The Laughing Heart

your life is your life

don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.

be on the watch.

there are ways out.

there is light somewhere.

it may not be much light but

it beats the darkness.

be on the watch.

the gods will offer you chances.

know them.

take them.

you can’t beat death but

you can beat death in life, sometimes.

and the more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be.

your life is your life.

know it while you have it.

you are marvelous

the gods wait to delight

in you.

-Charles Bukowski

City of Angels

Mind Blown. 

Impossible Trees, and The Big South

While traveling the winding roads that would eventually lead to Big Basin Redwoods State Park I thought the trees along the side of the road were grand. I was not aware of what I was in for Gentle Reader. 

Upon arriving at the park I paid a modest parking fee and hit the trail. While hiking through the Redwood Forest I took in what were certainly the largest trees this humble scribbler has ever seen, as well as some of the oldest and tallest in the world. 

I met the Mother of the Forest:

As well as the Father if the Forest:

i was more than impressed, to say the least, by these two parental trees and their offspring. 

After thanking this awe-inspiring family for their existence, I once again jumped behind the helm of the Spark and headed south down the Pacific Coast Highway. 

My journey down the PCH, through Los Padres National Forrest, was was marked by tight roads and sharp turns. However, I cannot recall, Gentle Reader, ever driving a more beautiful or magestically scenic route than this one. 

About 3/4 of the way through Los Padres I stopped at a beach and meditated on California, the Pacific Ocean, and this land where Jack Kerouac came to fight the battle, and eventually lose the war, against alcoholic delirium, Big Sur. 

Sorry about that Jack. 

Once my contemplations came to an end, I hit the road again and headed to my final destination for the day, Santa Barbara. 

When I reached town I checked myself into a room, pored myself a Lagunitas coffee, 

grabbed the copy of On The Road that I had picked up at Mr. Ferlinghetti's book store,

and headed for the beach to wait for the sun to go down.

Today my travels south continue as I head for my final stop on this epic journey. The place where the movies are made and dreams go to die, Las Angeles, California.

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader. 

Courage, 

-Z

California Dreaming.

While flying through the night from Anchorage to Sacremento I was able to get very little sleep on the plane Gentle Reader. Once on the ground I rented a car in the Sacremento airport and headed north for San Francisco. 

                (Home for a week)

    (This Spark gets great gas mileage!)

When I arrived in the city I was quite tired, so I hastily checked myself into a Hotel on the corner of Van Ness and California Streets and proceeded to shut my eyes and slumber for a few hours. I then awoke and took a late lunch. While eating I realized I was not more than a half hour's walk to the modern Beat aficionado's Mecca itself. 

Visiting City Lights for the first time was certainly an honor and a privilege, and would also prove to be a fortuitous stop along my journey. It was quite a remarkable experience to browse the books and photographs along the walls and pick up a few sentimental suviniers. 

After stopping at a local watering hole on my way back, I retuned to my room and promptly and happily returned to Dream State.

      (View of San Francisco from this    

       humble scribbler's hotel room.)

The next day I was fortunate enough to take in the Golden Gate experience. 

From the Golden Gate Bridge you see excellent views of the city and, of course, one of the most famous stopovers for law-breakers in our nations history. 

        (The clink of clinks, Alcatraz)

After surveying the Bridge I continued my Golden Gate adventure by heading to the park. 

Golden Gate Park is an extraordinary place. I spent the afternoon strolling through its green grasses and enjoying immensely its Botanical and Japanese Tea Gardens respectively, as the clouds parted and the afternoon sun progressively peaked its rays out of the sky. 

As foreshadowed above, my trip to Mr. Ferlinghetti's bookstore the night before was not only and incrediable experience of its own, but would also prove fortunate in finding a place to rest my head for the next two evenings. 

Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, and a perhaps overly bragadocious "check-in" to Facebook, an old friend from the great north woods invited me to visit her home the following day. 

After leaving Golden Gate Park, I headed to the home of the undeniably hip Maridawn Lamb, and her gentleman boyfriend Jason Mylen, 40 minutes south of the city in Mountain View, California.

After being graciously welcomed into their apartment, I was delighted, and somewhat mystified, to be sampling some of my own homeland's fine nectar. 

Maridawn belongs to a beer club at her work and part of this month's investigations included the very beverage pictured above. I was flabbergasted and delighted! 

The next day we headed back north to the Golden Gate Recreational Area to embark on grand and beautiful 11 mile hike that covered three mountains and over 3,300 feet of elavation. Again, I barrow from renown information gathering database, Wikipedia:

"The park is not one continuous locale, but rather a collection of areas that stretch from northern San Mateo County to southern Marin County, and includes several areas of San Francisco. The park is as diverse as it is expansive; it contains famous tourist attractions such as Muir Woods National Monument, Alcatraz, and the Presidio of San Francisco. The GGNRA is also home to 1,273 plant and animal species, encompasses 59 miles (95 km) of bay and ocean shoreline and has military fortifications that span centuries of California history, from the Spanishconquistadors to Cold War-era Nike missile sites."

               (My Gracious Hosts)

At "Pirate's Cove" we met this little four month old treasure, Tigger. I can assure you Gentle Reader, she was as sweet as she was adorable. 

