A Day in the Snow

Road Trip!!

Today I set off on a sort of road trip, I was off to see my son. The only drawback to this trip was I had to travel by myself. My solution to my impending boredom while making a five hour drive? A camera.

Yes, I took almost all of the pictures that are about to follow while driving. Yes, I know that seems a little dangerous. Yes, I was as careful as I could be.

This is the start of the drive. Anyone familiar with the Northern Coast of Califonia will recognize US 101. There isn't much more to say about that.

My first stop took me to the Dyreville Overlook. This area, once the town of Dyreville, is now nothing more that a popular place to hit the river in the summer. As it turns out, Dyreville was named after a guy named Charles Dyer (go figure) in 1890. The town prospered for a while but was wiped out by a flooded Eel River in 1955. Then, whatever was left of the town was burried with the construction of Hiway 101.

The next portion of my journey found me staring into the maw of the redwood forrest. This particular portion of roadway is known as the Avenue of the Giants. This is a very windy portion of road, and quite scenic. I would have loved to have stayed on it, but I ran in to a snag at the Dyreville lookout. When I got out of the car I realized that I would be needing a men's room sometime in the near future, or I would be in trouble. So the Avenue of the Giants was not to be today. A quest for a reasonably clean crapper took precedence.

This picture, taken mid quest, conveys a couple of feelings. One, there is a certain amount of nervousness that arises when you drive a very windy road and decid that you need to be in at least one picture for the day.

Second, there is a certain amount of urgency that a man feels when he is on a long stretch of Hiway, not sure when the next rest stop is, and wonders if he is going to make it. Yes, that's me in the driver's seat, and yeah, its urgent.

I can honestly say I have never fealt the urge to take a photo of a rest stop bathroom, but this was a special circumstance. As I pulled in to the rest stop, unsure of what lay ahead of me, I entered the toilet stall. Much to my surprise, I found the stall clean and fresh smelling. It was a pleasure to be there. I also found a full roll of quilted toilet paper, not the sandpaper-like version one comes to expect. I left a happy man, felt a picture was in order.

I just want to make it known that if you are on a two lane hiway, and passing is not an option (even though the broken yellow line makes it legal), this is not the view you want to have through your windsheild. The hind end of a semi is an eye sore at best, and watching as the driver passes turn out after turn out is grating on the nerves.

This gentleman here, holding the slow sign and dressed in a very fashionable yellow jumpsuit, is quite arguably one of the most powerful men on the planet. This guy can shut down the interstate and put anyone's and everyone's travel plans on hold with the flip of a sign. And who does he have to answer to? We, the motoring community, have to answer to the CHP officer who seems to also answer to the Slow Sign Guy. Where are priorities in this world?

You can tell you are near the end of the trip by change in the scenery.

Gone are the towering redwoods and winding rivers. All that is left are endless fields of green stuff. Yeah, I am almost there, and things look pretty good. I'll post more tomorrow.

An apology.

** I originally made an entry here that has now been altered. After what was not really meant ot be a sappy comment on friendship (this statement is not meant to downplay anything here), I have decided it sounded too serious, and deserved a little more detail. So while some portions of this comment will be unalterd, there are some additions as well. **

In a recent post I talked about Tia, and how she arrived to the nickname "Stinky." In that post I refered to a co-worker who rented me a room. She deserves a little more credit, actually a lot more credit, than being billed as a co-worker, so here is the story.

After a bad relationship issue, I ended up on a friends couch. One night I went to Dean's place for poker night (one of our favorite things to do) and I was talking about my bleak situation. Dean, always being a guy who wants to help fins a solution, syas this: "Brenda has been thinking about a roommate, but has never been sure if she really wants one. Let me talk to her and see how she feels about the idea."

At that point I couldn't say no to any offer that might end up in me not sleeping on a couch, so I said Ok.

Here is what I knew of Brenda at the time: She was supervisor at the office, she was heald in pretty high regard, she had come out of a marriage on bad terms, and one night she showed me her belly button ring (which is really alot more innocent than it sounds, I promise!). Beyond that, I didn't know her much other than seeing her at work here and there. But for whatever reason, after thinking about it for a while, she simply said something like, "Yeah, I'll let Adam live here." And that was that.

What followed was really a pretty good two years. We had some good times, we had some bad times, and we tried to plant a lawn in her back yard (which didn't really go as planned). Fortunately we share an affinity for Monty Python, and there were plenty of jokes to go around there. And one morning I came out of my room in my skivies, thinking she had gone to work already. At some point I heard the TV on, but it didn't register. This was slightly embaressing, but really in the end made things a lot more comfortable in end, a good ice breaker.

So to my good friend Brenda, let me say you are infinately more than a Co-Worker, you are my friend, and "I fart in your general direction!"

A trip with unexpected results.

I have had this idea in my head for a while that I would cruise around town and take a few pictures. After all, the North Coast has a lot to see, you justhave to gt off your carcass and get out of the house to see it. So today, with Delia working, I thought it was the right time to take on this venture.

Its a little cold, and rainy, so as I was driving down the street I saw the first subject of my photo essay. Admittedly, this is not what I had in mind when I was thinking of all the photo opportunities the day might present me with. So, having that task done, it was time to move on.

