And back to Canada I went. I arrived in Montreal late on monday evening to surf Ross´s couch. He greeted me at the steps of his apartment building with an ice cold beer which was extremely welcome and even more so cos it was ridiculously hot even at that time. For the first time on my trip I had entered a non-english speaking part of the world and it was so refreshing. I had always wanted to go to that part of Canada. Gotta love the Gallic cultural pride/superiority.
I headed off early the next morning after having breakfast with Ross´s girlfriend Emily and their little kid Avery who was a crazy little 2 year old. A definite engineer in the making. The plan was to visit Quebec City for a few days before returning to Montreal for the weekend. On arrival in Quebec I, having again left my requests to the last minute, found that I was couchless so I checked into a hostel that Martin a kiwi that I met was staying at. Cool little spot but at $30 a night I was pleased to find out that Mathieu had responded to my request for a couch for the next night.
I went out for a few pints with Martin and Hossan from Iran who was also staying at the hostel. He was a crazy genteel little fella - "I´m a leeetle beeet razist, haaa haaaaaaa" - like his president not a fan of the US, the Arabs and Israel. Interesting cat.
The minute I met Mathieu I knew it would be a struggle. A bit of an oaf and not the brightest chap I´d met on my travels. It was definitely bringing up the rear of my couchsuring experiences. Not a bad lad and pretty generous but we were both cut from different cloths. Spends his days getting stoned and playing computer games. That allied to the fact that we had a crap night out I decided to return to Montreal a bit earlier than planned.
Quebec City didnt really grab me either. Although to be fair it was more the fact that every school in the world seemed to be having their school tours there at the same time. Even still the town was a bit of a Hansel and Grettle/museum type joint. Very french but having seen many beautiful old French towns in the flesh I wasn´t especially moved by it. Also, an old historic place is a relative thing in North America. Anyway, any city that charges $7 a pint needs to have a lot going for it.
So back to Montreal I voyaged. Couchsurfed with Nicholas and his multi-national crew - Carlos from Mehico, Danna from Colombia and Adrienne from France. An interesting, diverse group. To me Montreal provided a completely different experience. While I found Quebec pretty dead, Montreal teemed with life and oozed creativity. I had a great time there and definitely my kind of town.
It possesses all the wonderful quirkiness of a french city with the energy of a North America hotspot. Also, it seemed to be populated entirely by people in their 20´s. I spent the next few days gatching around the different places. I really like the Mont Royal/Plateau area. On the saturday myself and Nicholas met up with a few of Una´s friends from college - Kate, Eoin, Stephen and Nicola. It was cool to meet them and also cos I hadnt spent time with Irish people in a while. They had all moved over and picked up architecture/planning jobs pretty easily. They had a really good set-up there and a real creative place to spend a year or two although apparently the winter is ferociously cold !
The next day I met up with them again at the Tam Tam which is a huge collection of the weird and whacky who gather every sunday in the summer for huge drum based jamming session. Very much reminscent of San Fran´s sunday Hippy Hill sessions in Golden Gate Park.
The previous night I had been chatting to them about the apparently very strong Irish influence in Quebec. Stephen was telling me that apparently a rake of them had settled there in the 1800´s, much more so than in the english speaking west of Canada, which is still very British in its make-up. I had stumbled across a little Irish Quarter in Quebec City and also a big statue of a Celtic Cross donated the the people of Quebec as a sign of our gratitude for the great support that they had given us during the Famine. Also, I was amazed, upon going to watch some traditional Quebecois music, how incredibly similar it was to Irish music, athough much of this may be from the migrant Breton population too.
Overall, I reckon I´d place Montreal up there with my favourite cities in North America, a close second to San Fran (which I really had discovered in 2003) and also a place that I´m certain I´ll revisit. I suppose Montreal was essentially the place I was expecting to find on arriving in Vancouver.
Friday 27 June 2008
A Time for Reflection
I thoroughly enjoyed my 30-day rail pass with Amtrak. In fact, to me, its the only way to travel in the States especially that fuel prices have jumped so much which prices road tripping out of the market. I´ve seen some amazing scenery and done it in such comfort that the thought of the 26 hour Greyhound trip that lay ahead filled me with dread. I just cannot understand how so many backpackers choose it over the train. I enjoyed Amtrak, I endured Greyhound.
