Here is Johnny

My month long absence from the blogosphere is explained by a physical and mental shock of going back to the 9-to-5 desk job, moving to a different house, a few lesser engagements, general lack of inspiration and the absence of a desk or a table in my new living quarters. Also since the entire Blog was dedicated to my ski-bumming venture, I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue with blogging. I am still pondering on it, with several possible topics and directions for the blog being under consideration. (Suggestions are welcome). I wanted to write about my job search and the general state of the economy, but decided against it at the risk of coming across as being arrogant or show-offish. I will say, that I am still bullish on the economy. In fact I just sunk a sizeable amount of money into the market. It is possible that I could be just another fool, watching my hard-earned cash evaporate in the series of bankruptcies, takeovers and government bailouts. If that happens, I am certain that my inner Warren Buffet will go back to playing with his toy-trucks and pretending that he never said anything about oil futures and credit default swaps. Of course I couldn’t spank a child, especially if it’s an inner child. But not to worry, there are things that I can spank, which may not be a bad way to get over a lost investment… A few days ago I was on my morning run and out of nowhere the deer was charging up the mountain road right at me. I stopped running to let the deer get by, which it did, but a few dozen feet later it cut through the traffic and got hit by the truck! I told this story to a friend today, to which he replied that it could have being a possible suicide due to a market downturn last week. Now that I think about it more, it’s definitely seems like a possibility. Assuming that it was a male deer, when the bears are out, the bulls are running. In this case it was much too literal.

P.S. A few fresh pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/karasikfried/CottonwoodHightsTheHood

The football season is over

I borrowed the title for today's post from Hunter Thomson. On Sunday, April 20th Alta has closed. The ending of 2008/2009 ski season was celebrated by a traditional gathering on top of High Rustler. Many people were dressed in various costumes as if it was Halloween. The "treak-or-treaters" were swapping booze and joints, rather then candy. Leaving the party” meant skiing down. Those who decided to depart were hit by a rain of snowballs – another Alta tradition. The parking lot was taking over by a tail-gate party were more drinking, grilling and dancing went on late into the evening. Hotdog and cold beer made me feel nostalgic and I was wondering if some poor partier would be left sleeping on the High Rustler. As sad as it may be, closing of Alta is not the end of the ski season – there is plenty of backcountry skiing is left to do.

Besides Alta's shut down, I have another announcement for my readers: I have decided to stay in Salt Lake City and not go to California. This means that instead of being a “cool Californian” I am going to be a “weird Utahan”. I am still pondering on the details of the transition from “coolness” to “weirdness”. In the mean time, I have accepted a job with a local software company and as of today I am a regular working stiff all over again. I am going to reflect on my job search and the economy in my next post – the microwave just announced that dinner is ready.

Still Curving Turns

I haven’t been able to write in the last 10 days, but I am still in Salt Lake City and I am still skiing! In fact it was a powder day on Tuesday and Wednesday!

To my none-skiing readers, I am posting a glossary of technical ski terms:

Telemark skiing is a term used for skiing using the Telemark turn. It is also known as "free heel skiing." Unlike alpine skiing equipment, the skis used for telemarking have a binding that only connects the boot to the ski at the toes, just as in cross-country skiing. Telemark turns are led with the heel flat on the outside ski (the downhill ski at the end of the turn), while the inside (uphill) ski is pulled beneath the skier's body with a flexed knee and raised heel.

Backcountry Skiing is skiing in a sparsely inhabited rural region over ungroomed and unmarked slopes or pistes including skiing in unmarked or unpatrolled areas outside of ski resort's boundaries, frequently amongst trees ("glade skiing"), usually in pursuit of fresh fallen snow, known as powder. More importantly, the land and the snow pack are not monitored, patrolled, or maintained. Fixed mechanical means of ascent such as ski lifts are typically not present, but may be used to gain initial altitude. Backcountry skiing, ski touring or ski mountaineering can involve single or multi-day trips through snow camping or the use of mountain huts where available. Backcountry skiing can be highly dangerous due to avalanche danger, exhaustion & mountain weather. Other hazards include cliffs, rock fall and tree wells.

Powder is a fresh snow that is both dry and light. For most skiers, skiing in powder is the ultimate experience on the slopes.

I will write more in the next few days. (It's not me on the picture, but perhaps I could look like that in the near future...)