           (Pirate's Cove, from above.) 

We ended the evening sipping a few suds back at my gracious hosts' home while watching this fellow fade from the sky:

This morning I bid farewell once again to yet another set of wonderful hosts and set back out on the open road. Currently I find myself in Bolder Creek, California

located in the breath taking, and winding road sporting, San Lorenzo Valley. I'm on my way to visit Big Basin Redwoods State Park where I will hug a tree larger than ever I have seen afore. 

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader. 

Courage, 

-Z

Leaving the Land of the Sun.

My Alaskan sojourn is coming to an end, Gentle Reader, and as might be expected I find myself entirely tuckered out. The sun's stubborn refusal to ever entirely leave the Alaskan night sky has left me truly bewildered and disoriented on many a late evening. It is hard to say goodnight, or even realize that it is the appropriate hour to do so, when the good times are being had and a glance out the window seems to suggest that the hour is most certainly 1:00 pm and surely not 1:00 am. However, on many occasions this past week a glance toward the old timepiece has proved otherwise.  

Since my adventure on the High Seas with Captain Ellis I've had the opportunity to appreciate properly a bit more of the coastline, and interior, and Awe-Inspiring beauty of this one wild and precious land. 

When the brothers Ellis, a truly remarkable duo, depart to take tourists on chartered fishing expeditions each day, this is my steed:

And I am free to ride it about the countryside and explore my environment. 

This, my first mate:

The mighty Titus! Dog of local fishing legend, and the younger of the Ellis brothers, Zac Ellis. Titus proved to be an excellent travel companion and did a great deal to help me cope with a longing to see my own old K9 friend back at home.  Below are some of the places Titus and I went and some of the things we saw.

This is the mighty Mount Redoubt seen from from across the sea in the quaint and charming Ninilchick Village. Redoubt is an active volcano that last erupted in 2009. The following is taken from the reputable information gathering database, Wikipedia: 

"Active for millennia, Mount Redoubt has erupted five times since 1900: in 1902, 1922, 1966, 1989 and 2009. The eruption in 1989 spewed volcanic ashto a height of 45,000 ft (14,000 m) and caught KLM Flight 867, a Boeing 747aircraft, in its plume; the flight landed safely at Anchorage. The ash blanketed an area of about 7,700 sq mi (20,000 km²)."

Theoretically the mighty Mount Redoubt is scheduled to explode again in the not too distant future, but alas, it was a soundly sleeping giant for the entirety of my stay. 

On Sunday Zac Ellis (hereinafter referred to as Maestro, or, The Maestro) had the day off and we set off to go fly fishing in the beautiful Kenai River. 

         (The Maestro, Readying his Line)

   (The Glacial Waters of the River Kenai)

Maestro has built up quite a name for himself around this part of the country. In a part of Alaska where fish related topics dominate about 99% of conversation, and people you meet on the street hand out smoked salmon as though it were a calling card, The Maestro and his conquests are frequent fodder for conversation amongst locals. The Sockeye and King Salmon that The Maestro routinely pulled out of the exotically named Tustumena, Kasilof, and Kenai Rivers kept us deliciously and well fed for the entire week. Particularly memorable was a freshly caught bit of White Salmon that we grilled to perfection. The delectable white flesh of this particular aquatic beast was perhaps the best fish this humble scribbler has ever tasted. I'm also happy to say that I caught some fish myself and was able to send meat back to the Northeast via the US Mail. I'm either going to need to organize quite a seafood themed homecoming soirée, or I am going to be eating halibut and salmon for some time to come.

Last night I spent my final evening in the Inlet View Bar and Grill (the "IV").

        (The "IV" circa 11:30 last night)

And this morning I bid my farewell to my gracious hosts, the Ellis brothers. Captain Seth and The Maestro himself. It was certainly tremendous to see these two old friends once again and to witness the firm bond they've forged through a love of the water, the wilderness, and brotherly blood. They are truly a remarkable pair.

And here I find myself once again, Gentle Reader, in an Anchorage airport catching up with a couple of other old friends, 

while awaiting a gigantic mechanical bird that will bring me back to the lower 48, and to my next destination. 

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader.

Courage, 

-Z

Beautiful Turbulance

You have not known turbulence, Gentle Reader, until you've flown into the Kenai Peninsula, in a treacherous wind and rain storm, on an aero plane no larger than a Cadilac. 

This flying demon's altitude seemed to fluctuate by what felt like 30 meters up or down at what seemed to be its own whim. Every 40 seconds or so it would jerk upward or down, seemingly trying to swat the rain and wind out of the sky as a three year child would while absorbed in a swarm of mosquitos. Luckily this last short flight of the day lasted a mere half hour and somehow set me down finally on terra firma. The flight itself seems in a way to have been a prologue to my Alaskan experience up until this point. 

Here I found myself, Gentle Reader, in the Alaskan countryside. The final frontear. A land that is equal part wild and beautiful, dangerous and thrilling, peaceful yet mysterious. 