Even recounting the time from when I left Chicago to arriving in Montreal makes me shudder. I arrived in Cleveland Bus Station at one in the morning with an hour wait for my connection. An aged Greyhound Cop approached me - a real fuckin doughnut eater - and said that they had selected me for a random security search. Himself and this half retarded spotty redneck fuck quized me in their room. Asked me did I have any weapons (!!) on me . I told them that I didn´t but that i had a camping knife down in the middle of my backpack. The Goons started giving me grief about it, saying that I wasn´t allowed to have a knife on the bus. I pointed out that I didn´t. That it was in my bag beneath the fucking bus not strapped to the inside of my leg. They told me that i wasnt allowed to have one there either and that some fella before had slit the drivers throat with a knife concealed in his bag like mine. Funny that one never made the news. Muppets.
So anyway, they searched my smaller bag, taking all of the contents out. When it finally dawned on them that I wasnt a threat to anyone, they told me to clear off. After I boarded the next bus I went to get my camera out of my bag. No sign of it. Fucking pricks. Either nicked it or forgot to put it back into my bag. I was fucking raging. I rang them from the next station. They claimed to know nothing about it. Thing is that I´d seen them grab a few more backpackers in for ´random inspection´too. Strange they didnt think of searching any of the hundreds of nutjobs walking around the station. I always expect that stuff to happen in developing countries and certainly not in the US.
It was really disappointing to leave the country on such a sour note. I had such a good time in the gaff and met a lot of really good skins and very few bad ones. The thing about the States is that that you know what you get there. The good and the bad. I´ve spent quite a bit of time there and I´ve always liked the place and the people.
The one question I was consistently asked was "what do people in Ireland think of us". I tell them all the same thing - we generally like the people and the place while not agreeing with the politics. My experience with these cops and an experience I had the next day with the border police in Albany - a good five hours from the border - where they approached everyone with slightly dark skin (and me !) asking for their passports made me imagine for a moment that I was living in some Eastern Bloc country during Communism - "Papers please".
This was something that I´d never experienced before in the States and absolutely not something that I enjoyed. It has become increasingly more paranoid as a nation and for many reasons not one that sits comfortably within its own skin. On reflection, this was something that had been echoed to me by most of the people I´d befriended on this trip anyway. Although I´d chosen my locations pretty sharpely ( I know what I like and I know what I dont) so I had pretty much steered clear of any real redneck areas (one summer in South Carolina gave me a lifetimes worth!) From the people I had met they were all pretty unhappy about the direction their country has taken and were predominantly strong supporters of the Boy Obama.
Even recounting the time from when I left Chicago to arriving in Montreal makes me shudder. I arrived in Cleveland Bus Station at one in the morning with an hour wait for my connection. An aged Greyhound Cop approached me - a real fuckin doughnut eater - and said that they had selected me for a random security search. Himself and this half retarded spotty redneck fuck quized me in their room. Asked me did I have any weapons (!!) on me . I told them that I didn´t but that i had a camping knife down in the middle of my backpack. The Goons started giving me grief about it, saying that I wasn´t allowed to have a knife on the bus. I pointed out that I didn´t. That it was in my bag beneath the fucking bus not strapped to the inside of my leg. They told me that i wasnt allowed to have one there either and that some fella before had slit the drivers throat with a knife concealed in his bag like mine. Funny that one never made the news. Muppets.
So anyway, they searched my smaller bag, taking all of the contents out. When it finally dawned on them that I wasnt a threat to anyone, they told me to clear off. After I boarded the next bus I went to get my camera out of my bag. No sign of it. Fucking pricks. Either nicked it or forgot to put it back into my bag. I was fucking raging. I rang them from the next station. They claimed to know nothing about it. Thing is that I´d seen them grab a few more backpackers in for ´random inspection´too. Strange they didnt think of searching any of the hundreds of nutjobs walking around the station. I always expect that stuff to happen in developing countries and certainly not in the US.
It was really disappointing to leave the country on such a sour note. I had such a good time in the gaff and met a lot of really good skins and very few bad ones. The thing about the States is that that you know what you get there. The good and the bad. I´ve spent quite a bit of time there and I´ve always liked the place and the people.
