I know you were worried that somehow, Mission Trails would become less awesome. I know that I personally worry about things becoming less awesome and have to go out to check them out. Fortunately I'm here to tell you it's fine. I volunteered today with two Meetupgroups planting natives at Mission Trails. Turnout was great, I think close to 30 people. (Want to volunteer? Go here.)
After this, I went for an awesome run from the visitors center then up and over Mount Fortuna, including a little side trip to go up the climbers trail. The dopamine was flowing quite freely, I think because I got up and did something useful and met some cool people - I have to do this more. Plus now I know which plants are lemonberry. Picture below is from tripadvisor.com; it really should be greener than this right now considering it's February.
I may have said this before but it bears repeating.
If you're still not convinced that they're awesome:
1) Remember that (like all birds) these critters evolved from dinosaurs. Descendants of giant reptiles (whose niches are now filled by mammalian megafauna) have taken over some of the niches of insects. Absurd! Amazing! What a planet!
2) Owing to their outlandish metabolism, hummingbirds can starve in a few hours. Their metabolism and speed appears to be constrained from going to further extremes by the fundamental upper limit of kidney filtration. It's a wonder their glomeruli don't put out sparks.
3) In Black Diamond Regional Park in the Bay Area, I once saw a blooming eucalyptus in winter, in the middle of grassy hills, not unlike the one in the photo a few posts down. It must have been the only flowering plant for miles, because it was swarming with hummingbirds. The tree sounded like it was made of electricity.
4) Aztecs thought that hummingbirds and butterflies were the souls of warriors who had fallen on the battlefield; ancestors as Valkyries.
5) They got purty shiny feathers.
If you're still not convinced they're awesome then what's wrong with you.
I've made various lists of travel experiences before but it's sometimes useful to describe experiences in terms of whether they exceeded whatever expectations you'd formed ahead of time, or fell short. So this is NOT a ranking of absolute pleasantness, but rather how much the pleasantness (for me) differed from my expectations. Example: France is REALLY nice, but has a reputation for rudeness which I find undeserved, so on here it gets a "slightly under-rated." If I had visited Somalia, which I have not, I would expect a nightmarish hellhole but if in the nine square blocks that the "government" in Mogadishu controls I was never shot at and the guides were nice, it would be considered more under-rated than France.)
So that readers may weight this accordingly for optimal usefulness: I like history (of the usual kind as well as scientific), ethnic food, mountain and trails and general outdoor experiences, beaches (though not as much as when I was younger), clear skies, cool temperatures, and road trips, and I live in California.
COUNTRIES (or REGIONS of large countries) (from most under- to most over-rated, excluding U.S. which I will break down by state)
Country/Region
Over/under-rated
Mexico City
The most under-rated region or capital, and the most unique capital I've ever been to with lots of adventures to get into with locals (yes, good ones you'll enjoy and survive.) Fantastic history both pre- and post-Columbian, and of course great food.
Most under-rated European country and maybe most under-rated on this list. The Spain of Eastern Europe. Fun, genuine and good-looking people, surprisingly good local AND ethnic food, great prices and history, easy to get around in a car, and the Tatra Mountains are awesome.
Definitely under-rated. Besides the excellent food, Chengdu also has a lot of attractive people, is really unique with its own sense of culture and history, and has a lot of mountains quite nearby.
Still under-rated believe it or not. Prices still haven't caught up to the rest of the E.U. Administratively much better than you'd think. It's a big country with a lot of varied terrain, and some really friendly people.
Under-rated, especially Budapest. Though it seems silly to say, there's a different feel to Hungarian culture that makes you aware that they only showed up in Europe in the early-to-mid medieval period and come from a different language family.
France
Slightly under-rated, believe it or not - because, guys, people in France are NICE, and super-helpful. I don't know where these other ideas came from.
Slightly under-rated. The cultural marvel that is Vienna is hard to over-state.
Ireland
Slightly under-rated. Each town is its own little gem. Dublin on the other hand is a little boring and over-rated if you don't drink constantly. Who cares about all the pubs?
Slightly under-rated. A very nice, interesting city actually with a lot of outdoors stuff to do around it (unlike Wellington.) Ignore non-Auckland kiwis who try to tell you it sucks.
Andorra
Slightly under-rated, just because no one talks about it and it's interesting.
Over-rated. Guys, it's not that great. It's either boring (most of the time) or filled with screaming drunk 20 year olds (Friday and Saturday night) and they definitely don't have a sense of humor about the myth of wonderful Wellington being punctured.
As advertised, getting over-rated actually - nature still awesome, but just too much money destroying the uniqueness of the place and the traffic really has become a quality-of-life-damaging nightmare.
Over-rated. Even going there with someone from the country who speaks the language, feels very closed-off and non-spontaneous and "behind glass". I found that good sushi and electronics markets didn't make up for that.
Over-rated. People in London are often ruder than they need to be, even compared to New York and Paris. Much more expensive, and less open to visitors having spontaneous experiences than many other capitals (except Tokyo.)
AMERICAN STATES (from most under to most over-rated)
Most under-rated state on the east coast. Mountains. Whitewater rivers. Forests. Maybe the best concentration of history in the country (Independence Hall! Gettysburg! Valley Forge!) Culturally unique (Amish and Dutchmen, that weird accent in Pittsburgh, Slavs and Appalachian Scots-Irish and Italians all mixed in).
and some of the tastiest unhealthiest food on this planet.
Under-rated. People like to make fun of it but the beaches are great, it's small enough that it's easy to run the state pretty well (and they do), and you're far enough south of the 40th parallel that you rarely see snow.
Definitely under-rated. Santa Fe is hands-down the best state capital and historically and culturally you don't feel like you're in the U.S. or any other country, although I think the spirit of the Old West is best preserved here. How many states have two or three of their own cuisines and a dozen native nations ringed around the capital?
North Carolina
Second most-under rated state on the east coast. Excellent beaches, also has great mountains, and some cities with actual intellectual activity in Research Triangle.
Alaska
Under-rated. It's a real frontier. You should go there sometime.
Utah
Under-rated. Yes, Mormons - but it's pleasant, there is GREAT terrain in the south, and great skiing and hiking northeast of SLC.
Georgia
Under-rated. Atlanta is a big city with some nooks and crannies and people forget there's a coastline, which is great and almost deserted.
