Back in the Windy City

I have struck a city – a real city – and they call it Chicago. . . . I urgently desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages.  

-Rudyard Kipling, 1891

A picture I took of downtown Chicago (and tweaked on Instagram)

Damn I love this city! Scrappy, arrogant and overly self-impressed, it's the thuggish, over-achieving younger brother of New York City who never quite feels like he measures up. Laid out like an towering pile of colored blocks cast down by God onto the edge of the prairie, it surprises everyone who sees it for the first time. When it's twenty below zero and the wind is screaming off Lake Michigan or a hundred degrees and ninety percent humidity and sweat is dripping off the tip of your nose, a day here can be like a prison sentence; but on a day like today, when there's light breezes off the lake and the air is crystalline and humidity-free and towering cumulonimbus clouds are providing a convenient backdrop to the skyline, I defy you to name a more spectacular spot in the universe.

The crowds down on Diversey Beach shortly after the end of the air and water show (thanks again to Instagram)

This last Sunday was the second day of the Air and Water Show and we had a front row view of the jets from the twenty-seventh floor at our friend's apartment. I've known Sam and Jill since I was in my late-twenties and, since Sam became the city planner for Boulder, Colorado, they're been dividing time between Chicago and Boulder. They whipped up a fantastic lunch for us and we watched the show from on high, oohing and aahing as the jets buzzed their building (I missed the best shots as they were moving so fast). Afterwards, we walked amongst the throngs that were still milling about the lakefront . . .

Sam, Jill, Erin, Bella and Derek

The view of Lincoln Park, downtown Chicago and Diversey Harbor out Sam of Jill's apartment window

The Blue Angels buzzing the city

The Chicago skyline

More of the Chicago skyline that I can't seem to get enough of (the haze is from the jets)

Derek and Sam strolling along Lake Shore Drive

Sam, me, Erin and Jill on the lakefront

Erin and I strike a pose

Up Here at The Rushes

Another beautiful day on the lake

What we mostly do up here  at The Rushes in the daytime is bob around the lake in one type of watercraft or another, such as the Hobie Cats . . .

A mellow sail on the Hobie Cat

C'est Moi

Maggie

Tom

Kayaks . . .

Erin targeting Echo Island

Erin chillin'

Me headed toward the clouds

And the new rage, paddle boards . . .

Tom gives Joni a few pointers

Scuffle on the high seas between Ryan and Noah (Nate wisely remains neutral)

It's a pretty simple equation really: you take a placid body of water rimmed with trees on a gorgeous day and throw any manner of floatable craft on top and the possibilities for fun and relaxation are limitless. One of my favorite things to do is watch the clouds. Garrison Keillor calls them "prairie mountains" and I think this says it all. They're the one thing we have here in the vertically challenged Midwest that can make us tilt our heads back in awe and reverence.

Cloud watching on a lazy day

Also, Derek and Bella, after two-and-a-half months in Sweden, will be flying into O'Hare tomorrow -- we'll see them on Friday. Välkommen hem!

Bella and Derek

What's Missing in this Picture?

 

. . . Mountains

Welcome to the Great Plains. A vast swath of flat, arid land, which eventually transitions into the lush, rolling farmland of the Midwest. I don't want to sound like a snooty "Topo-phile," but after a month-and-a-half of driving in, out, around and just in sight of mountains -- Coastal, Cascades, and Rockies -- as well as eight years living in the mountains of Southern Oregon, this mono-relief takes some getting used to. Although, having grown up mostly in Illinois, there's something intensely familiar about these expansive flatlands. I remember red-lining my motorcycle as a teenager down deserted Illinois roads, with cornfields in every direction. Unfortunately, Erin and I only had two days to travel over a thousand miles, so we blasted down Interstate 80, my least favorite kind of driving. So apologies to Nebraska and Iowa, two states which we gave short shrift to. I know there is real beauty in both these states, but that it's a beauty that needs to be sought out; certainly it's never evident cruising along at 75 miles and hour on this monotonous, asphalt conveyor belt.

Also, on Saturday we woke up to threatening clouds and as soon as we got on the road it started to pour. Really pour!

The view through my windshield for almost eight hours

For over eight hours, the wipers struggled to swipe torrents of rainwater off our windshield, as I struggled to see where I was driving. I've driven through thunderstorms before, but usually for only about fifteen or twenty minutes. This gully-washer went on all day long. A few times the rain slowed down, even stopping for a brief respite, but then we'd see another system approach (amidst some awesome lightening displays) and, yet again, we'd be plowing through sheets of water. Luckily I only hydroplaned once (a terrifying five seconds that felt like eternity, which sent reckless car that had passed us a few minutes before catapulting across the highway). When we finally arrived in Chicago, I watched the weather on TV and found out that there was an intense swath of storm cells sweeping from Iowa into Illinois, following our route almost exactly.

Tornado watch in Iowa

Over the Mississippi River and welcome to Illinois . . .

. . . and more of the same

Erin and I saw more lightening in the last six days since entering Colorado than we've seen in the preceding three to five years. Kind of hairy, but I have to say I love these storms and always have (except while sailing in the middle of the Atlantic). The good news is that, after a long withering heat wave in the Chicago area, this rain brought in some beautiful weather to our destination.


Bonus picture:

Derek behind the wheel in Ashland last summer

On The Road Again

After a 10-day stop-over in Ashland, we're on the move again. We are on the longer leg of our 5 month road-trip, this leg taking us through Colorado to the Midwest (mostly Chicago and Wisconsin) and then on to the South (Georgia and North Carolina) and up the East Coast for fall colors in New England in late-September through mid-October. We stopped in Ashland mostly because Erin had her annual gig up in the Greensprings, providing massage for the participants of a contemplative retreat, but it was also a good opportunity to see friends and neighbors, recharge our batteries and check in on Dallas. We were very happy to see that Dallas has adapted quite well (too well?) to the capable care of Shel and Paula. They've taken to dog ownership remarkably well and Dallas appears happy, healthy and well-fed (although not too well-fed, as they are much more disciplined than I am about giving table scraps) . . .

Dallas mesmerized by the contents of my food bowl

Derek is doing well in Sweden with his girlfriend, Bella. They're staying with Bella's parents in the suburbs of Stockholm and taking occasional trips into the city, to Denmark and other points throughout Sweden. They'll be flying back in to Chicago in mid-August when we're there and they'll be there for ten days before flying on to Portland, where they're moving (they were down in Santa Barbara, California before). Bella will attend a college up there (on a student Visa) and Derek will be doing clothing design for Aedion, a skateboard company.

Bella and Derek

So anyhoo, Erin and I took one of our favorite drives on our way down to Durango, Colorado -- Highway 50, the so-called "Loneliest Road in America," which runs right through the center of Nevada (west to east), close to the old Pony Express Trail in the Basin and Range province of the Great Basin. It's an infrequently traveled road that runs through a sparse and, to us, awesomely beautiful and captivating, desert landscape. The road climbs over numerous passes (ranging from 4,000 to 7,500 feet in elevation) and down into a seemingly endless succession of broad, arid valleys. It's probably not for everybody -- I've talked to a few people who think that it's mind-numbingly tedious -- but Erin and I were in a fairly constant state of awe and delight. Here's the Wiki-link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_50_in_Nevada.

A ribbon of glistening highway beckons us towards the horizon

And a short video of the typical landscape outside my window: