trying to hold onto the camera while riding the phoenix. it was the first time in my thirty years of existence that i didn't hold onto the damned handlebar.

the log flume ride.

my hysterical mother in the haunted mansion. the video sucks. the audio is priceless.

i really need a 'kayaking' topic, don't i?

needless to write, i look constipated in every shot, with my effort to merely stay upright. i did okay for the most part, except for one run down. the eddies did a number on me, and i missed every combat roll. alas, alack. i still had an awesome time.

i forgot to mention; i had a wonderful babysitter. sharon was in this position throughout the entire day.

apologies to all of you sick 80s videos fans; you're going to be missing out (or thanking me for not being around) for the next week. my friend shelly has so selflessly invited me to join her for spring break in west palm beach. i haven't seen florida since age sixteen (marching band trip to orlando), and we still have snow on the ground here in lafayette, so it's going to be a shockster. it's gonna be rough sleeping without my chester for a week, too. and i'm really gonna go on ken-nunn-brent-clary-his-camera-hungry-daughter-bob-rohrman-hgtv-what-not-to-wear withdrawal, to be certain. but the dissertation work and the histology comes along (as does stress over where i'm going to be living next year). i haven't been on a spring break jaunt in fourteen years (most of my travel comes with reading at conferences).

so sayonara, all. sayonara, brent clary. sayonara the mud pit that has become my backyard.

i took my panel on tourism in south africa to the 2006 usaclals conference at santa clara university in santa clara, california, two weekends ago. the campus was lovely, and we had a nice audience.

the mission church

Ngugi wa Thiong'o, UC Irvine, and Pradyumna S. Chauhan, Arcadia University

i got my togos and ken got his...bevmo...

after the academic rigors, it was into san fran and dinner at the stinking rose and a walk around afterward

the bay bridge from coit tower

pier 39 regulars

saturday included a drive down the 1, with a pitstop at pigeon point

and onto pt. ano nuevo, at which i failed to spend enough time when i lived in pacifica

above the elephant seals

a jaunt down the dune

female elephant seals sunning (i have an hour's worth of video)

the kelp and seaweed drew the flies, which were thwarted by flying sand (relieving an itch)

the scarring/body marking was interesting. nothing hinted at a scrape with a white.

the point

point ano nuevo island, locus for much filming on whites

glub glub glub

later that night on santa cruz pier

did i really take this?? nooo. not me.

esther waiting patiently to go home (yes, we cracked down and got a motel room).

on our way back home. with about forty-thousand insects and two busted flood lights.

rugby, nd. the geographical center of north america. with a bible verse to boot.

the TRUE centers of the universe. at least, they think so.

moving east in southern british columbia.

meritt. the "cowboy capital" of canada. plenty of them were stumbling out of the bar across the street.

logging town.

revelstoke.

the columbia river, dammed.

what a ham.

ditto.

hyper as hell.

again, clear water. esther muddied it up a bit.

home of the fighting glaciers. the first open ball park i've seen in years.

the dogs took full advantage.

so did buddy (yes, we cleaned it up. there were baggies by home plate).

one more stop at the lake before heading out towards the canadian glacier national park.

a train on the columbia.

the firehouse museum (for tom, again).

buddy got tired.

a glacial path.

illecillewaet glacier.

on the trail. i didn't realize i had great hiking dogs. except they don't really give a damn when i trip.

breathing the piney air.

buddy got tired again.

closer to the glacier.

picking elderberries on the trail.

leading the way.

plenty of glacial runoff (and drinks) along the way.

the mule.

more runoff.

enjoying the moment.

wulf didn't like the metal grate bridge at first, so he took the hard way.

a veritable waterslide.

sir donald peak. at the end of his wicked 4km straight-up trail.

the messy switchbacks. i messed up my knee on the way down.

ken's winded, but buddy's refreshed.

glacial snow. the dogs loved it--rolling, sliding, and eating, of course.

the kind of things growing at the top.

the glacier at sir donald.

a view downward.

gratuitous family portrait.

'thar she blows! a hump like a snowhill! it is...alice on her bad knee.'

pretty forts.

looks a lot like the hike to pamola peak in baxter state park (the dragon's back).

buddy making the grade as ken falls on his face.

the valley on the way down.

the pissed off whistling woodchuck living under the trail. very pissed off.

from rte. 4 into the park.

snow-speckled peaks.

clear, COLD water, which i haven't seen since baxter.

clayqout.

our first black bear sighting. far...far...away.

a wee bit closer.

our campsite at mussel beach (in the owner's front yard. down a half-hour drive on a gravel logging road--we lost a foglight along the way).

grey whales and black bears were out by nine every morning.

oodles of hermit crabs.

and anemones.

and gobies.

and crabs.

ken prompting him into attack mode.

and mussels. and barnacles.

nothing like soppy ramen on the grill.

our second black bear sighting. we were told a mother and her cubs came out every morning. we didn't think we'd get closer, but...

