Traveling Alone: Let them know where you are

I am nearing 16 years as a traveling guy for a Fortune 500 and the side benefits are out of this world.  I personally have managed to visit all 50 states as probably many of of you all have.

Most of us have a little spot in us that gives that drive to do that special interest that appeals to you deeply.   I believe there's one TFA whose soul purpose is to visit a Starbucks in every state and there's one I know that can't pass up a chicken and waffle restaurant.  One of us out there collects Harley Davidson pins and visits a US National Park every chance he gets.  All these penchants are fun and usually do not expose you to any inherent dangers.

For me, it's photography and when I get that call for a new assignment, I start hitting google maps trying to figure out where and what I want to shoot.  However, I seem to sometimes get in a jam with my avocation.  You just need to think about your surroundings and be careful.  Things and situations can change quickly.

Case(s) in point:
Years ago, the HQ Team Leader called and sent me to Oregon.  Being from Louisiana, I was just mesmerized at the mountains as I drove south to Roseburg stopping often to snap a picture thinking I'd eventually run out of mountains.  Once there, I began to hear about Crater Lake so that was all I could think of until the weekend came.
 

When Saturday arrived, I pulled out my maps (no GPS for me then) and struck out on my quest.  Riding along, I noticed a waterfall coming off the side of a steep hill so I pulled over, grabbed my camera and began climbing a pile of rocks to get that perfect and up close shot of the cascade but as I began to make my way down,  my foot slipped on a mossy rock and found myself bouncing off a half dozen boulders before I came to a rest in a heap 15 feet below.

My camera was OK but I managed to break an elbow.   In pain, I continued on to Crater lake and took a couple of pics before getting back to the room and dosing up on ibuprofen until I could see a doctor the next day.


Then there was the time at an annual conference in Saint Louis that I got the brilliant idea to go downtown and take a picture of the Gateway Arch at night.  It was a full moon.  I parked my car and made my way to the plaza, wandered around a while to choose how I was going to do my shot.  Not having a tripod, I had to lay down on the concrete,  propped the front of my lens on a book and sited through the viewfinder and squeezing off a dozen or so different shots with various exposures. 

As I fidgeted with my settings, I caught the glimpse of a very large foot next to my head.  Now, if you're lying prostrate on the ground in an unusual place, there are just not many options for a quick escape if there's trouble.  While there were people off at a distance, I was pretty much alone.

Not wanting to make any sudden moves, I slowly turned my head to the direction of the pair of well worn boots and traced the image with my eyes upward to reveal the face of a guy bigger than me with lots of hair and big nasty beard.

"Something I can help you with?", I asked.  It sounded pretty dumb but I was at a loss for words and I was making a vain attempt at appearing cool and not appearing as a victim here.

"Got a buck?", he grunted.

Without a word, I slowly reached into my left jeans pocket, felt a bill and slowly pulled it out and handed to him.  I have no idea how much I gave him.  It could have been a buck or it could have been a twenty.  I didn't know or care at that point and was hoping he wouldn't produce a knife, hammer or screwdriver.

"Thanks!", he said and wandered off into the dark as I pondered if I needed that one more shot of the fountain and arch.   Things could have gone so wrong.


Once while in New Mexico, I thought stopping off at a turn out near Cloudcroft and climbing down into a canyon in search of a small waterfall might be a grand idea.  There was one other car so it had to be safe, right?  Anyway, I took a cell phone pic of the license plate of my car along with the GPS tagging and emailed it to my brother letting him know where I was in case I really didn't come back.

Finally, after crawling down lots of boulders and not encountering rattlesnakes, I reached the bottom of the arroyo and began get my photo groove on.  Somewhere in the distance, I heard thunder.  How nice, it might rain and be cool.  Then I notice a log lodged in the middle of a tree limb about 8 feet above my head.  Yikes, his could become a flash flood in minutes!   I quickly gathered up my camera bag and began crawling back up the boulders not so careful this time.  As an old guy 20 years away from being in shape, I began to wheeze and pant for breath.   I could hear someone coming up the canyon behind me and they were moving fast.  Not to appear in trouble I quickly sat under a mesquite bush and played like I was taking pictures of the surroundings, just as this 30 something local and a couple of teenage kids scurried by me.


The older asked, "You OK, Sir?  You need help?"  I'm certain he noticed the bright red complexion of my face and felt sorry for me.  I tried to appear non-nonchalant and said, "Oh no, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."  I was such a liar.

After they left I took another 20 minutes to get a few more feet to my car.  I called my brother to let him know I was back to my rental.  He said he would have been calling the cops in another 30 minutes if I hadn't called.  As it turned out, I'd injured my knee and developed an infection with a lot of pain that took weeks of meds to cure.

I've got a ton of similar tales but the important thing to remember (particularly for me) is to be aware of your limitations, let someone else know where you are and if possible, don't travel alone in unknown places.   Nowadays, I have an app on my phone that my wife can tap into that will reveal my whereabouts within 100 feet.  I'm long past caring about that kind of privacy and still email my family the license plates of my rental cars.

