Western Excursions - Summer 2010

Is it bad that when I awoke this morning, the first rush of excitement I felt was not from the upcoming explorations of the day but from the anticipation of a new episode of Covert Affairs being released tonight? Hmmm, I need to get my priorities straightened out. Natural Wonder of the World vs. a television show. Yeah, I know.

Oh and by the way, that plan I made to wake up and see the sunrise? Yeahhhh, about that…. Oops. Well, from what I could see from inside my cabin and through closed eyelids, it was very pretty.

The morning plan was to do a brief hike before we checked out of our cabins. Over breakfast, Mom regaled us all with lovely stories of past marathon runners, all healthy and in their prime, who prematurely and horrifically perished while hiking in the Grand Canyon. Their shriveled up bodies were only discovered days later by search teams. Lovely. Thanks Mom.

Personally, I wasn’t too worried. All these victims were experienced hikers and in great shape. As I am neither, I figure I’m pretty much good to go, right? Hey, don’t destroy my delusions.

Our first hike was Bright Angel Hike, a long winding trail that eventually leads the 7-8 miles down to the floor of the canyon. No, don’t worry, we didn’t make it. We hiked about 30 minutes, picked an arbitrary rock as our destination, touched it and turned around. It provides a more immediate feeling of accomplishment. PLUS, the tricky thing about canyon hiking is that you start off going down. Meaning, after you are tired and sweaty, you still have to turn around and climb back up.

The coolest thing about this hike was how many foreigners we bumped into. Let’s see, I heard Spanish, German, British English, lots of French, Italian, I think some Dutch, and lots of Japanese. And plus a few more languages I didn’t recognize. Kind of cool to think about all the tourists coming to our country.

Another cool thing was seeing the giant pack mules, scaling the cliffs. I knew they were beasts of burden, but I didn’t realize how big they were.

The second hike we did, after we navigated the perilous parking lots and ran over old ladies to get the one open parking space, was to Ooh Ahh Point, apparently named after the noises human make upon arriving there. John Alex and I immediately reenacted the George of the Jungle scene in which the hikers reach Ape Mountain.

That dialogue either brought back great childhood memories or left you completely bewildered.

The hike down was very steep and zig-zaggy. Mom kept shouting out things like “Peligroso!” and “Crocodilios!” Because, you know, there are a lot of crocodiles climbing along the path at 7,000 feet above sea level in the middle of a desert. (Yeah, I have no idea why either…)

The funny thing was that everyone walking down the canyon path still had big goofy grins on their faces. No one had them coming back up the canyon path. Hmmm, this did not forebode well.

Now, we were told that Ooh Ahh point wasn’t actually labeled. So we weren’t entirely sure when we would get there, since the path actually continued on past it. Knowing this, Dad stopped at every bend in the path and said “Is this it? I think this is it. Let’s turn back”. I can’t believe that *I*, Ellen Porter, was NOT the person complaining the most on this hike. Because you guys know how I feel about hiking.

Eventually, we made it to Ooh Ahh Point. Or at least we made it to an outcropping that we were now going to call Ooh Ahh Point, regardless of whether it actually was Ooh Ahh Point. Together, we did our customary oohing and ahhing the location required and then turned around and went back up. A buzzard began circling above us on the hike back up. No joke.

 Panting and trying to entertain ourselves, we began making comments like “Wow, I can’t believe we just hiked across the entire canyon!” or “That was quite a hike from the Northern Rim”, every time a family passed us going back down the canyon. They didn’t look convinced. It might’ve been because they didn’t speak English. Or maybe it was because I kept tripping over every upturned rock. Ah well.

Well that concludes our hiking experience in the Grand Canyon National Park. I figure that hiking expedition will last me for at least another 5 years or so until I am once again dragged to do more hiking despite the fact it violates my principles as a lazy person.

I thought I would put a few little facts that I learned about the Grand Canyon in this section:

·         277 miles long, 8,000 feet deep, and very, very wide

·         If you raft along the Colorado river it will take you 14 to 21 days (7 to 10 days by motorized boat)

·         Only 2% of visitors ever venture below the rim of the canyon. Only 1% make it to the bottom.

·         Over 250 people need to be rescued by helicopter each year. A helicopter rescue costs $25,000. (insane!)

·         Japanese tourists always arrive by the busload. (Ok this isn’t a Grand Canyon fact, but just something I’ve observed everywhere).

