Random thoughts on a road trip to Yellowstone

Old Faithful

Bison Bull

Grand Tetons at dusk

Posting in September is getting off to a slow start due to taking a break from re-introducing American history to my university charges, to zoom off on a combination fly-road trip to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone this past week. The trip was a chance for reflection on America in the week prior to the anniversary of September 11. The reminders of that coming milestone began as it does for all who fly when one quays up to deposit the contents of pocket, belt and shoes into the gray bins and pad through the arches as an overweight person in blue, spies you with feigned suspicion that you have a IED firmly lodged in your rectum.

Safely on the ground in Salt Lake, the one hour delay at the rental counter is rewarded by an apology and an upgrade. Seeking out the upgrade, I found a fire-engine red Dodge Charger 3.5 waiting to make me an easy mark for every state trooper for the duration of the trip. The car was a blast, and after plugging in the GPS, we were off via a series of back roads that meandered back and forth across the border of Wyoming and Idaho as we cruised north at a pace equal to the fabled Cannon Ball Run.  As we traveled along vast tracts of open land where cut hay waited the winter and Black Angus grazed oblivious of their fate to grace someones dinner plate. My wife being the consumate urban deweller remarked that we owed a debt of gratitude to people who chose to live their lives raising the food that sustains those whose coastal and urban lives are sometimes humored by pundits and celebrities who poke fun at the residents of what has politically been dubbed the fly-over states. She went on to note that no where in the world is there a country so blessed with bounty and good fortune.

Arriving at Teton Village, we checked in and began our stay by taking a ride on the Jackson Hole Aerial Tram for a view of the mountains and valley that make this a modern day Switzerland for dozens of A-listers and the movers and shakers of our modern world. That evening a trip to the local Albertsons was a bit of a cultural shock to find it the most diversely stocked Albertson's grocery with an on-call sushi station and shelves and pantry stocked with items not found in my local Albertson's. Armed with groceries we retreated to enjoy the solitude only found in a mountain retreat.

The next day we got an early start driving north into the Grand Teton Park and on to Yellowstone to drive the circular route and experience the wonders of nature when she is just bubbling and belching below what is the thinnest point on the planet's skin. Old Faithful did not disappoint, nor did the two Bison bulls that squared off on the main trail 200 meters from the visitor center and gave the onlookers a thrill normally reserved for the Discovery Channel. The rangers deployed faster than a SWAT team keeping the crowds back as they nervously eyed the two bulls snorting and butting each other. Soon, one bull had had enough and he ambled off to lay alone, watching the victor bask amid his harem of cows power grazing before the on-rushing winter left them huddled near the steam vents.

Yellowstone for anyone who has never ventured there is worth the trip. I had been years before and this trip was supprised to find so many people from virtually everywhere crowding the wooden walkways to glimpse what nature was concocting in the bubbling grottos and mud pools. Some, like everywhere don't read the signs and proceed to touch or get too close to one of God's kenetic creatures. During one stop at the Midway Geyser Basin we watched as a visitor sat down on the boardwalk and plunged her feet into the orange bacteria that bloomed from the Grand Prismatic Spring and then used a coke can to scoop up a sample. When bystanders warned her about the danger, she responded that it wasn't hurting her and proceeded to scoop more orange mud. Within minutes, a ranger appeared and proceeded to end her mud bath. The park historian Lee Whittlesey has written a macabe book, Death in the Yellowstone and in this video, warns about the dangers lurking in this pristine corner of Wyoming.

The rest of the park, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and Hayden Valley gave way to the Mud Volcano where the Dragon's Mouth Dragon's Mouth would be more appropriately named for a different orifice given the strong smell of sulfer that belched from the gray mud. The drive around the west shore of Yellowstone Lake, America's hightest alpine lake brought us back full circle.

The trip back to our condo was puncuatated with frequent citings of pronghorn antelope and around a quiet bend, on a back road in the Teton Park, a grazing moose ambled across our path in search of tubers in the nearby marsh. All in all, a great day that left us cleansed of the clutter of a hyper-uber existance, we settled in to another silent night's sleep in the shadow of the Grand Tetons.