I got in the Toyota and turned on the engine, lets the things continue to warm up a little, and sipped on my favorite, over priced beverage. Now, I figured with the warming affect of Starbacks coffee there would be no stopping me. I was on the way to a photographic masterpiece.

Here is where I found myself: Th Pro Sports Center. Now, this has even less to do with the scenery of the North Coast than Starbucks. But it is also the closest thing I have to a Dive Shop in town. So, as I do every now and then, I stopped in and decided to do a little browsing.

I can thank Iver for myfacination with the underwater world, and for introducing me to the idea of Diving in the first place. The Pro Sports Center (from now on referred to as TPSC in order to save myself valuable time while typing) has a decent selection of gear. But because they are an "all around" kind of store, its nothing compared to stores that are devoted specificaly to the sport. When I got to the top of the stairs to check teh dive section I found they are selling their rentals for a very reasonable price. So I put one on hold, and plan to go back tomorrow and do a little more investigating.

There is a certain amount of excitement I feel when I think about the upcoming summer and the prospect of SCUBA diving. Its hard to explain, but everything is differen underwater, and the world takes on a new meaning. I don't mean this in some sort of prolific or thought provoking way, I simply mean there are things under the water, even at just 20 feet of depth, that would ake the average person simply stare in amazement. Allow me to show a few examples from my trip to Jamaica.

Allow me to introduce Catherine. Ths Catherine is a 50 foot Canadian Mine Sweeper that was sunk on the nortern coast of Jamaica in order to create an artificial reef. This, sadly, is the only dive of about 8 that I did where there is supporting photo documentation. These striped little reef fish were very photogenic, and were quite teh camera hogs. They did their best to get into just about every picture I took around Catherine.

Catherine sits in about 50 feet of water. At depth, things always look bigger than they are, this is actually caused by wearing a diving mask (there aresome sort of physics involved here, but I couln't begin to explain them to you). Here I am, happily breathing compressed air in about 30 feet of water, sitting on the bow of the ship. You might aso notice I am representing the Bass Pro Shops,

wearing their shirt as about the only piece of exposure protection

(something we CAN NOT do on the north coast due to water temperatures.

After leaving Catherine behind, which I was reluctant to do, we swam through a series of valleys, back to the waiting dive boat. These were quite beautiful, and I had to say I was impressed with the dive master's knowledge of these canyons as he led us through them with no hesitency and straight back to the boat. This particular canyon caught my eye. But, admittedly, what turned out to be a fairly nice shot was a total accident (the camera I was using was pretty cheap).

Near the end of the dive I found the next shot. This one was no accident, I'm just grateful it trnedout as good as it did.

Often referred to as "God Rays," light from the sun coming through shallow water is beautiful in every aspect. Here it was shing on a rock covered in every sort of sponge and coral the area had to offer. I surfaced here, and boarded the boat for the 20 minute trip back to shore. On the way back, all I could think was I couldn't wait until the next day to do it again.

Is it any wonder I get so excited thinking about diving again? I don't think so.

It seems as though we are destined to spend obscene amounts of money at the Vet. My latest story of animal antics? Sadly, this one I think is my fault.

When I moved to Eureka I was alone and Ben was looking to move to Florida for 4 years while his step father was assigned the an air base near Pensacola. My landlord, a fairly nice person all together, said I could get a cat. So off to the animal shelter I went, simply looking. One in particular caught my attention, but I couldn't make the decision then because I was in and out of town over the next couple fo weeks. When things settled down, back to the shelter I went, there was Tia, still there in her kennel and still looking at me like I needed to get her out.

So I payed the bond and we became good friends. Then something bad happened: I met a girl.
Now, it wasn't so bad to begin with, in fact things seemed pretty good. Then things got bad, and I eventually had to get out of the relationship (its a long and sordid story that I will not get into here). So a friend, knowing of my troubles, said I could stay at his house. So on his couch I slept for about 2 months, maybe a little longer. Then I found a place I could go to permanently, rooming with a co-worker. This turned out to be a good arrangement, although I could not take Tia with me. Again, my friend came to my aid and said she could stay with him until I found a place of my own. So off I went, and finding a place of myown took about 2 years.

Then Delia and I decided to move in together. She came with two cats. I came with a dog. So I figured it was time I unburdened my friend. Tia came back to us. The problem? She smelled funny. We couldn't figure it out. She just smelled bad. It turned out it was her breath. And as she would groom herself, she would just make her whole bosy stink. This halatosis of hers, would get worse and nearly go away all together for quite some time. The other day, she jumped on my lap for a littl bit of nuzzling. As I was petting her I thought to myself that her bad breath had reached an all time high on the Good-Grief-You-Stink-O-Meter. Then I noticed that she has a loose tooth. She is in desperate need of dental work, which would have been no where near as bad as it is probably going to be, if I had taken care of it eariler.

She goes in this afternoon. I'll have to update when I get the bad news. The only thing I can say is I screwed up. Now poor Tia's mouth and my bank account are paying the price. I'm willing. I think Tia might need sedation.