23510 - Monthly October update

View IrisOpReis in a larger map

Dag,
   Iris (Boston, 23510 miles)

22766 - Montreal, c'est beau

The Oto isn't so sure:"Do I really have to stand besides a Porsche?"
I am not so sure either:"Is this really the right address?"

A couple days in Montreal, I love that city. A couple days spoiled by my friends R and J, whom I met sitting around their campfire on the ground in COR. The good wine should have given it away back then, but it didn't register, only the lack of chairs did. They however love good food and they can cook!

Oysters and white wine.
Deer (hunted by R) and red wine.
Real cheese, cappuccino and good chocolate.

Thats haute cuisine, we better not regret this later and keep or bud moving too. A scramble up Trap Dike in the Adirondacks, and a wake up call at 6:00 is the solution. Not the best time of the day, without my morning coffee.

We push our car through customs with a death battery and hike in the early morning through the muddy woods. Around the shore of Avalanche lake it goes to the beginning of the climb.

The idea is to scramble up through the Trap dike, which is an intrusion in the rock eroded away over time, and then climb out to continue the slabs to the top.

The scramble inside the dike is amazing, but very very slippery. Water is pouring besides us, on top of us and we hold on for dear life to the slick rock. When we are almost at the top R calls the danger unacceptable and we rope up for the last couple moves.

We climb out of the dike and I see my fear becomes true. With the heaviest rainfall in years the day before, the slab is impossible to scramble up. If I had been the most experienced I would have called it a day, however R leads the way through the bushes on the side and J follows with ease, guess I better follow too. Its scary and we have to concentrate not to make a mistake.

Near the top we enter the world of frozen bushes, luckily the ground stays ice free and after 7 hrs we make it to the top. With 9.8 km back to the car we conclude an awesome trip.

Again I have encounter two amazing people and happy to call them my friend now. And I finally made it to the Adirondacks, a place which was on my list for a while.

Dag,
Iris (Montreal, 22766 miles)

21413 - Mid(west)land

One thing I found out during this trip, is that Americans don't like to discuss the way I am used to. Lots of time, sitting around the campfire, stories are told instead of heated debates the way my Italian friends during our kayak trip in Alaska, are fought. I think its a matter of avoiding conflict or trying to keep respect for each other. For me discussing is a way to understand a different point of view, to understand another person, to understand another culture and I have missed it here. And of course I like to do it simply for the hack of it. But there is one, one person who sat across from me at work, one person who loves to do it, one person who moved with his family to the Mid-West, one person who gives me more discussion that what I bargained for in the next 5 days, my friend S.

We discuss the universe, politics and religion. I even make it to church to boost my anthropology study, but get a talk about the financial situation of the church instead. But it doesn't stop us from discussing it more and more. We have to take a break with a Sunday afternoon of Disk Golf, where we are ashamed of our 3 disks between the two of us, instead of the 30 disks each what the norm seems to be, to get ready for the next round. But then we continue again, its fun and I love being here. And what have we gained with these discussions, to be honest I don't remember, they all seems to have ended pretty blurry.

Dag,
   Iris (Midland, 21413 miles)

21163 - Chicago

I have heard the stories before, don't take the wrong exit into Chicago, you might end up in a neighborhood you shouldn't be in. I don't drive interstates, so wrong exits are not a concern. Instead I just randomly pick a road straight into downtown. It starts like every other city. Walmart, McDonald, HomeDepot, Wendy's and all the other crappy american chains.

After an hour the neighborhoods become more shaggy and run down. This is poor America in its worse. I keep driving and notice another change. Everybody on the street is black and I suddenly feel very white. I lock the doors of my car, something I have never done in my life before. I feel very wrong by doing it, but I just don't feel save. I start driving in the left lane and keep an escape distance between me and the car in front of me at the traffics light. Is this real or just fear put into me by others. I feel really bad about the way I feel.

After passing an underpass, I am suddenly in a yuppie neighborhood. Students and hippies are walking pass trendy stores and restaurants. A contrast which shouldn't be real. A little later I drive straight into downtown.

I place the bike in my car and with 1 cm clearance above the kayak park the Oto in a garage. When I walk out I realize that I forgot my camera and walk back. Outside again I look around and notice I still do something wrong. I walk back again and this time take my bike out of the car. Chicago downtown is bike friendly.

Downtown is a mixture between old and new buildings. The atmosphere is relax and enjoyable.

Near the waterfront art from Anish Kapoor, Cloud Gate, reflects life in town and the famous Chicago skyline.

Chicago, a cool city, just hope that Obama doesn't forget his old community.