Morning dawned cool, and my wife who had never ridden a horse wanted to go for a ride. We went to the local stable and signed up for a ride that would wind up the side of the canyon and return. When they matched us to horses, my big mouth mentioned that I had some experience riding and I drew Roscoe, a 15 1/2 hand horse that true to form could not pass up a patch of grass or green morsel on the trail. I was tasked to ride drag and we took off up the side of the mountain. Halfway into the trip, and after being deprived of his extra vittles, Roscoe's cinch had loosened that I noticed the saddle was slipping. I called a halt and tried to slide off. My wife began to pull on the reigns of her horse causing it to back it into mine and in a chain reaction led to my horse losing it's footing and sliding back off the trail. Suddenly I was sideways looking at the horses belly as he skidded backwards down a steep slope. I pulled my leg free and crashed to a thicket. The guide, now white-faced and fearing the worst, was struggling down the slope. I stood, dusted off and pronounced I was fit, and that it would not be a good ride without a spill. After getting Roscoe re-cinched, I re-mounted to continue on to a wonderful ride to the top and an over look of the valley. The return was uneventful and after dismounting my wife exclaimed she was done with horses as a mode of recreation or travel. For me, it was a nice revisit to a time when I rode every weekend, but there comes a time to let those times go.

That afternoon we took in a raft trip on the Snake River, and as the wind rose and the temperature dropped, our river guide struggle against the wind as he handed out blankets to lessen the shivers as we drifted against a headwind for ten miles. The trip, turned out to be the low point as the animals promised, seemed to have been driven away from the river bottoms by the wolf packs that had migrated south from Yellowstone to prey on the Elk and other herd animals in the park. Frozen, we staggered from the raft like survivors from the Titanic lifeboats and teeth chattering drove straight to the nearest roadhouse for a hot bowl of soup.

Our trip back to Salt Lake was another good road run as we traversed Teton Pass and down into the Teton Valley, formerly Pierre's Hole and fabled haunt of the mountain men in search of beaver pelts in the early 19th century. Miles of ready to be harvested fields trimmed our journey back to Salt Lake and after a short visit to the Great Salt Lake we prepared to board, ready to return to our ordered lives in the urban sprawl of Southern California.

But one more adventure waited. The humiliating perp walk through airport security gave way to waiting for our flight. After boarding we found ourselves in the row just in front of the window emergency exit where a young man whom I judged to be about 6'8" had settled in. We took our seats and were waiting for everyone to board when I overheard someone asking the guy behind me to move so that he could sit with his wife since he had chosen the window seat next to the emergency exit. The big guy explained that since this was a small 60 passenger plane that that was the only seat he could fit into. The guy began to argue that the big guy wasn't cooperating and insisted he move. The one attendant moved to ask the man and his wife to take one of the seats in the back where there were several. The guy began to berate the attendant that the airline would not allow him and his wife to sit by the window exit together. The next sound was the man shouting at the attendant not to push or shove him. Several passengers in front of me were watching and I suddenly realized that things could go south real fast. The attendant turned and went to the front of the plane and picked up to phone. I now was expecting we were going to witness the police coming onboard and removing the passenger who continued to complain about the airline. The cockpit door opened and the pilot stared back at the passenger and silence became the only sound in the cabin. The passenger took a seat in the back and the flight proceeded without trouble. The irony of this little vignette is that the guy spoke with an accent that indicated he was Middle Eastern. The reaction of the passengers as this was unfolding was a silent inditment that people are fearful. As I noted several guys were staring at this guy as he began to make his demands and I am sure that they were thinking the potential for the worst and making contingencies for taking the guy down. This was confirmed as we were waiting for our luggage and a tall guy was talking to another guy about the disruptive passenger. Both stated it crossed their minds that the guy was up to no good and they both had thought about taking him down if he continued to make trouble. Flying today makes everyone a little bit paranoid. Boorish behavior used to be just that, now nine years later it is a match waiting to be struck.

Back home this weekend, I watched a program about the last sixty minutes of American Flight 11 and my mind went back to that flight home. The guy was not going to do anything stupid, but I am sure most of the passengers in earshot were thinking about what to do if this guy was a threat. Shit happens and after the events of nine years ago our world will never be totally the same.

Reflections on China 2009

Grest Wall, Tower 4

Snow Day Beijing, November 9, 2009

Forbidden City, Beijing

Looking North to Qianmen Gate

Cable car to Great Wall

Great Wall

Strolling on the wall, 15 degrees and 20 mph wind.

