Trips: Bryce Canyon National Park

May 5 and 6, 2011

Just two hours away from Zion is Bryce Canyon.  

Right off the bat, I can say I wish I spent more time here.  But with the alien landscape that is Utah, you must pick your battles.  My focus was Zion and Arches.  The first lesson learned was obvious: I'll be returning to Utah.  No doubt about that. 

Ah, hoodoos, those mysterious rock formations shaped by the powerful erosive forces of wind and water.  I didn't realize that Bryce Canyon was at such altitude; it was on average 1,000 feet higher than Zion, with a peak altitude near 9,000 feet if my memory serves.  The air certainly felt thinner.  As to why the hoodoos form, it makes more sense to me when I was there.  With the altitude, the endless cycle of water and ice and freezing and thawing, yeah, I bet over a million years you'd get some weird rock formations.  We were visiting in May.  I was wearing a sweatshirt and winter hat.  

From a bird's eye, the view of these formations are most incredible during sunrise and sunset.  Men and women before me obviously figured this out; two of the most dramatic viewpoints are Sunrise View and Sunset View.  At these times of day the sun accentuates and underscores the already dramatic nature of the hoodoos.  It's hard to describe.  For those who have been to the Grand Canyon, it's the same effect.  I caught sunset at Sunset View.  I caught sunrise at Sunrise View.  And as awesome as these views and the other views are, it's even better when you get to explore them up close on the trails.

The hikes are different than Zion.  The paths feel more like mazes.  You ascend and descend into what feels like a labyrinth.  The park is named after Ebenezer Bryce, who famously (supposedly) remarked that this place would be a helluva place to lose a cow.  No arguments there.  If not for the well-maintained trails, it is easy to get lost as your eyes tend to look up and around at all these hoodoos.  Good luck using any of these are reliable landmarks.  We took the Sunrise Trail to Queen's Path.  Before you know it, you're standing beside these incredible structures.  I remember hiking down with this other couple, and we were literally giddy with these amazing structures.  We spent a few hours of hiking before we turned back to the main lodge for dinner.  

The next morning we visited Bryce, Paria, and Inspiration Points.  Yet there were still 18 miles worth of roads and viewpoints that we couldn't get to.  Add those to a future checklist.  Come back to Bryce Canyon too?  You bet.
 

Trips: Zion National Park II (Angels Landing)

May 5, 2011

Two words: Angels Landing.

What is Angels Landing?  It is the hike at Zion.  It is a 4-hour and over 5-mile round-trip hike with a near 2000-foot change in altitude, with final altitude just shy of 6,000 feet.  We read about Angels Landing in the pamphlet provided at the entrance.  I read about it in the hiking book I bought from the gift shop.  Each time we read the descriptions, we shuddered.  Then keep in mind my brother Jay had completed his first hike when we first arrived at Zion only twelve hours prior.  That might be a bit much for him, I thought.  That might be a bit much for me, I thought.  Then I looked up Angels Landing on Wikipedia.  Sure, the picture was inspiring/terrifying.  Again, repeated phrases such as "fear of heights" and "any reservations" suggested not doing the hike.  But here was what really got me.  The first section in that Wikipedia page was Fatalities!  SERIOUSLY??  Fatalities was the first section??!!

We hiked to Angels Landing.

The day before we hiked we saw the shirts in the gift shop.  Different ones for those who attempted (failed) and for those who succeeded (triumphed).  I initially thought we weren't going to do the trail, for all those aforementioned reasons.  I had gone to bed thinking, One day I'll make it ... but not tomorrow.  Before I knew it we were attempting the trail.  

It was tremendously cold.  After the first half hour, we found ourselves at slowly increasing slopes and grades.  I was dressed in a winter hat, t-shirt with a black sweatshirt, shorts, and boots.  I had four bottles of water on me.  The hat come off.  The first bottle of water was finished.  Then we ran into a couple making their way down.  They insisted we make it to Angels Landing.  It started as "We'll see what happens."  It increasingly turned into "Why the hell not?!"

