Gavins Journey .com

Eight Months and Five Days

2008-03-23T22:04:00.000-07:00

Long hair, haggard, dirty clothes and a bag the size of a woman's purse. That is how I looked on Thursday when I stood near my finish line, Chicago's Bean in Millennium Park.

On July 15th 2007, I left home to go around the world by whatever means I could. I started on a 23 year old motorcycle and rode it all the way to California. I flew to Hawaii then on to Bangkok, Thailand. From there, I started taking buses, trains and boats through Cambodia, Laos, China, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan and the Republic of Georgia. Once I got to Turkey I started Hitchhiking. I hitchhiked through Istanbul and into Bulgaria, Serbia, Hungary, Austria, Germany, Holland, France and Spain. I took a flight to Ireland and hitched around the Island for two weeks then continued on to New York and Boston then flew to Chicago.

On March 20th 2008, I completed my journey, 8 months and 5 days later (8 months and six days for me). That is far too long for somebody to always be on the move. My trip had its highs and lows. Here are a few of the favorite stories on this website: My White Jacket in Serbia, Eating Locals, Conserving money by Staying in New Castle, Wyoming, Homeless in the O.C. See What I See. To the right you will see links to my pictures and some more information on my trip.

A lot of people tend to assume that traveling is a carefree and easy life. I assure you that my style of travel takes a lot of improvisation, patience and ambition. I tried to travel overland without planes as much as I could, stayed away from touristy things and did my best to live with and like the locals. In Europe, I lived on a budget of 10 euros a day. I lived out of the bag you see in this picture for 4 months. My big bag was stolen on the Chinese/Kazakh boarder. Massive Language barriers, cultural misunderstandings, traveler's stomach, visa aquisition and corrupt police were just some of the things I had to deal with everyday, all day.

Thank you to everybody that helped me along the way and those who donated to the website. Its good to be home. Now its time for the next adventure: finding a good job and making a normal life for myself.

Shipping off to Boston!

2008-03-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

I have been excited to come to Boston ever since I started planning this trip. This entire time I have been traveling I have seen other countries' ancient history. Now, its time to see my own country's. I saw Old Ironsides, the old assembly hall, Christ Church (the church where Paul Revere put the lanterns) and Samuel Adams Brewery. Ok, that last one isn't so historic. Old Revolutionary War sites were everywhere and it was fantastic. Its hard to find old things in America. It is such a new country that everything is new compared to Europe. In Boston, you can find all of the old building styles and historic sites that really give you an appreciation for how your country got its start.

I was lucky to find out that my hosts were a group of 5 people that lived in a large house. A great environment for lots of fun. Its always easy to find live music in this city and we sampled from reggae and folk. The party I was really looking forward too was the St. Patrick's day parade in Southie. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see much of the parade. We took too much time drinking before we got there. St. Pat's also marks my eighth month anniversary of traveling. Its been a long road and I'm almost home

Back to the States!

2008-03-11T15:36:00.000-07:00

I'M BACK IN THE STATES!!! Its a damn fine feeling to be back in The States after having to deal with a constant, ever changing culture shock for six months.

My flight landed in JFK airport and I was greeted by my little brother, Collin and my Step-dad, Al. Even though my "little" brother is 20 I still think he grew while I was gone... I think he is about 6'3" or so now. We all set out into the New York City night to find a few things I had been missing about the states: Mexican food and cheap, easy women. Nah I'm kidding, I only missed Mexican food.

We spent the day walking Manhatten to see the sights. We saw Wall Street, the Statue of Liberty, homeless people and Ground Zero. After all that walking we got pretty Hungry and Al only saw one way to properly congratulate me on coming back to the U.S., and that was by feeding me a steak. Actually thats his remedy for just about anything. "Lost your job? Lets get a steak in ya. Got promoted at work? Steak time. Feeling under the weather? Not enough steak, thats why."

We topped off the family weekend by roadtripping to Boston and catching the Bruins game. There were two fights 14 seconds into the game. Boston was still down by 1 after the second half of the last period so we left figuring they would loose. They scored two after we left, I'm sure the place went nuts. They flew back home to their jobs and such and left me by the subway station, back to my vagabond lifestyle.

My Reverse Immigration

2008-02-27T08:01:00.000-08:00

In 1845 the Great Famine in Ireland struck. Masses of Irish Immigrated to the U.S. to find work and food. By the end of the famine the U.S. Irish population surged to 12%. Amongst those that came to avoid starvation was my great grandfather. Until I came to Ireland, I hadn't noticed the subtle Irish ways were passed down through the generations to my brother and I. Two of these became clear after my first night hanging out with the Irish: horseplay and a rip roaring sense of crude humor. After a few pints, no matter the gender or age, everybody is playfully shoving and getting punches in the arm after making fun of each other. Its like this island is one big family reunion for me. I feel at home here.

My time in Dublin was brief. Saw Trinity College, snuck into the Guinness Storehouse, saw all the touristy bars that I vowed not to go into and I was off. My first stop was Galway on the other side of the Island to visit my friend Alva that I had met in Laos. Its an Irish custom to say 'You should come visit' when meeting people in other countries, but they don't actually expect you to do it. I did. Couldn't help myself, I love it when people say 'Never thought I would see you again.' We hit the town and found my first, proper pint of the black stuff. After a few of those we went and found the traditional Irish music at a famous pub called The Crane. The music was fantastic and I wanted to seek out this 'trad' every night for as long as I'm in Ireland.

I decided to get as far from the tourist stuff as possible so I started hitching up the west coast until I found a place worth staying. I eventually came to a place called Dunegal... in the county of Dunegal. It can be very confusing. Here in Dunegal they speak English by mumbling as incoherently as possible. Watching the conversation between my new host and the barkeep gave me a headache. Some of the people in the town cant understand what I say unless I mumble it. That night we had quite a few pints then moved over to find some more 'trad'. We found an accordion and a guitar rocking it 1800's style in a pub where my host and I were the youngest by at least 30 years. I was pleased to be informed that I was, most likely, the only tourist in the entire town.

This town is tiny and I love it. I think I'll stay here for a bit. I updated the photo archive. All my pictures are there from Turkey, the Balkans and so on. Enjoy.

Spain

2008-02-19T03:39:00.000-08:00

Compared to Spain, the rest of Europe is pretty homogenous. I hitched my way into Barcelona and for the first time since Turkey, I felt the warm sunlight on my face. Barcelona´s fantastic beach, food, sunlight and architechture made me sure that I will be here again. The best way to see it all is on a bicycle. There nothing more fun that zipping through the little back streets all the way to the beach.

Eating Spanish style is very different from the U.S. First of all, lunch doesnt start til about 2pm. It usually consists of bread, olives and semi-cooked meat called chorizo and jamon. Jamon is the meet from a pigs leg after it has been smoked for a really long time. In the picture you can see one lunch spot has pig´s legs hanging from everypart of the cieling, just waiting for thier chance to be carved.

Next up was Madrid. I didn´t have enough time to cruise down to souther Spain, I´ll have to leave that for another trip. Madrid is more of the buzzing metropolis of Spain. I did find some cool things to see while I was here though. My favorite was the Royal Palace. Everyroom was decked out in silk, gold and marble. The best part of it all was Royal Armory. This is where I got to see all of the medevil swords, pistols and armor. The armor was an amazing sight. Armor for knights, horses, dogs and childre. They wouldn´t let me take pictures inside... I tried.

Today I leave for Ireland. Two weeks of Ireland then NYC.

Last Call for Gifts....

2008-02-11T16:55:00.000-08:00

Spain is a beautiful country with an incredible density of culture. After my fantastic time here im heading to Ireland to reunite with the culture of my forefathers: Potatoes and Whiskey. If you would like a present from one of these two places, go here and make a donation

Hitching France

2008-02-11T16:37:00.001-08:00

I pretty much sprinted though France so that I could spend some more time in Spain. It was everything that imagined... which was mostly inspired by WWII video games. They love good food and even their curse words sound elegant. Here are some photos and a video of a badass german I hitched with in his truck (the inside had a movie setup, coffee maker and a GREAT stereo).

Say What? 2

2008-02-07T14:53:00.000-08:00

"Whats the best pickup line at a bar when you are traveling, Gavin?"
"Do you speak English?"

"We have to view a rectoscopy again" - Milosh. Belgrade, Serbia

"Hey Milosh, what happend to that building? A massive fire?"
"No, YOU BOMBED IT" - Milosh. Belgrade, Serbia

"You American? Uuuuuuugggggg. Me no go America. No give visa. Me criminal" Illigal immigrant driver in Austia

"Are you listening to ZZ top?"
"Oui!" (French for yes, "Wee") - CS host in Montpellier, France

Travel Buddy Reunions

2008-02-02T04:43:00.000-08:00

Ive been traveling almost seven months now and I've met a lot of great people from all over the world. The French are always polite in not liking my kind, the Canadians are usually just Americans avoiding political debates, the Aussies always have a great sense of humor, but the Dutch... they always lead to great times. I dont know what they put in the water, or maybe its the laid back culture that and growing up with all the those legalized drugs but if you ever find yourself in the situation of a group splitting up to different bars and you dont know which half to go with, just follow the Dutch.

I got to Germany just fine by thumbing it. The problem was that I had been there before and I have been running out of time before my flights. I looked on a map and had two options: Go slow to Barcelona through France or haul ass to see where all these cool Netherlanders come from. I chose the latter

Back at Tiger Leaping Gorge, a national park in China, I met up with a Dutchman named... Actually I cant tell you his name. This guy has a very long arrest record because of how active he is in protests and other community activism. A sweet old granny gave me a ride into his hometown. There is a long story to this guy but Ill just give the highlights. One hell of a character. Take all the cool, smooth talking and stone face expressions of James Dean, the attitude and clothes of a punker, mash them together and let it run wild in Holland.

This guy is most famous to me for what he and his group does as "Squaters." In short, they take over properties that aren't being used. They usually do this because its a waste of a building, to preserve affordable housing or to save a historical fort from becoming a yuppie hotel. About six years ago my friend and his very large group broke into Fort Pannerden, a beautiful for that was in use during WWII, kicked out the security forces and then barracaded themselves inside. The local response was for military and police forces to evict them by using force. I'll try and find some footage. My buddy took me for a tour of the Fort and we spent the day hanging out with other activists sharing stories of protests, fights with police and brawls with Neo-Nazis. I just kept quite. That night I actually slept at a squat downtown. Nice place, they did a lot of renovations since they kicked the door in and took over.

After some walking around in Amsterdam I made my way to Dan Haag to visit Janice, who I met in Laos. We haven't done that much. Just relax in glorious Holland and ate... a lot. Ive never met anybody that eats as much as Janice and she is only 90 pounds. No travel for a couple days, just sitting, eating, movie, eat, sleep, eat eat eat and cruise suberbia on bikes.

Back to the Western World

2008-01-27T01:50:00.000-08:00

I have spent the last week bouncing between the beautiful cities of Central Europe. Budapest, Hungary and Vienna, Austria were fantastic sights. Im sure there were plenty of museums and tourist attractions but I could'nt have cared less. I have seen so many on this trip that they have started to blur together in a single, musty smelling memory. The people made the cities worthwhile. Going out to the pubs with the locals and sipping hot wine was probably the best part. They like to heat up red wine when its hot outside and add rum and spices. Its quite tasty.

I hitched my way all the way to Innsbruck, Austria. I came here for one reason only: to get some snowboarding in. I borrowed my very generous host's equipment and headed out to a nearby glacier skiing area. The alps were absolutely amazing. Rocky white peaks as far as I could see in all directions. The area I was snowboarding had all the space any skiier or snowboarder could ever want. If only there were better snow. Everywhere there was the packed powder that had become a icey substance. It was still worth the view.