Over all slightly under-rated believe it or not, just foroutdoorsstuff. San Francisco is starting to get over-rated. L.A. is also a bit under-rated and really is interesting, although the traffic is as bad as you think.
Under-rated. Yes I really enjoyed ice-fishing but I've been there in the dead of winter several times, not even doing fun winter stuff, and people always seem to be enjoying life to an odd degree even then.
Virginia
Slightly under-rated. People forget there's a state separate from D.C. History, mountains, beaches in the southern part.
West Virginia
Slightly under-rated. The only state entirely in the Appalachians, very close to some east coast cities yet rarely visited.
Maryland
Slightly under-rated. Pleasant towns, D.C. suburbs, and eastern shore coastline on the Delmarva.
Alabama
Maybe slightly under-rated, influenced by area around Mobile.
New Hampshire
Slightly under-rated only because it has a lot of nice forests, and like other parts of northern New England a number of people who manage to live deliberately and even experimentally without going off the rails.
Vermont
Slightly under-rated for the same reasons as New Hampshire.
Maine
Slightly under-rated for the same reasons as New Hampshire.
Maybe a little over-rated, just because it's so identified with the Rockies. Lots of other states have Rockies. The San Juans are amazing, Boulder is interesting but has kind of become the San Francisco of Middle America (yeah I said it), but Denver is kind of blah and the eastern third of the state is boring prairie.
Slightly over-rated. Most of the state (outside of the unambiguously mountainous parts) are not very pretty dry ranch and prairie.
Massachusetts
Slightly over-rated. Come on, Boston isn't all that great. The Cape and Islands are pleasant enough but can still be cold in the summer and the crowds are stupid.
Over-rated, although admittedly not thought of as a tourist destination. The Hill Country is under-rated, as is Fredericksburg. Austin is as advertised. Houston sucks. Dallas is maybe a little more interesting than you'd think. San Antonio is definitely over-rated. (You need more than a Riverwalk and Alamo for a city that size guys.) Gulf Coast is slightly under-rated.
Slightly over-rated. Yes it's warm in the winter. In the summer, it has temperatures that if NASA found them on an exoplanet would make them consider it uninhabitable. Tucson is laid back in the way California supposedly used to be, Phoenix is like a poorer, more generic L.A. Flagstaff under-rated and mountains and canyons in the far north are nice.
Louisiana
Over-rated. New Orleans is definitely over-rated. The rest of the state is culturally kind of a weird Southern state with lots of bugs.
Florida
Most over-rated state on the east coast. Yes there are attractive people and some great food in Miami, but a) the people won't talk to you and b) it's a gigantic state full of snakes and bugs and mildew, and those few things are all clustered down near the far end. The beaches are nice and warm. (By the way people on the east coast who visit Florida *during the summer* - why? Waste of airfare! Go in December or March!
Nevada
Most over-rated state in the Pacific time zone and probably west of the Rockies. Main attraction is a city famous for machines that you put money into with only a small chance of it coming back out, though there are a few decent cheap restaurants (because of other people financing your food) and Mt. Charleston is a nice hike. Tahoe is nice but more of Tahoe is in California. Reno only seems like civilization if you've spent the last two days driving across deserts and salt flats on I-80. The rest of the state is quite empty and mostly not that scenic.
So I survived the three months of my surgery rotation only by imagining the promise of the San Juan Mountains in my future, and what a promise it was. Somehow all my wanderings around the Western U.S. had not taken me to them, and last week with trusty pal Dorothy I finally set off to correct this. Interestingly, my neglect of the San Juans and CO Rockies generally seems to be shared by my fellow Californians - we noticed a dearth of CA plates, but no shortage of TX, OK and KS.
The route, which was every bit as awesome as it looks:
(Geek point: to figure out the best trip, I prioritized what I wanted to
do, then used an online Traveling Salesman solver and added nodes
sequentially, seeing where there were significant jumps in travel time.
Not surprisingly, there was a jump in travel time for paying my respects to Caballo Blanco by going for a run in Gila Natl Forest or going to the Oklahoma Panhandle just because. I will definitely be planning future roadtrips this way.)
You will notice on that route a visit to Flagstaff, a cool town that people are unfortunately finally discovering; Wupatki Ruins (including the ball court and wind cave that I forgot about) and finally entered the Navajo Nation, which I seem unable to permanently escape. There we saw easily the most amazing rainbow of our lives. We stopped for the obligatory fry bread and passed through Monument Valley and Mexican Hat. Notes: don't eat fry bread with honey while driving. Monument Valley is oddly unsettling at dusk. Mexican Hat has a little restaurant (the Olde Bridge Grill) with great lamb dishes overlooking the San Juan River near the famous goosenecks. And finally: the Four Corners area does in fact close at night. But eff 'em because it's not really the Four Corners anyway.
Wupatki Ruins, north of Flagstaff.
A ball-court at Wupatki.
A double-rainbow in Navajo Nation.
We seemed to be driving into the base of it for 30 minutes.
I didn't ask what does it mean.
From there we passed through Cortez on the way to Durango. We decided not to go back to Mesa Verde and Hovenweep Natl Monument. Cool though they are, especially the coded steps, my travel companion told me that where she's from there are thousand-year-old dwellings all over the place so she wasn't so impressed anyway.
Durango bills itself as a Four Corners-area town but SW Colorado is the outgroup of the four states that come together in that region. Because it's higher it's greener; Durango just looks different. Once arriving in Durango we recognized that it apparently has a law that only awesome things are allowed to be there. The mountains and trails around it are of course spectacular, plus there are brewpubs and fun restaurants, plus there's a hiking train (!) plus just randomly one day there was a plane taking off with a glider in tow right next to town. Even the flea market is awesome (see the scorpion-lamp below):
Scorpion Lamp by Ron Howell. Check out bracelets, lamps and more here.
He's a cool guy and he only makes dragon and scorpion stuff. Ron doesn't screw around.
The only downside is that my Jeep Liberty kicked the bucket in February and there were a number of trails we couldn't get to without a 4WD. It's not like California dirt roads (i.e. getting to Holy Jim Falls and Santiago Peak in the Trabuco Unit of Cleveland NF) - when Coloradans say 4WD-only, they're serious. The first day: Engineer Peak, starting at Coal Bank Pass. Every day we got chased by thunder. In California we don't usually have this problem, but in Colorado every year people are killed by lightning. Lesson from this trip: when hiking Colorado peaks in the summer, start early. Early early early!