The heart was pumping.  All muscles were working.  Forty-five minute mark: we hit Walter's Wiggles, a series of 21-switchbacks leading up to Scout's Lookout.  We managed to slowly but surely negotiate Walter's Wiggles.  (I remember our way down, passing people making their way up.  The magical catch phrase was "Holy crap!")  We arrived at Scout's Lookout.  I was hunched over and pursed-lip breathing.  We took a break. 

Decision time.  Despite numerous signs, again reminders with warnings against those with children or fear of heights, I felt we had gone too far to turn back.  Since we're already here ... As is always the case, the adrenaline rush was there.  Jay was agreeable.  We took pictures of the warning signs.  Not sure why.  Perhaps a reminder of our stupidity if we survived.

The spine leading towards Angels Landing was steep and narrow.  There were a series of chains to support your way up.  I didn't even want to think of the prospect of coming back down, which was always much harder.  Psychologically, at least.  The first mind-fuck (Angels Landing Mind Fuck #1): The chains aren't continuous!  There were spots where you are only on a few feet of ledge with nothing but thousand-foot drop-offs on either side.  Which leads to the second mind-fuck (ALMF #2): THERE ARE THOUSAND-FOOT DROP-OFFS ON EITHER SIDE!!!  That's right!  You look to your left and see you the pencil thin road below.  (For a moment, you remember how safe you felt on that road thousands of feet below.)  You look to your right and you see the pencil thin river, which up close is not so pencil thin.  You look ahead and the trail seems equally pencil thin.  A woman was behind me and she reminded herself that she was afraid of heights.  Which then reminded me of my fear of heights.  I tried to put it past me ... until we ran into a twenty-something year old girl who was shivering.  She said she was petrified and couldn't go forward.  Fantastic!  And then I realized the next mind fuck (ALMF #3): Not only do you have to negotiate narrow space, but you have to negotiate with people going up, going down, or stopped in their tracks!  Twister, if you will, to the extreme!  Despite all of these factors, the adrenaline rush still trumped all the reservations and fears, and we pushed forward.  Jay had the adrenaline rush.  He went from hesitant to start, to leading our charge.  The trail seemed to get steeper and steeper, requiring increasing upper body strength to reach this mysterious place called Angels Landing.  We took frequent stops.  The views got better with altitude.  So did the hike.  Which made taking pictures or videos that much trickier.  It's hard to rock climb and pull yourself on chains when you have a camera in one hand.  The ALMFs, all of them, kept repeating and reminding us of their presence: you'd see a drop-off only to realize you had to tango with people coming down.  Then with increasing altitude came ALMF #4: BLOWING WINDS!  We'd keep climbing and climbing and just when we thought we were making our "final push" a rock cliff had been hiding another several hundred feet of mountainous spine to climb (ALMF #5).  We made several final pushes.  Until we finally made it to Angels Landing!  We celebrated!  We took photos.  We took video.  And then Jay said, "What's over there?"  Premature celebration.  We hiked the final five minutes.  At exactly the two-hour mark we made it to Angels Landing.  

Angels Landing is an amazing hike.   

I always love the camaraderie with hikes like these.  Angels Landing was no exception. 

Jay edited a video; he took footage with his handheld camera.  I received the video in the mail a few days ago.  I watched it.  What were we thinking??!! I thought.  The shakiness of the video (through no fault of my brother; consider hiking and taking video with this dramatic change in altitude) added to the tension of the hike.  In fact, I was more stressed by the video than the actual hike itself.  And I knew the outcome!  

I had been searching the web for other people's pictures.  Then I found a picture off of the web site Joe's Guide to Zion National Park.  This picture is the precise moment of where my fear had peaked; one of the most narrow points during the hike coinciding with a pause in the chains, a bit of a skip-jump to the next step, and drop offs on both sides.  This is a priceless shot off of his web site: beautiful yet terrifying ...