Powder Skiing in April

In the last two weeks there was almost a daily snowfall in the Little Cottonwood Canyon. The conditions were either perfect or nearly perfect, which gave me enough time to hone the tele-turn in the waste deep snow. My powder skiing skills went from “better”, to “I am too tired", to “my quads are burning and I can’t ski anymore”. On Sunday my friend Bill Tatton ripped down the Devil’s Castle (curving a text book tele-turns) and made the “Picture of day” on Alta’s Web Site. I was skiing right behind him, but didn’t make the cut. Bill has lived in Utah for almost 20 years and skied here even longer. I am guessing that fame is based on seniority and my picture could be going up on Alta's site some time in the next 20 years, if I stick around.

41st Day in Alta

My buddy Ken, skinning up the hill. Ken is a fellow East Cost expatriate with a skiing and cycling “problem”.

A "long" draught (about 2 weeks without new snow) and a very warm spring weather came to an end on Monday. The winter has returned into the Wasatch – the forth day of snow fall in the valley resulted in almost a foot of pretty fluffy powder up in the Little Cottonwood Canyon. It took me 40 days to figure out how to curve a tele-turn in the deep snow. All that theoretical stuff about the “one big platform”, “equal weight on each ski” and “not edging” finally came together and I was able to link a few fairly nice tele-turns in the waste-deep, sugary desert snow. This is the very quantum leap that I was looking for in the last several weeks. I sort of hit the plato in my skiing and didn’t feel any improvements until yesterday – when it all clicked…

The mountain men

On the picture is my friend and Backcountry mentor Lloyd Johnson, taking climbing skins off his skis before “ripping it down”. Lloyd has planned and led every single one of my Backcountry "ventures". He is a very humble and unassuming man, yet an incredible athlete. Lloyd guided all of our "back side" outings, cut all skin tracks and climbed up so fast that I could barely keep up with him. He is also an avid runner with 11 marathon finishes and 2nd place in his age group in Chicago Marathon.

Last week after a 3 days long class taught by “Utah Mountain Adventures” ski guides, I got a “Level I Avalanche Forecasting/Rescue” certificate. Now I can consider myself “legit” in the Backcountry. By no means do I think of myself as an expert, but at least I can be self-sufficient in the avalanche terrain and can stop being a liability to my ski-friends. I learned how to use beacon, probe, shovel, travel safely in the Backcountry, test stability of the snow and perform a basic rescue. I do realize that having this knowledge is not an insurance from being caught in the avalanche, just like having a driver license and obeying road signs doesn’t exclude a possibility of the fatal car accident, but at least I stopped feeling like a kid who is sneaking into the theater to see R-rated movie. The additional benefit of the class was a chance to ski with professional ski-mountaineers: Dave Budge (Dave climbed with Alex Lowe and skied Mt. Denali) and Mark Appling who has been a skiing/climbing guide in the Wasatch for the last 20 years. On Saturday afternoon Dave took us to the White Pine Trailhead in the Little Cottonwood Canyon. We skinned up a picturesque mountain a few miles west of Snowbird and after digging pits, testing snow and doing rescue drills we got to ski a juicy chute, whose name completely escapes me. On Sunday, Mark set an aggressive skin track up the Grizzly Gulch and we ripped a few lines in the Silver Fork – another Wasatch Backcountry notable. Both Dave and Mark are true “Mountain Men”, who turn their passion into a career which pays very little or has a huge pay out, depending on how you look at it…

Saturday in the Cirque

This morning I got up at 6:30AM, gulped down my Oatmeal with coffee and headed out to the Little Cottonwood to rip a few Tele-turns. The day progressed as follows:

- Up the Supreme Lift and short hike up to the Sunset pick (hike on skis)
- Ski Sunset Pick and climb back up (ski and skins)
- Ski Wolverine bowl twice (once on each side of the Cirque)
- Climb back up for each descend (ski and skins)
- Lunch
- Climb Rocky Point (hike on skis)
- Ski down
- Climb back up (ski and skins)

And the crowning jewel of the day – booting up the Wolverine and putting the first track on Granny’s Couloir in the Cirque! That’s right, we put the first track on the Wolverine Cirque’s Chute! Yes, it’s the least technical of Cirque's Couloirs, but it was my first and it hasn’t been skied since the last snowstorm. The first picture is the Cirque and the second has Granny's Chute marked with a red line.