Famous image of a woman on a mountain observation deck.
Lightning struck within minutes of this picture being taken, badly injuring her. Don't put yourself in this position in CO in the summer, start early!
Post-glacial kettle-pond On the way to Engineer Peak.
A rock glacier on the north side of Engineer.
Landscape with sasquatch.
The area north of Durango, around Silverton where we did most of our San Juan explorage.
Afterward we headed into Silverton, a town which I absolutely fell in love with. Why am I so smitten by this struggling mining town full of eccentrics?
- It's full of eccentrics.
- At over 9,000', only Leadville is higher.
- It has its own 100 miler (the Hardrock 100), most recently won by Hal Koerner. (Go there for photos if for no other reason.)
- Of course it's surrounded by amazing hikes and climbs.
- As if to lure me in, the first business I walked into (an old Victorian Hotel) was showing Blade Runner, my favorite movie of all time. (Actually it kind of spooked me. Reminds me of that one bit from Bradbury's Martian Chronicles.)
- Finally, this tiny town has not one by two restaurants that serve Rocky Mountain Oysters. (More later.) One such establishment helped me trick my travel companion with a Jackalope, while serving us Durango Brewing Company's excellent blueberry beer. (Does anyone know where we can get this in CA?!?!)
Rocky Mountain Oysters, which we euphemistically called "nuts". Someone (not me) insisted on coming back a second night in a row for these, so delicious did she find them the first time -
which led to me on subsequent evenings to sleep uneasily in a protective position.
The next day, still in the San Juans, we headed up to Ice Lake, which may have been my favorite of the trip.
If you told me the world was created starting from this place, I might not be surprised.
It was during this hike that my companion advanced her controversial theory that people of Germanic descent enjoy and are better at trail-running and hiking in temperate or boreal forest because we are after all a post-glacial forest people. My counterargument to her: say no to drugs.
This fellow was insultingly relaxed.
As in, he actually relaxed at us seemingly to prove a point.
The lake was pretty cool, so we took some video, although we dared not dawdle due to the hail and thunder. Don't ask me what those people were doing camping up there.
We also took video of a less-relaxed marmot who lived by the lake and who was telling us what's what.
The next day we went up to Ouray (pronounced by locals "yeRAY" - people in Denver, take it up with them, not with me), where we hiked to the Bridge of Heaven. Not as high as the area around Silverton and a little drier - this was actually in Uncompahgre National Forest. Ouray is where much of the original True Grit was filmed. It was also the inspiration for Galt's Gulch in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, although there was no solid gold dollar sign hanging over the valley. (I did once see one near Cholame, CA once, but that's another story.) A great brewpub, real live cowboys, and of course more trails. Ouray seems to have developed better than Silverton.
I was sure glad to get above the gritty urban hustle and bustle of Ouray. (Above, lower right.)
The camera didn't believe how green these trees were.
I took a couple videos getting up near the top. When I was coming back down I decided to record a little bit of the run (sorry for the Blair Witch motion-sickness-prone among you). I had to stop and tie my shoe so as not to take the fast way back down to Ouray.
After we came back down we chillaxed by the car at the stream and looked at trees and clouds, after which time we headed up to Montrose.
Before leaving the San Juans, a geography note: Shotgun Peak in Rio Grande Natl Forest in the southeastern side of the San Juans looks very strange geologically. See all those valleys east-southeast of the msa? If you run across this article searching or by a news alert, and you have some clue, drop a comment - I'm curious as heck what's going on there.
Things change when you get north of Ridgway. You're out of the San Juans, and it gets very dry and flat and you feel like you're in New Mexico or Utah. Black Canyon of the Gunnison is there, and it is, as one hotelier put it, "Well...it's a big canyon." If you're in the area see it, but I wouldn't go out of my way.
It is at this point you will notice a dearth of (good quality) pictures - because Dorothy lost her phone at the Mt. Elbert Trailhead (if you see it email me! LOL!). The upside is that there are few pictures of me with a beard, which she made me grow. The only record is me at the summit, which a nice fellow on top took and sent to me.
So I've bagged the #1 and #2 peaks in the lower 48. SWEET. I also saw a pika during the climb, way above the tree or even the grass-line. We ended up racing back down as dark clouds gathered. Why? Thunder. Start early!
From there, we headed to Boulder to see friends Dave and Jacqui. It was really good to catch up with them (thanks guys) and good to experience some actual heat. On the way from Elbert to Boulder we realized we'd never hike all the NFs in Colorado. For that matter I still haven't been to Rocky Mountain Natl Park! But Dave took me on a nice run up the Flatirons right next to Boulder.
This is the knife that cut Joe Simpson's rope - i.e. the guy from Touching the Void.
In Neptune Mountaineering in Boulder.
From there, someone was too good to drive back to San Diego, so I took the Princess to DIA, leaving poor me all by my lonesome. Actually there was cool stuff on the way back. I finally got to drive up to Pike's Peak (wanted to see how the car did at 14,000'; would've run but no time); checked out the Garden of the Gods (red rocks below); and then drove the amazingly empty strentch of I-25 from the Springs to Santa Fe. There are two things out there, Jack and Sh*t, and a whole lot of 'em at that.
A special note on Santa Fe: what a cool little town. Again, somehow I'd passed by or quickly through this place in the past, in retrospect to my detriment. The old town and Plaza Mayor are gorgeous and Maria's New Mexico Kitchen is in the coolest little-big adobe with the tastiest food ever.
A church door in Santa Fe's old town.
It was damn hot south of Albuquerque even at night, so I shouldn't have been so surprised to see that sidewinder crawling across the highway in my headlights. Sorry guy.
At daybreak I got off the highway at Socorro to head over to the Very Large Array (VLA), a radiotelescope installation I've been obsessed with for a while. If you've seen Contact or 2010 or Terminator Salvation, you've seen the VLA.
This was a wall of post-it notes from visitors who wanted to leave messages for the astronomers who run the place. Below: this was my own helpful note, after having seen Terminator Salvation. But I think I was too late because the place was completely unmanned. I didn't see a single person the whole time I was there, even in the (open) visitor center.