The hike down was simpler.  It was still tiring though.  It took a toll on my knees.  But the chants of "Holy Crap!" down Walter's Wiggles made me laugh.  So did watching two teenagers attempt to run up all 21 switchbacks of Walter's Wiggles and predictably fail.  Back at Zion Lodge Jay and I indulged in a victorious meal.  Jay got his victory burger.  I got my victory bratwurst.  We soaked it all in.  But not for too long.  Bryce Canyon was calling ...

Trips: Zion National Park I (Arrival)

May 4, 2011

This place is beautiful.

I'm a sucker for a palette of colors, mountain ranges, and canyons.  Through in a winding river, that can't hurt either.  Jay and I made the three-hour drive from Vegas.  We checked into Zion Lodge.  (A very comfortable place to stay with a great restaurant.)  It was Jay's first time, so the first afternoon involved a series of easy hikes.  Riverside was paved.  A nice hike, featuring numerous deer.  It ended at The Narrows, a trail I'd love to do if not for the immense water levels and fear of drowning due to inability to swim.  On our way back, Jay got sidetracked getting as close as possible to some deer.  I stayed back and watched.  Some passerbys stopped.  "Who's that guy?" one asked.  "I hope he knows deer attack."  I responded: "And that's my brother." Weeping Rock was a short but steep 15 minute hike to a rock over ledge, under which you perch with not only a view of the mountains and valley but water trickles over and around you via the ledge.  A beautiful spot.  Zion was full of beautiful spots.  We ended that first day with the Lower Emerald Pool hike.  Again, paved and meandering with grand views.  So funny how this was only three hours away from Las Vegas.  Such different worlds. I enjoyed this new one.
 

Excerpt from Desert Solitaire

Delicate Arch (05/07/2011)

Excerpt from Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire (1968):

There are several ways of looking at Delicate Arch.  Depending on your preconceptions you may see the eroded remnant of a sandstone fin, a giant engagement ring cemented in rock, a bow-legged pair of petrified chaps, a triumphal arch for a procession of angels, an illogical geologic freak, a happening-a something that happened and will never happen quite that way again, a frame more significant that its picture, a simple monolith eaten away by weather and time and soon to disintegrate into a chaos of falling rock (not surprisingly there have been some, even in the Park Service, who advocate spraying Delicate Arch with a fixative of some sort-Elmer's Glue perhaps or Lady Clairol Spray-Net).  There are the inevitable pious Midwesterners who climb a mile and a half under the desert sun to view Delicate Arch and find only God ("Gol-dangit Katherine where's my light meter, this glare is turrible"), and the equally inevitable students of geology who look at the arch and see only Lyell and the uniformity of nature.  You may therefore find proof for or against His existence.  Suit yourself.  You may see a symbol, a sign, a fact, a thing without meaning or a meaning which includes all things.

Much the same could be said of the tamarisk down in the canyon, of the blue-black raven croaking on the cliff, of your own body.  The beauty of Delicate Arch explains nothing, for each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally beautiful.  (There is no beauty in nature, said Baudelaire.  A place to throw empty beer cans on Sunday, said Mencken.)  If Delicate Arch has any significance it lies, I will venture, in the power of the odd and unexpected to startle the senses and surprise the mind out of their ruts of habit, to compel us into a reawakened awareness of the wonderful-that which is full of wonder.

A weird, lovely, fantastic object out of nature like Delicate Arch has the curious ability to remind us-like rock and sunlight and wind and wilderness-that out there is a different world, older and greater and deeper by far than ours, a world which surrounds and sustains the little world of men as sea and sky surrounds and sustain a ship.  The shock of the real.  For a little while we are again able to see, as the child sees, a world of marvels.  For a few moments we discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous then all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures ..." 

FC Barcelona Defeats Manchester United

Sometimes you have to prioritize.  Despite having to work today, I managed to see my patients, sneak in a haircut, pay some pills, return to work, teach my intern about nephritic and nephrotic syndromes, eat lunch, and leave by noon.  Did laundry.  Started packing for Key West.  Why?  Hell if I'm gonna miss watching the UEFA Champions League final!  