The past two weeks my wife and I have been visiting her parents in Beijing, China and the blog has been silent. I am back now with thousands of impressions of China and how much she has changed since my last visit 6 years ago. The best way to narrate my travels is to describe our first days and what turned out to be the earliest winter in recorded Chinese history.

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When we arrived the sky was leaden and the temperature hovering just above freezing. Our driver whisked us from the airport along a modern expressway that soon slowed to a crawl typical more of Los Angeles Monday morning traffic than what I had last experienced in Beijing. The one thing that had not changed was urban travel which reflects every person for themselves; be they autos, bikes or pedestrians. Our driver threaded and honked his way to the hotel near my in-laws home in the Hadrian District home of dozens of universities. We settled in and after visiting my wife's parents turned in early to get a head start on the next day. We awoke find the city gripped in the worst snow storm in recent history. We laid low for a day and then set out the next day to visit the Forbidden City by taking a subway system that is as efficient as any in the world today. Two yuen, (28 cents) allows you to ride to your destination amid the crowds that saw over half the riders wearing surgical masks as a caution against contacting Swine Flu.

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The Forbidden City under a blanket of fresh snow is even more spectacular than it's summer livery. The contrast of white snow on the gold roofs and red palaces is amazing and serves to give an even more mystical aura to the home of two dynasties. The palace take all of a day to visit and absorb and is worth every penny of the entrance fee and the cost of a audio guide that does much better and is more accurate than the guides who offer their services outside the gate.

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The impression of Beijing is a city with part of the population in the 21st century and the rest deposited in each century going back hundreds of years. The contrast is stunning and ever present in all parts of the city. BMW's and Audi's share the road with thousands of taxis and pedi-trikes caring gross amounts of product balanced on their thin tires and bicycles who turn a deaf ear to the constant blaring of horns warning of an approaching car. Amid this chaos is injected millions of pedestrians who dart between the cars heedless of traffic lights. Amazingly I saw no one struck, and only one small fender-bender in two weeks of urban travel. I marveled that the road rage we are used to in America seems to be an unknown commodity in China. Part of this may be that people understand if they are hit it is their fault for not getting out of the way of the car or truck.

I would strongly concur with fellow blogger Thomas Barnett that he has never met a Communist in his travels to China. Those who can, are earning money hand over fist and are more adventurous capitalist than most Americans. Consider this from a report from China Daily Newspaper, there are over 440,000 millionaires in China with Beijing home to 143,000 millionaires and over 8000 billionaires. Of course this is in Yuen, but in dollars, China now counts 143 billionaires, second only to the United States. Chairman Mao's dream to find equality has been dashed on the rocks of Chinese history that now sees the rise of what can only be described as a new Mandarin Class who live a super rich lifestyle. The difference this time is that the common man now thinks that it is possible for him to reach that level via hard work and entrepreneurship by either building a better mousetrap or by being the guy who can market it.

The problem that glares out, is what to do with the rest of the country, approximately 800 million strong, who are just barely past the subsistence level of farming. If you bring them all on board and raise their lifestyles, they would make the over consuming United States look like monks in a monastery.

One stunning contrast is the line or lack of lines at Chairman Mao's tomb. My wife remarked that nobody cares about him except visitors who want to pretend to the communism still has the answers. Just south of Mao's tomb and beyond the Qiamen Gate lies a street that is lined with shops from every major brand. The street rebuilt to resemble an upscale Qing Dynasty channeling Disney's Main Street is separated from the squalor of small shops that border the back walls of those stores. Here you will find China in it's raw form, small shops on crowded narrow lanes hawking every kind of product imaginable. Turn left and a walk of fifty feet brings you back to upscale shopping. Again the contrast is stunning and not lost on this traveler.

Over the next week or so I will write more about my travels and what I saw and learned about China from being down in the street with the people and not on a tour bus or shepherded about by as a VIP. Before I close this post I want to note a bit about the hotel and many of our fellow guests. The Xijao Hotel caters to providing accommodations to many visiting foreign students who are attending either seminars or sessions at one of the 12 universities within walking distance of the hotel. Every day we took breakfast and found the dining room filled with students from the Middle East, Africa, Russia and Europe. We encounter no Americans, although they are present in small numbers. Most of the students staying in the hotel were there attending the Beijing language and Culture University learning to better their Chinese before moving on to other universities in the area.