Dag,
   Iris (Chicago, 21163 miles)

20271 - It does exist

My American aunt invites me on their family island in McGregor bay, Canada. Yes, thats right, on their island. Having heard about it my whole life, I also didn't quite believe in it. But on September 29, my aunt is picking me up by boat in the small harbor and drives me to camp where I meet my Canadian uncle. Camp...I would call it a retreat...

And for the next 2 weeks, I am sharing their good life.

I meet my Canadian aunt and loved her first sight and sit with my new family in the dark to watch the sunset.

I spend an afternoon kayaking in Killarney provincial park and explore the bay with my aunt.

I hike up a hill for a bird eye view of the Bay.

I get a 101 course on the Grenville front and the La Cloche's white quartzite cliffs.

I watch the Indian summer taking over the colours of the woods.

I learn about my NL families past and look in the picture mirror, which turned out to be my mom.

I figure that although my character comes from my dad, confidence might come from my mom.

I close the landscape, the island and my aunt and uncle in my heart.

Dag,
   Iris (McGregor Bay, 20271 miles)

20271 - Monthly September update

View IrisOpReis in a larger map

Dag,
   Iris (McGregor, 20271 miles)

19510 - A man please

I am heading over to The Boundary Waters Canoe Area, but last moment V emails me:” Go to the Canadian side!” Giving me an incredible time in Anchorage, I better listen to him, and so I continue driving and heading over to Quetico Provincial Park in Canada.

Like every trip, it starts with the usual packing in the parking lot; a five day loop of kayaking, with the big difference this time, 9 portages. Many things have to stay with the Oto, food is reduced to the minimum and a backpack is added.

Different from the Boundary waters, Quetico has no marked campsites and no marked portages, allowing for the real wilderness experience. Portages are marked on my map, but to find an established campsite, I just have to paddle close to shore and scout for a fire pit or wood bench. After a whole afternoon paddling over Pickerel lake, I find a campsite on a small island and watch the sun set in the evening. There is nobody around and life is good.

The next day I continue and after a short paddle I come up to my first portage, 460 meters long. All my belongings disappear into my backpack and with some effort I mount the backpack on my shoulders and walk to the other side. Its kind of heavy…

I walk back to get my kayak and wrap the tip into 5 layers of duct-tape. The deal is not to drop and destroy the kayak, because I will be kind of stuck here in the middle of the wilderness for a while. So I have to stop walking before I get too tired, to be able to balance the kayak on its tip and then place it softly on the ground.

The first technique I develop is to carry the kayak on my shoulder, row skiff style. After 100 steps I have to drop the kayak down. It seems I carry the kayak more with my arms then with my shoulder. Hmmm, have to come up with something better. Of course, remember your sisters in Ghana, carry it on your head. And so for the second technique I bind my dreads on top of my head as a cushion and lift the kayak on top of my head. With every step I take I feel my spine shrinking and 150 steps and couple centimeters shorter I have to take a break.

With 3 more breaks and a sore back I make it to the other side. I paddle a couple of miles before the second portage of the day is presenting itself. I don’t know how I do it, but the 730 meters are covered without breaking my kayak or my back. Its just not the way to do this. I have to come up with some better technique or at some point of this trip I might be stuck.

The portage brings me to my own lake, nobody is around. Its me and nature. Jeh, it is 100% worth the struggle.

The route continues through a small river, which is streaming the way I travel. Should be easy, maybe I can even just float. That’s what I had in mind. Instead I drag my kayak over several beaver dams, up to 2 meter high, dump my Xtra Tufs a couple of times and fight off the reed blocking the channel. This trip starting to become a bit weary.

I paddle through the Sturgeon narrows and find again a campsite on a small island. Would have been so nice to have a man around now. Instead I pitch the tent, filter the water, make a fire, cook a meal and hang the food myself.

The evening is calm, beavers are encircling the island and flop their tail now and then. A bald eagle catches a fish right in front of me. An evening, every evening should be.

To spread the pain, I plan to do 5 portages today. Putting me in between the two 700+ meter portages for the night. The first portage is 100 meters but it takes me a while. I really have to think this over, how to make this more efficient without that strong man around.

The next portage is 120 meters, with a pond in the middle. To tired to unpack my backpack, I put the pack in the cockpit and sit on top of my kayak to cross the pond. For sure not the best idea at all, with some scary unbalancing moments, I hardly make it dry to the other side.

