Holy Man?

Every year thousands of people make pilgrimages to sacred places for reasons of their own. Typically one reads about these pilgrimages in a holy context, but are all pilgrimages holy in nature? I too set aside a week each year in search of intellectual, spiritual, and social enlightenment. The destination remains the same Black Rock City Nevada. Every year me and about 50,000 other individuals gather in the vast emptiness of the northern Nevada desert for an event called Burning Man.

I compare this to a religious pilgrimage because there are some inarguable similarities. People pack up what’s important to them and venture off for a week of unknowable spiritual fulfillment. Each has its sacred location and each has its totem. So I ask how different is Burning man from other holy pilgrimages? At this point I broke to look up “holy pilgrimage” in Google since I have no idea what I’m talking about. The first hit was a burning man hit. I rest my case. I should mention that in my Google search I did misspell “pilgrimage”, but oh well.

I’ve read so many write ups about burning man and none of them accurately describe the event. Why; because the essence of burning man can not be captured in words. Defining burning man is like trying to define love. Though collections of adjectives can give the reader an idea of said concept, the reader cannot possibly comprehend its true meaning until he/she actually “feels” it for themselves.

Happy Monday! - can't you tell. 

Paradise Found - Part 1

Hi everybody!

We’ve made it to Acapulco!!!!! 10 days and 1800 miles from Puerto Penasco were our journey began. Our first night on the road we made San Carlos, a well manicured resort town on the Gulf of California. We snagged a great camp spot on the local beach between some unknown bay and mountainous rock formations that looked as if they were corked volcanoes. Wow! Next was a big drive day of about 400 miles, which brought us to the small town of el Fuerte. The town is best known for its proximity to the Copper Canyon (much like the Grand Canyon, though some might say “grander”). There were many vacationers strolling about town to catch the train into the canyon, as there are no roads through the canyon. We opted out of the canyon visit, have to save something for next time. Instead we made Mazatlan, the first Mexican town on the Pacific. At the southern end of the Bahia de Mazatlan (Mazatlan Bay) perched way up 186 meters on a cliff is the lighthouse, second highest to Gibraltar’s. We promptly climbed to the top for the best view in all of Mazatlan. Just across the bay lies Isle de la Piedra with 14km of pristine deserted beach and a coconut plantation as far as the eye can see. It’s not technically an island since we were able to reach it by car, though most visitors arrive by boat (a five minute ferry ride across the bay), somehow we managed to find the road in the dark and headed out to the island (1.5 hour drive). We snuck in to the coconut plantation and drove along until we heard the waves crashing and set up camp. It wasn’t until the next day we discovered that the place we had accidentally stumbled into was the most beautiful beach on the planet tucked neatly into a coconut plantation.
After spending a couple days checking out Mazatlan and Isle de la Piedra we were back on the road. Based upon a write up in our travel guide we pushed on to the laid back surf town of Sayulita. Hippies everywhere! Somewhere between Mazatlan and Sayulita the climate became tropical. The days became warmer and the waves grew larger. We spent a couple days hanging in the sun and pushed on again to a hidden little gem called Maruiata. Again we arrived well past dark and had no idea where we were and on the verge of exhaustion we asked a little old lady if we may camp under her palm thatched palapa shelter on the beach. She happily agreed and within minutes our camp was up and we fell fast asleep to the roar of the waves (though we couldn’t see the water). When the sun came up we could hardly believe this place that we had (once again) found in the dark. Though not secluded like Isle de la Piedra, Maruiata was far more spectacular. It’s three small beaches separated by rocky outcroppings which formed tunnels and caves where the waves crash through as they seek shore . The water was churning and the surf dangerous for even swimming, but its magnificence unrivaled. There were modest palapas constructed on each beach where the owners cook and serve delicious home made food, of your choice. Here we met many travelers who came passing through but have stayed for months. Here is where we met a couple of Swedish girls both named M, who were on a botched up bicycle trip. Apparently one had gotten hurt on the beginning of the journey (Tiajuana) and the trip was all but ruined. We had almost helped them salvage their trip by offering the car as a sag wagon and the would be five of us on bicycle rotation. In the end it fell through and we pushed on to Acapulco.
Acapulco. We were happy to be checking into a hotel as we were as filthy as hippies. We arrived at the Mayan Palace just out side of town and settled in to our new found opulence. Not sure how we would adjust to this luxury we did our best, and lets say it wasn’t so good. We ended up all getting very sick during our stay, but if one must be sick, I’d suppose the Mayan Palace is the place to do it. Acapulco is beautifully set in a protected ringed by a small mountain range. It’s quite beautiful. Spring break was just starting up and the kids were getting crazy. We hung the best we could, but getting stir crazy to get back on the road. Dave and I did a dive which was very nice, but poor Mianh was still down with the sickness. The last noteworthy Acapulco activity was the legendary cliff divers. These guys are CRAZY. Dr. Dave says that in time the divers spines actually compress from the impact of these dives. Holy.
This brings us to here and now. Here is Puerto Escondido and now is March 20, 2005. Puerto is the most famous surf spot in all of Mexico home of the Mexican Pipeline. Oh it’s no joke. The waves are huge, no bigger than that, massive. I think I’ll do my surfing vicariously through others, but a body board might not be a bad idea. A full report will follow