Texas

After coming home from California, I spent a couple of weeks getting both eyes worked on by removing cataracts.  It makes me feel old to think about it but it certainly had to be done.

When it was over, I was amazed to see how bright and clear things were.  My doctor said it was entirely necessary because I'd probably not be able to pass the drivers license vision test my next time up.

After all that was handled, I had a couple of Texas assignments.  The first was in the small town of Bastrop, just east of Austin.  I'd hoped to see the burst of bluebonnets but unfortunately, the assignment ended before they came to full bloom. 

I did spend a bit of time on weekends walking along the boardwalk in Austin and hiking the state parks nearby.

I had hoped to be there when the bats return to the Congress Street bridge.  Each afternoon just after sundown, bats pour out of the crevices of the bridge and fill the skies attracting hundreds of people just to watch the site.  Again, I had to leave a couple weeks early and missed it.

There was this quick 2 day trip to Oklahoma which yielded nothing but an extra plane ride. After that, I found myself in Weslaco. Texas.  It's a little town in the Rio Grande Valley between McAllen and Brownsville.  (Trivia fact: Weslaco got it's name from the W. E. Steward Land Company)

Fortunately, I was located near another co-worker, Jim Larson with whom I spent a lot of time with exploring the RGV and much of what it had to offer. That included a lot of Mexican and seafood.

Besides the tourist attractions, I managed to become friends with some locals and for a while considered myself as either a Winter Texan.  Since it wasn't winter any longer and the temps were now reaching 100°, I'll refer to myself as an Undocumented Texan.  Either way, I think Texas and I fit.

Included in our explorations were the butterfly sanctuaries.  I found out more facts about the Monarch Butterfly than I could possibly explain in this blog.  Just look it up, it's astounding.

In every location, certain birds were everywhere.  Some of the more common birds were loud and noisy Chachalacas.  These birds were sometimes called Mexican Pheasants.  I asked a naturalist if they were edible and he said yes but they were a protected species in Texas so they weren't to be hunted.  Another was the big black Crackles.  They too were loud but not nearly as large as the Chachalacas.

On this picture, you'll have to look closely between the two Crackles to see the well camouflaged Chachalaca.

We did see a pair of Orioles nesting.  The nests were fascinating in the way they hung like a big bag from the tree limbs.  I've never seen an Oriole.  This species doesn't get too far north in the USA but is home in the Rio Grande Valley (RGV).

When I first arrived it was spring break time so it took a month or so to conjure a trip to South Padre Island.  I was disappointed there were no naturally growing trees there but the beach people didn't seem to mind.

One weekend, Jim and I rode over to Corpus Christi and took a tour of the USS Lexington Aircraft Carrier, now a museum with several airplanes on display on the deck.  Jim, being a former Navy pilot was all over the place.

Good times.

Texas has come and gone for now but I still miss it.

Shame on me. Long time; no post

I've already been up for a while taking a nice ride along the river road feeling almost apologetic for disturbing the egrets in the water filled ditches who were not especially grateful for the rumbling of a Harley Davidson on a mild summer morning.

The sun had not completely risen and the mixture of dark blue clouds with orange edges reminded me of a saying I learned years ago, "Red skies in the morning; sailors take warning."  It looked like it may rain later.  Still the clatter of the pipes sang a morning hymn and comforted my soul.  I talk with Him quite a bit with the V-Twin choir singing in the background.

Still there were no rain drops on my windshield and there was hardly any traffic on the roads. It seemed I owned the world and as I returned back to my neighborhood, I sort of wondered how many neighbors I was waking as I downshifted and rounded the corners sometimes scraping my floorboards on tight turns.

It felt great to be alive.

Call it writer's block, apathy, laziness or whatever but I've just haven't had the drive or will to post.  Not only that, I've not been all that excited about hauling out the Nikon because for the past few years, it was like another body part.

Anyway, this year I have had a short assignment in Atascadero, California.  I only had a couple of weekends to do any exploring.  A lot of that was visiting Morro Bay and watching the sun set on the rock.  

As the sun began to set, a boat pulled through the channel to spend some time for a late weekend evening sunset.



You'll have to pardon the dirty sensor and lens.  Consider the sun dogs as just being artistic.

Knowing I couldn't get that far north, I thought I'd ride on up to see how far I could go.

Anyway, I did cruise north toward San Simeon stopping along to see the smelly and noisy Elephant Seals and checking out a zebra near Hearst Castle.  

 I did not go into the castle.

I did get on up a few more miles as far as Ragged Point Inn before the road was closed and sent me back south where I spent some time back in Atascadero at the Tamale Festival.  It was a typical small town festival selling, yes you got it, tamales.  One on the best things was seeing the Azteca horses with riders singing as they ponies seemed to dance to the beat of the Mexican band.

With such a short time there, trips were cut short but manage to meet my old friend Jon Zeller up in Paso Roble in Central California's wine country.

I appreciate the chance to get back up there but am a bit disappointed I could not get further north on Big Sur.