The one question I was consistently asked was "what do people in Ireland think of us". I tell them all the same thing - we generally like the people and the place while not agreeing with the politics. My experience with these cops and an experience I had the next day with the border police in Albany - a good five hours from the border - where they approached everyone with slightly dark skin (and me !) asking for their passports made me imagine for a moment that I was living in some Eastern Bloc country during Communism - "Papers please".
This was something that I´d never experienced before in the States and absolutely not something that I enjoyed. It has become increasingly more paranoid as a nation and for many reasons not one that sits comfortably within its own skin. On reflection, this was something that had been echoed to me by most of the people I´d befriended on this trip anyway. Although I´d chosen my locations pretty sharpely ( I know what I like and I know what I dont) so I had pretty much steered clear of any real redneck areas (one summer in South Carolina gave me a lifetimes worth!) From the people I had met they were all pretty unhappy about the direction their country has taken and were predominantly strong supporters of the Boy Obama.
Chicago
I left Ronan in Denver to reboard the California Zephyr for the third and last time. Up til then every train I´d riden had come in bang on time or better still early. Amtrak had, in my eyes, been unfortunately laden with an undeserved reputation for tardiness but all that was to change. This trip completely lived up to its infamous reputation - 11 fucking hours late !! Unreal. The problem is that in the States the train lines are owned by the freight companies so they get right of way on the tracks.
Annoyingly too, the journey was extended into the daytime and while i had been relishing my final trip the bland scenery did little to pass the time. Luckily though, i was sitting next to Matt and Sally who were well sound. The other balls about the delay was that it would shorten even further the time I would have to spend in Chicago. I was well fucked off at the fact that i would only have a day and a half to spend there.
Eventually an extremely disgruntled train pulled into Union Station at two in the morning. Even though i knew that Chicago was a pretty humid city, it was extremely foggy outside so i threw on my jeans and hoodie. Wrong move, even at that time it was fucking boiling outside.
I had lined up a couch to stay on with Jess and Lynn but I seriously flahed from the train journey the day before so we did little in the way of activity. Unfortunately I will have to leave Chicago for another trip really.
Annoyingly too, the journey was extended into the daytime and while i had been relishing my final trip the bland scenery did little to pass the time. Luckily though, i was sitting next to Matt and Sally who were well sound. The other balls about the delay was that it would shorten even further the time I would have to spend in Chicago. I was well fucked off at the fact that i would only have a day and a half to spend there.
Eventually an extremely disgruntled train pulled into Union Station at two in the morning. Even though i knew that Chicago was a pretty humid city, it was extremely foggy outside so i threw on my jeans and hoodie. Wrong move, even at that time it was fucking boiling outside.
I had lined up a couch to stay on with Jess and Lynn but I seriously flahed from the train journey the day before so we did little in the way of activity. Unfortunately I will have to leave Chicago for another trip really.
Wednesday 18 June 2008
Family Ties
After the debauchery of Boulder, the thought of comfort and solace with my cousin Ronan and his clan was deeply appealing. I caught the complementary Greyhound bus, that was included in my Amtrak pass, to Vail also in Colorado where Ronan´s missus Chris collected me. Overall I spent three nice relaxed days with them and I was great to catch up with Ronan who I hadn´t seen in over 10 years. Ronan is my mums first cousin and he moved over to the States on a running scholarship from Dublin in 1982 and never went back. It was great also to meet Chris and my crazy little cousins Brogan and Bailey.
We had a really good time and he took good care of me. We trekked up to the simply named Hanging Lake which was a sight to behold not least because the water was at its fiercest due to the amount of meltwater after a seriously heavy winter snow fall. Colorado is truly a spectacular part of the country with wonderful canyons, rivers and hills. I can only imagine what its like in the winter with the world class skiing that it is reputed to have. That is something that i would definitely like to experience at some stage.
I had a bit of excitement on leaving the Murrays in Avon. Knowing that I was on the last of my 30 day Rail Pass I just had to make the only train of the day in Denver. The fucking Greyhound bus was over 2 hours late and i was begining to get very edgy so I felt obliged to put the call in to Ronan for a lift. I suggested that we give the bus another twenty minutes but he was having none of it. He drove me all of the 100 plus miles to Denver and we even had enough time to sneak in two pints before the train.