A few years ago, I remember watching Tiger and Federer in the their prime.  But watching Barcelona and Lionel Messi now is even more impressive.  Joel and I texted back numerous times during the game.  It was close after the first half.  But in the end, it was classic Barcelona.  Pedro, Messi, and Villa score.  Messi was Man of the Match.  Talk about prime-time.  I'll be wearing my Messi jersey to work tomorrow.

What did I do after the game?  Rewatched the highlights; God bless DVR.  Joel told me he took a post-game nap.  I ate a post-game bacon cheeseburger at Grindhouse, a pretty good burger joint dangerously close to my apartment.  I started reading Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire and already it brings me back to the wonderful Arches. 

I look forward to next futbol season.  I approve of the new black away kits for FC Barcelona. 

Barca, Barca, Barca!!!

Books: Medium Raw

Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw *** - I love Anthony Bourdain.  Why?  He tells it how it is.  He uses the F word a lot.  But he's eloquent.  It's different than Kitchen Confidential: it's more a series of essays than a chronological set of stories.  Yes, there's a whole chapter on the hamburger.  The chapter Lust: pure food porn.  I love his essay on protecting his daughter from the evil empire (McDonald's).  My second favorite chapter is I'm Dancing: a love letter to his daughter.  My absolute favorite is My Aim is True, and it's by far the best chapter of these two books: an ode to the fish guy at Le Bernardin in NYC.  Beautifully written and moving.  One of the best written pieces I can remember reading in a long time.  And that makes me so freaking jealous: the way he eats, travels, gets paid to be himself, and writes eloquently?  Unfair.  He knows it.  Did he actually write a chapter about a subpar experience at a Keller restaurant?  For sure.  That's insane.  How I live vicariously through him, the bastard.

Traveling is My Addiction

I'm addicted.  

I've done more traveling these first six months of 2011 than I've ever had in my life.  That's a feat considering how much I travel anyway.  Then consider we're only five months into 2011 and I stayed put in Atlanta in February.

This year, I've done some amazing things: indulge in low-country cuisine in Charleston; visit Fort Sumter; climb Petit Piton in Saint Lucia and celebrate with a seafood buffet at Ladera; relax on Lover's Beach, eat at Edith's, and parasail in Cabo San Lucas; catch up with my cousin and friends in Honolulu; eat a loco moco; hike the Kalalau Trail; take a helicopter tour of the Napali Coast and Waimea Canyon; catch Yankees spring training down in Tampa with Yankee faithful; relax on the deserted Caladesi Beach (reached only by boat) or Siesta Key; visit pandas, giraffes, and elephants at San Diego Zoo; catch a Padres home game, catch a Texas Rangers home game; finally attend the Coachella Music Festival and its dry desert heat; high five David Hasselhoff at a Duran Duran concert; indulge in the seafood and po' boys in NOLA and at Jazzfest; dive face-first into the Famous Ferdi at Mother's; catch up with my brother in Las Vegas; have a burger at In & Out; hike the near 6,000-foot Angels Landing in Zion; wander through Queen's Garden in Bryce Canyon; hike to Delicate Arch at Arches National Park as I watch the wind steal my brother's hat; and rendezvous with co-workers for Texas BBQ in Dallas ...

I'm working day 9 of 16 in a row, and I can feel the travel withdrawal symptoms developing: anxiety over being in the same city too long, racing thoughts of places to see, nightmares of not being well-traveled abroad, and the need to create lists - food lists, music lists, baseball stadiums to visit - all ultimately related to the travel experience!  I don't check my email as much: I blitzkrieg travel sites looking for ideas, deals, hotels, breaks on airfare, and somehow try to do as much as possible without making it stressful.  My friends joke that I could be a travel planner.  I bet I could.  Seriously.  Earlier this year, I wasn't just planning Cabo when I talked with Leah.  I was planning Hawaii and Florida too!