If Americans are going to compete in the global market place we need to get them out into the world and build bridges before we find our nation surrounded by a rapidly gaining world that views us as having caused most of the environmental problems. The hype of Global Warming has rung like a gong in the ears of the rest of the world who now see America as the big consumer and driver of pollution and over consumption. It is ironic that China is now the #2 polluter and if their economy keeps up the pace they will overtake us in less than a decade for that title.

I have just scratched the surface of my impressions of China in 2009. As the days unfold I will continue to write about my experiences and share they on this forum.

Europe 2008, Paris Continued.

In the last post about my recent trip to Europe we were in Paris a city filled with so many sights as to take more than one post to adequately describe my impressions. Travel around Paris as noted in every travel guide is by the efficient Metro, combination subway and intercity rail service and the city spanning RER light rail service. One morning, we traveled the Paris Métro, and the RER to Versaillies-Rive Gauche the town surrounding the Versailles Palace built by King Louis XIV. The carriages were crowed with people heading off to work. For the French, the average office hours begin from 8:30 to 9:30 AM, in contrast to workers in the US who start at least an hour earlier. The RER train rapidly emptied with each stop so that by the time we reached our destination, only tourists remained.

A short walk through a town, laid out much like Washington D.C., whose design was taken from Versailles, led to a broad grass boulevard that inclined toward the palace gates. The palace lies on a gentle hill and the grounds facing the town is devoid of gardens and presents a picture of regal efficiency.

A special note, one of the best bargains while in Paris is investing in a Paris Museum Pass Official website. It is only 30 Euros for a two day pass for access to 60 museums and attractions. A quick flash of the pass and we whisked by the long quay of tourist waiting for entrance.

The Chateau itself is laid out in a large U shape with projecting wings off to each side. The royal apartments, are opulent as expected for someone who believed in the concept of Absolute monarchy in France. As one tramps through the corridors and bedrooms of those who when alive, believed that they were the most important and powerful souls on the earth. Any whim and desire, was fulfilled, every lust and craving sustained. The end of their regime took place on October 6 1789 when a mob broke in, and by morning had seized Louis XVI and his queen Marie Antoinette of Austria. No evidence of this final calamity remains. The palace and the grounds are kept as a reminder of when France for a short time, was the most powerful nation in the Western World.

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Walking around the grounds gives a person the scope of its immensity, 250 acres of gardens, pools, fountains, groves of exotic plants and two smaller palaces. In an ironic way it was the largest public works project in Europe at the time, employing 30,000 workers in construction and housing 20,000, just to maintain the seat of government. One can not help thinking about the mindset of anyone who lived and worked in this environment. From King to nave, they were better off that most of their countrymen and believed themselves to be superior to almost everyone else in the world. That narcissistic view eventually led to their downfall and the spasm of hatred for privilege, the ended in the Guillotines basket for many.

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Traveling back to Paris we continued our visit to take in sights that are best seen at night. The Arc de Triomphe built as a tribute to Napoleon's army after the victory of the Battle of Austerlitz. The arc is at the center of twelve avenues that radiate out in perfect symmetry. The view from the roof, after climbing 284 steps up a narrow circular staircase, is spectacular as one looks down the tree lined avenues and soaks in all that is Paris. Later as the sun set, the arc took on a golden hue that drew thousands to it's base. A monument build to honor a battle that was an attempt to make all Europe part of France has turned into a thing of silent beauty that remains a national tombstone, to honor the loyalty of those whom served two centuries ago.

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Our visit to Paris left me with a feeling of awe for the achievements in architecture and the collections of individual expression that are housed in scores of museums. As I commented in the previous post, Paris is challenged with trying to assimilate thousands of new residents who for reasons of culture, resist change. The challenge for France is one that affects many countries in Europe and even North America. Amid the columns of the past, are streets, where the night belongs to those who stand in the shadows. Looking at the way France found a way to preserve it's heritage, I hope they find the fortitude to retain the magic that has drawn millions to her wide boulevards and culinary delights.