Originally after the VLA I was going to head down to Gila NF to pay my respects to the late Caballo Blanco, but there had just been a fire there and it's out of the way anyway; I'll get there some other time. I'm not sad since I ended up being amazed by the greenness of western NM/eastern AZ at this time of year. This is probably the most surprised I've ever been by the way a part of the U.S. looks. They also have cool (weird) names for towns. Right after this one, I went through Omega also.
After that I paid a visit to the Mogollon Rim in Sitgreaves Natl Forest, Arizona. It was so green that there was a fern-filled valley in one place (sorry, no pics) and plenty of awesome trails; I got in one last run on my last day.
Above: the Mogollon Rim is that green stripe. It's the southwestern edge of the Colorado Plateau. The running was fantastic but pretty hot (90 F) even at 7500'; then again, let's not get carried away complaining since after all it was Arizona in August.
During the run I saw a fire starting on a distant peak, which by the time I was getting out of the Natl Forest toward Mesa had blossomed into a full-on fire. There was dry lightning all around.
The way back included normal Phoenix traffic, the endless emptiness of I-8 west of Phoenix, a sandstorm in Yuma, the fires in the mountains here, and almost hitting a flying owl on I-8. It was like a fantasy novel or something. I fought the demon horde, then crossed the Empty Quarter, survived the smothering sands, then braved the land of fire and darkness. One does not simply drive into Mordor.)
Yuma. It might actually look better when you can't see it.
Imagine all that grit in your teeth, which is what happens when you have to get out to pump gas.
Coming up the east side of the Peninsular Range on I-8. The fires to the left (from my vantage point, south in the range, in Mexico) were much bigger than what remained of the San Diego County fires at that point, although they were less reported here. The sunset they produced was spectacular.
This trip was a blast and was exactly what I needed to unwind after surgery. Thanks to Dave and Jacqui for putting us up/putting up with us on Friday night, Jason for hiking tips, and Dorothy for being the best road trip buddy EVAR!
[Added later for your enjoyment if you travel in the area as well as my own later consultation:
I'd been to Australia once before, but for undisclosed reasons I was at that time maybe not so receptive to all the great things about the country, especially in the cities. Much of this visit was boring family stuff but herein are tips, tricks, and observations you may also find helpful for such an adventure. This is definitely the trip I've had the most difficulty coming back from, of any in my life, which is a testament to some combination of Australia being awesome, or California having depressing dim cold weather right now; certainly not my getting old.
1. Growth and Wisdom
2. Melbourne, Victoria, and Mt. Kosciuszko
3. Brisbane and Queensland
1. Growth and Wisdom
As you know I have matured over the years, and I am very proud of this so I'm putting it first in this post. At the same time, I am very much troubled to see these sorts of puerile, imbecilic attempts at humor of the lowest common denominator, out in the world where they might have a negative effect on the weak-minded. Such individuals might even travel overseas only to traipse about hither and thither, taking pictures of themselves pointing at the objects of their schoolboyish delight. I am bringing them to your attention so that we may work together to make the world a better place. As ever, I'm merely reporting the facts.
It's important to get educated about nature.
As you will see, so many of them have ethnic and/or sexual overtones. Just sad. Of course my team does not want their names sullied by association with such sophomoric tomfoolery, so their identities are protected. It's worth pointing out that my wife's favorite is the long black. Mine too!
Even the food and restaurant industry has been sullied by this childishness. Tsk tsk.
Above: this is really in the Ian Potter Museum in Melbourne. I resent this one because I like at least a little challenge when I'm being juvenile, and they took that away from me here.
Above: sadly, racism in Australia is at an all-time high, with innocent Caucasians like this poor fellow (identity protected) being shoved into the wine fridge at convenience stores in order to make them cold. And he is chilly indeed. For shame. Below, we even see a funeral home chain apparently inspired by this song. (No joke, it's actually a chain in Oz.)
Above: we couldn't find good Mexican food in Oz so when we got back and gorged ourselves, this is what happened ZING, HEY-O
In conclusion: Australian placenames make you think you're in a new verse of the Jabberwocky poem:
And O! the spotted wobbegong
And Woolloongabba, Geelong!
etc.
2. Melbourne and Victoria
2.1 Climbing Mt. Kosciuszko, My Liege! The Highest Mountain in Australia (Yes technically the mountain is in New South Wales but NSW is a disgusting toilet that should be destroyed, its people like the beasts of the forest, their bellies crawling on the ground among their cousins the serpents and swine. Die. In conclusion, I don't care for NSW.)
Among climbers that have completed the Seven Summits (highest on each continent), typically the category here is "Oceania" rather than the Australian continent, which allows them to use Puncak Jaya (Karstensz Pyramid) in Irian Jaya, the Indonesian half of the island of New Guinea. That's because Puncak Jaya is 16,024' in contrast to Kosciuszko, which is a towering 7,310', about a thousand feet higher than Lake Tahoe (those mountains you ski on around Lake Tahoe are all higher than this, and in fact so is the Donner Pass rest stop on I-80.) Australia is an old continent, which is one of many reasons it's interesting. Hence, the massive sandy, red, nutrient-depleted interior; also hence why its mountains are small and worn-down, even in the Great Dividing Ranges on the country's east coast. The Appalachians are 480 million years old, and used to be the highest mountains on Earth. The Great Dividing Range is 300 million years old, and the two mountain chains have comparable high points today (North Carolina's Mount Mitchell is 6,684'.) All that said, not everyone can say they had a snowball battle in late spring in Australia, and we did. Most importantly, it was a chance to go on an adventure with my college friend who now lives in Australia. Damn you Australia, you stole one of our good ones!
Above, a valley during the beautiful drive up - sometimes I could've believed I was in the North Bay. Except for the locusts (below), they were loud.
It's not exactly isolated wilderness. The elevation gain is concentrated in the first 2-3 miles, up the ski slope. After that, there's a metal grate to preserve the alpine tundra from trampers' feet. I noticed New Zealand had alpine meadow at even lower elevations, likely the result of these South Pacific-descended plants wussing out in minimal cold. Even Hawaii has higher trees, but some of them derive from North American species. Also, lest you think the altitude would save us from Australia's famously pleasant snakes, someone has been heli-vac'd off the mountain before due to a snakebite in the last 10-20 years, so they're still around. The hostess where we were staying told us she had a close call in a neighbor's garden in Thredbo a few days before our hike.