Altaholics Anonymous

“…Alta remains a shrine, where you come to worship mountains and snow and do a little skiing.” - Denis Bogan

I have to report 3 new inches of snow in Alta – it was on the wet side and a bit heavy, but it’s still a powder. This morning I was riding a chairlift with three East Coast tourists who were discussing state-of-the-art amenities of their Park City 4 bedroom, 4 bathroom Condo. There are two types of skiers in Alta: those who ski Alta and those who visit Alta. My three “liftmates” were not Alta skiers, they were visitors. I have to explain why they were not Alta skiers. If your idea of ski vacation is a hot chocolate or cocktail between each run, heated tram ride up, kobe beef burger for lunch and massage at the end of the day, Alta is not for you. You need to be in Park City (were my three "friends" were actually staying). Alta is a different type of place. First of all it’s one of the only two resorts in the country that doesn’t allow Snowboarders to ride the lift (Vermont’s Mad River Glenn is the second) – Alta is for skiers only. It’s best and likely only amenities are “luxurious” mountains and “gourmet” snow. There are several lodges in Alta, but you will not find flat-screen TV’s, moose or bear heads mounted on the walls or a five-star dining. The “Alta Lodge” is the old wooden hut, where you can change from civilian shoes into ski boots, strap on backpack, shovel, probe and ride the lift for a few “warm up” runs, before going “on the back side” for the rest of the day. If you forgot your thermos with coffee or a peanut-butter sandwich, a twenty-something bearded dude with dreadlocks will pour you some “Joe” and throw a frozen beef-patty on the grill. But he is not there to serve food. He is there to ski. The only reason he is making your lunch is the fact that he is given a free Season Pass for his services. And as for his “training”, no, the dude is not holding a Cooking Arts degree from the CIA. Most likely he attended some no-name college in New Hampshire on ski scholarship, didn’t make USA X-Games team, dropped out and is a professional ski bum now. Just like Mad River Glen, Alta has a huge population of Telemark skiers. Since I am one of them and I come to Alta only for skiing, you can see why I love the place.

Rats in stomachs and brains

After almost two weeks of dreadful weather (warm and wet) eleven inches of fresh snow covered Alta this morning. However I only skied half a day. The reason was that after eating dinner three days ago I began to feel as if I swallowed a dead rat. I ended up spending a night in the bathroom hugging a toilet bowl and making out with it. I must assure you that I was very passionate and did not hold back. Finally I was asleep by 4AM. I spent the next day curled up in the fetal position on the couch in semi-comatose nirvana, getting by on tea, chicken broth and record Dow losses. Yesterday I felt like I was back to normal, but since I haven’t been eaten for almost two days I stayed home. Apparently I didn’t miss much – in addition to the terrible snow conditions, 80MPH wind at 11, 000 fit caused one of the chairlifts to shutdown and all 89 people on it had to be evacuated by the Ski Patrol. This morning I left a couple of “first tracks” on the north side of the Supreme Lift, but the cheese sandwich (my lunch) made me keenly aware of my recent ailment. I had to cut the day short and go home to get back on the chicken broth and Ginseng Tea diet. I am hoping to be fully recovered for the snow storm that is expected Sunday morning. As for the Dow, I think I am going to agree with one of the analysis that I recently read: the “irrational exuberance” of the 90th, right now has been replaced by the “irrational pessimism”. The Detroit’s autoworkers and Mortgage Derivatives Traders will not see their industries recover any time soon, but folks who still have their jobs, survived layoffs (if any) and whose industries haven’t been affected by the recession all that much, in my opinion, should snap out of the “doom-and-gloom” mood. And the picture for today’s post depicts the content of my stomach on Monday (as I imagined it) and the state of mind of the proponents of “economic Armageddon” (also as I imagine it).

Ski it like you mean it

One of the comments that I received on my previous two posts, was that I am biased toward LDS. I’d like point out that I feel the same way about all religions (Judaism including), with perhaps a few certain traits in Buddhism being an exception.

I have been very busy this week, trying to find deals or rent Backcountry and Avalanche Safety gear, which is very expensive, so I can venture out into the Wasatch Backcountry and finally live my dream of Ski Mountaineering.