Now Im off to Munich and then who know.

My White Jacket in Serbia

2008-01-17T13:24:00.000-08:00

Im sure when I get back to the U.S. and I tell people they traveled in Serbia many will ask "what the heck is there to do in Serbia?" Well not much really. I saw the city, tasted traditional Serbian food... practiced medicine.

My couchsurfing host, Milosh, is a fifth year medical student at the local medical school here in Belgrade. After trying to plan a meeting spot after his morning clinical we decided it would be easier if I just posed as a medical student and tagged along to the hospital. We high-tailed it so we wouldn't be late and I slipped into his friends extra white coat. The Doctor that would be instructing us was the Serbian equivalent of Dr. Cox on Scrubs. Her stern tone and dislike for interns didnt get lost in the language barrier.

During a long speech in Serbian without translation (Melosh could blow my cover), I tried to look intrigued and attentive giving the occasional head nod and looking to my colleagues for their approval. I must have done well because the Doctor never caught on that I had no idea what the heck she was saying all day.

We quickly exited the office where we were and into an examination room. I just followed everbody else. The patient talked with the doctor for a brief moment, climbed up on a special table then dropped his draws. The topic of the day, which was a mystery to me until that point, was rectum and colon examinations. We were going to observe a colonoscopy. After the viewing tube thingy was in place all us med students had to lean in and take a good look. I had to maintain my character and look like I was learning, that meant taking a good look, give an approving nod and hold in my laughing. This particular chap was suffering from hemroids.

After two of those and nobody finding out that I was just a tourist we moved back into the office to learn how to suture. We put down two big pieces of gauze together and the doctor and nurse supervised us as we stitched them together with large, hook shaped needles. The nurse had a problem with my technique and kept saying something to me. Mine came out pretty good in the end.

After the day was over I had my stitched up souvenir and was ready to play the back nine. I like Serbia. In Serbia, I'm a doctor.

Turkey and I get Hitched

2008-01-07T11:52:00.000-08:00

I hopped another expensive bus from Adana out to the beautiful beach town of Antalya. It was more of the Turkey I thought I was going to find. There were endless pebble beaches flanked by mountains complete with full sun and weather fitting for late Spring. A few castles from the Ottoman Empire dotted the horizon and the beachfront.

My hosts in this city were avid hitchhikers and we had a long discussion on how to go about doing it. We planned out a day trip so I could give it a whirl. The next day I was out on the side of the road, thumb out and waiting for a ride. Not to much later I found a ride up the coast. The ride was a rickety old work van. The road reminded me all about Highway 1 back in California. The winding highway stayed along the blue Mediterranean Sea the whole time and we rocked out to Turkish music the whole way. The whole day went well and I got all the way back with time to spare. I met truck drivers a construction worker and an agricultural engineer. I was hooked.

I said goodbye to the warm sun and headed north, all by thumb. In Ankara I took a day to rest and hung out with some very cool couchsurfers. Then I pressed on to Istanbul.

My rides to Istanbul were very fun. I started jumping up and down and pointing to one car with my other hand when I saw it rolling down the highway. The 1970's classic Camero painted with the Turkish flag colors swerved across three lanes to pick me up. Some sort of business man took me for almost 300km and was a fantastic doodler. With his sketches I learned he used to be in the military, had a family and I even learned all of their names, ages and what sports the kids did. I was lucky to get picked up by the next car. He took me all the way to Istanbul and he was even going to the same neighborhood as me. He helped me find my way through the massive maze that is Istanbul which involved a boat and three subway transfers.

Istanbul is one of the oldest cities in the world. Formerly known as Constantinople, its old town was especially fun. I went and wandered the maze of cobblestone streets and visited the famous mosques blaring the 'call to prayer' over its loudspeakers atop the steeples. The hospitality of the Turks is fantastic. They keep giving me things. The guy that helped me get to my hosts neighborhood wouldn't let me pay for any of my subway tokens. Others gave me gifts such as a Turkish pendant that is supposed to keep away the bad spirits and prayer beads that are supposed to calm you down when something is ailing you. My host keeps feeding me! Its fantastic but as a proud American I like to pay my own way or at least help out a little. These Turks wont have it

Back on U.S. Soil... in Turkey

2008-01-01T08:37:00.000-08:00

I decided that it was a good idea to get out to the U.S. Air Force base in Turkey for New Years Eve. What could be better than getting out of Central Asia and partying like back home surrounded by corn? Turns out I have a neice in the Air Force and I also thought it would be good to bond with some more family on this trip.

Getting to the base was pretty easy, I just had to sit on a single bus for 24 hours, breaking my previous record of 16 hours. After another hour of wandering and fighting the language barrier with sketches to find the base, I arrived at the front gate, guarded by mean looking Turks with a reputation for being trigger happy. Once I got past them I was greeted by two things that I hadn't seen since the USA: Family and a black person... it was a sight for sore eyes.

I had never actually met my neice before, just a few emails. She is actually my step-neice, but that didn't stop her from always calling me Uncle Gavin. She is 4 feet and 11 inches of U.S.A.F police force fury. We bonded over Turkish food and cheesy movies. It was a good vacation from my journey.

The new years party made me feel like I was back home at one of the bars at my University. Lots of drunk young people, cheap beer and lots of country music that I hate. We had a great time and I feel like I have gotten a good rest from foreign culture and language barriers, its time to tackle the rest of Turkey

Midnight Train to Georgia

2007-12-26T08:35:00.000-08:00

In Georgia (the country not the state), I have a dear friend named Kelly. Kelly and I worked at the Stevenson Center for Economic Development at Illinois State University together. Christmas was closing fast I wanted to be with friends and countrymen for the holiday. That meant I needed to cover a lot of miles in two days to get there in time. I hopped a flight across the Caspian Sea and made it to Baku, Azerbaijan.

Never heard of Azerbaijan, have you? It’s a small but very oil rich country and the prices resembled the amount of oil money there. The Azerbaijan Embassy said that I could have gotten a 5-day visa at the airport but, alas, they were very wrong. I had to pay $100 for a full 30-day visa... I only stayed in the country one night. My couchsurfing hosts took me out on the town to celebrate the Embassy’s error with live American music!

After an overnight train, a metro ride and a couple hours in a decomposing van, I had finally arrived in Gori, Georgia... the birthplace of Stalin. The guy is all over the city in the form of statues, museums and street names. The town itself is like that of all the other small towns I have been in for the last few weeks: Dilapidated soviet buildings, cars and roads. There was still Christmas decorations though, even a gigantic Christmas tree next to the equally gigantic statue of Stalin.

Kelly and I met up and spent a short time catching up while we cooked for a Peace Corps Christmas party. Christmas music, cookies and lots of good company made me feel like I was back in the States. I eventually passed out from train-lag and overindulgence of sweets. I woke up refreshed and ready to tackle the Christmas Day in Georgia that I had hurried for. I only got one gift this year and that was from Kelly. She took me to a Georgian supra.

Kelly explained to me what a supra was as we rode to the next village. A supra is a formal Georgian dinner party. The host prepares a ridiculously large meal and invites as many people that can fit at the table. There were many rules and formalities, mostly when it came to drinking. The wine, which is all home made, may only be drank after a long-winded toast from the toastmaster, called a “tomada.” People only drink from their glass after the tomoda does and the usual custom is to drink the entire glass.

The supra drinking was exactly how Kelly described it but she forgot to stress just how much food there was. Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sour plum sauce, mashed potatoes, gravey, glazed carrots, homemade pickles, two type of pepper dishes, olives, develed eggs, homemade breads, salad, homemade sausage and some sort of beef ground up with an array of spices and herbs that was my favorite dish. We had to stack plates of food on top of plates of food. The best advice I got that night was “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” but I paid no attention. I was not the guest of honor when I got there that night, but thanks to my enormous appetite I was by the time we hit the desserts. The host declared that “You eat like a Georgian and you drink like a Georgian. Tonight, you are our Georgian brother.” After a toast like that I had to drink the whole glass of super sweet wine. Late that night we were finally permitted to hit the hay and we retired to the guestrooms upstairs. The next morning as we made our way out the host presented me with a gift: A large ceramic horn that is used as a special drinking glass.

Georgia has been the most hospitable country so far and I’m sorry I am only staying a few days. Now how do I get to Turkey to celebrate the New Year?

Today Kazakhstan, Tomorrow the Middle East

2007-12-21T00:19:00.000-08:00

Ive spent the better part of a week waiting to catch a flight that only runs on saturday across the Caspian Sea to Baku, Azerbaijan. To kill time I have endulged in my host's cooking, video and liturature library. Kazakhstan is boring in the winter. Hopefully the Middle East will be more fun.

Crossing to the Far Side of the World: Part III

2007-12-12T21:31:00.000-08:00

I was planning on walking from the border all the way to the next town, but I came across a parking lot filled with taxis, all ready to take paying customers to Almaty. These drivers are known to be scammers. They were my only option and I was not happy about it. They first wanted 12,000 tenge (about $100) but I told them they were crazy. I bid one of them down to 3,000. Boris, my driver, took me in and then set out to find more people. We eventually found two Kazakhs coming home from University in China. That was enough people to start our journey... or so I though.

Boris took us to the town and he said he needed to get a few things. He did not come back for about 45 minutes. He then came back and told us that there are problems with the papers for his car so he is going to find another one. 30 minutes later he came back saying he had to stay a bit longer to help sell another car. He eventually told us he was not going to take us to Almaty but we could talk to his friends. This was the scam. Take us away from the other taxis and get us tired and annoyed so he can up the price.

After the Russian students negotiated for an hour, we scored a ride for an extra 1,000 tenge each. We finally set off for Almaty and arrived at midnight. I called the only person I knew in town, a couch surfer named Alexey, who answered my plead for a place to stay. He welcomed me with a beer and a warm floor with blankets to sleep on. I explained to him the whole fiasco and the next day he took me to the bazaar to get supplies.

So after 3 days of buses, a trip to the bazaar and getting kicked around by Kazakhstan this is what I have:

2 pairs of socks

2 t-shirts

2 pairs of underwear

pair of jeans with a mended hole

jacket

sweater

beanie

pair of gloves

chocolate bar

my journal and notebook

my camera

my world phone and charger

my watch

toilet paper

basic toiletries

a chocolate bar

AND a lock in case anybody wants to steal any of it

* I am just fine and quite humorous about this whole adventure. I do not need donations to cover my missing items. Merry Christmas from Kazakhstan!

Crossing to the Far Side of the World: Part II

2007-12-12T20:59:00.000-08:00

Where is my bag? I got in the bus driver's face and after a long arguement with poor translation and body language he asked if I took it across customs. I had asked him at the border if I needed to bring my bag and he said no. When I brought this up he just walked away.

After the bus unloaded we drove to the bus station and I slept in the same bunk I had spent the last 33 hours in. A few hours later it was 7:00am and time for the bus to make the next run to China. Since I couldn't buy a ticket just to the border I had to pay the driver under the table to take me there. Another seven long hours later we arrived.

I wandered the customs area until I found a Kazakh officer that spoke english. He showed me a few places to look and after we didn't find it he broke the news to me in a thick Russian accent, "Sombody pick up a goo." My bag was long gone. All I had now was my shoulder with a few important things in it. I couldn't help but laugh.