I was greeted at the airport by my host, Captain Seth Ellis, helmsmen of ocean going vessle Afishunt II,

and set about my Alaskan experience. The first thing we did was head to a lookout pub that overlooked the mountains and that waters and rivers and streams of this land. We sampled some local lagers, enjoyed some delightful pub fare, played a few rounds of biliards, and then decided to call it a night. I had been awake since 3:00 am Toronto time that morning, thus leaving me quite exhausted. So I went to sleep and was not that first night able to fully appreciated the intensity of an Alaksan evening when time slows down but the sun does not. 

The next day, I climbed aboard Afishunt II, and headed out on the waters in search of the largest beasts that the northern Pacific Ocean had to offer. I will say that there is a certain Ahabian qualify to captain Ellis and I wondered if our ship would not that day suffer the same ignoble fate as the one in Melville's great book had. In the end aquatic beasts were hunted down, captured and killed, and I could not escape the adventure without somehow feeling that blood, Gentle Reader, was on my hands. 

  

But I also had a great time. It was both thrilling and disheartening, savagely wild yet breathtakingly beautiful. Much, it appears, as the Alaskan landscape itself. 

That night I was able to experience my first Alaskan midnight, a midnight both earily bright and dark, beautiful yet chilling. 

This leg of my trip has left me to ponder many things Gentle Reader.

What is the nature of the human race? Where will I find myself upon my return home? How can a midnight sky be bewitching as this?

How is the Alaskan mead so delicious? 

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader. 

Courage, 

-Z

Into the Mist, To the Land of the Wolf

The journey continues, Gentle Reader, as does the wonder and excitement.

Since getting my bearings on the fact that the Toronto Urban Roots Festival was a reality, and one which I was present for, my Canadian experience has not slowed down nor lacked fun and adventure. 

To wind down from the festival on Sunday, on Monday Mr. Harriman and I took to the beaches of Lake Ontario with our books. I'm about 300 pages into "The Art of Fielding" currently and am continuing to enjoy it thoroughly. I would certainly recommend it to you Gentle Reader, as I know that you like I are very fond of an incrediably good book. 

The beach itself was gorgeous

and as you can see not very busy on this first business day of the week. A gentle mist settled in and for a moment I thought it would carry me away, Gentle Reader, as if I had arrived through this journey in a literal state of grace. 

Later Monday evening Mr. Harriman made Katherine and I dinner and we dined on two of his world famous pizza pies. We paired them with a delectable red and enjoyed a delicious white for desert. 

The next day I was off to the very impressive Art Gallery of Ontario where I had the opportunity to enjoy some of the finest works of art that Toronto has to offer. 

I was told by the gentleman I purchased my admittance from that photography was allowed in all regions of the museum save for the Francis Bacon and Henry Moore exhibit, entitled "Terror and Beauty." I relished the opportunity to share some of the fine canvases I witnessed with you Gentle Reader, and so took this good man up on his offer. Below is some of what I saw.

(This piece was called "The Young Arcadians" and was particularly enjoyable to me as it seemed to forshadow the delightful events I hoped would take place later that evening. I was not let down Gentle Reader.)

(Brace yourself, Gentle Reader, as we are taking turn toward the contempoary)

As mentioned above I was unable to take any photos inside the Bacon/Moore exhibit, but you can rest assured that is was exquisite. 

After a day on the town alone, I returned to my temporary abode and my hosts and I set out to the pub to take in the Brazil v. Germany game. I was once again able view a World Cup game on a transfixingly wonderful large scale projection screen. 

Though the game was not a close one, it was still an enjoyable experience. I can also say that the awe experienced by soccer fans that day, as Germany trounced Brazil, seems fitting as I have been experience nothing short of just that as I've made my way along this journey so far. 

After the game I grasped an opportunity that I believed would be one of the absolute highlights my entire trip. 

I ventured to the home of the Wolf. 

I assure you Gentle Reader that nothing about my visit was "sinful" but that it was, contrarily, a miraculous occasion. I was lucky to be greeted not only by Wolf Totem herself, but also by the entire merry band of flask wielding gypsy starlets. Which included of course, Wolf, Band afficianado Hillary Grace, noted filmmaker Jessica Jerome, and my old BFF, the talented singer and guitarist Sarah Francis. We passed the night away imbibing spirits, strumming guitars, and singing songs. I was particularly taken when Wolf and Miss Francis would play a number or two as a duo. This was a truly charming musical experience. Later in the evening Wolf Totem treated us to a recitation of some of her own original poems. They were tremendous and we waited with baited breath on each additional syllable and for each new selection to be made.

In the fall Wolf and Miss Francis are going to visit my homeland and we are all going to record a Long Play together. Can't Hardly Wait!

I am saddened to say, Gentle Reader, that tomorrow I will have to bid a fond farewell to my gracious hosts. I can not relay how gracious they have been and how grateful I am for their hospitality.

But a car is coming at 3:30am, Gentle Reader, to whisk me away to the airport once again. And at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near. 

As my journey on this continent concludes and my travels continue westward, I must express my earnest and heartfelt gratitude to this wonderful city. Thank you Toronto. For the experiences you have afforded me, the memories you have given me, and for all of the dear people I've encountered along the way.

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader. 

Courage,

-Z