Lately the weather in Little Cottonwood Canyon was not the best. However I might be impartial, because Wednesday, February 18th, was the best day of the season in Alta. After almost 7 days of daily snowfall, it was sunny, warm and there was about 10 inches of powder in the Wasatch. All of the Powder-hounds from the valley ascended the hills of Little Cottonwood Canyon and the place was skied to shreds in just a few hours. The Zen-like purity of the perfectly shaped lone ski track on the mountain side is an art form close to the Chinese Calligraphy. The most impressive track of the day was left on mount Superior (click on the picture to see it better - track is marked with the red line). Not only it’s a very long hike (about 3 hours), the descend is rated S5 which means it is between 45–55° and you’d be lucky to live through a fall. Whoever left that track, has my outmost respect. This dude (or dudette) has the skill of a true artist and the “balls of Steel”.

I will write more next week, in the mean time, take a look at a few pics that I took in the Little Cottonwood Canyon:

http://picasaweb.google.com/karasikfried/LittleCottonwoodCanyon

From Joseph Smith to Mitt Romney

There are large numbers of materials on the web and otherwise, that give detailed account on how Joseph Smith was able to convince good number of folks that he was a Prophet. Naturally there was a great deal of skeptics. In fact his “preaching” pissed off so many people in both New York and Pennsylvania, that Prophet’s life was threatened. Old charges of being a “bullshit artist” and “imposter” kept creeping up. In addition there were accusations of adultery, theft and embezzlement of funds. Things had gotten so bad that Prophet Smith and his loyal “flock” had to flee to the frontier territory of Missouri, and Nebraska. In the process of establishing his “Church”, Joseph Smith managed to alienate not only none-believers, but also those who were his first converts (including his wife, Emma Hale-Smith and his son). Curiously enough, majority of early Mormon’s who broke away from Smith were still convinced that he was a Prophet, although an asshole or as some people would say a “complicated” and “controversial” person. One little episode in Joseph’s life was especially interesting. When he was caught having an affair with a teenage house-keeper, Prophet Smith announced that he wasn’t “cheating”. But he never denied that “he had a sexual intercourse with that woman”. Quit an opposite. Joseph called a meeting of the Church Elders and announced that “plural marriages”, sealed by “his authority or authority of the Church” was a sure way to heaven. He then proceeded to marry, or just have an affair with up to 27 women, some as young as 14 years old and some married to other men. Naturally not every member of Joey’s congregation was happy about the “plural wives” business. But not to worry, the Prophet had an answer to the nay-Sayers: “The women and their families would benefit spiritually from a close tie to the Prophet”. The women in turn were told that “submitting to plural marriage would ensure your eternal salvation and exaltation and that of your father's household”. A father who gave his daughter in plural marriage was assured that the marriage would ensure "honor and immortality and eternal life to all your house both old and young." A number of Josepth’s pals (or “appostols” as he called them) took this theory as far as telling women that screwing outside of marriage was also fine, as long as it was kept secret. This and many other shannanigans led to the arrest worrant issued by the state of Illinois for Joseph Smith and a several “appostoles”. Fearing that angry town folks would retaliate against himself and members of his Church, Smith turned himself in. But it didn’t help. While waiting a trial in the county jail, Prophet Joseph Smith was shot and killed by an angry mob that stormed the prison building. The chucrh leadership then went to a fellow named Brigham Young, who, fearing further hate crimes against Mormons, led them far West through the Rocky Mountains. There they settled on the shores of Salt Lake. Brigham Young went on to establish a Salt Lake City, became a governor of Utah Territory and commander of the Mormon Militia. Brigham Young also commissioned a stone temple in the center of Salt Lake City. Near the temple he built his own recidence and adjecent “Lion House” that accomodated his 55 wives and children. Since the early days of Joseph Smith and Brigham Younhg the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has turned from a quirky cult into a major religious movement with 13 million followers world wide (Asia and Latin America count more Mormons then USA). Salt Lake City has became the most secular city in Utah, with it’s mayor traditionaly being a none Mormon and sometimes even a Democrat. The Winter Olympic Games in 2002 and waves of outdoor sport junkies from the East Cost and Mid-West added to the divercity. The “near by” Park City is a play-ground for the “rich and famouse”, especially with it’s annual Sundance Film Festival adding to the glamour. It must be noted that despite reports of abuses by Prophet Smith and other “apostoles”, many “plural wives” of governor Young and other male church members were very smart, educated and capable women. They entered the marriage voluntarily after reaching adulthood and did so because they belived that this is their way to solvation and heaven. Even though polygamy was banned by the Church of Latter-Day Saints more then 100 years ago in the Utah’s bid to gain statehood, a number of Mormon fundamentalists still practice it. In my opinion all of the abuses with teenage girls forced into “plural marriages” are results of the ban. I am going to argue that polygamy should be made legal. If a grown, educated woman, belives that it’s her duty to share a husband with other wives in order to reach Heaven, why should the government stop her? Or as the belivers say: “I’d rather have 10% of the 100% man, then have 100% of the 10% man”.