I tried to find a bus to take me back to Almaty, KZ, but nobody had room. I found myself back in the sea of white with no ride out, so I just started walking. The nearest town was about two miles away. The road was covered with packed snow, the sky was white and so was everything else. Purgatory. Nothing to distract me, no big backpack with clean clothes and plenty of toiletries and no guidebook. Nothing to do but walk and think about the hole in my jeans that is letting in an ice cold breeze.

Crossing to the Far Side of the World

2007-12-12T02:06:00.000-08:00

I woke up to bright light beaming through the window of my sleeper bus. My watch read 8:30 am. I stretched as far as I could in my upper bunk. I pulled back the curtain to be greeted by white. Everything was white. A fresh snow during the night had covered the entire landscape, or lack of, with a blanket of white. The sky was even white and I couldnt tell where it ended and the ground started. In all this nothingness my bus hurdled across a lonely highway to the only thing that stood in such a place: the Chinese-Kazakstan border.

My trip had already started out rough. The bus was delayed by the passengers packing every square inch of the cargo hold. We were supposed to leave at 7:00 but we actually left around 10pm. I didn't get a chance to eat because my taxi driver got lost and stuck in traffic. I also ripped a hole in the seat of my jeans trying to climb into my top bunk. Hungry, grumpy and with a breezy backside is not a good way to start out a 24 hour bus trip.

My bus came to a sqeeky stop. Everybody bundled up and walked outside so I followed. I asked my bus driver if I needed to bring my bag but he said no and off I went, another ant in the line. A cold breeze blew into my jeans and the snow crunched under my boots. The sight before me sparked a realization of what the rest of my day would be like. Hundreds of people, crowded around in a semi-circle against a steel fence, huddled around their declarations. People were carrying everthing they found cheaper in China. Crates of oranges, blankets, cookware and even tires. The mob was at a standstill. I had wondered why we spent so much time at a rest stop for lunch. The boarder was closed, the Chinese weren't letting anybody out.

I just joined the crowd and cluelessly waited liek everbody else until a girl motioned to get my attention. She was trying to get me to follow her. Ha, sure. This is the part where I follow and then some guy jumps out and hits me in the face with a crowbar so he can have my wallet. Eh, its a wallet with nothing in it so I followed. Turns out they were on my bus too and the had decided to adopt me.

The crowd suddenly got ancy. An arial view would have looked like the mob was quivering. Everybody shouldered their bags, dollies were tilted into their mobile position and my new family looked at me and said "Shvanya!" I think it meant "come on!" because I just saw why everybody was moving. A gate, about one meter wide, had just been opened.

The sea of white gave way to an island of brutality. "Shvinya!" Everybody was pressed up against me from all directions, shoving hard, reating an equilibrium standstill. More shoving and shifting, crates and dollies were being used as plows. At first, everybody chuckled, the mob of people chuckled, smiling, thinking "of course the Chinese government would do this to us!" The chuckling melted to annoyance and then crumbled into violence.

Women were screaming, mens' faces turned furious and people were being thrown aside so they others could move in, only to be thrown themselves. A Chinese guard stood there with a look of boredom on his face, as if he was once ammused by this long ago. A bundle of tires flew through the air and hit somebody in the head. A crate of oranged was digging into my back. A dolly was starting to run me over. My family was now two people lengths ahead of me, a long distance in this game. I was trying to be polite, slipping into gaps as they were created and not joining hte savegry. I didnt last long. I stiff armed the dolly of oranges, putting it on one weel and showed the rest of the Chinese American football. I made my own gaps and tossed a few people. I made it through the gate pretty quickly.

Everybody that made it through the gate proceeded into the building ahead. Inside I found a similar scene. Everybody was pressed up against eachother, waiting for a small gate to open and when it did the tires flew and everybody got violent, except this time there was soft Christmas jazz playing overhead.

Stuck in Urumqi

2007-12-07T08:41:00.000-08:00

I planned on coming to the city of Urumqi for a couple of days to get my visa for Kazakhstan. Of course, nothing went to plan. I got here on a Saturday and by the time I got settled in the embassy was closed. The next day was Sunday Embassy wasn't open. On Monday I went to the embassy and fought through the small mob of Chinese, endlessly waiting for visas to get to Kazakhstan, their nearby land of opportunity. Standing in the mob I waited for the security guard to catch a glimpse of my shiny blue passport with the bad ass eagle on the cover. He eventually saw it and motioned for the crowd to make way for the "may-gwa," thats Chinese for American. I got through the second stage of chaos inside the embassy and was told that I had showed up too late in the day to apply for a visa. It was one in the afternoon.

I returned the next day, fought through the mob and chaos and received an application for a tourist visa. After handing it back, the woman asked for a visa photo. Damn! I knew I was going to forget something. I went back to my hotel across town and came back with a photo. Application submitted. Now I just had to wait two days.

Finally, Thursday rolled around and I had my visa in hand. I got a bus ticket to Almaty, only a 24 hour ride and I was to leave Friday evening. That would put me in Almaty on Saturday night, just in time to get to the embassy for Azerbaijan on... Sunday! Damn! Might as well stay here so that I get to Almaty, Kazakhstan on Monday, as to streamline my visa process so I can get the heck out of there.

What else have I done while stuck here? I sampled the local food, mostly Muslim, hung out with local couch surfers. I even went to a local dance club where I observed how the people of this region got down. They dance more with their hands and shoulders rather than their legs and booty. Most of my time has been spent recovering from a nasty cold.

Since so many of you have asked about how much China costs, I have kept very close tabs on how much money I have spent in a month. In 30 days in china I have spent $456. That is not trying to live cheap either. I eat large, fantastic meals, stay at nice hostels, ride nice trains and do activities like horse trekking and hiking. That is not including the $250 on visas.

Say What?

2007-12-05T02:22:00.000-08:00

Here is a compelation of some of the memorable things friends and family have said to me while on this trip.

"How are you still alive?" - Jay when I pulled up on my motorcycle in Durango, CO

"Don't get SARS!" - Ryan after I got to China

"Get a Haircut." - My step-dad

"Your room is pink now." - My brother... He wasnt kidding

"Where is Laos?" - Everybody after I told them I was going to, or was in Laos

"Four months Gavin, Its time to come home." -My sister in a very stern voice

"This is Tibetan whiskey." - My horse treking guide

"You call a person that knows three languages trilingual, a person that knows two bilingual and a person that knows one... an American. HAHAHA, I made a funny!" - a Chinese English student

Chengdu to the Edge of Tibet

2007-11-29T05:54:00.000-08:00

I hopped a 16 hour train up to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, world famous for spicy food. I walked out of the train station to find a city where everybody walks slow and nobody hassles the foreigners. After checking into a hostel for two bucks a night I set out to find this famous spicy food.

Walking aimlessly around the city yielded some great food finds. Muslims. The Chinese Muslims make amazing street food. Two of my favorites are a fry bread stuffed with potato and lamb and the other is the mutton and noodle soup. What makes this simple soup so great is that they make the noodles when you order. The cook walks over to a hunk of dough, kneads it, pulls it and folds it over and over in an athletic fashion until he has chewy noodles that taste amazing. As for spicy food, I pleaded and taunted cooks to make face swell with heat but nothing really made me sweat.

After a few days of doing nothing and hanging out with couch surfers, I decided it was time to see the pandas everybody wouldn't shut up about. Ever been hanging out in your apartment on a Sunday late morning and watch your roommate come out of their room from a night of partying. they come stumbling out, hungover, walk over to the kitchen, get some food and then proceed to flop on the couch, eat and eventually pass out. That is exactly what these pandas were like, except cute. They walk out, lay on their backs and eat bamboo until they pass out. Got some great pictures.

* * * * *

Since the province of Tibet was so far away and required even more paperwork from the Chinese government, I decided to see the Tibet that is on the Sichuan side. I hopped a bus where I was again the only foreigner, to a place where I could rent a horse. The first hour I was in town I was scrambling to buy some long underwear (which hasn't left my body since... 5 days). Tibetans walked the streets, staring at me all bundled up while they their huge wool and fur robes with sleeves that almost touched the ground.

I booked a two day horse-trek out to a national park. The wind blew over the desolate, brown mountains and right through my layers. This was harsh land where the Tibetans thrived. My horse, who I lovingly named Stark, was slow except when the other horses tried to pass it, then it hauled ass, tossing me around in the saddle.

We took shelter for the night in a local family's cabin. After a simple stew dinner, the other tourist on the trek pulled out a bottle of booze. The guide explain that this was Tibetan whiskey. It wasn't whiskey, but whatever it was, the other tourist had way to much of it. She ended up puking all over the cabin floor. The sleeping arrangement was simple yet effective, a bunch of blankets in an open-air shelter topped off with spare jackets.

The next day I started out on a three day journey across the rest of the mountains. It was cold and lonely except for the curious Tibetan priest I met while waiting for a bus. These dirt road mountain towns were all the type of places that made me sit back and think... how the heck did I end up in a place like this?

Booming China

2007-11-18T07:32:00.000-08:00

It took an expensive visa, three border checkpoints and a 7 hour bus ride for me to get to my first Chinese town. The very first thing I noticed was all the construction. Everywhere there was concrete being laid, trucks hauling ruble and bamboo scaffolding covering projects. The second thing I saw was the pollution. Every car and truck no matter how mall spews thick black smoke. Every person discards their trash by tossing it out of the window. This is the fastest growing market that every financial professional is taking note of and it is the country that pollutes so much that western Canada is feeling its direct effects.

My arrival was what I had expected, a thriving city that doesn't slow down to help backpackers because nobody speaks English. In my time here I have become a fantastic sketch artist and world-class charades player. These skilsl were a necessity and not the least bit fun. After a week in China I was feeling quite depressed with how my experience was going. Every attraction cost money to get in. I payed an ureasonable sum of yuan to see the famous Three Pagodas only to find that the entire attraction was practically brand new. The ancient cities of Dali and Lijang were all remakes built on top of what was already glorious. The Chinese tourists like everything clean and neat, including their ancient history. They also like to touch white peoples skin and have their pictures taken with Westerners. I found I was a much of a tourist attraction as the renovated ancient city I was in.

I was lucky to link up with some other Westerners and make an attempt to escape the hordes of Chinese tourists. We took off for a three day hike across Tiger Leaping Gorge. It was exactly what the doctor ordered. Fresh mountain air, inspiring vistas and good company. We spent our days hiking alongside the gorge, tiny compared to the towering snow covered peaks, and spent our nights in Tibetan guesthouses, keeping warm by a coal fire pot and playing Ma-ja.

Now I'm back to the bustling city. I took a 16 hour train and a couple buses to get all the way to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan and home to the Chinese fiery food.

Route Update

I'm sure some of you have been worried about how I was going to cross the Middle East overland. Well fret no more. From here in Chengdu I will be heading north up the Muslim area of China where I will merge onto the northern Silk Road. That's right everybody, I'm going to Kazakhstan. High-five!

A Day In the Life...

2007-11-07T07:16:00.000-08:00

7:00am - Wake up in cold, concrete room that costs $2

7:15 - finally get out of bed and to get to bus station

7:45 - Tuk-tuk drops me off at bus station

8:45 - 8:00 bus finally leaves and I realize I could have slept in for another hour

8:45 to 11:30 - ride old, beat up bus through bumpy, winding roads through the mountains. Watch local puke as a result. Start conversations with westerners on bus... conclude that they are lame and stop talking to them

11:30 - stop at village for lunch. Sit down and ask for standard pork noodle soup. Eat soup and decide that the meat tasted a bit wierd. While leaving restaurant notice two ground hog sized rats in a cage on display. Realize what I just ate.