We were suprised to see regular old placental mammals up here. Deer were introduced and are invasive, though not as bad as rabbits (the only two mammals of any kind we saw that day were these deer and a rabbit.) The national park had a notice up that they were conducting wildlife control, which I assume means you know, BLAM POWEY ZOOM! (In New Zealand for invasives they just allow hunting without limits, which avoids the incentive problem that appeared with a cobra-catching program in India.) These mountains were glaciated so that one round boulder might be a glacial erratic.
We have achieved the summit! Once we got up on the plateau past the ski area, we saw a total of four people, three of them at the summit, all of whom said they were going to stay the night; it was thundering the next morning so I hope they were okay. (Also, if you were the young Canadian woman who lost your bottle, we found it, but your instructions for where to leave it were a little vague, so we left it at AYH Thredbo.) I buried the stats for planning the hike since there are better ones online, but it's 12 miles round trip, 2800' elevation gain (mostly in the first 2.5 miles.) It took us 6 hours, taking our time.
The surrounding forested ridges reminded me a little of the Appalachians. By the time we were going back down through the forested areas below the top of the ski lift, it was getting fairly dark. Which was really really cool because you know what is awesome, is hiking in the dark in Australian forests because there are no venomous snakes there, right? (If that didn't give you the willies, try this one.) We took baby steps down the trail with our phone flashlights on and we survived. I had really wanted to make a detour to Seamans Hut, because it's called that, but my friend said no, and pointed out in the dark that he wouldn't have been thrilled with me if my immaturity had caused us to die of snakebite. I admit there's some reason in this.
A well-deserved, anonymous beer. I had to black it out like this because as you know, Australia is infamously anti-alcohol, and just a picture of you drinking could lead to your extradition and execution. Below, driving back through the Dandenongs to Belgrave and Puffing Billy.
2.2 Melbourne in General
The CBD is great, and I commented I couldn't think of another city with a higher density of office and residential buildings with beautiful lobbies. The restaurants in Chinatown are awesome as well. From what I've seen online, Australians outside Victoria love to shit on Melbourne’s climate and safety. Now, it may seem a little harsh to say this, but hear me out, those people are weak whining PUSSES. Also, no need to buy Healesville Sanctuary tickets in advance. I already had, but by this point in the trip we had already seen every nonplacental mammal and venomous bugger that we cared to, some of them in the wild, but the turdnoses at Healesville wouldn't let us cancel our tickets and we just gave the funds as a gift certificate to friends who live in the area. Below: the tall building with the golden collar 2/3 of the way up is 108 Australia, which I think looks like it's about to transform into Voltron or something.
Above: on one of the foot bridges, there were memorials for every country in the world that has sent significant numbers of immigrants to Australia, even with specific regions that sent immigrants. Not sure why they included Pennsylvania, although I do know one of them personally. Below, the Victoria State Parliament and obligatory shot of Flinders Street Station.
Somehow I'd gone my whole loud-music life without listening to AC/DC (much like Led Zeppelin.) This happened because I leapfrogged hard rock entirely and went straight from pop to metal. That is to say, at 12, bands like AC/DC scared me, but by 15 I held them in contempt. My program of study here was all of the Bon Scott albums, and then Back in Black. And I do have to say, there aren't a lot of surprises on an AC/DC record. You're in for 8 to 10 three-to-five minute songs with lightly distorted (by modern metal standards) mid-tempo pentatonic straight-ahead hard rock songs, with occasional bluesy licks like the one in the Back in Black riff. (although Riff Raff off Powerage and Beat Around the Bush off Highway to Hell are faster ones. Not sure what Lars Ulrich was talking about in old interviews where he said Phil Rudd made it heavier by dragging back the tempo.) The influence of 50s and 60s early rock and roll is obvious, to the point that some songs are just Chuck Berry or Little Richard with distortion (really - with one song I said "this is a harder Long Tall Sally," with another "This is a hard rock Johnny B. Goode.") Touch Too Much oddly sounds just like (later) Def Leppard once it gets to the refrain. AC/DC might also be the first band I can think of that has self-referential (and reverent!) lyrics about rock itself. I'd always thought of Iron Maiden as being the band most like Spinal Tap but reading some of the reviews for Back in Black, I think I have to revise that - and I learned that their manager was actually a script consultant for Spinal Tap. Interesting that they're mostly immigrants from the UK and that Angus is a teetotaler.
Last two above are from the Botanical Gardens, which for my money has the best collection of (to my eye) exotic plants in any park I've been to. Below, the interior of the state library of Victoria.
Here begin images of the Shrine of Remembrance, quite modern for having been built in the 1930s after the Great War. Striking for the ziggurat-like roof, as well as the touch of light coming down into the main chamber only on November 11.
Melbourne's motto is a good one, indeed a cousin to solvitur ambulando. After this I went to the National Gallery of Victoria.
Above: I always like running across an original when I'm not expecting to, like I did with School of Athens, and like I did with this one, an image I've been seeing for a long time here. Below: always fun to see a hometown boy who made it big (and he actually did come to Melbourne) although I wonder how much he identified with Berks County after he went to New York. Below that is The Housing Scheme, Raja Segar, 1979.
Below this point are all modern Western paintings in Ian Potter.
Above and below, terrible pictures (with auto-color adjustment that I hate) of a painting I really liked by R.W. Sturgess. He seems almost cursed - "A reclusive artist, Sturgess painted atmospheric watercolours in subtle tones while sitting outdoors for hours on end in his favorite locations, including the Malmsbury district and his native Williamstown. Unfortunately, his career was short-lived - after a car accident in 1926 he struggled with his health, and by 1930 his failing eyesight forced him to give up painting." And now I can't even get a good picture. He died 2 years later at the age of 40. Learn more about him here.
Above, Kosciuszko. Doesn't actually look familiar, and indeed was made from perspective of Victoria border rather than Thredbo. 1866, Eugene von Guerard. Below, Dorrit Black, Gum Trees (1935). Cezanne, with some dotless Seurat thrown in (not a complaint.)
Above, Sally Smart, Mad house history painting, 1989. Below, Janenne Eaton, Canberra II, 1983. The latter is inspired by underground parking decks, which I also found uneasy - I've often wondered whether, were Sartre writing No Exit today, he would set it in an inescapable underground parking deck.
The next four are all in the design area of the Potter. The only unlabeled one is a bench made from pottery clay discards. The last one is a clever positive use of burned material which sadly both California and Australia can expect more of, and it looks very Gigeresque.
