the most rocks. He’s got nearly a whole bag by the end of their trip. 

On their last stretch they hit up an amusement park. 

Opal loves the ferris wheel the most. Bolin decidedly does not. He clings to her every time they move and the compartment rocks.

It’s not surprising that Asami enjoys the fastest rollercoaster they have. It is a bit surprising that Mako is right there with her when she tries to drag them back in line for another go. 

They all do the bumper cars numerous times. 

They all have a competition to see who can win the largest stuffed animal. Mako wins. He gives the absolutely giant Ninja Turtle to Opal because he knows she was trying to win it for Bolin. Bolin gives his little jellyfish keychain to Mako in return. He absolutely attached it to his keys. 

They all win as many toys as they can to give to the kids back home. 

When they are finally all back home they agree the trip was one they’ll always remember and treasure. They also agree to never do it again and Asami swears she’ll buy the plane ticket herself if they ever decide to go anywhere again. 

They do the same thing the very next year.

[bananaairplane]

The Winding Road

Harvest ended early— about a month early-  because of the smoke damage from the fires. I hit the road for San Francisco on Wednesday, taking three days to drive the Pacific coast from Newport, OR to Mendocino, CA and then cutting in through the Alexander Valley, Sonoma, and Napa. Harvest ending so early is just another wrench thrown into this weird year, another pivot to plan B, C, D— whatever we’re on now. I felt like I was hitting my stride at the winery, mastering the different tasks and beginning to put the pieces together to understand the process as a whole, from pumping the grapes off the crush pad into the tanks, to pumping over the tanks before fermentation, to inoculating with yeast, more pumping over, racking off the lees, and finally, on my last day, barreling down the best lots of wine. I started by branding the new oak barrels (spray painting them with a stencil, really) and numbering them, so it felt good to come full circle and pump the wine into barrels. I was sad to see it all ending, but also conscious that my sadness marked how good the experience has been. It struck me as I packed up: there’s nothing like leaving a place to make it feel like home.

The road trip is another novelty in this year of adventure, because as a city kid I’ve never really driven much. And, most of the driving I’ve done has been low-speed, tactical driving around the East Coast. It’s the kind of stuff most people hate: elbowing into a lane, swerving around a delivery truck, and trawling for a parking spot: circling the block, antenna quivering for a door opening, a brake light igniting, any sign that a parked car is about to move. That’s the real secret to finding parking in the city— you have to identify the spot before it opens up, because once the current car leaves, it’s too late. (this also leads me to hover annoyingly at busy restaurants.) So getting behind the wheel and rolling down the highway for 6 hours is a novel experience. I agonized over whether I should have turned off at that last vista point. I wondered whether my “drive safe and save” bluetooth beacon could autodial the Highway Patrol to report me for speeding, and how many minutes ago it was likely to have done so. I set cruise control and felt smug. On this trip, I discovered all the most banal aspects of driving and exalted in them.

The trip began in earnest when I hit the Pacific. It felt like an impact, the way it opened up at the end of the road as I crested a hill. Royal blue and velvety, blotting out the pavement and the low-slung commercial strip, the trees and part of the sky. Within minutes I was waiting in line at a roadside clam shack, debating whether to have the fried oysters and halibut or the steamers, and then ordering both. My first analyst said that according to Jung, who was Swiss, some people are drawn to mountains and others to the sea. When I lived near Mont Blanc, I remember hearing locals say that some people experience the mountain as a sinister presence, were almost driven mad by it looming over them. These seem like the beliefs of people who have not visited the West Coast. In Oregon, Highway 101 hugs the curves of the hills, periodically bursting through the curtain of pine to reveal the sea thumping against tall cliffs. I opened the sunroof to let in the alternating waves of crisp mountain air and gauzy ocean breeze. Everything had a sheen to it: the ocean, glimmering with reflected sunlight, and the rolling green hills of evergreen forest, its thousands of individual pine needles shimmering like bugle beads on an evening gown.

There’s something weird about going on a road trip within the context of a larger, longer trip. It’s like Shakespeare’s play within a play. The road trip is usually a place of wildness and interior voyage: The logic of the road pulls you away from the everyday and, unmooring you from the contexts where you recognize yourself, opens the way for introspection and discovery. Already at sea, I turned to the sea as a point of familiarity. But this was not my sea; this was the Pacific. The steamers were smaller than Atlantic little-neck clams, and sat in tiny, pleated shells instead of heavy, horizontally ridged ones. The relentless cliffs, the eerie rock formations jutting up out of the beach, all signaled an other ocean than the one I knew. The sea is the same; it is you that are different. I dreamed I loved a man who left his wife for a woman other than me. This was all getting a bit baroque. I probably should not have listened to so many hours of Dua Lipa. I was that person pulling up at a trailhead miles down a dirt road in the middle of Redwoods National Park at 8:45am, amidst the silent majesty of the ancient trees, with the sunroof open and dance music blaring. Fortunately there was no one around; I was the second car in the pullout. I could rustle around in my trunk and snap selfies in front of the trail sign in peace.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I didn’t get to the Redwoods until Day 2. I had my weird dream at a Dickensian forest lodge/ RV park pressed up against the highway that evening. On Day 3, I took the fork where Highway 1 begins in Legett, CA and headed for Mendocino. My favorite three minutes of cinema is the opening credits of the original Italian Job, in which a man in florid brown wraparound sunglasses guides a Lamborghini Miura through the switchbacks of the Italian Alps. Matt Munro croons “On Days Like These” as the driver walks his hands walk back and forth around the steering wheel underneath the dizzying view out the windshield. This was my aesthetic imperative for the day. At its beginning, Highway 1 slithers through forest, looping back and forth more aggressively even than it does on the coast. The speed limit is 55 but you would have to be Evil Knievel to go that fast, because most of the curves are 25 or 15 mph. I played Frank Sinatra and, as I flung my 20-year-old Camry back and forth, reflected that everyone should really be issued a roadster at the beginning of the road. Also perhaps a barf bag for any passengers. Fortunately my only passengers were the debris that accumulates on the passenger seat when you are driving alone, and they hit the rubber floor mat immediately.