The next portage is undefined but seems long, very long. Instead of my hair, I place my lifejacket on top of my head. I feel tired and the trails are not the easiest one to walk across. The avoidable happens, I stumble and can just catch my kayak on top of my back. There I am standing, bend forwards with a kayak on my back in the middle of the wilderness. I don’t know how long I am standing there, but in the end I lift myself up to place the kayak back on my head. When I have it balanced on my shoulders, it actually feels not too bad. I can even walk kind of easier this way and for 300 steps I am fine. Then I slowly bend forward, balance the kayak on its tips, rest in this position and continue with lifting it back on my shoulders. This technique is definitely the best so far. I drag myself across another undefined portage and make up my mind for the last 740 meters of portage for the day. I cross a large lake and suddenly I am crying in the middle of the lake. How the heck am I going to carry my kayak over the next portage? Where is that man? I am tired, hungry and see not how I will able to do another portage today. Time to make camp and relax. Two 700+ meters portages in a row are worries for tomorrow.

The surrounding is so beautiful and relax that all sorrow of the day is forgotten quick. After my fourth swim of the day, I make camp and enjoy another evening alone. Well that man would still be nice to have around…

With fresh energy and the knowledge it will be over soon, I perfect my technique and work hard to get my kayak over 740 + 710 + 270 meters of portage the next day. Then its over and only 1 big lake is between me and the Oto. For one more night I build camp, a fire, cook a dinner. I am way too beaten up to filter water and just drink it straight out of the lake, but I do put on a rain fly on the tent and hang the food. At least I don’t have to get out of bed this night.

In the middle of the night I wake up indeed from the rain and thunder and hear the waves crashing into the shore. After surviving all these portages with the kayak, its not the right time to loose the kayak now. And so I still jump out of the tent and drag the kayak higher on shore. The next morning I find the kayak 10 meters away from the water, might have over reacted a little bit too much in the dark.

The rain keeps coming, but with the wind in the back I make it quickly back to the Oto. Here and there it becomes a little bit scary with the waves capping white around me, but the water is warm and I kind of know now how to get back into my kayak. So no worries and I enjoy the last bit of this amazing trip.

The statistics
Amount of days: 5
People I met: 1
Paddled: ±80 km
Walked with backpack: ±3500 m
Walked without backpack: ±3500 m
Walked with kayak: ±3500m

A very beautiful amazing trip again but next time you send me somewhere V, you better come with me. Or any other man…..please…

Dag,
   Iris (Quetico, 19510 miles)

19173 - Not much in common

We are the only one on the whole campground and contact is quickly made. The next thing I know, is that I am sitting behind K when we drive his ATV over some back country dirt roads to the nearest bar. It’s a bar were everybody knows everybody, the tvs are tuned to football and the talk is about hunting. You know, just a random small town bar in the middle of Minnesota.

At night around the campfire K invites me to hang around for a couple of days so he can show me what lives about around here. An offer I happily accept. K and some family owe some land in the nearby town, land not to live on, but to live from. And that’s were he takes me. We clean out the hunting trailer, mow the grass and call it home for a couple of days in the middle of the woods.

Archery deer hunting season opening is this weekend, and with the ATV we drive through the forest to check out all the deer stands. Hunting here is done from stands attached to a tree and with hours of patient waiting a wondering by deer will be taken out for food. I don’t know about this.

Trained in the army, K does not just owe a bow and arrow. There are many weapons and I have no clue what is coming by. I get to shoot a shotgun and K shows me the technique on all the others. I still have a hard time to be around weapons and will never appreciate them.

We go for a swim in a nearby lake to shake of the heat. I do understand that I can not swim in underwear on a public beach, but why I can not change on the beach is still unclear to me. For now, I just follow Ks directions and feel like a town boy in his swim pants and a T-shirt.

In the course of these days I am meeting cousins, uncles and grandparents. A grandma I haven’t even met gives me a beautiful handmade rug, an uncle shows me his vegetable garden and his canned food, a cousin stumbles late at night into my bedroom to meet me. When I crash a football party at an uncle, a person I have never met knows I took a nap yesterday at 5 o’clock. People know I am in town and make me feel more then welcome in this community. It’s a weird experience, because I don’t even like small towns. I like to be incognito in a big city, or alone in the back country, where nobody knows when I sleep or what I do.

Its relax time, and with some family we take the car out for a drive around the country side. In the middle of know where, we meet more family and with the usual booze we eat hamburgers and French fries. We hit another bar and play some pool. We are for sure not the only one in the bar, and not having seen any bicycle at the door, I can only imagine how everybody goes home.

Being religious, something I really do not understand, and voting republican, I am an Obama fan and vote far left in NL, I have not much in common with K. But how else can I respect somebody who owns his own company, who takes care of his mom, who is a sweetheart. K is happy in his way and that’s way more important then what I think about it. And to be honest, I even really like him.

Dag,
   Iris (Menahga, 19173 miles)