12:00 - more winding roads. A Local pukes from motion sickness.

6:00 - Arrive at town. Decide I want to leave town as soon as possible

7:00 - Find guesthouse and take warm shower.

8:00 - Eat at local market stand. Locals giggle. Look for jacket but all are too small.

8:45 - Get on internet to research next destination. Trade english books with Loas girl learning english. Loas girl rips me off.

9:00 - Get indigestion and go back to guest house. Forced to use traditional squat toilet.

9:45 - Have beers with lame Americans. They get drunk and obnoxious. Local gets angry and yells at them. I ditch the lame Americans. Feel much shame.

10:30- Go to bed in a cold, concrete room

Business in Luang Prabang

2007-11-03T03:10:00.000-07:00

"Sabaidee, sir.... SABAIDEE!"
That was what an employee at the visa agency said to get my attention when he found me at an internet cafe hours after I had paid him to get my Chinese visa in two working days. It means "hello" in Laos. He said I need to come to the agency right away because there was a problem with my visa. I asked "what kind of problem?" He only replied "problem with price" and motioned for me to follow him.

I knew what the problem was. I created the problem on purpose. Months ago the U.S. raised the price for Chinese citizens to get tourist visas and in March China returned the favor. When the agency quoted me at the old price I asked several times if they were sure. They said yes, signed my receipt and I walked away hoping that was enough to call a binding contract. Back at the agency, I tried to explain in simplified English that the receipt meant that they had to do the service I already paid for and that they couldn't charge me more because WE HAD A DEAL! Their fault for the mistake.

The next day I had to come back to argue with the boss. We got into a bit of a heated argument and I went to the police. In the U.S. that receipt was enough to ensure that I got what I paid for but in Laos... well, I just had to go somewhere else and pay the full price and spend another day in Laos. $150 for a one month visa! This will be the most expensive visa on this trip.

I maid there most out of waiting by hanging out with my hilarious travel buddies I had been with for a week and explained to them what Halloween was. They dressed up as a pirate, the statue of liberty and I did the classic toilet paper mummy. Locals laughed and the barkeeps gave us free drinks. The next day we took off for a nearby waterfall for some hiking, swimming and rope swinging.

Now its off to China. Que the gong.

Lazy Laos

2007-10-26T01:32:00.000-07:00

The second I crossed the border I was met by... not much. The roads of Vientiane, the capital, were pretty much deserted except for a few Tuk-tuk drivers who were napping in hammocks rigged inside their vehicles. I only stopped off in Vientiane for a day on my way to Vieng Vang and it was worth it to pick up a few other travelers to split beers and rooms with.

Vieng Vang is a tiny little town made only slightly less tiny by the amounts of backpackers. Everybody is friendly and doesn't have a care in the world. The great times around here all take place in the few bars that stay open late (11:30 pm), the hiking done in the jagged nearby mountains covered by jungle and the infamous span of river used mostly for tubing.

A couple friends I met along the way came with me to experience river tubing. We rented a tractor tire tube, got a ride abut 10k up the river and started floating. The river took us winding down along side the hazey mountains and through a few tiny villages until we hit the last half. the 4k of river left before we got out was dotted with makeshift bamboo bars and gigantic rope swings. Dark brown Laos people pull you in with a giant bamboo pole so you can take a few swings and have a few beers. I wish I had pictures to show but water and cameras don't mix well.

We topped off our time here by sticking around until the end of the Buddhist lent, a huge festival with lots to eat and row boat races. All the villagers from nearby came to cheer on their favorite team and eat a lot of

Eating Locals

2007-10-17T05:09:00.000-07:00

Usually my stories are about a certain place or adventure. I don't think I have properly communicated some of the day to day, routine adventures I have... such as finding food.

I have found that a culture mostly sprouts from two things: religion and food. Here in Buddhist Southeast Asia, food is everywhere. Foreigners usually just scurry and hide in the restaurants, but that's what tourists do. There is good food there but if you really want to taste the culture, and be a true traveler, you have to eat where the locals do. This takes some searching but usually ends at the same place, the epicenter of local life no matter how touristy your host town is, the local market. No, not the market where they sell the knock-off North Face gear. This market sticks out from the rest.

You see plumes of smoke rising from miniature BBQ pits, usually made from scrap metal or coffee cans. As you get closer you smell the people around you heading for the same place after a long, hard, and body odor erupting day. Then you start to smell the food. First you smell the dried fish, and not just a little, whole stands filled with it and the stench almost burns your nose. Loads of it hangs from hooks alongside other skinned animals such as chickens, pigs and frogs. Whole foreign fruits lay in giant baskets everywhere being snatched up by passersby. I look down at them and notice that the ground isn't linoleum or even asphalt, its old rain water, sweat and dust churned by thousands of feet into a soggy, stinky mess. And amongst all this are little tables, miniature stools and a woman hovering above the table, hands chopping animal parts indiscriminately and face covered in soot. This is where I eat... mmmm.

As I walk closer to the table I already know I am the only round-eyed person in this market. I checked on the way in. Everybody looks confused when I approach, thinking that I need directions or something. When I sit down I am greeted by the same thing every time at a place like this, surprised faces and giggles from other patrons. This assures me that I am entering local territory.

Now, what to eat? In front of me are a couple bubbling cauldrons and some raw ingredients. I look around and point at the most popular dish at the table, this time it seems to be some sort of ricey soup. The woman chops off a few chicken limbs and then chops them again and adds it to the top of the soup along with mint leaves. I stir it up and add a little chili. In this part of the world if you automatically just add chili they seem to accept you a bit more. I dive in with my bathtub shaped spoon and... its good. A simple rice and sprout soup in a chicken broth complete with some chicken bits, bone and all. I fish around for some more mint leaves and find something really Asian: chunks of cooked, coagulated blood. I tried it once and didn't like it so I fish them out and hide them in my napkin as to avoid any insult. Served with the soup are doughnut sticks for dipping. It goes well.

I thank my cook and ask "how much?" Of course she says the tourist price, double the local one. I suggest a lower one and she accepts. Then off I go, back though the soggy mess and dried fish stench that burns my nostrils. I'm starting to grow a resistance to the smell after coming to these things markets as often as I can. Now I'm searching for something sweet to top it off. A local child points to a stand filled with custard creations. I picked the most exotic thing there: a small slice of an orange yam or pumpkin thing stuffed with an egg custard. I pay and take a big bite while locals watch, waiting for my reaction. I nod in acceptance. The yam things was pretty bland. There were two custards inside. One was slightly salty and the other was made from banana. It was ok tasting. Nothing special. Next time I'm going for the bright yellow globs. Until then, off I go back to my room to take a cold shower, then only kind offered around here.

Genocide, Shanties and Temples

2007-10-16T22:59:00.000-07:00

I expected to see something similar to Thailand when I crossed into Cambodia. I forgot that I knew nothing about Cambodia before going there except that I need to see the temples. The dusty boarder town that I spent my first night in was a splash of warm water on a hot Southeast Asia day. I saw only one paved road, rows and rows of tin and wood shanties and a few British brothel owners... which I had lunch and beers with.

The next day I was in the capital, Phnom Penn. This was home to some of the memorials to Cambodia's bloody and recent past. Back in the 70's, a group called the Khmer Rouge took control of the country in a communistic revolution. They captured, tortured and killed anybody that was educated, wealthy, or had a technical or professional job. This included men, women, children and babies. The memorial to this gruesome period of their history is in the former torture camp on the south side of town. There, I walked the cells where innocent people were detained and slowly killed with pictures to prove it. In one room, there is blood splattered across the ceiling, all the others just had red stained floor tiles. Seeing some of this incredibly depressing past would have been wrong to just pass up and is important in understanding the country that is hosting me.

All around the country you can see the void of education caused by the Khmer Rouge and the corruption that stands in its place. The main highway that brings in hordes of tourists into the country everyday is still unpaved and a joke of a road for a bus. Police officers can be wafted away from your small jay-walking crime for ten thousand Riel ($2.50) and your pack of cigarettes.

On a brighter note there are plenty of positive and interesting things in the country. French buildings still stand in multitude from the colonization and there is a military firing range where tourists can fire anything from an AK-47 to a rocket propelled grenade.

I left the urban areas to go see the famous city of Buddhist temples. To get there, I took a 6 hour river boat that simulated all too much from Into the Heart of Darkness. From the boat we got a great view of rural life for Cambodians. Riverside bungalows and entire floating villages were two of the stops along the way. Then we finally arrived in Seim Reap, which is minutes from the temples of the ancient Angkor civilization.

I wont bore anybody with much history of this amazing area. In short, Kings over generation tried to one-up each other by making bigger and better temples right next to each other. I think its a great way to let me feel like Indiana Jones for a day. Pictures do the best talking. Hopefully I can get most of them uploaded.

Ko Chang Fo' Pocket Change

2007-10-10T05:23:00.000-07:00

I thought it would be a good idea to break away from the Bangkok fast paced city life and take a rest before the stresses of the famous Cambodia border. My friend told me of an island on the way called Ko Chang.

Ko Chang used to be populated by only island natives and hippies. Everybody always describes it as "Chill". A few years ago the island was picked for development to get the backpackers out and the deep pocketed tourists in. When I got here it was clearly a split between the two. Construction everywhere yet the precence of hippies is still here. I opted to pass the nice, air conditioned rooms and find the last hippie alove on the island. The place I'm staying is simply called Treehouse.

My bungalow came with a beautiful sea view, which wasnt hard because the shore is only 30 feet away. In the room was all that I needed: a light bulb powered only from 6pm to 4am, a thin matress and a mosquito net. Down the path is the restaurant and villa tha thouses all the lazy travelers that lounge in the sun. What did I do the last two days? I layed on the beach, cruized the island on a scooter and did a two hour hike up a waterfall/stream to the peak of a small mountain overlooking the bay.

What is more amazing about this place is the prices. The bungalow was only $2.25 a day, beers are 75 cents, meals are about $2. I think I lived two days of island paradise for about...$20... tops.

Whats the Capital of Thailand.... BANGKOK!

2007-10-06T06:51:00.000-07:00

I arrived at Bangkok International with several problems. I had no Thai currency, I didnt meet he requirements to get a visa and I had a history of bad luck with cities. I quickly found a currency exchange and solved my first problem. Next was the problem of getting past customs. To get a visa in Thailand you must show a ticket that takes you out of the country within 30 days. I had a one way ticket, a bag of M&Ms, a pen and paper pad. If you have read some of the other stories on this site, then you know I like to pull some tricks to help me on my way. This little trick is called... pretending you are deaf. I caused such frustration with hand communications and purposely writing illegibly that they eventually waived me in just to avoid a larger headache than the one they already had. I had my backpack, my passport stamped and all I needed now was a place to crash.

After a night at an inn I set out to find my couchsurfing.com hosts. Tom and Ryan are Americans living in Bangkok. They welcomed me into their condo under the condition that I bring a bottle of duty free vodka. Partying was great in the evening but I had a few things I wanted to see and do.

The very first thing I did was teach chubby bunny , then headed over to a suit store that was recommended to me. Custom made suits here in Bangkok run from about $100 and up. After getting measured and selecting the top quality fabrics the store gave me a quote of $650 dollars for two suits and two shirts. About five minutes later I paid $450 for two suits, four shirts and two ties. Over the next few days I came in for 3 fittings, making adjustments each time.

Walking the streets in Bangkok is mind numbingly entertaining. There are street vendors every 10 feet selling delicious Thai creations for about $.50, Taxi drivers always asking "where you go?", stray animals and very strange smells. If there is one thing about Bangkok I will not miss it is the smells. Garbage on the ground, lack of deodorant on people, heavenly foods and emissions from the crowds of traffic jams mix into a stench that is inescapable.