...we did.

the hike out to schooner point, through a rainforest.

giant slugs.

giant trees.

giant trees growing from dead giant trees.

esowista first nation - tia-o-qui-aht.

almost good enough for a sierra calendar. changing leaves and all. (the island is inaccessible when the tide is in).

the tide line, thanks to the barnacles.

colonies of anemones.

echinoderm mania. i've never seen colors so brilliant in sea stars, especially on the atlantic coast.

chow time, aristotle.

big trees growing from big rocks.

a harsh life. i didn't see any shrimp (there are tons in acadia).

after telling ken that i wanted my own kayak boat, and thus he would have to ride with the instructor. in his wet skirt.

a practice run.

clayquot.

the instructor wasn't a tool, so ken buddied it up.

find the eagle and you win a kewpie doll.

some of these islands are for sale--a few million. in maine, they're cheaper than tv dinners.a

at 'incinerator rock'--isn't that dream theater's next album, tom?

surfers on weak waves. no el nino this year.

for tom....nothing against dream theater.

on the rainforest trail.

bad picture. these things were as big as your torso. no kidding.

on our last drive from the campground.

boarding the ferry for the mainland (vancouver). canada is so dog friendly. they even provide views.

our first view of victoria, british columbia, from the port angeles ferry.

gratuitous self-mocking.

i...am...moving...here (as soon as i get my green card).

the dogs stayed at a kennel in parksville while we headed out to kayak and camp on the beach. they had a blast, but wulf broke out and started pacing the grounds. typical.

for my mom.

all flat farmland until here. then it started looking a lot like sonoma county.

sleep huddle

1am. en route to port angeles. lying with the mutts.

on the ferry to victoria. we were one of the last cars on. some poor sap had to turn around and wait for the next boat in four hours.

buddy's knee fetish.

awaiting the great hand of oz.

makes for a bony pillow.

only way to ignore my driving.

back when the windshield was 'clean.'

the landscape moving into yellowstone

another river i'm blanking on. blame it on the 7:30am veterinary neuroscience course i took this morning.

the entrance to yellowstone. very regal.

heh...heh...heh...

getting sick of this yet?

hot springs. no sleezstacks popping out of this sulfur-loving mess.

a dormant cone, no longer issuing forth boiling water and sulfur.

active springs.

and those silly asters still manage to make it through, despite the fact that my indiana yard is dead.

grizzly country. we didn't see any grizzlies. sigh.

the traffic jam caused by one of the sturgites spilling his bike hugging a turn a little too tightly.

buffalo dung. and more dung. and more dung.

more boiling pits. evidently, settlers were unnerved by all of the ruckus, thinking they'd found "hell on earth." then they discovered trenton, nj.

local wildlife. crows thrive on tourists.

our first sightings of bison and their calves.

they can charge up to 30mph. pretty impressive.

doing my best gidget impersonation.

old faithful blowing a gasket.

no comment.

sunset on the way out of the park.

buddy finds a friend at koa billings, montana. they had a nice-sized dog run. sticks and all.

a trickle of some famous river is on the other side of the tent, but i can't remember what it's named.

a tent too small.

that's the river. buddy wasn't impressed.

heh..heh...heh...wow.

the landscape was incredible. it was around this time that we hit what i think was a swallow, which pretty much ruined the night for me. but it was still beautiful.

not quite "big sky," but pretty damned close.

mesa, butte? butte, mesa?

prairie dog country!

i think there's one in there. somewhere.

devil's tower...the images don't do the volcanic plug justice.

i'll let ken explain how it works in the comment. ahem...ken?

mooning devil's tower. such respect.

we were able to climb to the base. beyond that, you need a permit. and some serious rap. ropes.

yes, same shirt. same day. just like fastfood.

the great missouri. rushing (well, okay, not really rushing) into the middle of nowhere. but the burger king around the corner DID have veggie burgers.

taking a breather. er...stretch...those that had legs stretched.

the third giant dinosaur i've seen in my life: 1. dinosaur land, winchester, va; 2. some place in oregon; 3. wall, sd

we ended up in wall (after about three-thousand billboards) with most of the sturgis crew. we missed the submachine gun fight by a few hours, though.

the famed carving, looking a bit weak here. in fact, it wasn't that big in person. and cary grant wasn't hanging from any noses. and i'm ashamed to admit that i didn't know jefferson was on there.

always vying for the best shot. i was taking this picture as i was walking buddy up the hill and falling on my face. as i lay in the dirt, the stalwart buddy carried on (he likes ken better).

that was ME who was able to get them to sit like that.

around the corner.

looks like something out of the movie troll. or maybe chet.

the "in-progress" crazy horse memorial. it's been in progress for awhile. they recently blew out the whole for the arm. it was twenty bucks to get in, which we couldn't afford, but we marveled for a few moments.

crazy horse would be proud.

this amazed me. somehow, we ended up for dinner in a pizza place that used to be a theater. and before THAT it was a theater, too, and there were framed movie shots lining the walls. marion davies (good ole w.r. hearst's flame and thomas ince's bane) in the cinema murder. she looks more like olive thomas here, though. strange...

lots of evidence of forest fires outside of rushmore.

enjoying the charred tinder.

a construction zone.

yeah, it was that exciting.