2.3 Ian Potter Museum - Aboriginal Work
I have a special section for Ian Potter because of the Aboriginal collection; there is also non-indigenous work. Ian Potter was my favorite museum visit anywhere, for some time. There's nothing remotely like Australian Aboriginal art, anywhere else in the world. The dot paintings are often maps, and they are simultaneously abstract and representational in a way that keeps your attention. They're superficially flat but suggest the yawning depth you feel when you stare into the dark spaces between the stars. I know that as I study them, my persective often oscillates between those two filters, analagous to multistable perception. (My favorite artist is Michelle Possum Nungurrayi.) And as I've learned, this style of painting is just one branch of the anaclysm of indigenous Australian art in the last half-century. Commentaries on Western art, decoration of found objects, traditional shields - I feel like we're at the start of a Cambrian explosion of Aboriginal art that will be obvious in retrospect in another half century. I've come to appreciate visual art late in life and always feel I'm struggling to communicate what I find compelling about it so I appreciate your patience with my inchoate effusion. If you enjoy anything you see here, please take a minute and look through the collection and learn about the artists.
Above, England Banggala and Willie Jolpa, Mimih sculptures
Above, traditional fish trap.
Above, Mandy Nicholson, Baggarok-al Biik-u (She is of Country). Below, traditional shields.
An observation: I saw two people with likely Aboriginal features the whole time I was in Australia (compare to 6 last time, when I spent a lot more time driving around rural parts of the country.) Victoria has the lowest percentage of residents of Aboriginal descent at under 2%, Queensland slightly higher but still in the low single digits (mostly in the north I would guess) and the Northwest Territory the highest at almost a third. Typical of Anglophone settler colonies, the indigenous population remains highest in those areas least desirable to the colonists (see also, the desert Southwest in the US, Canadian interior and Arctic islands.) I was struck by the prevalence of land acknowledgements compared to New Zealand in 2014. While it's hard to object ot the spirit of it, it just strikes me as performative. If my land had been taken, I wouldn't care if someone acknowledged me as the traditional steward, I would want control of the land given back to me. Another contrast though is that New Zealand's official signage is bilingual in English and Maori, and as opposed to Australia where this (at least in QLD and VIC) is just not a practice.
Above, Treahna Hamm, Rebirth II, 1991
Above, Helen Mabo, Peibri Sor 2017 (polymer paint and wire). Below, Dean Cross, The Yowie, 2017 (partly inspired by Ned Kelly, a sort of Australian stormtrooper or knight outlaw.)
Above, apparently the artist is a fan of CB4, the Spinal Tap of hip-hop as it were. Below, Billy Benn Perrurle, Other side of Utopia, 2002. Below that, left John Wilson Wuribudiwi, Purrukaparli, 1999 and Kitty Kantilla, Purrukaparli, 1995.
One of the next few is by Pedro Wonaeamirri, Tutini (Pukumani pole), 2003; apologies that I'm not sure which it is and don't have the names for the others.
These two above and below are both direct questions about the interaction between Western and Aboriginal art, although I often find the symbolism too on the nose in these kinds of works.
Above, Dennis Nona, Baidam - Shark constellation, 2006. (In the West we call this the Pleiades.)
Above, both Crusoe Kunigbal, titled Mimih spirits, 1983. Below, from left to right, Gumak Gumana, The two men, Nabira-mira, 1948; unknown, Honey bees, Koolatong River, 1948; and Nandaputa Maminyamanja, The sawfish, Yukwurrirrindangwa, 1948. All painted with earth pigments on stringybark, a type of eucalpytus.
Above, Jonathan Jones, untitled (muyan), 2011. This is dedicated to an Aboriginal leader, William Barak, who predicted in 1903 that he would die when the wattle bloomed. Every year on the anniversary of his death it turns yellow. You come down the stairs to this installation and wonder what it even is at first ("Are they working on something?") I love encountering art objects that you don't immediately recognize as such. Below, a 14-way collaboration (have you ever seen a 14-way collaboration in a museum before?), BOnney, Baadjo et al (does APA apply?), Kulyayi and Nyirla, 1999. These are the types of paintings that originally got me interested in Australian indigenous art. This is a map of spiritual locations in the Great Sandy Desert. Below that, Bonney, Baadjo, et al (an 11-way collaboration), We bin born in the bush, 2005. A map of waterholes.
Above, N. Marawili, Bol'nu Djapu, 2017. Enamel paint on laminated aluminum. There is drama around this one as some designs are restricted (in terms of who can draw them) by relationship. The artist had to get permission from her group to draw this. This is a supernatural landscape (I would not have called that); the inventivity in terms of materials continues to astound me. Below, taken at a distance to try to give persective on size, Timo Hogan's three paintings called Lake Baker, 2021; inspired by Australia's own atomic bomb tests.
Above: Mary Rruwaypi Guyula, Nganmarra (Mat), 1993; below, Mary Muyungu, Galuka bathi (Coconut basket), made from coconut, padanus (Old World pineapple fiber), and shells. Below that, Margaret Rarru Garrawarra, Madonna bra, 2007. Yes, inspired by the pop star's touring bra, made from pandanus.
Lindsay Harris, above is Ngan-karlap Coaring (My place Kwolyin) 2008, below is Some cry longer than others 2007. "Harris represents his cultural memory of Kwolyin, a once thriving settlement that is now deserted. Travelling through what remains of Kwolyin, Harris sees in the large granite rocks and the scarred surface of the land, signifiers of his Noongar ancestors, as he searchs for a landscape that no longer exists."
Above, Phyllis Thomas, Untitled, 2004 (pigments mixed with acrylic.) Below, Kitty Kantilla, all untitled, 1998 and 2003. This was possibly the first time a Tiwi artist painted on canvus instead of skin or poles. It's invariably interesting and unpredictable what will happen when a three-dimensional tradition transfers onto two dimensions. Pacific Northwest formline art underwent a similar transformation.
Above, Rosie Karadada, shield and Wanjina. Below, N. Marawili, Djapu design. Again, possibly the first time this tradition was placed on paper. "This design alludes to ancestral fish traps, ridgelines and the billabong network inhabited by Mana the ancestral shark. The work honours Yolnu knowledge while expressing narrative through a minimalist, stripped-back design."