Paradise Found - Part 2

Hola Amigos,

At last communication the three of us had arrived at Puerto Escondido literally meaning “Hidden Port” or just Puerto as the locals call it. This is a must stop for surfers backpackers, hippies, and apparently us. We had planed for a night but somehow stayed for three. The port itself is crescent shaped with a rocky outcropping separating the town in to two districts. The northern district is protected from the big waves while the southern side is home of the infamous Mexican Pipeline. A couple of Canadian girls we had met in the previous town had informed us of a campground just off the main road across from the beach, supposedly the only one in town. In search of the promised cheap sandy accommodations we, quite by accident, happened upon a hidden niche of a campsite, perfect in every way. It once had been a trailer park, but now it houses a single Canadian, Mark, and his canine friend Shelby. We thourghly enjoyed mark and his many peculiarities. Mark had been living in Puerto Escondido for 2 months and was eating the same meal for breakfast and dinner, which he cooked himself, for the whole 2 months when he could have eaten the most excellent Mexican food for 2USD and 30 seconds walk away…The driveway to the trailer park doubles as seating for an outdoor café which literally separates the trailer park from the street. I’m happy to report that Mark was quite content with his routine, maybe we could all learn something from Mark, or then again, maybe not.

After several minutes of deliberation we decided it was indeed time to move on. So back up we did and bid a fond farewell to our little town of Puerto. It was only about 40KM down the road to Zipolite, a quaint little hippie town. We planed on staying for lunch and ended up staying the night. Happens. The “onda” or vibe was too good to pass up. The beach as lovely lined with hammocks under a series of palapas, a great place to grab an afternoon nap. Zipolite is one of those towns were there is more foot traffic than there are cars, a great place to stroll around checking out shops and cafes. In the morning we prepared ourselves for the drive through Chiapas, the Mexican state still in insurrectionary conflict with the Mexican Government. The guide books prepared us for highway robbery and dangers of all kinds. I’m happy to report we encountered no such troubles; in fact the people were courteous and accommodating. We pulled up to a beach off the beaten track named Playa La Flor del Palma. On the beach was a family run restaurant, more like an outdoor kitchen beneath a palm thatched roof. We were warmly welcomed and invited to stay the night under the palapa. Since it was Semanta Santa (the largest holiday week in all of Latin America) there were several Mexican families in celebration. Once the kitchen closed for the night people began setting up tents, and the music started. It was a joyous celebration enjoyed by all. The beach itself was sprawling and gave way to sand dunes which climbed partially up the mountains face. An excellent choice for the last of our Mexico camping adventure