I've already booked things well into September.  Kendra's wedding; yeah, I've thought that out and even hold tickets for Bumbershoot.  Two weeks later is ACL; I've already booked a ticket to Houston and plan to catch an Astros game, maybe visit Johnson Space Center, and I've created a salivating BBQ eat list, tracking from Houston to Lockhart to Austin.  Working backwards, Chicago and Lollapalooza is already mapped out.  I have my fingers crossed for Nirali & Rishi's wedding.  A BBQ run with Becca to Alabama and Tennessee, and will finally hit up the much eluded Rendezvous.  Intercepting Joel and Christy in Maine in July.  A trip back to the Northeast in June to help Leah move.  I leave for Fort Lauderdale in about a week.  A few days of relaxation in Islamaroda before the weekend in Key West.

The thing is that I really like Atlanta.

So who do I blame on this affliction?  Excluding myself, there are many people to blame.  There are also a few non-human entities to blame too.

My parents.  Growing up, we went on a lot of family vacations with my parents and my Grandma.  We took lots of road trips.  We explored the Caribbean quite frequently.  Many cruises when I grew up, the first one when I was under 10 years of age.  We did Hawaii and Alaska within a six month window when I was in high school.  That was awesome.  So yes, my parents are to blame.  Oh, and they came to America basically with one-way tickets when they were in their mid-twenties?  Yeah.

Kendra.  I must say, she may be the singular greatest influence.  She had this need to see and do everything.  It was ridiculously infectious.  I blame her.

Leah.  In the seven years we've known each other, we've rendezvoused all over the map: Boston, New York, DC, Minnesota, Austin, Nashville, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Cabo San Lucas, and Greece.  I blame her too.

The medical field.  All the interviews across the country for residency.  For others, interviews across the country for medical school beforehand and fellowship afterwards.  The medical diaspora pitting friends near and dear all over the country.

Too much good food.  Yes, I will travel to NYC for bagels, pizza, and pastrami.  I will not eat seafood in Atlanta; I'd rather wait until I'm back in NY, Charleston, or NOLA.  Mexican food?  I'll wait until I'm in Mexico, Texas, or Southern California.  I'll fly to Kansas City for BBQ.  I'll eat cheesesteaks in Philadelphia.  Ever watch Man vs. Food?  Probably a bad idea that I, as a doctor, idolize Adam Richman.  Did I mention my BBQ list for when I go to Houston and Austin in September?

Dare I slow down?  Maybe a little bit.  Earlier this month in Dallas, I started to feel the exhaustion of my travels.  Plus, when I have to mail a Mother's Day card from Nevada and get a haircut in Texas, I know that I'm maybe spending too little time at home.

Is there a treatment for this?  You can give alcoholics benzodiazepines ... or alcohol.  But for my withdrawal?  I don't know.  I'm still young, unattached, and energetic.  I'm gonna keep going.  Am I addicted?  Hell yeah!  If you find a cure, don't tell me.  I'm loving this ride!

Food: Top 10 Foods I Ate at Jazzfest 2011

Initially, this was supposed to be a Top 10 Foods I Ate in NOLA list.  Clearly I didn't follow through with that.  Why?  One, it was too hard.  Second, a lot of my personal favorites are also cheap so should just be required eating.  I love eating in NOLA.

The Required Eating 

Cafe au lait and beignets at Cafe du Monde - Duh!  The original muffuletta at Central Grocery - I think choosing between the muffuletta and po' boy as the official sandwich of NOLA is damn near impossible.  They sell half and whole muffulettas.  Keep in mind, the half muffuletta is about 1.5 times the size of a standard sub.  The Famous Ferdi at Mother's Restaurant - Today, I went back and had it for the second time.  When I hopped on line, there were five people in front me; between the five of them, they ordered six of the Famous Ferdi po' boy.  What is it?  A glorious helping of the best ham ever, roast beef, mustard, cabbage, with a nice douse of gray known as debris (it literally is a debris of meat).  Premedicate with Tums, Zantac, Prilosec ... something!  Raw oysters at Acme Oyster House - Seriously.  Oh, and finally - anything that is local and Cajun!  Gumbo, po' boys,  barbecue shrimp (at Deanie's ... drool ...), crawfish ... Basically, I think it's impossible to go wrong in NOLA!     