Above, Dorothy Napangardi Robinson, Karntakurlangu Jukurrpa (Belonging to women), 2000. "...depicts the Digging-Stick Women's Dreaming associated with the site of Mina Mina." As an aside, it's striking how much the concept of the Dreamtime differs from many other mythologies, where it's very clear these stories occurred "long ago" - and how much the Dreaming tracks psychoanalytic ideas of the subconscious, where there is no time, and everything is always happening right now. This contributes to the feeling I get when viewing Aboriginal art that somehow I'm seeing underneath the static, simple, wan, confused-by-irrelevant detail surface world, down to the strange raw dermis of reality. Below, Wintjiya Napaltjarri, Hailstorm at the rock hole site of Payarnga, south of Kintore, 2003.
Above, Pinyirrpa Nancy Patterson, Yulpu, 2012. Below, Jakayu Biljab, Morika Biljabu, Minyipuru (Seven Sisters). So many widely dispersed cultures share a version of the Seven Sisters story (called in Greece the Pleiades, in Japan Subaru, in Hawaii Makali'i, in Lakota Wicincala Sakowin, etc.) that some have even theorized this was a story made up even before all modern humans' ancestors split apart in Africa.
Above, Emily Kam Kngwarray, Anwerlarr angerr (Big yam) 1996; below, Wukun Wanambi, Wawurritjpal 2021. Look at this - it's painted on an old road sign.
Above, Lorraine Connelly-Northey, Possum skin cloak 2006. (No wonder that poor fellow at Phillip Island was hiding in the trash can.) Below, Marylin Brown Petyarr, Art, cars and the landscape 1990.
Above: Alice Guiness, Burndud ground 2025. Below, Julie Dowling, Federation series 1901-2001, 2001.
Above, Michelle Pulutuwayu Woody Minnipinni, Ngiya Murrakupupuni (My Country) 2023. Below, unknown artist who screenprinted on silk, but titled and imitating bark paintings. Below that, I came into the final room, at which time the museum was closing and they had to come kick me out. I've never wanted to come back the next day to a museum before.
Of note (and I'm actually not kidding), in one room, there was an AC/DC song playing. I assumed it would turn out to be oart of an exhibit but there was no plaque or obvious connection with any piece - near as I could tell, they were just following the Australian law that every building must publicly play a certain nuumber of minutes of AC/DC per day.
2.4 The Phillip Island Penguin Parade
Also a big hit with kids - Phillip Island is home to a big little penguin colony (that's the species name - little penguin) and the day we were there, even in the spring, you definitely could feel that we were facing Antarctica across the Southern Ocean. (This cold water is also why Melbourne isn't humid like sunny Brissie and Shitney, New Suck Wales.) Every night at sunset, one to two thousand penguins emerge from the water and march together to to their burrows. They are loud (I never thought about what a penguin sounded like before.) The preserve takes conservation very seriously so to prevent disorienting the penguins, no photography is allowed to avoid the possibility of flashes. That night we also had a few wallabies and many Cape Barren geese joining us.
Is cloak lady gone?
2.5 Puffing Billy (reserve tickets in advance!) I was on Kosciuszko instead of on the train. If you have little ones, it's hard to beat - get on early and you can sit sideways with your legs dangling out the sides. You might even see wildlife. Had the weather ruled out Koscuiszko my plan B was to do a hike in the Dandenongs while the fam was on the train, and the Dandenogs were so pretty that I'm a little sad I didn't get up on those trails. (Images from Visit Victoria and Sydney-Melbourne Touring.)
3. Brisbane and Queensland
3.1 General notes: I don't know why but I was surprised (pleasantly) by time traveling back to summer. I really liked Queensland this time around. The weather is warm and bright in Queensland at all times but in the spring and summer it can be iffy in the sense of possible storms. We lucked out and got out right before a week of severe hail and thunder, but it was clear and beautiful when we were there. The summer and even spring sun in Queensland is noticeably more intense than the same latitude and time of year in the northern hemisphere. Take it seriously - SPF 30+ and hydrate well! Also you can buy diced kangaroo meat in grocery stores, which isn't bad, and it's about the leanest red meat out there - with omega-3's as well. I was talking to our Uber driver on the way to the airport (relevant: he was from Egypt) and mentioned it and he'd been in Oz for 8 months but wasn't planning on trying it, because he explained matter-of-factly it's hard to find halal kangaroo meat. Fair enough! He also said that it wasn't our imagination, that the sun in Queensland is hotter than Egypt, or Kuwait, where he'd also worked.
3.2 Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary: well west of of the CBD so if you're staying near the center of the city, you'll need a car or Uber but it's worth it. You can pay to pet and feed a koala! (Illegal in other states now. The only place I saw where you could hold a koala was an amusement park in Gold Coast but a) You have to pay the full amusement park entry fee and we don't care about roller coaster coasters and b) koalas have sharp nails.) Get your entry and experience tickets in advance. You can also pay to feed a kangaroo (only AUS$2 for the food) and it's free to feed lorikeets, who will sit on your head, and also have sharp nails.
Above: the only place you're likely to see Tasmanian devils is in zoos. Their numbers are dropping due to a strange contagious tumor (really - if you read about this and don't find it interesting, you're probably not a science person.) Other animals you're not likely to see: a platypus. Originally, seeing one in the wild this time was one of my priorities but my friend talked me out of it but saying he went on a dawn platypus watching cruise and saw some small splashes in the distance, and that was considered successful.
There was also an unexpected appearance by the American president.
3.3 Australia Zoo (Steve Irwin’s) - the best way to see saltwater crocodiles, which for my money are the most frightening animal currently living on Earth. No advance tickets needed. Also conservation-oriented. You can get there on the train but then you'll need a carshare to get to Mary Cairncross (below.) Bring water-friendly clothing or a change as there's a splashpad and you'll want to use it. You can find lots of photos online.
Above: the croc show. Below: the only way I hope I ever see a snake in Australia, behind glass.
