A One Way Ticket to Reno

"How much would it be to go Newark?" I asked at 3:50am on Friday morning.

"$72," the driver quickly responded, removing the cell phone from his ear for an instant.

"Forget it. Take me to Penn Station," I responded, taking off my backpack and setting it against the window.  For five minutes I rubbed my eyes and tapped on the screen of my iPhone as the cab bounced down 8th ave.

"OK, how much you pay to Newark?

"I'd pay $45."  I leaned forward towards the sliding door and prepared for some negotiations.  Twenty-five minutes later, I handed him $55 and walked into the departures gate at Newark International Airport with my one-way ticket to Reno firmly gripped in my hand.

For months, I had scoured Craigslist and The Samba looking for a VW Syncro Vanagon. This isn't your grandmother's VW. Roughly 2,000 were imported to North America from 1985-1992.  They were built in the same factory as Unimogs, Steyr-Daimler-Puch a German tank company to be exact, and have since developed a strong cult following.  Today, these Syncro's have mostly collected on the west coast in predominant outdoor cities like San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and Boulder.  Eventually, I found one that met my criteria and after exchanging a few dozen emails and phone calls with its original owner, I bought a one way ticket to Reno with a return flight out of Portland four days later.

Arriving in Reno at noon, I waited with my two bags for Deon, the Syncro's owner of 24 years, to pick me up. Before long, I heard the buzz of the Syncro's Audi 2.0 engine.  Love at first sight.  After a lengthy test drive and subsequent trip to the Nevada DMV, I headed north on 395 towards central Oregon.   I put on The Weight by The Band, rolled down my windows and cruised north.

As the sun started to set, I passed an abandoned road snaking off of CA-139 into the Modoc National Forrest. Pulling a U-y on the empty highway, I headed up the road for twenty minutes, following the single track in first gear up the side of a mountain.  Eventually, the road ended at a locked gate and I set up for the night, folding out the bed in the back and snacking on some goods from Whole Foods.  I had the valley to myself.

For the next four days,  I explored the Northwest, camping in the Syncro by night and traveling and hiking by day.

My trusty GR1 and the front seats of the Syncro.

Northern California, just south of the Oregon border.

My mom near her house in the Columbia River Gorge.

The Syncro set up for the night in National Forest north of the Columbia River Gorge.

Rolling hills in the Modoc National Forest.

My mom's soon to be finished house just outside the Columbia River Gorge.

My dad and his signature Pendleton shirt in the Silver Star Mountains, just south of Mount St. Helens.

Late Monday evening, I dropped off the Syncro at my dad's and headed to the airport to catch a redeye back to JFK.  I slept the entire way, exhausted from a long weekend of wandering.   The Syncro is having some upgrades and repairs done to it (I got reckless off-roading and side swept a stump).  I will be back in a month or so to pick it up and continuing traveling.

Here are some more links, Hit the Road (Picasa), A Restless Transplant (Facebook), Foster Huntington (Twitter).

Rooftop

"The steak is a little toasted, but the pork loin should be fine," I explained, manning the spatula in one hand and a Porkslap in the other.

"Yah, we should have put the all the new coals on one side and left the other side open," the grilling expert announced. Sporting a Slayer T-shirt, LA Dodgers hat, a mustache reminiscent American West and smelling like a Grateful Dead show, he gingerly prodded the steak with his index finger. "How long ago did you flip them?"

Acknowledging my inferior understanding of cooking steaks, I relinquished the spatula, "Maybe a minute or two ago."

"I'm Foster, by the way," I interjected, extending my hand around the grill.

"Craig."

Knowing only two people at a packed rooftop party in south Williamsburg, I had smelled an uncharacteristic smoke pluming from the holes of a Weber and took point on the grill. Lightly burning my fingers on the handle of the grill, I quickly flipped the steak and pork loin. With a spatula in hand, I watched the colors change on the Manhattan skyline.

Sunset.

Lounging.

The Williamsburg Bridge.

Fixings.

My conversation continued with Craig for 20 minutes or so. Despite his quintessential Williamsburg appearance, Craig was a managing director at a five-billion dollar convertible arbitrage (google it) hedge fund. He also was an Economics and Computer Science double major. Some people you only meet in New York City.

Here are some more links,

A Restless Transplant (Facebook),

Calm Before the Storm (Picasa).

Muggy

Every few months I get bogged down with work. Life is all about ebbs and flows and this week is a time of ebbs.

On Friday night, I walked along the West Side highway as a thunderstorm rolled in. Even if it's just the Hudson, it's still great to be by the water.

Here are some things that inspire me as of late:

Olives Ahoy: Whole Larder Love,

29 Ways to Stay Creative,

One Trip Pass,

Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman,
Helplessness Blues: Fleet Foxes.

I am planning some trips for the end of June and July. I cant wait to get back on the road.

Here are some more links,

Muggy (Picasa),

The Burning House,

An Interview (GQ).

Skip Those Parts

The warm June wind blew out the flame on a scrap of charcoal bag. Trying again, I lit the scrap with the Bic lighter in the protection of the grill lid and dropped it onto the bed of coals. This time, the flame caught, slowly spreading throughout the salad bowl sized pile. Leaning back in my chair, I smiled in accomplishment and opened a Sierra Nevada.

To the sound of a distant cab's horn and whirr of a nearby AC unit, Evan started packing the burgers between pulls of his beer.

Three years to the day before, Evan, Edge and I packed our essentials into the trunk and backseat of an Audi A4 and set out on a cross country road trip back from New England to Portland, Oregon. Like most 2o year olds, we did it all too quickly, taking turns driving around the clock through the dull stretches and cherishing the beautiful parts.

While on our three day stay in Southern Colorado, I borrowed Evan's DSLR one afternoon. Messing around with the settings on his Canon XTI, I shot the better part of a flash card before returning it with an ear-to-ear smile.

Intrigued, I bought a Canon XSI a few months later and started this blog .

The starter fluid burned off and the flames subsided as we chatted about our past adventures. Set to the stunning backdrop of the Manhattan skyline, nights spent sleeping in sleeping bags under the open sky felt worlds away.

Jacqueline Kennedy Reservoir at sunset.

"We have to get back on the road soon," I said longing for empty sunsets of Wyoming and Colorado.

"Can't wait, but this sure beats Omaha, Nebraska.." Evan chuckled.

"Yeh, we can skip those parts."

Here are some more links,
June (Picasa).