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Next stop, Munich, Germany

Travel Notes-Europe 2008

One of the things that we almost always take for granted, is the ability to travel the world in relative comfort and safety. I don't need to remind people of my generation that global travel was once reserved for the privileged. The past half century since the end of World War II and the Cold War has led to an explosion in travel. Roadblocks to travel today, pale in relationship to travel just a short half century ago. I urge all who are physically able to take every opportunity to see the World and discover something new out of something old.

I just recently returned from a trip to Europe, where my wife and I spent three weeks traveling and enjoying a family reunion in Germany. Now you might think that my wife was German from the way this story is going. But in fact she is from China, where her parents still reside. Her sister and brother-in-law, have lived in Germany for the past fifteen years and are German by all accounts of language and culture. Their children are being raised to speak, German, Mandarin, English and for their teenage daughter, French and Italian. I am not writing this to brag about my niece's linguistic skills, it only shows that the effort to create a global person is well underway. She is not the exception, her classmates are all required to take language classes in English, French and other languages, and this before entering high school.

Over the next few weeks I will be posting observations about our trip. We began in London and continued on to Paris, before making Munich our base for two weeks. From Munich, we took road trips to Venice, Prague and Vienna. Our method of travel included every mode sans horses. We stayed in European hotels and never ate in a MacDonald's or sipped a Starbucks. The experience was both refreshing and eventually gave us a longing for our homeland. I will refrain from making political comments about the countries we visited and will write only about the impressions and observations of people and places we visited.

London:

My last visit to London was decades ago, and the first impression upon return is the level of how multi cultured England has become. The Tube riders looked as if they were being shuttled from a United Nations meeting. My wife remarked how strange it was when a traditional English gentleman, suited and umbrella in hand boarded the car. Later, when visiting the Tower of London, the soldiers on guard were of African descent, and the next day during the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace the guards being posted, were from the Malaysian Army commonwealth forces. A lot has been written about the blending of cultures in England and how it rents the fabric of English identity. Seeing is believing, the people we saw were British in every sense.

The famous landmarks do not change, and the feeling of grandeur only fades with the realization that much was lost to the raids in World War II and earlier massive fires that destroyed most of medieval London. For a historian, every surviving site was a primary source to savor and think about the events that took place so long ago. These relics, exist amid the towers of modernity and sound of sirens announcing the passage of ambulances. Take away a few buildings and statues, London becomes New York, Chicago or Tokyo. Still a city that should be on everyone's list to see and explore.

London had a reputation for bad food, where Fish and Chips or Bangers and Mash, washed down by tepid bitter ale was the common fare. This has changed with the introduction of dishes brought from their far flung former colonies. London's Chinatown, boasts several great Dim Sum restaurants, every bit as good as those found in Hong Kong. And the East End, the haught of Jack the Ripper' is home to people of Britain's former Indian colonies,Whitechapel where curry is king.

Leaving London on a bright Sunday morning we boarded the Eurostar train for a cross-channel journey, Channel Tunnel to Paris. The trip, covered the distance in a little over two hours, something that with high gasoline prices, might encourage planners on the crowed eastern seaboard to consider for inter-city travel. The trains, Class 373 trains are powered by electricity and travel at speeds of 186 MPH. In Europe and much of the urbanized world, all rail transportation, both surface and underground are powered by electricity. The amount of energy is drawn mostly from Nuclear power generating plants, something that the United States is rift from continuing to develop. Case in point, France Électricité de France produces 75% of their power from nuclear energy. And Japan, home of the first human lab experiment of nuclear destruction, powers its country with 55 reactors, and is the third largest user of nuclear power in the world. I said that I would refrain from political comments, but this seems to be a common sense observation that we re-open our discussion about power generation in the United States.

The trip across the French countryside as we approached Paris, reminded me of how farmland in the United States used to be. It is a place where small farmers still toil the soil and send their product to market, as their ancestors had done for a millennium. I also thought back to a time over half a century ago when Allied forces battled the Germans for every square inch of the countryside from the channel to Paris. The marks of war are gone, but hedge checkered countryside, will always hold the story in the bosum of it's bloodied soil.

Next Paris,

As a postscript: During the time of our travels, one of the people I link in my blogroll, Victor Davis Hanson was in Europe and filed these observations.

Euromania

Europe to an American