Jerusalem, Mecca and Palmyra.

As promised, my thoughts on Mormonism:


We all know the significance of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Mecca and Medina to the world religions, however very few realize that a small town of Palmyra, just 24 miles east of Rochester, New York, is the birth place of the religion that currently has 13 million followers, which approximately is the same as the number of Jews. A fellow, named Joseph Smith was born a son of poor farmers in 1805 in the near by state of Vermont. Shortly after his birth, the family moved to Palmyra, New York, where his folks continued farming with little success. Not inspired by daddy’s sham of a career in agriculture, young Joey choose an exotic and glamorous profession of a “seer”: an ancient art of “seer” involves using a “magic seer stone” to locate lost items and buried treasures. As described by his contemporiaries, Joe would place the “magic stone” in a hat, put his face over the hat to block the light and then "see" the information in the reflection of the stone. Even in the age of simple-minded and uneducated farmers of the 19th century rural New York, Joey’s magic enterprise had not been able to net much income. In theory, the odds of finding the treasure were 50/50: he would either find it or not. However, since not very many ancient kings, tribal chieftans, Spanish conqistadors, Caribbean buccaneers, hedge fund managers or any other men of means barried their treasures in Palmyra, NY, Joseph’s success rates in locating the riches were not very good. In fact business was going so bad that young Joey was charged in the Court of Law with being a “scam artist”, “disorderly person and imposter” and had to flee from Palmyra to Harmony, Pennsylvania. By then Mr. Joseph Smith was married to a Palmyra girl named Emma Hale. Since supporting his young family on the “stone sourcerer’s” income didn’t work out, Joey was in a desperate need of a new gig. The 19th century Harmony was neither a financial hub nor a technological or pharmaceutical Mecca. Joseph’s career choices were limited. But being an enterprising fellow with an ambition and a vivid imagination, Joe didn’t become a shopkeeper, stone mason or dairy farmer. No, sir! His plans were much more grandiose. Joseph Smith decided that he is going to be Prophet. And why the hell not? After all Moses was a mere sheep-shepherd, Jesus claimed to be a carpenter (anyone ever saw a stool or a bookshelf with “made by Jesus” on it?) and Muhammad earned a living as a small merchant. It was obvious that their resume was no match to Joseph’s experience with “magic” and “super natural”. Therefore one day, in 1827, twenty two years old Joseph Smith announced to his wife and a few other family members that he received a “theophany” or an appearance of God to man. The story went as follows: while living in Palmyra, 14 years old Joey went to the near by woods to pray, because he wasn’t sure what religios denomination he wanted to join. Aperrranlty the young fellow was torn apart between Methodist and Presbytarian faith. There he had a vision of God the Father, Jesus Christ and “two separate, glorious, beings of flesh and bone”. They told him that no contemporary church was correct in its teachings, and that he shouldn't join any of them. Instead he will be given a new and correct teaching and will become a Prophet of a new religion - the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or as some call it, the Mormon church. If you don’t think this is genious I don’t know what is. I clearly remember that when I was 14, I also went to the near by woods. And I can assure you that I did’t pray there. Although I too experienced visions of a “glorious being of flesh and blood” (mine normaly resembed either a girl from my school or a neighbour’s daughter). However it was only one “being”, because at 14 I had no idea that I could have the same fantasies with two “glorious beings” in the same time! Clearly Joey’s sophisticaton with such things at the very young age was an indication that he was destined to accomplish great things. It should be noted that shanannigan in the Palmyra woods is now known to history as Prophet Joseph Smiths’s “First Vision in the Sacred Grove” and is as significant for the Mormons as Mount Sinai for the Jews. (To be continued).