Oh yeah, two last things. One, we saw an elk only 5 feet from our shuttle! It had cool furry antlers. Two, rumor has it that our vice president, Mr. Joe Biden, was also at the Grand Canyon the same time we were! I went on a celebrity hunt, but the roads were blocked off and there were intimidating unmarked white vehicles near the entrance to where he was staying. Normally, this wouldn’t stop me, but my family didn’t want to wait for me.

We drive the six hours or so back to Vegas, after we finished hiking to our hearts’ content. Along the way, we stopped for dinner at a pizzeria that apparently 3 Presidents have eaten at (both Bushes and Clinton, allegedly). Kinda cool :)

Once back in Vegas, we check into a new hotel by the name of Monte Carlo. The only problem is, they were apparently booked to the full (and this is a huge hotel, just like all the Vegas ones)   This meant that they didn’t have to honor our non-smoking reservation and put us instead in smoking rooms. Ugh, my clothes still smell funnily. Ah well.

Well that’s all for today folks! Lots more awesome pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/115787829715255758995/WestCoastSummer2010#

Why hello there, friends and family. I hope those travelling yesterday after the reunion made it home at least moderately intact. We, Porters, as you might recall from my previous blogpost, are currently located in the armpit of America, the Sin City itself, the ever fabulous: Las Vegas.

As we walked through the casino on our way to check out of Excalibur, our hotel for the evening, the air smelled of old smoke, spilt beer and bad decisions. Surprisingly (or really, not so surprisingly), people were still sitting on the slot machines, drinking beer, and pulling the lever, over and over and over again. Ugh, who can drink beer at 8:30 in the morning?

If I could sum up the Vegas experience in one term, it would be this: exhaust pipe. Not only was it so oppressively hot that I was constantly looking around for the bus I was apparently standing behind, but, metaphorically speaking, Vegas takes what it is given, sucks out the good stuff and expels the dirty, grimy part that no one really wants anyway. Just like an exhaust pipe.

We loaded up our car and set off on our 6 hour drive to the Grand Canyon, where we’ll be spending the next two days. Yepp we will be driving a 12 hour round trip to see a giant hole in the ground. Well it’s something to cross off the bucket list! Along the way, we briefly stopped at the Hoover Dam. And by briefly, I mean “Everyone-get-out-of-the-car-RUN-go-take-a-picture-now-lets-go-go-go!”

Carmen, our Garmin, also spent the entire trip trying to take us down small, tiny dirt roads but we had a mutiny, muted her, and opted instead to stay on the highway.

Pulling up at the gate at the entrance to the Grand Canyon, we saw that the entrance fee was $25. However, Dad whipped out his handy-dandy Seniors National Parks membership card and we all got in for free! That is the best deal ever. For a $10 lifetime membership, Dad can bring ANYone he wants into ANY of the national parks. For the rest of his life. So if you’re planning on visiting any national parks anytime soon, it is totally worth it to kidnap a senior to bring with you.

Spying a series of parked cars along side of the road, we too park out car and get out. My first thought: that it is freezing. It is about 65 degrees at this point, which is a huge temperature change from the 105 degrees that it was in Vegas just this morning. Doesn’t Arizona know that not only is it a desert but also the middle of summer?! (Nate pointed out that I am about the only person in the world to be cold in a desert).

Ok here are my impressions of the Grand Canyon:

1.       You’re kind of just walking along, la-di-dah-ing, and then BAM! GIANT CLIFF FACE OVERLOOKING A HUGE DROP. Can you imagine how the first settlers must felt, just stumbling across this thing?

2.       The multicolored canyon walls stretch as far as the eye can see, and it feels like you are standing on the top of the world.

3.       You couldn’t see the bottom. At least not here. Something about the way the canyon walls sloped downward obscured the views of the Colorado River.

4.       The whole thing was blue. Yes, blue. I don’t know, many most canyons are blue, but I was expecting it to be reddish brown, like the pictures. Maybe it is normally. But it look very blue to me.

So I tried to take some pictures. I really did. And I’ll try and show you, but of course I’m going to have to preface it with the cliché “they really don’t do the place justice”. And they don’t. Still photographs can never give you the sense of depth or magnitude that two eyes can. So if anyone happens to be living vicariously through this blog (and I hope not, since that would only pressure me into doing crazy, adventurous stunts to feel worthy of that status), don’t look at these pictures and instead just journey your way over here to see it for yourself.