We had a really good time and he took good care of me. We trekked up to the simply named Hanging Lake which was a sight to behold not least because the water was at its fiercest due to the amount of meltwater after a seriously heavy winter snow fall. Colorado is truly a spectacular part of the country with wonderful canyons, rivers and hills. I can only imagine what its like in the winter with the world class skiing that it is reputed to have. That is something that i would definitely like to experience at some stage.
I had a bit of excitement on leaving the Murrays in Avon. Knowing that I was on the last of my 30 day Rail Pass I just had to make the only train of the day in Denver. The fucking Greyhound bus was over 2 hours late and i was begining to get very edgy so I felt obliged to put the call in to Ronan for a lift. I suggested that we give the bus another twenty minutes but he was having none of it. He drove me all of the 100 plus miles to Denver and we even had enough time to sneak in two pints before the train.
Sunday 15 June 2008
Hair of the Dog
After spending a few hours hanging around Salt Lake City I was on the California Zephyr train headed for Colorado. Although it was a day train it was extremely enjoyable as the journey took us snaking along the Colorado River twisting and turning with each bend in the river. The river had created a steep jagged canyon which really did justice to the reputation that Colorado possesses.
I was in Jonny and Ryan`s gaff in Boulder, within an hour of detraining at Denver. Boulder is this cool little college town (quite like Missoula) in the middle of the Rockies. Crazy place. They brought me on some serious nights out. Beforehand though, they recounted their tale of the only other foreign couchsurfers they had. Quite a story:
Two weeks previously they had these two aussie lads staying with them. One of them, Andy, got pretty twisted one night. So drunk that he was struggling to keep on his feet. So obviously when the cops laid eyes on him he was a goner. They hauled his ass off to Detox - an informal arrangement where they throw fellas in to sober up.
But the thing is that its a voluntary situation in that if you really wanna leave they can`t do much to stop you short of arresting you. So anyway, the boy Andy, still plastered decided to leave. This story was only pieced together at a later date as Andy has zero recollection of what happened next. Apparently, he stumbled across the road to where there was a trailer park and attempted to enter one of the trailers. The guy who lived there obviously went mental at this and a scuffle ensued. Yer man managed to get away and call the copson Andy, and yip, you`ve guessed it, he got lynched again !!!
This is where it gets interesting. The charges - public intoxication, trespassing on private property, breaking and entering and (it turned out the guy was disabled) assault on a disabled person !! His goose was truly cooked. He literally had no recollection whatsoever so he had to agree with everything they threw at him. His lawyer reckoned he was facing 6 months - minimum !
Because he was a foreigner the bail was raised to $30,000 which he didnt exactly have on him. so they shipped him off to the county jail where the poor bastard spent 6 days. His parents where in Europe at the time and they flew out to him in desperation. well proud id say. The thing about the court case was that he was a qualified lawyer himself so he knew he was fucked. Astonishingly, the judge accepted his plea bargain and, I`d imagine because of the cost to the state of imprisoning him, charged him with trespassing on agricultural land and told him to get the fuck out of the country!
And before any of ye start leaving ye`re imaginations get the better of ye Andy is an australian and not in fact, me. Anyway, in fairness to Ryan and Jonny, they kept their faith in the Couch Surfing phenomenon but assured me that I had a hell of a lot to live up to.....
So I had a great laugh crashing with the lads. We hit a great electro gig on the first night. Canadian band called New Deal before going in to town. the next morning we went to the nearby creek for an ice cold t-bag. very refreshing to say the least !! the saturday night left me in a state of serious disrepair the following day. one of my worst hangovers of all time ! We started off the night at a keg party of one of their friends. One of whom had an alcoholic dog - i kid you not. i found the little shite tucking into a cup of beer under the table. thats Boulder for you.
So whilst nursing an atrocious hangover on the sunday evening, another memorable scene occured. The lads had another bloke called Fritz staying there too. He had been in college with them and had come back for the weekend but they weren`t crazy about him. They had also agreed to look after some chicks dog while she went away for a few days. Fritz, completely sober on his own in the house, had found it in his wisdom that the dog would look far cooler with a "Lion Tail" so he went about cutting half of the dogs tail hair off. Not a bright idea and the lads weren`t impressed. The girl didn`t realise it when she came to collect the dog so we all breathed a sigh of relieft.