Fat is good

I never thought I will say it, but here it is: I love fat. Yes, sure, those skinnies look slick and graceful, but if you ever try to ride a fatty, you would know that it’s the way to go! You’ll try fat, you’ll never regret! That’s right, I traded my skinny Rossi Hellgate for the pair of fat Atomic RT 86 and ripped the powder to shreds. Riding the fat ski turned out to be a lot more forgiving then curving on skinnies. The delicate balancing act of the East cost ice-scraper is no match for the Western fat powder machine. The Atomic is so forgiving, it almost felt like cheating. I was able to recover from a few blunders that most certainly would end up in a crash on my old Rossi. I must admit that at first I was very reluctant to change. Riding the skinny ski is the “old school” and I like to think of myself as such. However now I feel like a druid who dragged the 200 tones slab of rock from Salisbury Planes to the Stonehenge to build a temple, then Christians came, slapped the cross on the dirt hut and there you have it, church. Speaking of the churches, I have been education myself on Mormon religion. I will reflect on it in my next post. Stay cool San Diego or where ever you are. And if you are wondering about the picture… Well, I just like it… ;-)

Getting a fix

It has been 4 days since I arrived to Salt Lake City and I must report that I have been a good boy: I ate vegetables every day, didn’t watch television, went to bed no later then 10 and visited dirty web sites only twice (sorry mom). Apparently the Gods of Powder have noticed my utter righteousness and today I have been rewarded with a foot of fresh powder (Machiek, if you are reading it, do envy me). Skiing in the waste deep, fresh, fluffy snow is the ultimate skier’s high. It feels like an orgasm, snorting coke, winning the lottery and learning that your mother-in-law has moved to New Zealand, all in the same time. And the feeling gets extended with each and every turn.

I and the Knights of the Round Table

I can only guess what went through the mind of sir Lancelot when he’s got his teeth on Queen Guinevere’s panties. But I know exactly what sir Percival felt when he achieved the Grail. Here, Ladies and Gentlemen is THE HOLY GRAIL OF SKI BUMMING: Alta Season Path!

Land of the Free

I don’t know what is your idea of America’s heartland, but here is mine.

Day 4: Fort Collins to Salt Lake City

The “Breakfast Burrito” at the “Farmers Table” diner in Fort Collins resembled a bathroom towel rolled into the cylinder. It was floating in the brown sweet goo, the nature of which I wasn’t able to determine. Fast stop at Starbucks for skinny latte, a drive around Colorado State University campus, quick walk through the historic old part of town and I was back on the road. First I drove 50 miles north from Fort Collins back to Cheyenne, then west on I80. Crossing Rocky Mountains was a surreal experience. It felt like I was driving on the post card. In fact looking into the rear view mirror was exactly that – gazing at the post card. However 60MPH wind forced me to keep my eyes on the road. The small towns in the south central Wyoming were clustered around oil refineries or chemical plants. Most houses are old trailers set on foundation of bricks or tires laid down flat. Clerks at gas stations were greeting me with unfriendly tired looks and bathrooms were filthy, smelly and half of them had no running water. The western part of Wyoming is a desert with tumble-weeds and Union Pacific Freight Trains covered in graffiti and stretching out from one end of the horizon to the other. The reddish hill tops in the distance were armed with spikes of wind turbines. After about 6 hours of driving I crossed Wyoming-Utah border and began climbing up into the mountains again until the road sign said: “Elevation 6800 feet”. A dozen snaking descends took me down past Park City and then lower into the Salt Lake City.