Each night has brought great fun and culture shock. Cheap beers are harder to come by than prostitutes. They line the streets of some bar areas and yell "seeeeeeeeexxxy maaaaaan" as you walk by. The aggressive ones walk out and block your path to get your attention. One night I saw a group of them start to come my way, so I just shoved Ryan into them and kept walking. Backpackers are everywhere. If there was ever a Mecca for backpackers it would be Bangkok. Truckloads from all over the world fill the Khoasan road bars making for the best atmosphere and the best stories.

There is one last thing I had to do before leaving Bangkok: Muy Thia. Watching to old Thia people ferociously betting and the odd musical accompaniments was almost as interesting as the matches going on. We watches several low quality matches waiting for the final event. We were very excited once the top fighters came out for the last fight. Then one of them got kicked in the ankle in the first round and it was all over. We felt out Muy Thia experience was left slightly unfulfilled.

Now all I have to do is mail home my large box filled with gifts for donators, postcards and my suits.

Goodbye USA

2007-09-29T17:20:00.000-07:00

The first leg of my trip is done. North America was an amazing time and I could have spent an entire year just exploring its little nooks and crannies. I cruised across the Great Planes, hiked the tall peaks of Colorado, swam under the Arizona sun and watched the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.

Of all of the things I have done, both admirable and stupid, my greatest and most memorable experiences of this trip has not depended on activities or locations, but the people I have met along the way. I have stayed with multimillionaires, starving artists, family and strangers. I have met train hopping emo kids, a generous foster care family, a motel owner, a young IT professional and military personal of all sorts. My favorite times with these people has been Quietly observing how they do things and living their lives if only for an evening. Fascinating little cultural and lifestyle differences always bubble up.

Its a little frightening to be leaving the furthest edge of home, where everybody speaks my language and I can read street signs. What will be exciting is that once I get to Asia, I will be the furthest from home possible and that any further west I dare to go will be one step closer to my family and friends.

Thank you everybody that has made this trip so enjoyable. Thank you all who have donated, given me a place to stay, called a loose friend to arrange a place to stay and everybody back home that has emailed or called me just to say "Hi."

Asia here I come. Middle east you are on deck.

Layover in Hawaii

2007-09-25T05:34:00.000-07:00

After my shameful plane ride I collected my over sized backpack and walked into the moist, tropical air and waited for my friend, Abby, to pick me up. Moments later, she pulled up in her new car with a gigantic smile on her face. I dove in and off we went into the Hawaiian sun, singing along to the 80's music on the radio.

Abby is from my hometown and I have known her since my high school prom. After some time in college she opted for military service in the Navy. She put me up in her roommate's room whom I have still never seen.
Upon my arrival the weather became sub par by Hawaii standards but it was still beautiful to me. The first day we narrowly escaped a car collision while seeing more of the island. The next day we took off for Hunama Bay, a state park famous for great snorkeling. I saw all the fish I had previously only saw on TV. I got especially up close and personal with a curious sea turtle after he sneaked up on me when my back was turned. We topped off the day with lounging on the beach and making fun of ridiculous looking tourists from foreign countries.

In her seven months of being here on Oahu, Abby had never seen the Pearl Harbor Memorial and neither had I, so off we went. We got stuck, motionless, in traffic. That was until a Ford rear-ended us at near 40mph. Abby and I bounced around like pinballs but were ok. I checked the other car and they were ok too. I looked at Abby's new car... not ok. Actually, the car's frame got bend and it was deemed a total loss. Thankfully, it didn't stop us from hitting the beach for more snorkeling and body boarding. Abby did end up with a case of whiplash the next day though, so we spent a short evening at the exotic, Hawaiian military hospital. Abby had it rough the next few days, she was still recovering from surgery and whiplash all while getting the run around from insurance companies and starting her 12 hour night shifts. On the bright side, she got this fantastic loaner from a friend:

The rest of my time in Hawaii was filled with helping Abby move off base and into her new apt. Furnature shopping, cleaning up the place, playing the Wii, hanging out on the beach. Pretty much living life like a local.

I leave on Sunday for Thailand... then this site will get much more interesting.

I'm taking a plane... I'm sorry.

2007-09-14T17:45:00.001-07:00

I feel like I have failed one of the goals of this trip. It was so important to me to stay along the ground so that I could really feel the distance and the size of the Earth. Hopefully this will be the only plane I have to take. Maybe the 20 hours on the plane will be enough to make me feel far away. Oh, and skipping over land with a plane would be very bad form, so I guess I have to go to Hawaii. Poor me. My phone will work until the 28th, after that it will be suspended. So if you want to hear my sweet voice one more time, do it before then.

There were three different ways I could have crossed the Pacific without using a plane. I explored each one extensively and annoyed many harbor masters and travel agents in the process.

Sailing. This would have the most idea way to get across. Yacht owners are always looking for people to crew their boat. If you are in the right place at the right time, show that you are seaworthy and have a good attitude you can get on without any experience. Sometimes they ask you to pay for your own provisions and port fees. I was not in the right place at the right time. The trade winds were going in the wrong direction and most of the boats I found were headed to Mexico. If I were here in December, I would have had much better luck. I have actually gotten offers to crew in the past when I was still in school through a website.

Cruise Ships. They wanted me to sign on for six months minimum. No can do.

Cargo Ships. Most cargo ships have passenger cabins. It takes about amonth to to book one because of all of the paper work. They also charge you by the day, about $85-115 per day. I takes 22 days to get from Seatle to China. You can do the math. The biggest problem is a law called the Jones Act that prevents passengers from taking a cargo ship from on US port to another US port.

Dream Ride: Highway 1

2007-09-02T21:58:00.000-07:00

Traveling within the Midwest usually feels like waiting, anxious to arrive at your destination so that you can get out of the stuffy, uncomfortable car and away from the monotonous sight of endless fields of corn. The only emotion of fulfillment occurs upon arrival, even though that will be quickly followed by boredom because you're probably still be in the Midwest. I have discovered the absolute cure for trips like that and those that overlook the joy of motion: US Highway 1. Taking this road north shoves you against the Pacific coastline leaving you free to sniff the fresh sea breeze, cruise by pristine beaches drenched in ocean reflected sunlight all while flirting with the edge of the western world. Such instant gratification allows you to answer the age old question "are we there yet?" with an absolute "yes" even though your destination is five hours up the road. I took my sweet time on this road and I'm glad because I had to jump off my bike every ten minutes to take pictures of postcard worthy beaches with perfectly white clouds hovering above.

I spent five days bouncing up the coast on my way to San Francisco from San Diego. The first night I slept in San Clemente (stupid sprinklers) then with the aunt of my old dormitory roommie in Huntington Beach the next night. Night three and four I stayed in San Luis Obispo with students of the local university that I found through www.couchsurfing.com. The students and I (AH! I'm not a student anymore!) cruised the local pubs, street festivals and even attended a wine tasting. They sniffed and swirled their wines like they had done it a million times before. I just did what they did and assumed everybody from the area of the country's finest wines were wine experts. I later found out that they also had no idea what they were doing. I passed up San Francisco to spend the holiday weekend with my cousins in Sacramento. After being on the road for a while a nice, slow weekend of grilling and riding dirt bikes really hit the spot. Next I'm going to migrate back to San Francisco for some exploring.

My Plans....

I'm a bit stuck right now. I still have not found a way to get across the Pacific Ocean. Port security prevents me from getting spontaneous work on ships so the only way I would be able to get onto a cargo ship is if I paid for a passenger cabin. Sailing would be the finest way to get across but it would take about 3 months at sea to get to Asia. The only way I can think of to get across is to try cruise ships. The best thing to do right now is to hang out on the coast and talk to people at marinas, ports and fellow travelers. I'm also trying to sell the bike so that I will be flexible to jump onto a boat if the opportunity occurs. I'll switch to buses and trains after the bike is gone. It will be a sad day to see her ride away with somebody else.

New T.V. Show: Homeless in the O.C.

2007-08-28T11:58:00.000-07:00

"So where are you going to stay?" inquired Vinny, a friend from ISU that moved to San Clemente, CA.
"Huh?" I was confused because he, his roommate and I all went out for food and it was late now. Time to crash. "I thought I was staying here."
"You never told me that."
"What did you think I was going to do?" There was a long awkward pause. "So can I stay here?"
"Not really. My roommie wouldn't like that and its hard enough to get along with her."
"So are there any good parks around?"
Vinny tried repeatedly to give me money for a hotel room. I had money already, I just didn't want to stay in a hotel room. So I ditched my bags in a garage that was left open in his building, bundled up for the night and set out across the street where there was a large park that stretched over to the beach.

The first spot I found was behind some landscaped bushes. It was relatively flat, dry and protected from anybody seeing me. I was just hoping that I wouldn't have a run in with the local wildlife, such as bugs, chipmunks and the rumored snake. It was uncomfortable but I eventually lulled myself to sleep by watching the stars above me and listening to the waves crash on the nearby beach. I tried to ignore the late night runners that went past my head and the feeling of loneliness.

HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I didn't budge. My eyes flew open despite my deep sleep but I didn't budge. I just waited for whatever out there to calm down and slither away. What a terrible way to go out, killed by a poisonous snake when sleeping in the bushes of a park. My college education obviously preceded me. The hiss was coming from right next to my head and wasn't stopping. Then I noticed it had a soft underlying rhythm to it. It wasn't a snake, it was the park sprinklers watering the nearby grass. I eventually got up to walk off the terror feeling and maybe find a fresh pair of underwear.

3 a.m. and I was standing on a moonlight beach coming to only sad realizations. I have hit a new low. Not only was I sleeping on the ground and freezing, I was on the west coast and running out of friends to stay with. I still hadn't found a ship and I was getting a little queezy from just listening to the waves for so long. Most of all, I was alone. Cold, tired, sore from sleeping on the ground and lonely, all I wanted was to be home. Stupid sprinklers... I almost peed my pants.

I found an empty storage area in the garage that was left open and crawled in. The ground was concrete now but it was much warmer. I slept off the late night depression and woke up tired and sore, yet still cheery and recharged by the sight of the sun. The second I got on the road I was happy again. I took the Pacific Coastal Highway all the way to my next destination. Glee was I. Amazing how diverse my moods are on when traveling like this. I think it is because of the diverse situations. Damn sprinklers.

San Diego... A good place to quit

2007-08-24T09:57:00.000-07:00

I traveled out of Arizona at night to avoid the heat. I crossed rocky hills, sand dunes, boarder control check points and mountains until I felt the sensation of a sea breeze. I have finally reached California. I am almost overwhelmed by how much fun there is to be had here. My friend, Kristin and I have been spending our days basking in the sun on the beach, sitting in hot tubs, eating home cooked dinners, finding nitch restaurants and living the local life. Everybody here is fit and active... even the bums. People are friendly and I haven't see as many hippies as I thought I would. The weather is great all the time and each day ends with the sun melting over an aqueous horizon.

Kristin and I went to high school together and after she graduated from Marquette, she got stationed as a navy nurse here in San Diego. She has let me stay here for over a week, which is still not enough time to see all there is here. One of my favorite things here was the Maritime Museum where they have a collection of historic Tall Ships. Here is a picture of me at the helm of the HMS Surprise, the ship from "Master and Commander." The Mexican food here is amazing and its on every corner. The only problem here is that getting anywhere requires me to ride the bike on the road with these psycho drivers!

