Free Taters for Out-of-Staters.
Ah Idaho... Where they grow potatoes. And I will say they do grow a lot of potatoes. They even take time off of school for the potato harvest, which is cool. Anyways our travels brought us to Idaho to visit Tiny Tara, who had a sweet setup for us including food/drinks and our own trailer. We arrived pretty late cause we drove from Portland and stopped in Boise to see my friend Willie for a little while. Anyways... long story short, Ashley thought Tara's dog was a puppet and we woke up the baby.
Some of our previous excursions were centered around historic events however this is not the case with Idaho because nothing historic has happened there. We instead changed subjects and decided to focus on geology, which is Idaho's pride and joy (besides potatoes).
The town Tara lives in is called Idaho Falls. At one point Tara told me an elaborate story about how the town got it's name and what it used to be called and stuff. Basically there are a lot of ins and outs and what-have-yous about this little community but all you really need to remember is that it is the town in Idaho with the little waterfall. Hence the name.
Several people including Tara and her parents bragged about the giant potato and the "free taters for out-of-staters" available at the potato museum. So needless to say we planned a visit. Turns out the free taters aren't so free, in fact, you have to pay for them. And the giant potato isn't as big as Tara thought it was.
We all enjoyed our stay in Idaho (including the Tiny Tara sized shower in the basement) and would like to thank Tara and her family for their hospitality.
The trailer was the shit.
The end.
Portland: rats, homeless people, and more
Portland is full of good times and surprises. The crew at this juncture was Ashley, Ben, Jason, Erika, and me. We stayed with a fine young lady by the name of Court (good friend of Ashley's) in her luxurious yet toaster-less apartment. Ashley spent most of the time hanging out with Court and Erika was visiting her family so Ben, Jason and I were left to wander around downtown Portland.
What I gathered about Portland:
Apparently when schools get old they turn them into movie theater-restaurant-bars (one of which we went to) which is a good idea.
Concerts there are cool (we saw Mono and Maserati play).
The homeless population is out of control: They either build elaborate huts in weird places in the middle of town or just cover themselves with blankets and garbage and lay down. Also some of them apparently sleep all day (or are dead), and the other ones swing canes and crutches wildly at each other and at innocent bystanders.
On weekends they have a huge market. At this market you can expect to see hundreds of tents selling various trinkets, thousands of hippies, a few bucket drummers, and at least one Blink 182 cover band.
They have a famous skate park under a bridge called Burnside that is pretty shady (one of the obstacles in this skate park is to avoid being pushed off of ramps by the local homeless guy). We stopped by and were pretty impressed by its awesome trashiness, not to mention the guy playing shred air guitar on his skateboard.
Alright last but definitely not least... As we were wandering/talking/sharing laughs all of the sudden Jason lets out in a shrill voice, "shit!" and points down to the ground, things got a little crazy for a second, but eventually our nerves calmed down and our heart rates slowed and we realized that what we were looking at was a little rat (or a big mouse). What really irritated me about this rat was that he absolutely did not care that I was standing there staring down at him. At any moment I could have dropped something heavy right on him, or kicked him across the street, but it just sat there happily munching on his garbage. Anyways... the rat and I ended up going our separate ways peacefully but to this day I remain irritated and secretly hope that someday this little rat ends up being a hearty meal for a hungry hobo.
Seattle is hip.
The Gang Goes to Seattle
If you ask Ben Fuller what he thought of Seattle he would answer in an unenthusiastic tone, "There were a lot of people riding bikes." Then after a slight pause and a shake of the head, "I hate cities."
The truth is, there were a lot of bikes there, but it was pretty cool. We met up with our old pal Erika Thun and had some good times at Gas Works park kicking kickballs at people riding bikes and throwing rocks at boats.
A good Samaritan by the name of Shawny let us crash on her floor. She also gave us fingernail clippers, free starbucks and let us cook pancakes at her appartment. To sum it up... Shawny is cool.
I did learn a couple things while I was in Seattle. First of all Erika has a boyfriend named Leo that apparently knows $#%*! everybody. Also Erika has no problem lifting any of us off of the ground.