Ten minutes later the door burst open. She was back. And she was not a happy dog owner !! fucking hell she was going beserk. What followed next was one of the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of my life. She unleashed a vitriolic hysterical rant about how her dog would be scarred for life and would never be the same again. It was Keane/McCarthy-esque. Fritz decided not to own up so poor Ryan took the brunt of the abuse while stating that he didn`t know who was responsible. I tried to stare at my shoes for the duration but I felt seriously uncomfortable. While it was bad form on Fritz`s part, she took it a bit too personally stating that the dog was the most important thing in her life. Not much of a fuckin life I thought to myself !!
Overall, Boulder was a shit hot town and the lads were up there with my best couchsurfing experience.
I was in Jonny and Ryan`s gaff in Boulder, within an hour of detraining at Denver. Boulder is this cool little college town (quite like Missoula) in the middle of the Rockies. Crazy place. They brought me on some serious nights out. Beforehand though, they recounted their tale of the only other foreign couchsurfers they had. Quite a story:
Two weeks previously they had these two aussie lads staying with them. One of them, Andy, got pretty twisted one night. So drunk that he was struggling to keep on his feet. So obviously when the cops laid eyes on him he was a goner. They hauled his ass off to Detox - an informal arrangement where they throw fellas in to sober up.
But the thing is that its a voluntary situation in that if you really wanna leave they can`t do much to stop you short of arresting you. So anyway, the boy Andy, still plastered decided to leave. This story was only pieced together at a later date as Andy has zero recollection of what happened next. Apparently, he stumbled across the road to where there was a trailer park and attempted to enter one of the trailers. The guy who lived there obviously went mental at this and a scuffle ensued. Yer man managed to get away and call the copson Andy, and yip, you`ve guessed it, he got lynched again !!!
This is where it gets interesting. The charges - public intoxication, trespassing on private property, breaking and entering and (it turned out the guy was disabled) assault on a disabled person !! His goose was truly cooked. He literally had no recollection whatsoever so he had to agree with everything they threw at him. His lawyer reckoned he was facing 6 months - minimum !
Because he was a foreigner the bail was raised to $30,000 which he didnt exactly have on him. so they shipped him off to the county jail where the poor bastard spent 6 days. His parents where in Europe at the time and they flew out to him in desperation. well proud id say. The thing about the court case was that he was a qualified lawyer himself so he knew he was fucked. Astonishingly, the judge accepted his plea bargain and, I`d imagine because of the cost to the state of imprisoning him, charged him with trespassing on agricultural land and told him to get the fuck out of the country!
And before any of ye start leaving ye`re imaginations get the better of ye Andy is an australian and not in fact, me. Anyway, in fairness to Ryan and Jonny, they kept their faith in the Couch Surfing phenomenon but assured me that I had a hell of a lot to live up to.....
So I had a great laugh crashing with the lads. We hit a great electro gig on the first night. Canadian band called New Deal before going in to town. the next morning we went to the nearby creek for an ice cold t-bag. very refreshing to say the least !! the saturday night left me in a state of serious disrepair the following day. one of my worst hangovers of all time ! We started off the night at a keg party of one of their friends. One of whom had an alcoholic dog - i kid you not. i found the little shite tucking into a cup of beer under the table. thats Boulder for you.
So whilst nursing an atrocious hangover on the sunday evening, another memorable scene occured. The lads had another bloke called Fritz staying there too. He had been in college with them and had come back for the weekend but they weren`t crazy about him. They had also agreed to look after some chicks dog while she went away for a few days. Fritz, completely sober on his own in the house, had found it in his wisdom that the dog would look far cooler with a "Lion Tail" so he went about cutting half of the dogs tail hair off. Not a bright idea and the lads weren`t impressed. The girl didn`t realise it when she came to collect the dog so we all breathed a sigh of relieft.
Ten minutes later the door burst open. She was back. And she was not a happy dog owner !! fucking hell she was going beserk. What followed next was one of the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of my life. She unleashed a vitriolic hysterical rant about how her dog would be scarred for life and would never be the same again. It was Keane/McCarthy-esque. Fritz decided not to own up so poor Ryan took the brunt of the abuse while stating that he didn`t know who was responsible. I tried to stare at my shoes for the duration but I felt seriously uncomfortable. While it was bad form on Fritz`s part, she took it a bit too personally stating that the dog was the most important thing in her life. Not much of a fuckin life I thought to myself !!