On Highway 1 I found the sea again, after the interlude of the Redwood National Parks. Freud describes an “oceanic feeling”: “a sensation of eternity, a feeling as of something limitless, unbounded.” He has never felt it, he claims, but a friend describes it to him to explain why people seek out religion. Over the following hundred or so pages of “Civilization and Its Discontents,” he seems to find the roots of this feeling in the condition of modernity, which separates us from one another and leaves us longing for love and connection. For Freud, the oceanic feeling isn’t really about the ocean so much as what it connotes— expansive, pacific.

Probably what earns Freud’s scorn most about the oceanic feeling is the benevolent view of nature it contains. The idea we have when we go on a hike or feel lulled by the sound of waves—of nature as restorative, nourishing, salutary— is a product of the Enlightenment and coeval with consumer capitalism. As Odysseus sails around the Mediterranean, Homer calls the sea “wine dark,” usually rendered as one word: winedark. I thought about this at the winery, sometimes while contemplating the wine stains on my t-shirt. The darkness describes more than the rich, opaque red of wine; it also stands in for the mysterious forces concealed in the sea and in the beverage. The sea yields monsters or, equally terrifying, storms. Wine holds a transformative power over humans— unpredictable and dangerous. For Homer, the sea is also a kind of beast: Odysseus’ ship sails on its back. The idea of the sea as a winedark monster reinforces this idea of a mysterious life force, the sea as a living beast with mysterious depths. The sea and the wine contain a vital force that promises to overwhelm and shatter human projects.

From things that Freud says at the end of Civilization and Its Discontents, I think he sees the oceanic feeling as something womblike and reassuring. The wine dark sea represents loss of control, the futility of human will before the capricious gods. Between the oceanic feeling and the winedark sea lie the will to dominate nature and the sorrow when this domination is achieved, shot through the with the unsettling idea that an untamable current runs deep within the human psyche.

[alaska-gothic]

Alaska Gothic

When it's cold enough, you can keep frozen food in your car or on your porch. Just be sure to take the proper precautions or something might think it's an offering. You didn't know? Well...I'm sure it's fine.

"Always winter and never Christmas" is for amateurs. Here it's always breakup and never spring.

Shemya's unofficial motto is "it's not the end of the world, but you can see it from here." This isn't quite true, but sanity does require preserving certain illusions.

Your dog growls at something in the woods. You can't see anything. Your dog is still growling.

You pass five fireworks stands on the road to Talkeetna. They are always closed. You can never remember their names.

Of course there aren't any vampires in Barrow. That would be silly. Silly people don't last very long here.

Graffiti in the roadside outhouses on the Canada part of the Alaska-Canada Highway is way more polite than graffiti in the Alaskan outhouses. However, Alaskan outhouses are modern, built on paved pullouts. The pullouts in Canada are impossibly wide gravel pads, built for something far bigger than the occasional RV, with an outhouse painted in cheerful colors teetering at the very edge. (The view is nice, though.)

A band that used to be famous is coming to the State Fair. Posters around town advertise the presence of the lead singer, who died a decade ago.

The 4th Avenue Theater has always been closed. It is always marked for demolition but never demolished. You went inside once, when it was still in use, didn't you? No. You didn't. The 4th Avenue Theater has always been closed.

It's always daylight during the summer. The neighborhood kids love it. You can hear them, all night, every night. You never see them, but you always hear them. (Are they...chanting? No. That would be silly.)

There was still a Blockbuster Video in Anchorage for a long, long time. People go there, sometimes. They always come back, but something about them seems very, very slightly different. It's probably just your imagination, though.

You have never seen Sarah Palin in person. You are not sure anyone has, or whether she still lives here. But she haunts you all the same.

You can't see Russia from your house. No Alaskan can. But you feel it, watching, waiting. (There is a certificate on your dad's office wall from the later days of the Cold War, when Russia sent messengers to watch much more closely. He has had many offices. The certificate is always there.)

Every year, the snow melts, leaving behind many things that should have stayed hidden.

Your car was clean, once, on a bright July day for five minutes after you left the car wash.

You have never been combat fishing. You have never met anyone who has been combat fishing. But you've heard stories. There are no winners in combat fishing.

Worms live in the glaciers.

Ravens are digging through your trash again. They've been at it for days now but when you think about it, you realize you've never seen them eat anything. Instead, it's almost like they're looking for something.

There’s a particularly bad pothole on your street. Every summer, road crews patch it up; every breakup, it’s back again, the exact same size, shape, location, and level of water. It seems to go a very long way down. You used a stick to try to figure out how deep it was, once; you don’t actually remember what happened next, but you know not to try again.  

When the sun goes down above the Arctic Circle, it never comes back. They say it does, but they're wrong.