We wandered around the city taking in the sites. We went to see the troll under the bridge which was not what I expected (for some reason I expected to see an old man in a cage or something). It was actually a giant troll statue under a bridge that was definitely not intended as something to jump off of.
I tried sushi for the first time which was much better than I thought it would be although, salmon eggs... not for me.
We had a good time with a couple cool cats named Lindsay and Pat (school chums of Ashleys) after leaving a terrible heavy metal concert which included a guy dressed as a nun screaming about satan.
Basically what I am trying to get at is that despite the abundance of bikers Seattle was a good time.
Meeting the Huffmans
So... at long last we met Ashley's parents. They live in Bellingham, WA. Turns out they are really awesome people who like giving people tacos and hats.
Things I remember about Bellingham:
Ashley hates the family cat
We saw Minus the Bear
Ashley's sister has a pretty cool guitar amp
Disk golf
Disk golf again
Gandolfos (a little taste of Utah)
We got a first hand look at *Bradly Baldwin's old stomping grounds although despite our most valiant efforts we were unable to locate the elusive creature.
*Bradly is a fellow Driver/Guide of much interest. His exploits inculde living on a boat in Bellingham for four and a half years as well as spending the entire summer in an RV in a church parking lot.
Canada... Who Cares.
So Canada was not really our cup of tea. It doesn't have much going for it really. I mean I guess technically it was a beautiful drive but... their Mountain Dew contains no caffeine. Night two was spent at some hotsprings near Whitehorse which were pretty alright. However we woke up to even more snow the second day and decided, with only thirty hours left to go, we would bomb our way back to America singing Neil Diamond the entire way (and when I say the entire way I mean once right before we hit the border).
So... What I am telling you is that we drove the hell out of that Canadian highway. The responsibility fell onto Jason and I to drive all night, while Ben and Ashley slept in the backseat (for like 10 hours). Jason and I don't sleep much anyways because sleep is the cousin of death.
Things we saw in Canada: A ghost rider, A giant flame in the sky, and a red lightning storm.
The only thing the people working at the border said to us was... "You guys look tired."
One last note: Don't be fooled by the allure of ketchup flavored chips.
O' Canada... You'd be well inclined not to mess with me
What Jason remembers about today... Driving through Canada you can expect two things, crappy Coke and no caffeine in the Mt. Dew. Oh, 7/11 Tocitos, energy drinks, and Sour Patch Kids at 4 in the morning will keep you awake but are a bad combo.
Lucky, if I have a warrant out for my arrest, the Canadian Mounties were clueless. Suckers. They never saw it comin'. Although, it was pretty sketchy driving across the boarder with Ben's new haircut.
Will Jason Moffat Make it to Canada?
Will Jason Moffat make it into Canada? With a warrant out for his arrest we intended to find out.
Step 1: Get shit together.
Step 2: Say goodbye to “the van” (the prized possession of Jason, Seth and I)
Step 3: Leave Anchorage (much easier said than done) departure time: 2:00 pm.
So… we didn’t make it too far the first day. We ended up camping at an empty, desolate, owl-infested campsite near Tok, Alaska.
We did manage to set up tents before dark… barely. The only way to properly describe the weather is… It was freezing balls. The normally firewood-abundant forest of Alaska seemed void of anything flammable. We did finally manage to get a fire going using some small green twigs, several magazines, and pieces of smashed guitar.
Other evening activities included owl hunting, “fighting to the death” with flaming sticks, and taking sweet-awesome pictures with Jason’s camera.
Luckily we had a three-man tent and a two-man tent at our disposal for our sleeping needs. We quickly realized however that with Mel, Jacob, Jason, Ben, Ashley, and me, that we had made an unfortunate mathematical error.
The thing about three-man tents is that they were never designed to house four people.
Anyways… one thing led to another and it ended up snowing that night.
The End of Tyranny
The location we decided on was Kincaid Park (the Clint Kreitel party zone*) on the outskirts of Anchorage, however, instead of attempting the arduous climb down to the beach we arranged for a cliff-side sacrifice.
We proceeded to individually douse our work shoes and pants with lighter fluid and slowly but surely the pile transformed from objects representing suffering and turmoil into a glorious ball of fire beneath a cloud of black smoke.