3.4 Mary Cairncross Reserve - All of 15 minutes drive from Australia Zoo. Really cool (shirt, only ~1.5M) rainforest walk. I was hoping we would see a padamelon and boy did we. Those guys were annoying, you almost had to yell at them to get them off the trail. And no they're not venomous or anything. I do get a little tired of the "everything there in Australia can kill you narrative", but the gympie gympie plant ("Giant Stinging Tree") did not help me make this case to my family to get them on this hike. This is something else I only want to see behind glass, as I did in the Duchess of Northumberland's Poison Garden at Alnwick Castle, England.) There, it's safely behind glass, not just out where you can bump into it like it might be in Queensland. To prune it, the Duchess's gardeners put on a hazmat suit complete with respirator. Here's why: "Small pink-purple flowers become pink-purple berries from March to August. The flesh is edible but too dangerous to harvest...Skin contact with the leaves and stems of the Giant Stinging Tree can cause debilitating pain and possible hospitalisation. Even fallen leaves on the ground can cause pain. The acid-burn sensation can linger for several months." I'll never complain about poison oak again.
When you listen to videos, sound on so you can hear the birds. You will also share my disappointment that, when you're in Australian wilderness, there's not a didgeridoo playing continuously in the background the whole time, turns out that's just in movies.
3.5 Brisbane itself is underrated. The area around Brisbane was hillier than I expected. This is a big positive. People were very friendly, lots of good Asian food, and sadly I missed the Birrunga Gallery as they were having an event that day. Brisbane reminds me of a combination of 2/3 Honolulu and 1/3 Miami. However the hills, Asian food, friendly people, cleanliness and safety (and frankly only moderate humidity) all erode the Miami comparison, for which I now apologize to Brisbane. We stayed right in the CBD. Nearby Streets Beach is a big artificial free sandy beach (The Brisbane River has attractive bliffs and the Botanical Gardens by Kangaroo Point are nice, and the river is tied for oldest river on Earth after the Susquehanna but don't swim in there = bull sharks.) Like every city in Australia, lots of Asian food. We got Moreton Bay bugs from the low-key Prawnster and had steak at the Norman Hotel, which proudly bills itself Australia’s worst vegetarian restaurant. We couldn't go to Vertigo because of the kid and wanted to go to Bareknuckles Barbecue but it didn't work out. City Hall and Queensland Parliament are pretty cool-looking buildings, relics of the Victorian era stiff upper lip in this subtropical place.
3.6 Bluey’s World! Reserve tickets in advance. You can take the River Cat ferry right there. I shared with the staff my theory that Bluey actually takes place in a post-apocalyptic future where humans are gone and dogs have evolved to intelligence and in one episode they'll find the ruins of the Sydney Opera House or something. They were unmoved.
You maniacs! You really did it! Damn you all to hell! Yes I know that's in Sydney not Brisbane you numbskull, tell me what landmark you would have used in Brisbane? City Hall? Yeah sure, I bet you really would have recognized that.
3.7 Tangalooma Resort out on Moreton Island. Snorkel, feed wild dolphins by hand (reserve both of those ahead of time) and hike in the interior of the island. (Reserve your day trip and activities in advance. Also, the city ferry doesn't go to the Tangalooma ferry terminal in Pinkenba, you have to find another way there.) That was my only wildlife scare, when I walked into a spider web that gave noticeable resistance before it broke, like a rubber band stretched across the trail. I didn't care for that. While hiking I looked up "snakes Moreton Island" and as usual, among them are the second and third most venomous snakes in the world, worse than black mambas, cobras and sea snakes, etc. (all in the same family of elapids, just weaker than the Australian ones.) About five minutes after that one of Queensland's many big lizards ran across the narrow trail right in front of me, which almost gave me a heart attack, thanks buddy appreciate it.
Above: snorkeling out on the wrecks, the highlight was the wobbegong shark. Image credit Blue Planet Aquarium. Below, views from the trail on this island, which like several on the Queensland coast is essentially a giant sandbar, a very big brother to the barrier islands we see on the Atlantic Coast of the U.S.
Above: a spider along the trail. I wasn't about to risk getting closer to get a better picture just for the losers that read this blog.
The highlight of the day was hand-feeding wild dolphins. As we waded out into the knee-deep water, the way our interactions with a nonhuman intelligence were carefully managed, the bright lights, and how the dolphins cruised in and just waited in the shallows for us to come out, reminded me very much of the end of Close Encounters. Offsetting this tension was the fact that Echo, our dolphin, was a dick. A friend of mine told me that he's been knocked off his board by dolphins while surfing in San Diego, and he's sure they do it intentionally because they think it's funny. I was talking about this with the family behind us, and then at one point Echo took off and knocked over the professional camera-woman, making her drop her camera in the water. The dolphin leaned against me almost like a dog, and at one point put the tip of its pectoral fin right on my big toe (with a fair amount of its body weight - quite a bit of pressure.) Neat experience, do it if you get the chance. I think adults liked it more than kids. The resort fed five dolphins that day and you can see two of them as they're hanging around (red arrows.)
3.8 Wildlife everywhere - water dragons, flying foxes and wild exotic birds everywhere. Queensland is the most "Australian" state in terms of wildlife and culture, in this foreigner's unwelcome opinion. Their critters are not super-cooperative so most of these are from the internet, but the water dragons do occasionally pose for you, like here.
Video credit to Youtube user Blacksnake, images to ABC Australia fb page and Wildlife Victoria (they have flying foxes in Melbourne as well, just not as many.)
3.9 I really liked Queensland, and it's not my usual "type". I was sad to come back to the northern hemisphere winter, even in California. But here are my few non-positive observations: the first morning I woke up with the sun coming in and thought "Great, I'm already adjusted to the time difference!" and it was FOUR FUCKING FIFTY A.M. Queensland doesn't do daylight savings. This didn't do one thing to help us adjust. I understand why a sub/tropical place would avoid daylight savings (the length of day doesn't change much, and avoiding the heat of mid-day matters more.) People do get up early, and as we went for a walk at 5:30, a lot of people were out. A lot. This picture was taken at 5:53 am.
Also, service is a bit slower, and that was doubly true in Queensland (waiting in lines in stores, I developed a similar Yankee impatience to that which I feel waiting for service in the American South.) This may partly be because Australia doesn't have a culture of tipping - which on net I find to be a positive, and I decided as of this trip I was fine with that.
* * *
Usually after a good trip I look forward to getting home but we've been under this layer of cold tule fog for the better part of a week now and I could use some more Queensland summer. Still, it makes for good sunset photos of Hood Mountain and Annadel.
Solvitur ambulando! Note the thick brow-ridge and the death-grip on the beverage. You can email this handsome devil at mdcblogs@gmail.com. "[If you are depressed] go for a long walk...and if still depressed, then walk again." -Hippocrates ca. 410 BCE
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