Overall, Boulder was a shit hot town and the lads were up there with my best couchsurfing experience.
Thursday 5 June 2008
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Thus far my trip has provided me with predominantly positive experiences but I'm always fully aware that the bad times await me (especially that im travelling solo) - getting robbed, badly sick, losing stuff etc. Well one of those times arrived in Zion when I realised that my bank card (that i had stashed away for a rainy day) had gone missing. I reckon it fell out of my bag on the scumbag infested Greyhound bus. And so I discovered that some fuckwit had rinsed it to the tune of $800. It is currently in the hands of the good people at the co-operative bank so all may not be lost although the fact that its a debit not a credit card does not help.
I've also realised that one of the CD's with about 300 of my photos on it has gotten scratched to shit and may have lost all those photos, which would drive me fuckin beserk !
I've also realised that one of the CD's with about 300 of my photos on it has gotten scratched to shit and may have lost all those photos, which would drive me fuckin beserk !
Entering the Rockies
Upon arriving at the train station in leaving San Fran, the schmo's at Amtrak told me that the line was closed between Salt Lake City and Denver for the next few days and that train would be re-routed through boring-as-hell Wyoming thus missing the Rockies entirely! This would fuck my plans up royally. I had intended to ride the Slickrock Trail in Moab, the most famous mountain biking trail in the States.
I decided to head to Salt Lake and take it from there. Twas my first day time train ride but i came prepared with a 12 pack of cans which i shared with two english backpackers - David (around the world in 3 weeks) from Aylesbury and Becky from Harrogate. The journey took us climbing up into the spectacular Sierra Nevada mountain range before reaching the seemingly endless desert which spanned Nevada and most of Utah.
I hopped off at Salt Lake at the ungodly hour of 3 am whereupon I decided to seek a bit of kip in the luxurious surroundings of the floor in the nearby Greyhound Bus Station. Anyone who's ever been to one of those will know what joyous and upstanding places they can be. On learning that my Amtrak Pass afforded me a number of free bus journeys I set off for St George in southern Utah. From there i would chance my arm at getting to Zion National Park (of which i'd heard snippets of positive reports).
Once again neccessity forced me into using the thumb. Similar to Montana, I found hitching in a conservative state like Utah less facilitating. Thankfully, Eliza (i think) picked me up and extremely generously dropped me way beyond her chosen destination. Eh, an interesting ride divided between her offering me a Californians perspective on life in mormon Utah (including her stories of the polygamist cults in Colorado City) and her having an almighty domestic on the phone as I whistled to myself and starred blankly out the window !
She tried to explain half way through that she was facing a divorce from the geezer on the other end of the line (she couldn't have been more than 22). Anyway, I got another lift, from where she dropped me off, from Larry who instructed me to turn up at his restaurant in two days time when he was driving back to St George, an hour away. Sweet.
As per fucking usual, the endlessly atrocious Lonely Planet guide books half a page write up on Zion bore no resemblence to the quality of place that was awaiting me. Holy shitballs. Absolutely spectacular scenery abounded. Ok, maybe my memories of my visit to the Grand Canyon 5 years previously had faded over time but I do think that Zion Canyon was more impressive. While the Grand Canyons' fantastic appeal lay in its amazing vastness and scale, Zion was incredibly intricate and its topography seriously intense. Another contrast which may have shaped my opinion was that you can just arrive at the Grand Canyon and a phenomenal view awaits you. But you can potentially spend half an hour there, jump back in your car and tick it off the list. On the other hand, arriving in Zion, you've got a hell of a lot of work to do to get your rewards.
I camped out for two nights and blitzed it by cramming the two major hikes into one day in record time and had seriously earned the rewards. What made it better was that none of the hundreds of fat-assed tourists could be fucked getting sweaty so it was just a token few people at the top to savour the breath-taking views.
Now, there's no way you can fault a gaff for being popular with tourists and you certainly can't fault the people for flocking to areas of such outstanding natural beauty but some of these pricks just took the piss. Par example, when I saw these 2 chinese tourists (camera's around the necks) dressed as cowboys I nearly lost it. Now, I dont mean they had cowboy hats on. I mean they had the whole fuckin lot - denim shirts, leather waist coats, leather boots and fucking chaps !!!
I felt like telling them that they were a disgrace to their country but really I just had to laugh my ass off........