On the Road

Day 1: Rochester to Chicago

My car, heavy with luggage felt like a truck. A few miles west of Rochester I drove into the snow storm and didn’t get out of it until almost 5 hours later in Cleveland, Ohio. I passed through downtown near the Cleveland Indians stadium, then back into the rural Ohio. The scenery stayed pretty much the same from the outskirts of Rochester, all of Ohio, all of Indiana and eastern portion of Illinois. The 3 Christian radio stations reminded me that I was far from New York. Most cars on the road had Indiana plates. “In God we trust” next to the numbers on each plate. Indeed. Factories with blinking red lights on the forest of smoke towers in Gary, Illinois broke the rural landscape. A magnificent scene and a great opening act for the Chicago skyline. After some moderate traffic on expressway near Sears Tower I got to my friend’s apartment building, swapped sweat pants on jeans and off we went to get sushi. Bitterly cold Chicago streets were full of Friday crowds. The two hours that we had to wait for the table were spent shopping for Sake and a short stop in the wine bar with Jesus like barman. After 12 hours of none-stop driving one glass of Vino made me feel very unsure of my actions. The imported from Japan Wasabi, which the place is famous for, brought me back for a short breath of reality, but the 2nd shot of Sake put me back under. I got to my friend’s apartment in the semi comatose state of drunken exhaustion and fell a sleep as soon as I laid down.

Day 2: Chicago to Omaha, Nebraska.

I left Chicago at 1PM EST, full with Starbucks coffee, lox and cream cheese. Passing the down town was the highlight of the day. The drive through western Illinois and the whole of Iowa was very dull. One seeing blended into the other. Flat, snow covered corn fields. Farms on the distance with upstanding grey cigars of silos. Black dots of cattle outside the feedlots. Grey hangar like evangelical churches. “Jesus lives” written on the side of the white barn next to the Marine Corps emblem. Countless billboards. One says: “I work here – Billboard”. Small yellowish structure in the middle of the snow field with a gigantic, at least 40 feet high, sign: “Adult Superstore”. Local towns: Albany, Erie and my personal favorite – Brooklyn, Illinois – 3 hills with a farm house on each and cattle on the hill sides. By the time I reached Omaha, I was driving for almost 10 hours. Bright colorful Casino sign next to the “Welcome to Omaha” broke my lethargic concentration. I got off I80 somewhere in the western suburbs and checked into the “Motel 8”. The place was a dump. Run down with filthy shower curtain and bed sheets smelling of chlorine. If “Motel 8” is a scaled up version of “Motel 6”, I wonder if room in “Motel 6” has bed sheets and shower curtain. Regardless, I was so tired, I fell a sleep with a bottle of water in my hand.


Day 3: Omaha, Nebraska to Fort Collins, Colorado.

The day began with potato pancakes at the Perkins across the street from my Motel. The mid-western latkes came with apple souse, 3 strips of bacon and a frozen ball of butter, as big as an egg. The butter had to be scooped up and removed before it began to melt. Next stop was a car wash, to get the salt off my car, which by then was not black but a zebra color. At 9AM EST I was back on I80, driving torch Lincoln, Nebraska state capital and home of the University of Nebraska. The NPR was broadcasting a show about an architect who built the state capital. Apparently the same guy did Rockefeller center. About 10 miles West of Lincoln I started seeking music, but it was either Country or Christian radio. More over, one very ingenious station was Christian Country! I was flipping through station after station on both FM and AM, my hand was getting numb, but I couldn’t shake off the Dixie Chicks. Finally I decided not to fight the Country, but peacefully co-exist. It seemed to work. After about 2 hours of John Denver nirvana, I came up with my own country song. It went like this:

I was born in the medium size town.
Where the air is pure smog and the grass is brown.
Mama taught at the local school,
But her only son grew up a fool.

My old man was an engineer,
He took me fishing and gave me beer.
But I was drunk after only a few
‘Cause I am no Irish, I am a Jew

Hey, y’all, the sun is shinning
Say “Oy Vey” and quit your whining.
Cowboy up and start to roll,
Like a Granny’s Matzah ball.
Eeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaa!

Then it occurred to me that I could start the first Jewish Country band. I even had an image of myself accepting a Grammy in the white tuxedo and yamaka under my swanky white Stetson. After passing Pioneer’s Village, Buffalo Bill’s ranch and Mormon’s trail I left Nebraska’s planes behind and entered the rolling hills of Wyoming. My first stop was Cheyenne. It turned out to be a very small village with a state capital dome in the center, saloons on almost every block and oil refinery at the East end of town. I walked into the local establishment, called the “Village Inn” to get a cheeseburger and beer. However I was greeted with such a hostile looks by the handful of aboriginals at the bar, that I left after one beer and didn’t order food. Cheyenne, Wyoming was not ready for a Jewish cowboy in the white Stetson. Instead, I got the cheeseburger at Denny’s in Fort Collins, Colorado, the home of the Budweiser brewery and a very cheap Travel Lodge which was home for the night. Ok, I am off on the scouting mission into the town to search for a freshly brewed Budd.