 

Top 10 Foods I Ate at Jazzfest
10. Mango Freeze (WWOZ Community Radio)
09. Fried Soft-Shell Crab Po' Boy (Galley Seafood Restaurant)
08. Muffuletta (DiMartino’s Famous Muffulettas)
07. Crawfish Sack (Patton's Caterers)
06. Pheasant, Quail & Andouille Gumbo (Prejean's Restaurant)
05. Beignets (Cafe du Monde)
04. Crawfish Beignets (Patton's Caterers)
03. Crawfish Monica (Kajun Kettle Foods, Inc.)
02. Louisiana Crawfish Po' Boy (Sharon & Guilherme Wegner)
01. Cochon de Lait Po' Boy (Love at First Bite)

Hands down, best food at any music festival.  If you disagree, reread this Top 10 list.  And this is only a fraction of the available food there, much of which I didn't even try!  Warning: If you plan to go for both weekends of Jazzfest, take the advice of a girl from Colorado with whom I spoke: "I lost five pounds in the week approaching this trip.  Not a coincidence."

An Incredible Week of World News

I came down to New Orleans for one reason: Jazzfest 2011.  This is the smallest detail in a week of news.

I arrived in New Orleans on April 28, 2011.  Later that day, once I got settled into my hotel room,  I watched the news and saw numerous severe thunderstorms and tornadoes rip through the southeast, particularly in Alabama, Mississippi, and Georgia.  I watched emotionally-affected meteorologists report tornado after tornado, including the devastating monster that ripped through Tuscaloosa and northern Birmingham.  I watched the aftermath.  The devastation and deaths.  It was heart-wrenching.

Within twenty-four hours, William & Catherine were married in England.  It was a beautiful royal wedding and amazing to witness.  Sure, I wasn't a fanatic like some, but when's the next time we will see a royal wedding or any wedding like this?  But it did bring flashbacks to years ago.  I remember I had gone to bed, I had left the VCR on to tape Saturday Night Live.  I woke up the next morning; I had taped news coverage of Princess Diana's death.  The world had been shocked.  In watching the William & Catherine wedding, it was incredible to see everything go right.  The ceremony was beautiful.  Catherine looked beautiful.  They both seem genuine, comfortable, and happy.  The pure joy expressed by the population was moving.  As for the two kisses?  Come on, that was awesome.  The House of Windsor seems true, modern, and real.  For once, it was a breath of fresh air to have genuinely good news.  And to see news reporters laugh and have a good time for a change?  That was fun too.

Last night, I was watching television when breaking news revealed Osama bin Laden had been killed.  I waited nearly an hour.  I watched President Obama's address to the nation and to the world.  I watched crowds start to gather outside the White House and Ground Zero.  In my mind, I flashed back to ten years ago, to everything I experienced during 9/11.  Like many interviewed on the news, it truly is a culmination of numerous emotions.  I am excited this evil man is gone from this world.  I have sadness, remembering all the victims and families affected nearly ten years ago.  I have the utmost respect and can only say infinite thank yous to those in the military and in those in any segment in public service.  I am proud to live in this country and be an American.  I am reminded of the bigger picture and what brings us all together.   

It is indeed a lot of news to swallow.  It has been a historic week.  It is almost difficult to process.  Then I think about where I am right now, in New Orleans, at Jazzfest.  New Orleans lives on and remains a great city.  At Jazzfest, I realize that I am seeing a glimpse of humanity at its best: people of all  walks of life, ages and backgrounds, from here and from all over the states and the world, coming together to celebrate life, and everything in it, food, music, and love.  It's a reminder that we all can get along. 

Trips: New Orleans

In progress ...

Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 3)

In progress ...

Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 2)

In progress ...

Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 1)

In progress ...