I decided to head to Salt Lake and take it from there. Twas my first day time train ride but i came prepared with a 12 pack of cans which i shared with two english backpackers - David (around the world in 3 weeks) from Aylesbury and Becky from Harrogate. The journey took us climbing up into the spectacular Sierra Nevada mountain range before reaching the seemingly endless desert which spanned Nevada and most of Utah.
I hopped off at Salt Lake at the ungodly hour of 3 am whereupon I decided to seek a bit of kip in the luxurious surroundings of the floor in the nearby Greyhound Bus Station. Anyone who's ever been to one of those will know what joyous and upstanding places they can be. On learning that my Amtrak Pass afforded me a number of free bus journeys I set off for St George in southern Utah. From there i would chance my arm at getting to Zion National Park (of which i'd heard snippets of positive reports).
Once again neccessity forced me into using the thumb. Similar to Montana, I found hitching in a conservative state like Utah less facilitating. Thankfully, Eliza (i think) picked me up and extremely generously dropped me way beyond her chosen destination. Eh, an interesting ride divided between her offering me a Californians perspective on life in mormon Utah (including her stories of the polygamist cults in Colorado City) and her having an almighty domestic on the phone as I whistled to myself and starred blankly out the window !
She tried to explain half way through that she was facing a divorce from the geezer on the other end of the line (she couldn't have been more than 22). Anyway, I got another lift, from where she dropped me off, from Larry who instructed me to turn up at his restaurant in two days time when he was driving back to St George, an hour away. Sweet.
As per fucking usual, the endlessly atrocious Lonely Planet guide books half a page write up on Zion bore no resemblence to the quality of place that was awaiting me. Holy shitballs. Absolutely spectacular scenery abounded. Ok, maybe my memories of my visit to the Grand Canyon 5 years previously had faded over time but I do think that Zion Canyon was more impressive. While the Grand Canyons' fantastic appeal lay in its amazing vastness and scale, Zion was incredibly intricate and its topography seriously intense. Another contrast which may have shaped my opinion was that you can just arrive at the Grand Canyon and a phenomenal view awaits you. But you can potentially spend half an hour there, jump back in your car and tick it off the list. On the other hand, arriving in Zion, you've got a hell of a lot of work to do to get your rewards.
I camped out for two nights and blitzed it by cramming the two major hikes into one day in record time and had seriously earned the rewards. What made it better was that none of the hundreds of fat-assed tourists could be fucked getting sweaty so it was just a token few people at the top to savour the breath-taking views.
Now, there's no way you can fault a gaff for being popular with tourists and you certainly can't fault the people for flocking to areas of such outstanding natural beauty but some of these pricks just took the piss. Par example, when I saw these 2 chinese tourists (camera's around the necks) dressed as cowboys I nearly lost it. Now, I dont mean they had cowboy hats on. I mean they had the whole fuckin lot - denim shirts, leather waist coats, leather boots and fucking chaps !!!
I felt like telling them that they were a disgrace to their country but really I just had to laugh my ass off........
San-Fran-Cisco
I rolled into San Fran via the Bay Bridge from Oakland on wednesday 21st . Great way to enter the city through the front door as it were, it being built facing onto the water. Instantly I was struck by the beauty of the place. More and more over the next few days this repeated itself. Memories fade over time and I had recalled San Fran (from the 5 months that I lived there in 2003) for its culture and street life but completely forgot how incredibly beautiful it is.
As per fuckin usual I arrived in a state of flummox, with accomodation totally up in the air. I had previously told Adam and Courtney (friends from back in the day) that i'd be arriving at the weekend and as they were leaving town couldn't sort me out. My couch surfing requests had bombed as everyone seemed to be heading away for the long weekend. I gave Adam a shout when i arrived and we headed for a few jars in the Mission where the hostel i had booked into was. In the end they insisted that i stay with them and take their place for the weekend while they were away. We hung out on thursday and reminisced about our days working in Tarantinos.
Basically, Adam like me, was over from ireland. he started going out with Courtney with about two months before heading home. They were married within two years. Unreal. They had some serious gossip bout the staff members. Ann (absolute gimp of the highest order) had been dumped by Tammy, she then gained 15 stone and ended up in hospital in a bad way with obesity for a long time. She then started running a female escort agency - a pimpette if you like. Tammy had a new girlfriend who she battered the shite out of and got locked up. She was then running the show in prison and had a hareem of chicks on the go. Tarciccio is now a woman ! and has H.I.V. (to be honest neither would surprise you if you'd met the guy). Jens got fired for stealing the camera of a customer who hadn't bothered to tip him. great people all round !