We check into our cabins for the night, and by this point, it is dark – meaning we missed the sunset. Alas. Next time. I hesitantly make the silent promise to awake bright and early tomorrow to see the sunrise. (Anyone who knows me well should be laughing their heads off right now). Yeahhh, me and mornings aren’t exactly a match made in heaven.

I spend the latter part of the evening going on an epic quest for internet, which actually involved more trials and tribulations than one would assume. Finally, victory is mine! I chat with a few friends on Facebook, only to watch helplessly, a few minutes later, as those “friends” proceed to like-bomb me.

What is like-bombing, do you ask? Well, let me explain. Like-bombing is when several people, simultaneously, begin “liking” every single status, post, link, comment, etc. on a single person’s Facebook page. “But Ellen,” you ask, “doesn’t this make you feel loved and appreciated?” NO, absolutely NOT. It makes you want to grab the nearest sharp object, cut your computer to shreds and then use the pieces to spell out your suicide note. “But why don’t you just ignore it?” you ask, confused. Ignore it? You try doing ANYTHING on the Internet when your entire browser is blowing up from the 84 new Facebook notifications filling the screen. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The only consolation is that Nash’s computer crashed three times as a result of this. Ha ha, karma’s a b*tch.

Ok, enough petty complaining for the evening. Tomorrow, we will awake bright and early to go hiking throughout the canyon. Hasta la vez proxima. 

Sorry, folks, that this post is a bit late. We got back to our Vegas hotel room and I couldn’t for the life of me figure how to make the Internet work. Defeated, I just resigned myself to bed for the evening…only to awake the next morning to see the Internet cable 3 feet from my head. Vegas, 1. Ellen’s powers of observation, 0.

Also, for those just joining us, this blog is documenting the entire Porter West Coast adventure, not just the reunion. Someone just happened to let slip yesterday at the concluding meeting for our reunion that I was keeping a blog of the trip, so there have been a few requests for me to send this blog out to everyone. Hmmm, I will do this, but with a disclaimer: I ramble, I remark, I misspell and I make bad jokes. If you can put up with a nineteen-year-old’s stream of consciousness, then by all means, read on :).

The Concluding Meeting

The sun rose on a flurry of activity here in Estes Park. Everyone was running around packing, grabbing breakfast, calling airlines to confirm flights, and sentimentally staring at the campground that housed and (attempted to) feed us these past few days. Or in my case, the sun rose on an oversleeping teenager who only semi managed to make herself presentable once the pounding knock on the door by her mother revealed that she was running quite late. Typical.

We met up and formed a large circle in the conference room that was our central meeting place for the entire reunion. Always prepared, several large poster boards were already hung up and markers were uncapped, ready for us to start creating a giant pros and cons list for the reunion and to brainstorm ideas for the next reunion in 3 years. Ch-yeah, we take reunion-ing to the next level. None of this last minute, thrown together get-togethers for us. No sirree. We Porters are hard-core to the max.

So a quick summary of the meeting:

·         Excellent planning by Deanne Butterfield and Ruth York (virtual high-five!)

·         Awesome activities like horseback riding and competitive putt-putting. I guess I’ll include hiking under this list, though I don’t know if I would consider walking in circles, lost in the woods, “awesome”.

·         Super cool family members. Can’t have a successful reunion without them.

·         And plenty of liquor for when we needed a little extra help dealing with the super coolness of our family members.

·         Large location – normally I assume everyone I bump into at reunions is somehow related to me. The fact that other families were also present in Estes Park forced me to actually know who all I was related to. A shocking concept.

·         The food. Let’s just say it left a lot to be desired. And it made my dorm food from this past year look gourmet.

·         Altitude – well this was on the cons list, but personally it was on my pros list. It totally allowed me to keep lying to myself as to the true reason why I was huffing and puffing after climbing one flight of stairs.

Finally, we grabbed a couple of unfortunate volunteers to decide the location and host of the next reunion. Not all of these volunteers were present. Tehehe, that’s what you get for taking off early! Just kidding…

We finished off our reunion with a round robin with everyone saying what was the most gratifying, impressive, or poignant experience from the weekend. Or the GIP session, as I liked to call it. Luckily the words weren’t switched around or it would’ve been the PIG session.

Ok, that was my final lame joke of this section. Cue: serious, heartfelt reflection time.

This round robin, which I initially thought was going to be very lame (no offense, John), turned out to be one of the most touching experiences of the reunion. Everyone was given the opportunity to speak on the experience that mean the most to them, and it became a really powerful bonding moment as emotions were laid bare and people poured out their hearts.