Next stop Guatemala and the Good Friday border crossing. The boarder crossing was comical to say the least. After a couple of runs between the Mexico and Guatemalan boarders for a series of stamps and paperwork processing we were granted right of entry to Guatemala! Guatemala’s beauty is beyond words. Lush jungles line the road while the horizon gives way to rolling hills in the vast countryside. Unbelievable. We pulled up to the mountain town of Antigua. Antigua is special in its own right; old buildings line the narrow cobblestone roads. The town itself is situated high in the mountains while nestled between three active volcanoes. We happened to arrive on Good Friday. Now Good Friday in Antigua is listed in the too 100 things to do before you die list, and as we discovered, for good reason. People come from all over to view the processions of parades and floats commemorating the Semanta Santa holiday. The town square was filled with hundreds of people trying to catch a glimpse of the crucifixion reenactment. We, however, were not too keen on it as we had already seen the Passion of the Christ on video.

That’s all there is time for now…we will pick this up as we enter The Honduras and take a week of diving on Rotan. Currently, we are in the Tikal ruins of Guatemala and will send this via an encrypted wireless 802.11G link first established by the Myans in The Year of Your Lord (but not theirs) eight hundred forty two.

Paradise Found - Part 3

Ho friends, back again with more tales of our epic journey. Waking up in Antigua (Guatemala) is much like waking in any European Colonial town. The morning bustle of people in preparation for the day ahead is naturally accompanied with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. A double shot of dark roast Guatemala espresso in his cup, our coffee achiever is appeased thus we may continue our journey. Big drive day through most of Guatemala pulling up just short of the Honduras boarder in the town of Chiquimula. Tonight’s menu consisted of an array of street food prepared by various small statured Mayan women patting corn meal balls in to tortillas which are then grilled to perfection and accompanied by an array of fixings. We sampled many of the delectable delights found on carts lining the town square then finally settled into bed.
The morning brought with it a beautiful sunrise which we all enjoyed from the roof of the hotel. Memories in our minds and the sun in our eyes we head to Honduras. First stop in Honduras was the tiny town of Copan, the gateway to a set of Mayan ruins by the same name. The ruins were, well ruins, as we traced the footsteps of Mayans we set out speculating as to why they had built the temples only to later abandon them. Though we never reached a viable conclusion to their mind set, we were able to appreciate the fruits of their labor. After decidedly having our fill of the ruin exploration we continued on in search of the Caribbean coast. Several cervesa’s and a few hours later we reached La Ceiba, gateway to Roatan Island, home of the “best and cheapest divining in the world”. The town of La Ceiba is a bit more scummy than expected for a town on the Caribbean sea, but interesting nonetheless. Once we reached Roatan the plan was dive, dive, dive. Diving in Roatan is as cheap as promised and almost as good. With our 8 dives we found excellent visibility and abundance of corals, thought not as many fishes as expected. Our departure from Roatan was delayed by a day due to weather; instead a group of us rented a van along with a driver and set out to explore the island. We found monkeys, iguanas, deer, and various birds, thought no lunch. Apparently rainy weather + Sunday = CLOSED. Not to be thwarted we returned to west end for an excellent dinner and even better dessert! Once we finally left the Island we immediately headed for the boarder. The idea was to find a car ferry into Belize and continue from there. There are no such ferries in existence, so overland we go, back through Guatemala. We chose the coastal route for this particular journey and what a fantastic journey it was. Most of the road was under construction and in a half dozen places we had to drive through various rivers as the bridges were still in construct. All but one was no problem whatsoever. There was one crossing that left us passengers in prayer, but Davey muscled through it and all was well. Back in Guatemala we settled in the only Caribbean town, Puerto Barrios. PB is an old town with open sewers lining the streets. Thought scummy it still had some charm. We spent the evening walking the darkened streets not knowing whether or not to put our Detroit faces on. In the end it really didn’t matter.