My time here has been so great that I have considered never living. I imagine days of working here followed by evenings of spear fishing, running along the coast and coming home to a cute girl. It all seems too perfect to pass up. Maybe the flat tire I got the first few minutes of being here was an indication that I should stay. This trip means a lot to me, not in the sense of "finding myself" or anything, but to exercises gumption. California, however, makes me want to forget gumption and just stop fidgeting, stop striving for something out of the ordinary and just get my life started. I have spent enough time on the road now to appreciate getting a job, a girl that cares, and a place in a community. The sight of the ocean has given me a sense of accomplishment and experiencing San Diego has made me start to think it's enough... but its not, my gumption is larger than the satisfaction I get from this place. My desire to stop moving is probably just premature enlightenment. So, onward I will push, because I can't stop, north I think, until I find a way to get further west.

I Made it to the West Coast!

2007-08-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

...Well shit, now what?!
I see much more than just blue water right now, I see a big "fork in the road". From here I have a few things to consider, like, remaining money, condition of the bike, when to sell the bike, if I want to head up the coast to see more of the US and, most importantly, how the heck I am going to get across this damn ocean! My goal is to hop a ship but a freighter will cost more than just flying. My other options are to try and get a job on a cruise ship or crew a small sailing vessel. My chances are slim but I think its worth the time to score the style points.

2007-08-14T21:52:00.000-07:00

Arizona is a special place to me, so special that when I plunged passed the sign stating "Arizona State Line" I threw my arms in the air in an expression of triumph. I was born and raised to the age of 12 in Arizona. Familiar sights, such as the Navajo reservation, cactus and dusty rock hills as far as the eye could see, made me think of a childhood that felt like a previous life.

After I turned south and came out of the wooded region of the state I felt the one thing nobody likes about Arizona: the unbelievable summer heat. I saw the mirage illusion caused by heat waves radiating off the highway ahead and felt the sun on my bare arms. Riding a motorcycle through the Arizona desert is like sitting in front of a gigantic blow dryer set on "incinerate" while straddling a hot oven. Because of how dry it is, the 75 mph wind offered no relief. After getting off the bike it takes at least half an hour to let my swass dry out.

Ever seen one of those bad movies with the following bad plot line: Guy comes back from wherever after being gone for a couple years and finds his old neighborhood overran with crime so he goes out and tries to clean it up with a gun? Well that's what happened to me and that's what I tried to do, except the gun was a staring gun with loaded with blanks. Apparently some bastards like to vandalize my dear old granny's house a couple times a week. They had been trying to catch them for some time using security cameras but without success. Mostly because they don't know how to set the cameras (typical old people and technology situation). So I set the alarms and spent a few nights camped out by the back door... armed... to the teeth... waiting for the bastards to show up. My plan was to get them on tape, try and mace them, then scare them off with the big cap gun. Now wait, I know this is the perfect set up for one of those crazy Gavin stories that you like to hear and I'm sorry to disappoint you, but nobody showed. Those dirt bags will be in pain soon enough because I gave my grandpa with Alzheimers the can of mace.

The rest of my week was spent dodging the heat and spending time with family I hadnt seen in 10 years. I wish I had more of a story here. Well thats it, off to San Diego. At least I got some good pictures, including one of what I would look like if I had stayed in AZ.

Reunion in Durango

2007-08-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

I rode all day through the rain in very chilly temperatures in the southern Colorado Rockies to visit my friend Jay at his new Durango residence. The ride was so cold and wet I had to stop at a gas station to put my soaked gloves in the microwave for some temporary relief. I finally arrived at Jay and his roommate, Kyle's house, located on country road 250... a single wide trailer nestled in the mountains next to a river. Jay and Kyle found secondary jobs as caretakers for a nice RV park and campground and one of the perks is a free place to stay. The trailer looks more like a house and the inside is nicer than my college apartments. Jay decided to ditch the flat, boring lifestyle of our hometown for the mountains and to feed his snowboarding addiction.

When I got there I was awestruck by the beautiful view from his backyard and the freshly grilled bratwurst and beer ready for consumption. Not only did they feed me, they got me some temporary work on the grounds. We spent all day Saturday repairing water lines and disposing of campfire coals.

The next day we set out for Mesa Verde State Park and saw the famous cliff dwellings of the Anasazi people. It was a perfect day for a light hike and cruising around in Jay's new pickup truck. Places like this make me consider forgetting all my ambition and roots so that I could live just like Jay. If this trip gets done early, maybe I'll come back and find some cubical job in Durango so that I can snowboard at least twice a week.

I Climbed Pike's Peak!

2007-08-02T20:43:00.001-07:00

In the Colorado Springs area, Pike's Peak is the tallest mountain in view. It overlooks the city as one of the six Colorado peaks over 14,000 ft tall. Today, I got up at 4am and was on the trail before the sunlight hit it. It took me 9 hours to hike the 13 mile trail with an 8,000 ft elevation gain. I still don't know if it was worth it. I then hitchhiked a ride down to the trailhead and got home in time to have my neice and nephew tackle me.

See What I See...

2007-08-01T08:13:00.000-07:00

With the help of a cute park ranger, I duct taped my camera to the front of my motorcycle so everybody can get a feel for how awesome it is to ride through these winding mountain roads. About 1:00 into the video a deer ran across the road in front of me.

On my hike to Flattop Mountain I took this video to capture the full 180 degrees of altitude sickness. OH YEA!

Rocky Mountain National Park & Staying with Strangers 2

2007-07-31T21:36:00.000-07:00

Riding around the Rockies is a blast but I was tired of seeing all the mountains from the road, I wanted to get off the bike and do some hiking. It was time for a little excursion into Rocky Mountain National Park.

The vistas were endless at the park and so were the amounts of other visitors that I had to fight with to get a good camping spot. I got lucky and found a vacancy in a beautiful valley in the Bear Lake area. All was well until the park ranger charged me $20 for a campsite. This is one of the few downfalls of traveling alone, incurring all of the costs for accommodations. So, with pain, I forked over a crisp $20 bill and told the park ranger that I was willing to share my site, since all I had was my little motorcycle and tent. After a leisurely dinner of canned ravioli with the friendly family across the dirt road from me, I needed some fire to heat my cans of food and you have to BUY wood at the campground, a older biker pulled up to my site and went half-zies with me on the price. He was from Kentucky and talked a lot like Boomhower from King of the Hill. He recently sold his house to live in a trailer. He had his own tent and didn't try any funny stuff so he gets an A on the nice stranger report card. Although he was pretty boring.

The next day, I did a long hike up to Flattop Mountain. It wasn't too hard but it did take 4.5 hours and I didn't use any high tech backpacks, hydration bladders or walking sticks. I had my water bottle and rain jacket tied to my belt and a granola bar in my pocket. I got lots of great pictures and a few are in this entry and the rest are found through the link. What I didn't catch on with the camera was some of the high altitude wildlife, such as: Marmots, little running bird things, and a rabbit thingy but with short ears, dear and elk. The view from the top was amazing and I even got a panoramic video that will be up soon.

Everything from my knees down ached and I still didn't know where I was going to sleep that night. I had the best luck of getting a spot at the camp grounds on the other side of the park because they were less crowded. So off I went on a ride that was much more than I expected. It was hard to drive for more than five minutes without having to jump off and take another picture of a awe inspiring vista or massive wild animal munching on greens. The road zig-zagged up the mountainside, up and up, higher and higher, until I was well above the treeline. I eventually found myself in an alpine tundra, bundled up in every piece of clothing I brought and on the crest of a mountain range. The pictures do the best talking, I cant do the views any justice with words.

I eventually found myself at a west side camp ground searching for water. I was very dehydrated because I ran out of water at the top of the mountain trail I hiked earlier and had to pack snow in my bottle in case of emergency. I struck up a convo with the family camping where the water spout was. It was their family reunion and the mother was telling me how they ONLY had 14 people this year. So I replied, "Oh, that's too bad. Want some more company?" They immediately welcomed me in for the night and even provided an extra blanked and to share a tent so I didn't have to set mine up. It was a long night of stories by the campfire and music by The Pogus. The Richardsons kept me laughing until late in the night and stuffed my face with a delicious breakfast in the morning. When it was finally time for me to leave they declared me one of their own and said they would keep track of me on this website. THANKS AGAIN RICHARDSON FAMILY! I might show up for next year's reunion.

Domesticized in Colorado Springs

2007-07-28T11:29:00.000-07:00

One week ago, I rode up to a suberb of Colorado Springs to spend time with some long lost family. My half-sister, Chelsea, and her Husband, Ben, invited me to come stay with them and hang out with my nephew, Grant, and my nieces, Ashley and baby Sarah.

I spent the week trying out the life of a family man with the standard 2.3 kids. It has been a very educational experience filled with, crying, diapers, scrapes, t-ball, baby's first words, home improvement projects, bottles, wrestling, tickle fights, early evening dinners and family outings. This week was the only time I've been around little kids for more than an hour or so and it has been pretty fun.

Thats it really... no interesting story here. I've just enjoyed spending time with my cute nieces and nephew and being called "Uncle Gavin". I have been trying pretty unsuccessfully to get used to the altitude so that I can go do some decent hiking...

Some Changes to the Site

2007-07-25T19:13:00.000-07:00

Just a heads up on some of the very minor changes to the website:
1) Anybody can comment now, you dont have to have a google account
2) The $5 donation limit for postcards is only for when I am oveseas because it costs that about that much to send one. While I am in the U.S. request all you want, however, a dollar donation would be nice because I am running out of stamps. Thanks to all that have donated so far.
3) Please E-mail me with comments about ANYTHING on the site. Ex: what you would like to see or see more of, stories you like or you really didnt like...

*If something is not working on the site please let me know

Thanks to EVERYBODY that has:
Donated
Offered me a place to stay
Commented on the site or given me feedback
Shared the website with others

Staying with Strangers: Aurora, Colorado

2007-07-24T12:26:00.000-07:00

When I was getting ready to leave, a family friend offered to set me up with some people in the Denver area. As I was leaving Cheyenne, I called to ask if the offer was still on the table. I probably should have gave more than a few hours notice but I didn't see myself as much of a bother. I was expecting somebody to just let me in, point to the couch and say be out my X:XX the next morning. I got a lot more than I expected.

The couple that was going to shelter me for the evening were named Jerome and Verona. As the story goes, Verona is a columnist for a couple of newspapers and Jerome lives off of the millions that he sold his business for. Both had a reputation for being a lot of fun. Oh how unprepared I was.

After a four hour detour drive through the Rockies, I pulled up to a large house on a golf course and knocked on the door. The house was filled with the noises of lively greetings and Jerome yelling things like "Feed this boy!... where is the food?!... here, come look at this!... is the food ready yet?!"

Jerome used to be the owner of, to my understanding, the first and very successful ski and golf superstore in the Denver area called Colorado Ski and Golf. The house was a standing ovation to both industries' history and prosperity. Upstairs, the hallway was lined on both sides with famous golf clubs. Clubs that won huge tournaments when in the hands of pros and other sets from VIP's. One of the sets, framed and mounted on the wall, was labelled "The 3.5 million dollar set." I can only guess what that piece of wall art was worth. When Jerome reached the top of the stairs during the grand tour, he snagged one of the clubs leaning up against the banister and said "take a look at this." What I saw was the presidential seal on the underside and Gerald Ford's engraved signature.