I decided to pop in there the next day for a gander. I left the place depressed and so thankful that i only spent 4 months working there. Not a fuckin thing had changed. Even the menu's had the same meals on them. And the boss Gary Burns was still a tosser. Passing through Fishermans Wharf on the way nearly made me vomit. A boil of a place. Earlier I had popped into the crew where I did my internship - the Irish Consulate. that on the other hand was a very pleasant experience, meeting all the women i used to work with.
Anyway, back to san fran.... the next morning I headed down on my own at 8 in the morning to the Keysar to try to get the Munster game. I walked in with only a few people sitting around the place and I (still half asleep) saw a familiar face. I was half expecting to meet a few of the lads from St Brendans who i played with but not this face. It was fuckin Leigh-Anne, a good friend of mine from home who i'd traveled around south america with, I couldn't believe my eyes. After a few minutes of 'what the fuck are you doing here' to each other, it transpired that neither of us knew the other one was in the States.
The strange thing about it was that we'd been emailing each other quite a bit about our prospective trips (i was advising her about Mexico and Cuba) but had no idea that herself and her dude Cian would be in San Fran. Shit like that always seems to happen when I'm away, at the least likely times. Cool to see them, and meet Cian ,over a steady stream of pints to celebrate the Munster victory.
Overall, I had a great time strolling around all my old haunts, namely Mission and the Haight. Really love this city and it stands alone for me as the best of the US.
As per fuckin usual I arrived in a state of flummox, with accomodation totally up in the air. I had previously told Adam and Courtney (friends from back in the day) that i'd be arriving at the weekend and as they were leaving town couldn't sort me out. My couch surfing requests had bombed as everyone seemed to be heading away for the long weekend. I gave Adam a shout when i arrived and we headed for a few jars in the Mission where the hostel i had booked into was. In the end they insisted that i stay with them and take their place for the weekend while they were away. We hung out on thursday and reminisced about our days working in Tarantinos.
Basically, Adam like me, was over from ireland. he started going out with Courtney with about two months before heading home. They were married within two years. Unreal. They had some serious gossip bout the staff members. Ann (absolute gimp of the highest order) had been dumped by Tammy, she then gained 15 stone and ended up in hospital in a bad way with obesity for a long time. She then started running a female escort agency - a pimpette if you like. Tammy had a new girlfriend who she battered the shite out of and got locked up. She was then running the show in prison and had a hareem of chicks on the go. Tarciccio is now a woman ! and has H.I.V. (to be honest neither would surprise you if you'd met the guy). Jens got fired for stealing the camera of a customer who hadn't bothered to tip him. great people all round !
I decided to pop in there the next day for a gander. I left the place depressed and so thankful that i only spent 4 months working there. Not a fuckin thing had changed. Even the menu's had the same meals on them. And the boss Gary Burns was still a tosser. Passing through Fishermans Wharf on the way nearly made me vomit. A boil of a place. Earlier I had popped into the crew where I did my internship - the Irish Consulate. that on the other hand was a very pleasant experience, meeting all the women i used to work with.
Anyway, back to san fran.... the next morning I headed down on my own at 8 in the morning to the Keysar to try to get the Munster game. I walked in with only a few people sitting around the place and I (still half asleep) saw a familiar face. I was half expecting to meet a few of the lads from St Brendans who i played with but not this face. It was fuckin Leigh-Anne, a good friend of mine from home who i'd traveled around south america with, I couldn't believe my eyes. After a few minutes of 'what the fuck are you doing here' to each other, it transpired that neither of us knew the other one was in the States.
The strange thing about it was that we'd been emailing each other quite a bit about our prospective trips (i was advising her about Mexico and Cuba) but had no idea that herself and her dude Cian would be in San Fran. Shit like that always seems to happen when I'm away, at the least likely times. Cool to see them, and meet Cian ,over a steady stream of pints to celebrate the Munster victory.
Overall, I had a great time strolling around all my old haunts, namely Mission and the Haight. Really love this city and it stands alone for me as the best of the US.
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