Sailing Away

You can tell by the picture that I am ready to hit the road. Tomorrow I am leaving Rochester after 4 week stay and driving to Chicago. I hope that my arrival and short stay in the “windy city” will bring some relieve to the distressed Illinoisans, whose enterpreneurial governor was just thrown out of office for his very innovative attempt to raise capital. Not only governor was canned, the Illinois Senate voted anonimously to prevent him from holding polical office in the state again. One person that I expected to speak out on the governor’s behalf through out the whole affiar was none other then coach Jimmy Johnson. Now that Rod Blagojevich is looking for work, Jimmy’s days as a Hair Products spokesperson are numbered.

Introspection on the previous post

The picture of the “Famous Coffee maker”. Note that I haven’t washed it since it was purchase in 2001 and until my mother scrubbed it last week, much to my distress.

Day 3 was taking up by packing. At the last minute I realized that I forgot to buy thermos (much needed for long exertions in the Wasatch) and replace my bad windshield wipers. As I was packing, CNN and MSNBC were getting ever more giddy over mass layoff at Pfizer, Boeing, Caterpillar, Home Depot, Texas Instruments, Starbucks, Harley Davidson, Time Warner, Dell, General Motors, Target and perhaps many smaller companies that didn’t make it into the headline news. I couldn’t help to notice that I am feeling like a school boy who is cutting the class. On the other hand, it was very easy to jump of the train, but I also feel a good deal of anxiety about my ability to get back on. Especially, when scores of others have been thrown off. Even the Halliburton, Darth Vader of the Oil Industry, said it will reduce its workforce. Curiously enough if you look at the Halliburton’s stock performance for the year 2008 (here is the link from yahoo finance: http://finance.yahoo.com/q/bc?s=HAL) you can pick up a very peculiar trend. The stock topped 50$ in July (gas prices near all time high) and began to shrink slightly as economy was slipping into a dipper recession. However at the beginning of September, the stock takes a deep and dramatic dive below 20$. If you re-call, this is the time when Lehman went under and sunk all hopes of the quick economic recovery along with John McCain’s presidential bid. The price plunged even further, to the all year low, in November, when it was officially over for the GOP. Of course, since Dick Cheney stepped down as Halliburton’s CEO to become 43rd Vise President and “severed” all ties with the company, he will have a very plausible explanation for the above trend, alone with Halliburton’s multibillion dollar no-bid government contracts. I am wondering if he was more upset about his party loosing the election or Halliburton loosing its leverage (or at least huge part of it) in the US government.

In the Pub

The 1st day of being jobless had started with coffee, whole grain toast with brie and followed by 1600 feet swim at Webster Aquatic Center. The rest of the day was spent on minor chores, playing with the laptop and experiments with my camera – see the picture. I am also trying to plan what to take with me. My car is very small and I would like to travel light. However I need all of my ski gear, most of my triathlon gear, some “civilian clothe” and a suit, which hopefully will help me get back into the “9 to 5” crowd. I am also taking my 8 years old coffee-maker, which was the 1st thing I ever bought on the Internet (this post really calls for the picture of the coffee-maker). I am still waiting for the arrival of the Giro Fuse helmet – the latest Internet purchase. I hope to get it before leaving Rochester, so the helmet doesn’t need to chase me across 10 states. I ended the first day of being jobless, the way every man who quite his job should – I went to the local pub, called “The Pub” and had a few pints of Guinness with my boys.

From New York to Rochester

Almost 4 weeks ago I gave up my apartment in Forest Hills, sold all my furniture (Craigslist rules!), put everything I could fit into my car and drove to Rochester, NY, to spend some time with my family before heading out West. So far I have spent a lot of time reading, playing with my camera, swimming at Webster Aquatic Center and trying to run if the weather stays above 15F. I was also working from home up until yesterday. Last night I sent out a very lame “farewell” email to my co-workers and signed off for the last time. Since it’s Saturday, I don’t really feel jobless yet, but I guess it will hit me on Monday when I neither have to go to the office nor login from home. At the moment I feel like a sitcom character who gets drunk on the cold winter night then tries to pick up a girl with a “Hi, I am Eddie, I am 33, I don't have a job and I live with my parents...".