I'm not much of a golfer, in fact, I hate playing and the only time I like to watch is when I want to take a nap on a Sunday afternoon. What I am is a snowboarder and what the basement contained compelled me to get out my camera. Mounted on the walls of the basement where antique skis, the first and only mono ski ever made in the U.S., and snowboards personally designed by Jake Burton himself. The most amazing boards down there were the first EVER snowboards made for market retail. Jake Burton, inventor of the snowboard and now the king of the multinational Burton Snowboard Company, had come in to Colorado Ski and Golf to convince Jerome to sell these things in his store. Jerome made him sign the snowboards on the spot. The boards are probably worth millions now and I'm pretty sure Jake Burton wants them back.

After a night of sleeping on a nice bed with a full tummy I accompanied Jerome to the gym. It was good to get some exercise after sitting on a motorcycle for 5 days and it completed my full sample of the Colorado lifestyle: Skiing/snowboarding, golf, and the athletic lifestyle. I am pretty sure I want to live here now. Jerome pointed me to the interstate and gave me an open invitation to come back anytime as long as I gave him more notice. Off I was to stay with my sister in Colorado Springs.

Cheyenne, Wyoming and the Order of the Vagabond

2007-07-23T21:15:00.000-07:00

I finnally rode away from the Stardust Motel and across a 5 hours of the Wyoming countryside consisting of only ranches, praries with the occasional rock formation and a small, gas station town. I arrived in the evening in the capital of Wyoming, Cheyenne. I really needed to update the website so I found the nearest Library.

On my way into the library I saw a pack of what looked like homeless people. Not a rare site at libraries. I updated the blog, which took way to long, and left to find another very cheap motel or a nice park to sleep at. However, on my way out, I took a second look at the homeless people in front of the library. They were too young and happy to be truely homeless. Taking this and the type of luggage they had I mosied up to them and asked if they were travelers too. They were... in the rawest form.

These three emo kids, age 20 I'd guess, had been hoping frieght trains and living off of food stamps for the last three weeks. They had migrated from the San Fransisco area and had their 40 lb dog, Gumption, with them the whole way. After some conversation I deemed them safe to assume that they followed the an unwritten code between travelers: No steeling from eachother and always offer what you can. They gave me a contact in San Fran that would likely lead to a place to stay and I offered to split a room with them.

About an hour later I had found a cheap enough room with two queen beds that would cost us each $10. I relayed them to the motel on my bike and we all got a well needed round of showers. Did I mention that they were really stinky from hoping trains? Conversation was light as we shared stories about where we had been and where we were going.

The vagabond style has this unspoken association. Everybody is looking for deals, ways to save money, a fun place to go and, at times, help. When I find these people, the conversation is automatically started by the recognition of the large backpacks. The violation of this kinship is very, very rare. Bikers look after eachother as well but not nearly to the extent as vagabonds. When I push my bike to save the trouble of starting it, at least two or three fellow bikers ask if I need help.

The next morning said goodbye to the stinky emo kids on food stamps and went to see the rodeo I had heard so much about. Turned out that it didnt start the next day so I got some REAL barbeque instead (I had never had the real stuff before, I was burping smoke for hours... delicous). One of the cooks and I struck up a conversation about the difference between smoking and barbequeing, which lead to an in depth lesson in the art of "doing it right, Big Jim style". Keep the flames low, pay lots of attention, and use the right amount of smoke from good wood. That was all there was to Cheyenne that day, so off I went to Colorado.

Conserving Money by Staying in Newcastle, Wyoming

2007-07-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

After seeing the high prices for motels in and around the Black Hills National Park I thought I would try and find a cheaper place to stay by finding one of those old, run-down motels on the side of a country highway. I headed west out of the park and into Wyoming. The first town I came to was Newcastle. This was a small, industrial town. Lots of mills, some were abandoned. I went to the local grocery store to get some dinner and asked a local where a really, really cheap place to stay was. She suggested The Stardust Motel.

Pulling up onto the gravel driveway of the motel I read the half working, neon light sign that said vacancy. The "MO" in motel was flickering on and off. I suspected the place was built in the 70's and got the feeling of a highway horror flick from the same era. I climbed off my bike and let my now soggy jeans dry out for a minute and prepared to negotiate with whoever was working the front desk. I opened my wallet and and took out all of the cash except for $15, which was what I estimated to be half of what the room normally cost. I slowly entered and walked up to the front desk and was greeted by a nice looking 35 or so lady. In a haggard voice and a tired look on my face (that part was no act) I enquired as to how much for her absolute cheapest room. She flatly stated $35. I responded, "Ma'am, I've been riding for 5 days now from Chicago, its been a long day and I don't have much money. I could really just use some good luck and a cheap nights sleep." I then pulled out my wallet and opened it wide enough so she could see that I was offering all that I had. She said I was crazy to expect to get a room for that price but quickly enquired as to what kind of a bike I was riding. Turned out that the lady was the owner of the motel and also the new owner of a Honda Magna V45, the same as mine. She said she was having some electrical problems and I suggested that it might have been a fuse and that I could change it for her... which got me thinking. "Do you have any chores I could do to help earn a room?" Long story short, she took $10 as collateral and said she would have some chores for me in the morning then retrieved her bike for me to start working on it.

As I checked the fuses (all were fine so there was nothing I could do) her 18 year old, small town born and raised son came along and made small talk. After some bonding with the youngster I tossed him the keys to my bike and I jumped on his mom's bike. He gave me a confused look and I told him "show me the finer parts of this town." And away we went on a classic country cruise around his tiny town and down his old time looking main street.

The next morning I woke for my chores. These consisted of moving a large refrigerator and desk and weed duty. The weed duty was no small task. The tool for the job was a pressurized 15 gallon tank of Round-up weed killer strapped to an ATV. I sprayed every weed around that whole motel property. I would drive 10 feet spray the area the host could ready, then drive another ten feet and repeat. It took about 3.5 hours. When I was done it was already 1:30 and I had wanted to be on the road by 10 am. The owner, Shelly, paid me 10 bucks on top of my collateral and treated me to lunch at the all you can eat Pizza Hut Buffet. All said and done I think that she got her money's worth of work out of me. After a few pictures and goodbyes I waved goodbye as I rode south for the capital and the Colorado border.

Country people are always the most friendly. If you ever find yourself traveling in a manner similar to mine, get off the interstate and look around. The only thing you will find on the interstate is traffic and tourist traps.

Head for the Hills!

2007-07-21T21:14:00.000-07:00

I woke up refreshed and giddy again to hit the road. It was a short ride to the Black Hills National Park. The soothing, cool breeze from the dense trees and higher altitude was a nice reminder that not all of this travel will be in sweltering hear in vast spans of boringness. The first stop was the famous tourist attraction Mt. Rushmore. I paid the 8 bucks to park and walk up the monument deal they had going and to gain a better appreciation for it... all said and done the huge sculpture was just as good for free from the road (as seen in the background here.) I went to a nearby picnic area and a had a lunch of trail mix, cheap cereal and... well that's it, some water too. Which is why I chose to sit at the table next to the boyscout troop. I hoped that after their large, well planned meal that they would offer me some left overs but, alas, no dice.

The next stop was Crazy Horse Mountain. This mountain is a work in progress to become the worlds largest sculpture. So far only Crazy Horse's face is the only thing done but you can start to make out the shape. What made this stop worth it was the Native American History Museum that was attached, I recommend it.

This touristy stuff was fun and all but the best part of the day was when I braved to rain to find get what I really wanted from the state of South Dakota: An up-close look at a buffalo. I heard of a wildlife park attached to the one I was in where such sightings were common. I paid the 5 bucks to get in and started out on my safari. A multitude of low, thick rain clouds had just came in giving the roads that misty forest feel. Once the cloud had passed I say my first indigenous creature: a deer. Whoopdy doo. I wanted a buffalo! I rode on through the mountains, mist and across the grassy valleys and spotted another large hairy creature: an antelope. Never seen one of those so I snapped a picture and got back onto my quest. Almost an hour of riding went and I had accepted the fact that no buffalo was going to rear its ugly head so I-- Slammed my breaks to avoid the heard of buffalo that I had just come to over a bend. They have been known to charge people that get to close so I parked the bike and flagged down a passing car, I wanted the extra protection of a steel cage around me. I got about 20 feet from the big things and got my photo!

Feeling accomplished I checked a couple motels to see what the rate was, about 40 bucks for the cheapest. I refused to pay more than 20 because that is how much hostels cost in Europe. I decided I would be able to find a better deal if I got out of the national park and into a rural town so, I jumped onto the cycle and got the heck out of South Dakota and said hello to Wyoming, a little industrial town named Newcastle to be exact, but that is my next story...

The Badlands

2007-07-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

It was a very long and boring ride all day to get to the Badlands National Park but well worth it. Riding all the way through in the 90+ degree weather with full sun brought me to the town of Wall. A huge tourist trap to take money, not the type of thing I was in the mood for. I cruised the outer rim of the town for a place to sleep and found a spot that would do nicely. It was a very old baseball diamond complete with encloused dugouts, one of which was left open. Behind a shed was a perfect spot to hide my bike.

Now knowing I had a place to call home for the night I set out for the first beautiful ride of this trip. The badlands is a small sandstone mountain range. Not much grows there, hence the name, but it made for some amazng photos and riding. The park was much larger than I thought and I found myself hugging turns and doging fluttering bats in the pitch black. I eventually made it back to wall and to my dugout. Before I got off my bike I looked at my little knook and realized just how miserably dirty I really felt. The idea of sleeping on concret didnt appease to me either. Minutes later I found myself begging an old lady that managed a run down motel to cut me a deal... and she did. I would have paid $30 bucks for just a shower at that point. I immediately jumped into the shower and hit the hay for a long nights sleep. The next day was going to be fun: Mt Rushmore and the Black Hills National Park

Across Iowa

2007-07-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

I successfully made it to the University of Iowa on the first day of the trip. I visited my friend Drew, who you can read about under the 'Great People' list. He even gave me the bed in his spare room, no sleeping on the floor! The next morning I woke up to heavy clouds and warnings of all day showers and possible severe storms, so I jumped on my bike wearing my goofy looking rain suit and tried to outrun it. At 65 mph bugs feel like paint balls when they hit you and raindrops feel like needles. I eventually came out of the storm and saw nothing but sunny, blue sky in front of me and slate gray nasty skies in my mirrors.

At first I was downright giddy to be on the road again but that eventually gave way to me slumping over in my seat and hoping for something worth stopping for... besides gas and finding out that my saddle bags are burning. My bike is only getting 32 mpg for some reason and it is forcing me to stop every 80 miles to fill up. Hopefully, there will be gas stations every 80 miles in South Dakota and something more to look at than the Iowa landscape.

Last night I stayed with some friend's of Drew's friend. She offered to set me up with some old college buddies of hers. They were very nice and had a comfortable couch, which I passed out on while they drank beer and watched T.V. until late into the night. Riding a motorcycle all day takes a lot out of you and leaves you wanting to skip any small talk and go right to sleep.

Today is all South Dakota and I hope I have enough time to make it to the Badlands by this evening. Wish me luck.

2007-07-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

Today I leave and I am very excited. Not especially about getting on the road, but I am happy for that, but to escape all of these goodbyes! Luckily, nobody has cried yet. As you can see in the picture I have my huge backpack strapped to my sissy bar and a pair of massive saddle bags filled with motorcycle stuff and food. I just topped off the fluids and checked all the air pressure and I'm good to go...