Freedom!
*The party zone is a reference to a terrible bonfire gathering early on in the summer, the second worst day in Nate Dutton’s life.
Resurrection pass.
Hiking. Basically what you do is walk, for extended periods of time, hours and even days sometimes. In our case... four days, forty miles. Jason already posted some photos of the trip which are sweet-awesome. The following is a list of information/highlights (in text form) of the trip...
"Sweet-awesome" was added to our vocabulary.
Erika had the heaviest pack due to her orange juice addiction.
The driver to tour director ratio was perfect. (7 to 1)
"Tara the tiny tortoise"
It turns out that forty miles is pretty far. Especially if you have been sitting on your ass for five months. I can't speak for everyone (wildebeast legs, you know who you are) but my legs were definitely a little shocked, confused, and pissed off for a while.
Telling a girl she has legs like a wildebeast is apparently not a good idea. Even though it sounds awesome.
Chow mein is better than cup of noodles.
At seven o'clock the first morning a phone rings. We are in the Alaskan wilderness where there is no cell phone service. A state of confusion ensues. Utter chaos. Various profanities are shouted. I stick my head down the hole to see what the commotion is all about. Ashley is frantically searching through her bag and eventually pulls out her cell phone and turns off her alarm. Might not sound very funny, but... it was.
Feel free to correct me on this one, but it seemed like Mel and Jacob did not stop talking to each other the entire trip... which is cool.
At one point Jason "the legend" Moffat pushed a tree down. "To piss bears off."
At another point Ashley fell down. It was a good fall though. Not like one of those times when people fall and you think to yourself, "Oh, that was sad." Very graceful. Well done Ash.
Oh and I hiked the entire forty miles in skate shoes. Because hiking shoes are for the birds.
The trail ended in Hope Alaska. The original plan was for some of the crew to hang out in Hope while the rest of the crew went to get the other car. Turns out everything in Hope was closed for the season so Jason and I ended up being trapped in the back of Ben's truck with the muddy gear freezing cold curled up in the fetal position for like an hour and a half.
"One cold corndog shame on me, two cold corndogs... shame on you."
40 Miles. Not 38.
Below: Seriously looking homeless.
Driver/Guides WTF?
First things first. Summary of a summer as a Driver/Guide.
The first thing I did upon arrival was start to question my decision to be a Driver/Guide for a second summer. Driver-Guiding is definitely not a normal lifestyle, basically a position made up by Carnival Corporation as a last ditch effort to cut costs by combining two postitions. The number one lesson I want everyone who reads this blog to take away is that tourism is both bogus and sad. For example, I gave tours of the city of Anchorage on a fairly regular basis that were composed entirely of information I read on wikipedia. Anyways, the following is a list of things that sucked about being a driver/guide. (to be updated regularly).
1. Giving tours (tourism in general).
2. Working as many hours as legally possible on a regular basis. (80 in 8 days).
3. Crystal Smith (the woman behind the green curtain).
4. Healy/The Death Star. (better not to ask.)
5. Collecting Vouchers. (the bain of Ben Fuller's existance).
6. "Pumpkin time." (cinderella reference/really irritating).
7. Dial-a-Dispatch. (this is the daily dispatch for... $@#*!).
Introduction
We are hobo drifters now, which means we live in the present (as opposed to the past). We are unemployed and homeless. No responsibilities. No obligations. No worries. Benificial to our future? Well... meh, not really. Potentially a really good time? Hells yeah.
So, presuming that someone is reading this blog, at this point you might be asking yourself, "Why am I reading this blog and who the hell are these hobo drifters anyways?" Chances are you probably know one or two of us but not all of us. Also... the crew changes, people come and go at their leisure (which is the sweet thing about being a hobo drifter). Anyways so far the whole crew has consisted of former seasonal employees of Holland America Princess Alaska (other nicknames include, HAPA and The Great Abominable Whore).
The purpose of this blog is strictly to inform our families and friends of our whereabouts and various activities and to greatly reduce or eliminate personal/telephone conversations. If you are reading this for entertainment purposes I recommend rethinking your life and possibly even joining our hobo drifter society.