Notes:
- A camel in a snowy field in the Stavropol region of Russia. Photo by Eduard Korniyenko (Reuters): wsj.com Photos of the Day Dec 20, 2016
- Background on Caleb/Wednesday/Hump Day Posts and Geico’s original commercial: Let’s Hit it Again
I can't sleep…
Notes:
I’m gripping the rubber handrail of the escalator that is creeping down, way down, into the bowels of the NYC subway system at 42nd and Grand Central, the second busiest station in the city. This, a ride down the shaft of a deep, underground coal mine. Black dust, airless and layered with noxious fumes. This, a visible symbol of America’s decay, its infrastructure crumbling.
There is no welcome mat out for the timid, or, for any bics: the acrophobics, the claustrophobics or the mysophobics. The incline is steep. The crowd thick and wary. The noise deafening. Even the Earth shivers from fright under Gotham when the trains rumble by. Here, here. The richest city in the richest country in the world, and here we are. The Suits. The Homeless. The Helpless. The Pick-Pockets. The Cons. The Certifiable. And the Artists, the canaries in this coal mine – their instrument cases open, serenading the masses with Bach or Mendelssohn, a thin stream of light amid this train wreck (no pun intended). Add the pungent stench of urine and this here is a petri dish of trouble. Grade? A Dump.
I’m waiting for my cross-town train and the mind drifts back, way back. Continue reading “Riding the 7 Train. And the Moscow Metro.”
Alpinist Kyle Dempster embarked on an inspiring journey to bike across Kyrgyzstan’s back roads on his bike. His goal – ride across the country via old Soviet roads and climb the country’s most impressive peaks along the way. He was alone. He carried only a minimalist’s ration of climbing gear. Ten Kyrgyz words rounded out his vocabulary. He’d purchased his bike just weeks before and had never bike toured. Upon arrival, Kyle found himself pulled into the Kyrgyz culture – heavy drinking, friendly curiosity and families carving existences out of yurts in the foothill. From his maps, he picked a circuitous path of back roads between the regions incredible mountains. When he arrived, he found that the roads had been abandoned. Crumbling roads led deeper into the heart the Kyrgyz wilderness before disappearing all together. After crossing a few rivers and nearly being swept away in the process, Dempster realized that his path back was blocked. He had to keep, pedaling, pushing and carrying his bike. It meant crossing rivers raging with summer snow melt and navigating game trails. As his options dwindled, Dempster became more desperate. The camera becomes an outlet. Overwhelmed by his predicament home, he narrates a letter home telling his family he loves them. He executes one final river crossing before reconnecting with civilization and its roads. Part meditation on true spirit of adventure and part epic travelogue, The Road from Karakol is the story of a unique spirit who pedaled to the road’s end and decided to keep going. The documentary is slated for release later this summer. Watch the trailer and get ready.
“When the road ends, will you keep going”
“I hate flies”
“Definitely gotta love the Pantera that’s just pumping through my headphones right now!”