Early in the morning we departed our dirty hotel room with our sights set on Belize. On route and near the melting point we stopped at a lake (Lago Peten Itza) for a quick swim. I can’t begin to tell you how refreshing it is to swim in fresh water after soaking in the salty sea for days. There is where the decision was made to visit a second set of ruins in Tikal. The Tikal ruins are said to be Guatemala’s finest, we concur. Just inside the park there is an area for camping along the grassy plain just before the entrance to the ruins themselves, we easily found ourselves at home there. Around dusk we set off to explore the ruins. If any of you have intentions of visiting tourist sites such as ruins, may I suggest going about an hour or two before the park closes, as we had the park to ourselves. We climbed to the top of temple 5 to watch the sun slip below the horizon, leaving the sky a brilliant pink which create the illusion fiery shadows upon the other temples. As dusk set in we ventured through the darkening jungle, its canopy blocking out what little daylight remained. Along the way we were greeted by holler monkeys bellowing to one another calls of aggression or perhaps seduction. You never know. In the morning we set out to see more of the ruins, but the vast number of bodies discouraged further exploration. We quickly fled the country. Next stop Belize.

Enter Belize. As a country goes Belize is quite small, so there was no problem driving through in an afternoon. By 4pm we were back on the Caribbean coast! Sights set on diving we setteled into a clean guest house near the water taxi docks. First thing in the morning we would be heading to Caye Caluker (would have been San Pedro, since Ski and D were there celebrating their honeymoon, but we had just missed them “sorry”). Caye Caulker is the “little brother” to Caye Ambergris, the destination for most tourists. The caye pronounced “key” was split in two by Hurricane Mitch in 1998 now only the southern piece is inhabited. The orientation from the split to the end is roughly 10 city blocks top to bottom and four city blocks side to side. It’s a tiny place with enormous character. As on the last island adventure the plan is dive, dive, dive. Dive we did, Belize diving is equated with the infamous “blue hole” latterly a hole 40 meters (120 feet) by 40 meters (120 feet) across and 140 meters (420 feet deep). Of course you can’t drop to the bottom, but the dive is deep nonetheless, we totaled 44.5 meter (133 feet) depth and we were narced (Nitrogen Narcosis, where there is an abundance of Nitrogen in your blood, it has a similar effect to laughing gas) out of our brains. What notable about diving the blue hole is it’s a favorite gathering place for sharks. We saw at least a dozen large reef sharks, and believe me they’re scary, though not the least bit interested in having you for dinner. Diving fun all done we left Caye Caulker and headed back to Belize City via water Taxi. Unfortanutely this is where we must leave our dear friend and traveling companion Mia as Dave and I must head homeward.

Dancing in Place

Today I took a walk through reality. It's exactly how I remember it, grey fabric lined half walls. Luckily my sentence was a short one lasting only 9 hours of one day. Smiles arise with the notion that tomorrow brings blue skies above and granular concrete below passing by at 55 MPH.

"motorcycle momma won't you lay your big spike down"

Dreamland

It was one of those nights where sleep seems far away, off in the distance. So I lie in bed tossing and turning searching for the perfect pocket of comfort suitable for dozing off. Perhaps it was physical restlessness or mental wonderings which created the perfect recipe for a bizarre trek through an unfamiliar reality attainable only through the cover of night. Head one with pillow and body still as can be drifting into sleep when suddenly peace is shattered by ghastly, hideous, terrifying screams centered in the stem of my brain. Sound so intense I felt my entire body vibrate. Violent tremors pass through the entire room bouncing off the walls and on to the bed and finally into me. Frightened back into consciousness, my physical body unable to move. Confused, panicked, frozen, and grasping for breath; I scream but without sound.


There is an eerie clarity discoverable during the passage from the waking world into the Technicolor known as dreamland.

This particular journey was loud and frightening and alive; screeching, breathing, and pulsating. Just as terror was to replace the lucidity - it happened. I had arrived, somewhere between deliriousness and perspicuity.

... To be continued ...