Now this being said, as soon as the first eye started misting up, I became a blubbering fool, bawling my eyes out in the corner. Others soon followed, and we all bonded over a single passed tissue box that was completely empty by the time we got all the way around the circle. And that fact right there meant a lot to me. The fact that our get-togethers, however short they may be, manages to mean so much to people that there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, that says a lot. And it’s a testament to what a loving and tightly bound family we have become, despite the physical distance that lies between us the other 2 years and 361 days between reunions.

Finally, after I cried out about 10 pounds of body fluids, we all got up and gave our final goodbyes. Or at least, temporary goodbyes, as we sure to see most of us again in a 3 years time. Or sooner, if you are a poor college student like myself and like to crash on the couches of family members rather than at hotels when travelling.

All in all, it was great getting to see everyone. I love you fam! And if you want to see more pics from the reunion, check out my web album at: http://picasaweb.google.com/115787829715255758995

Ok, if you are still reading this, props to you. I know it is getting a little lengthy and not relevant to most. Family members, that was the end of the reunion section. However, the blog will still continue for the rest of our West Coast adventures, so you are more that welcome to keep reading. In fact, I would be honored. But feel no obligation to. And if you manage to stick it out til next Saturday, I’ll post my link to the blog I’ll be keeping for my India trip! (You would think I just offered you free candy with how I just phrased that. “If you keep reading my teenage ramblings, I’ll reward you with…the opportunity to read MORE teenage ramblings!”) Again, no obligations, but just throwing it out there.

We left Estes Park, Colorado and once again, in a manner typical of any time I travel, I spent the two hour ride back gazing at the scenic sights of my inner eyelids. We did stop briefly by a bubbling brook to eat our packed lunches given to us by the YMCA. Upon opening them, we were delighted to find that we received not one, but TWO peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. This delighted me far more than it should’ve.

Once back in Denver, we dropped off the rental car at Alamo, where the rental car man was a flurry of efficiency. He had our car inspected, our information recorded, and our receipt printed before I could finish my sleepy stutter of “Where are we?”

The Denver airport was exactly the same way. The super nice Southwest man helped my efficiency-impaired family navigate the ticket stand. The security man sent us to the “secret” security line that had no people waiting (and by secret I mean the less used one at the end of the airport). Dad did get searched. Again. AND, the best part was, we ran in to a bajillion family members also in the airport. You know how it can sometimes be awkward running into someone after you already said goodbye? Not us. We started keeping a tally of how many people we could scream joyfully at across the airport while jumping up and down waving frantically. We got 6. The man sitting next to me began looking uneasy as you could see him debating whether or not to call the nearest psych ward.

The flight was uneventful. I read the Reader’s Digest that was left in the seat pocket and learned that New Jersey ranks #45 on the nation’s best roads. I couldn’t believe it. You mean there are 5 WORSE states than New Jersey?! (Sorry, if I have any New Jersey readers but I hate driving in your state. You stole my hubcap.) Also, the pilot started off the flight telling us that the current temperature in Las Vegas was 110 degrees. Yayyyy.

We arrive in Las Vegas and are immediately greeted with the ever classy slot machines located right near our arrival gate. Welcome to Sin City. We also saw a poster for Thunder from Down Under, the hot Australian men dancing show that was playing at our hotel. John Alex aspired to be one of them:

After an absolutely hell-ish experience with our rental car (don’t rent Dollar in Las Vegas), much screaming when we realized that Las Vegas roads aren’t lined, an epic search for a parking space, and much weaving between the crowds consisting of the classiest and fittest Americans, we finally make it to our hotel room. Located on the 22^nd floor I might add. Look at our cool hotel!

After dropping off our stuff, we hit up the casino. Sticking a dollar into the nearest slot machine, we crank the handle, push the button, and…we lost. Surprise! Vegas stole our money. Exemplifying the Aesop fable of Sour Grapes, we bitterly mutter that we didn’t want to play slots anyway and left to go explore the hotels.

Ok, just a question. Who would fly all the way out to Vegas to stay in a hotel named New York, New York? Yes the building was a cool replica of the Big Apple, but I still don’t understand it. Eventually, tired of battling the crowds holding giant plastic guitars, filled with beverages and attached straws, we all retire for the evening. Vegas, +$1, Porter family, -$1. The House always wins.

By the way, if you made it through this entire post, accolades to you. This turned out to be WAY longer than I expected and I, for one, am very familiar with the decreasing American attention span. So thanks if you made it this far!

Signing out.