*Horse race announcer* "Ladies and gentlemen, he is looking ancy on that bike in the garage. His engine is warmed and he is about to- AND THERE HE GOES!!! Rocketing out of the open garage as if it were a missile silo! He is rounding his first turn to get out of his subdivision... hes on his first busy street now, flying at an amazing 40mph!!! Oh wait he's pulled off to get gas.... One moment folks... AND THERE GOES AGAIN!!! Flying down route 30 and onto Orchard road!! Wait, hes pulling off again... and saying goodbye to one more person.... *sighs* Well looks like its going to be a long race. Okay, he is finnally on the interstate... woo hoo."

About this Site

2007-07-08T06:54:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my website! There is lots here to read. I suggest starting with the list of links on the right side. You can read about me, about the trip, track where I am on a map, contact me and even see my resume'. One of the more interesting features on the site is the ability to request gifts and postcards while I'm on the road!

The main function of the site is to link you, the reader, to my trip. I'll do my best to update it at least once a week with new photos and stories. Remember that you can comment on my posts. Enjoy!

Explanation of The Journey

2007-07-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

After my freshman year at ISU, I took a short trip to backpack around Europe. I became hooked on the backpacker/hobo lifestyle but did not like particular aspects of how I went about my trip and developed my own philosophy of travel. These aspects are what have shaped the travel style and the type of trip I am embarking on.

"Around the world by heading west, without planes and on a shoestring budget."

Around the World…

The greatest distance for any type of journey. What a colossal accomplishment to actually make it all the way around. One of the best perks to setting this stipulation is that I would never pass the same place twice, never turn around, only go straight until I suddenly come back to where I started, which brings me to a spatial enigma. If I go straight, away from a place and keep going until I come back to, what would seem to be, the same place… can it really be the same place, or would the place be the same and I be the spatial paradox? (Physics majors are not allowed to answer this)

…By Heading West…

Really there were only two logical decisions when it came to picking a direction; I want to avoid the polar icecaps so that left east or west. I chose west because of all of the great immigrations, and the small ones, that have affected my life were all westward movements. The first American settlers came from the east and then expanded west across the continent. The Great Potato Famine brought my Irish ancestors and the Bolshevik Revolution brought my Russian great grandparents. They settled with Native American women, one of which gave birth to my grandfather, who eventually hitchhiked from Arkansas to California. Let’s just say that I come from a long line or westward traveling, lonely men.

Besides the historical reasons for heading west there is one more very large factor affecting my decision to head west over east: time travel. That’s right, I said time travel. By heading west I gain an hour each time I enter a new time zone. This means that if I go all the way around the world and, according to you I was gone 300 days, to me I would have only experienced being gone for 299 days. If taking some time off after college to experiment with time travel isn’t a good use of time, I don’t know what is. Hopefully future employers will see it my way.
There is one last reason why I like heading west. It's a bit corny. Over the duration of this trip I will be following the sun's path, ending each day by heading into the sunset. This is the reason for the photo at the top of the page. I like it, I think it sets up a nice ambiance.

…Without Planes...

The use of planes is great for when you are in a rush but, I am not in a rush. When I flew to Europe I hated how I got on a plane, fell asleep and woke up halfway around the world. I missed all the transition areas between cultures and places. While cruising at 500 miles an hour at 35,000 feet, think about how much I missed. Most importantly, I had no feel for how far away I was and, because of that disconnect with the distance, never got an appreciation for being far away. On this trip I want to feel like I am on the other side of the planet, like I’ve covered a lot of distance. These are the reasons why I want to stay away from planes.
*** Although this philosophy is still very important to me. As of September 19th I boarded a plan to start making my way to Hawiia and then on to Asia. I had exauhsted all other means of travel. Please read the corresponding entry for more of an explanation ***

…On a Shoestring Budget…

I didn’t get to choose my budget, I got to choose when to take the trip. Time allows for now but my wallet happens to be very thin. Even if I did have a lot of money I still think I would travel cheaply just because I tend to get to know a country better that way. Who would you rather meet on a train in India: The westernized businessperson in first class or the culturally traditional person riding coach with their chickens? I love chicken… I’m hungry. I’ll be saving money wherever I can by sleeping under the stars or eating canned food from grocery stores instead of at restaurants. I’ll try to pick up odd jobs wherever I can along the way. For the amount of distance I want to travel I am going to need to stretch a dollar pretty far.

Failure

I try not to talk about this too much but I feel that I have to. In all seriousness my money could run out much quicker than I estimate. To make this trip a success, I'm going to need a lot of luck and I may not get it. I know I will at LEAST, at bare minimum luck, ride my motorcycle across the U.S. and to the west coast, seeing much family and beauty on the way. I'll be happy with a failure like that.

The Grad Party

2007-06-19T13:41:00.000-07:00

All of last week was devoted to preparing the house for the party. There were about 100 people in attendance and they all seemed to have a good time. We all celebrated by stuffing our faces with catered food, drinking free beer and me accepting vast amounts of cards with monetary gifts inside. luckily there were no cicadas.

The party was also an opportunity for me to get a very significant photo. Of all of the friends I have had over the years only a select few are still around. The people in this photo are my dearest friends... and they are all girls. This party was the only thing that has ever and will ever get them in the same place. Going from left to right: Kristin, "Stark", Me, Kathleen and Sena. After returning from this trip, these are the people I will be calling and sharing my stories with first. Most importantly, the time limit on my trip is a result of one of these people getting married and I refuse to miss it for anything on this Earth. Also, day I leave has been postponed until the day after Kristin's grad party (July 15th)

Thank you to everybody that came. I hope you had a good time. Pay close attention to this site because some of the funds you donated to me may be used on this trip. I suggest adding this site to your favorites or, even better, your RSS feed.

Countdown til Takeoff

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Its about one month before I leave and I really cant wait to get on the road. Waiting around here is really taking its tole. It is very lonely in this town nowadays and I don't even have a job to keep me busy. Ive been working some odd jobs to give me something to do so if you need your lawn mowed please let me know. I could really use anything to help kill time before my grad party and then the family vacation in July.
I recently bought the motorcycle that will take me on the first leg of my trip (hopefully not the only leg). I got a 1983 Honda 750. Thats right, its a year older than ME! Motorcycles are much simplier machines than cars, they age much slower. It does have some minor wear and tear: the right signal wont stay illuminated (still blinks when I need it to), there is a small dent in the gas can and a few very small rust spots. After a fluid change and a wash it was running and looking great until I accidentally drained the battery. I tried to start it while I had it hooked up to a charger and now my meters wont light up. Oh well, I got a great price (practically stole it) and with a little work it will be ready for the long open road.

Who the Heck is Gavin?

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My Name is Gavin McDonald. I'm 22 years old and I live in a Chicago suburb. In May of 2007 I graduated from Illinois State University with majors in economics and finance. While at ISU, I was also involved in an organization called College Mentors for Kids. I mentored at risk 4^th graders in an effort to get them motivated to pursue a college education. In the photo is one of my little buddies named Kameron. I explored areas for future careers such as environmental studies, financial planning, economic development and even the Marine Corps. My interests have come to rest on environmental business and economic redevelopment. Before I go on to pursue a career I am going to use this gap of time between college and real life to take a little trip. After living a dismal junior and senior year at college I knew it was time to take a trip to shake off all the heebie jeebies from double majoring.

Other things about me:
I am a bit of a health nut. I really like to work out and eat well. I enjoy the being outdoors, snowboarding, outrunning my dog, political humor and arguing morals. I’m also addicted to Chap Stick and dark beer. I hate dancing… a lot. I live with my brother and step father.

Facebook me

Keep the Journey Going with Gifts from the Road

2007-06-03T10:26:00.000-07:00

The first words out of most of my friends' mouths when I tell them about this trip is usually "awesome... you're crazy" or "where are you going to sleep?" Then the second thing said is "SEND ME A POSTCARD!" Well, guess what everybody, thanks to the combination of everybody wanting gifts from the road, more Ryan Balfanz genius and a great idea that was not mine, you can all get your gifts!... as long as you donate.

So here is the deal. Depending on how much you donate the the trip fund is what you get.

$5+................... Postcard. Postcards and postage can get expensive. Ill use the $5 to send you the postcard from whatever outlandish place I am and then ill take the remaining dollar or so and try and feed myself.
$25+................. Gift. A handmade piece of jewelry from an Native American tribe, a vibrant scarf from the middle east or whatever else I can find at the local street market that screams the culture of the country I'm in.
$50+................ Significant gift. I'll take requests! A bottle of wine from Napa Valley, a Buddhist monk's sandals, an African spear, a Thia bar girl, a freakin' monkey?? for 50 bucks and if you play your cards right, I'll get you Kim Jung-Il's reading glasses! ->

$Other$+.................. If you enjoy the website, its stories, photos and want to see more, you can also make an "in-kind" donation. A couple bucks can score me some food or even a place to stay for the night, depending where I am. Every little bit can go a long way.

*** Make sure you email me your address. Credit card payments accepted ***

This is just one more way to be with me on this journey. Your name will also be proudly displayed here on the website.

Please not that I can not actually send you a monkey, a Thia prostitute or anything else that is illegal by U.S. or my host country's laws. This includes narcotics and bootlegged media. Sorry.

Drew Kondratowicz

2007-06-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

I met Drew after I slipped in the bathroom while taking my very first collegiate shower. I was bleeding from my brow and needed a band-aid, so logically, I went to my dormitory Resident Assistant who freaked out at the site of the blood and squealed like a little girl. We became friends over time and was the first one to introduce me to what backpacking was by sharing stories and photos from his recent trip to Europe.

Drew has come long way from a lowly dorm RA. He often expresses ideas for my travels in a jealous tone because he is stuck in Iowa doing genius things. Drew is a graduate student at the University of Iowa studying biology with emphasis in virology. Another genius friend, another great influence.

Rolf Potts

2007-06-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

Rolf Potts took off after college to backpack the U.S., then teach English in Korea, then he started backpacking Asia, then the middle east. To this day this man has no permanent address and wrote a book on the vagabond lifestyle tackling all issues from how to quit your job to the philosophy of living poor. It's a fantastic book and I recommend it to anybody that is thinking about hitting the road for awhile. He also has an amazing, group written blog about the travel lifestyle that adds to his plethora of published travel stories.

www.vagablogging.net

Ryan Balfanz

2007-06-02T08:17:00.000-07:00

Certain friends of mine have given help and influence that has greatly affected this trip. This is Ryan.
Ryan Balfanz has been a very influential person thus far in the development of this trip. Not only did he take the vast amount of time it took to hold my hand through the website building process, but he also introduced me to motorcycles. I jumped on the back of his bike on day in a joking manor and he took me for a short ride up the street... I hooked. I later went on to take the class to get my motorcycle license, and guess who my my instructor. Today he helps out with website questions I have and discusses motorcycle routes to the west coast.

Ryan Balfanz is now a graduate student studying physics. He does "Computational Condensed Matter Physics" right now, I don't really know what that means but hey, he is really smart. He is a mathematical giant, a computer genius and one of the nicest guys I know. He always takes the time to help others.

Visit his website at http://phy.ilstu.edu/~rbalfanz/

Contact Me

2007-06-01T15:30:00.000-07:00

Email me: GavinRMcDonald@gmail.com

Call me on my cell while im in the US at 347-200-0568

If you are looking for travel advice then feel free to shoot me a hoot. I enjoyed my time on the road and am happy to help others get out there.

Thank You for your Contribution

2007-06-01T12:04:00.000-07:00

Money is not quite as tight thanks to you. I hope you have enjoyed what you have read here and I look forward to your future reading enjoyment and lively comments. Have a fantastic day and I suggest you make it even better by boasting your generosity to everybody you come in contact with. Thanks again!

Spread the word about this site!

Links

2007-06-01T08:54:00.000-07:00