Yeah, I know it's a cliche but it's still strange to walk out of the bar at 9:30 in the evening (we get up at 6, so we try and keep it early) and it is still dazzling bright outside. In fact, it is always dazzling bright here in Antarctica and the wearing of sunglasses is apparently mandatory — not that I think there are penalties, beyond snow-blindness, for those who don't wear them.
Working here has been pretty fun so far, we work out at one of the airfields — Williams, or Willy, field — and it is out on the Ross Ice Shelf, where on clear days there are breathtaking views of the smoking Mt. Erebus (I'll post a picture when I get round to downloading one from the camera). The 30-45 minute bus ride each way is a little annoying, particularly as the airfield is only 6 miles outside of McMurdo (the town), but I imagine I'll have a similar commute when I'm back in London next year, and it probably won't be as pretty.
So far the weather has held up, and we haven't had much in the way of snow. I'm assured that this is guaranteed to change before the end of the month, and I hope so — it would seem a terrible shame to come to Antarctica and not have at least one decent storm. Having said that I'm sure after one I'd be really bored of them, but still...
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The seagull and the sausage, and other tall tales
Like all good stories this one starts with a football match. Unlike most football matches this one started at 8am on a Sunday. Unlike most football matches that I've played in, our team actually won. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is true. (For reference: The Clawless Marauders, our outdoor seven aside team, managed to concede 70 goals in 6 games — one of which the opposing team didn't turn up for.)
Well okay, so I just lied a little. No it wasn't about winning the football match, it was about the start. The first sentence should have read, "Like all good stories this one starts with a drinking and backgammon gambling session that went until 4am (or 5, if you consider the fact that we put the clocks back an hour at 10:50 when we were feeling sleepy). Of course, if I'd started my first post in months with that it would merely add to my Mother's conviction that I am an alcoholic, gambling addict — and yes, that would be a bad thing. (For the record I ended the backgammon session up a stunning $7)
All things considered I can't think of a better way to start the day you head of towards Antarctica (well New Zealand, really) than an 8am football match after you've had three hours of sleep. Particularly when you win the game; at this point I should probably state that I only played about seven minutes of the game and probably contributed minimally to the result, but this isn't Roy of the Rovers.
Following the football, I had just enough time to have a shower before it was time to head off to work to finishing packing the boxes of scientific stuff that I'm taking down to the ice. Then it was off to the airport, where I'd hoped to be delayed long enough to watch the Atlanta Falcons beat the Cincinnati Bengals (in fact my flight was delayed but only long enough for we to watch Cincy lead the Falcons 17-13 at halftime). In the future I must remember to look up which sporting events are happening on my proposed travel dates, for now I'll just have to be satisfied that the Falcons won (I'm sure that, deep down, they did it for me).
The flight to New Zealand was not as unpleasant as I was expecting, largely due to the fact that I was absolutely knackered and managed to sleep for a while. The leg from Chicago to L.A. was enlivened by the man next to me telling how much he hated all the hypocritical homosexuals in the Republican party, and how China were going to take out Kim Jong-Il before the Olympics in Beijing (remember, you heard it here first if it happens). The only downside of the flight to Auckland is that my personal luggage wasn't on it, in fact it went to Brisbane, collecting all these pretty tags on it's way.
One of the first things I saw when I was a walking down the street in Christchurch, was a seagull swoop down from the rooftops and take a battered sausage out of the hands of a guy as he was eating it. It was very impressive, in fact I had to take a photo of said sausage to immortalise the moment. And just for good measure here is a shot of the strange vase thing next to the cathedral (can you tell I just bought a new camera?)
Well okay, so I just lied a little. No it wasn't about winning the football match, it was about the start. The first sentence should have read, "Like all good stories this one starts with a drinking and backgammon gambling session that went until 4am (or 5, if you consider the fact that we put the clocks back an hour at 10:50 when we were feeling sleepy). Of course, if I'd started my first post in months with that it would merely add to my Mother's conviction that I am an alcoholic, gambling addict — and yes, that would be a bad thing. (For the record I ended the backgammon session up a stunning $7)
All things considered I can't think of a better way to start the day you head of towards Antarctica (well New Zealand, really) than an 8am football match after you've had three hours of sleep. Particularly when you win the game; at this point I should probably state that I only played about seven minutes of the game and probably contributed minimally to the result, but this isn't Roy of the Rovers.
Following the football, I had just enough time to have a shower before it was time to head off to work to finishing packing the boxes of scientific stuff that I'm taking down to the ice. Then it was off to the airport, where I'd hoped to be delayed long enough to watch the Atlanta Falcons beat the Cincinnati Bengals (in fact my flight was delayed but only long enough for we to watch Cincy lead the Falcons 17-13 at halftime). In the future I must remember to look up which sporting events are happening on my proposed travel dates, for now I'll just have to be satisfied that the Falcons won (I'm sure that, deep down, they did it for me).
The flight to New Zealand was not as unpleasant as I was expecting, largely due to the fact that I was absolutely knackered and managed to sleep for a while. The leg from Chicago to L.A. was enlivened by the man next to me telling how much he hated all the hypocritical homosexuals in the Republican party, and how China were going to take out Kim Jong-Il before the Olympics in Beijing (remember, you heard it here first if it happens). The only downside of the flight to Auckland is that my personal luggage wasn't on it, in fact it went to Brisbane, collecting all these pretty tags on it's way.
One of the first things I saw when I was a walking down the street in Christchurch, was a seagull swoop down from the rooftops and take a battered sausage out of the hands of a guy as he was eating it. It was very impressive, in fact I had to take a photo of said sausage to immortalise the moment. And just for good measure here is a shot of the strange vase thing next to the cathedral (can you tell I just bought a new camera?)
Friday, July 21, 2006
The day Ryan accidentally purchased clothing
Due to popular demand...
Now I should probably describe my situation and mindset at the time of the shirt buying incident. That morning, it was a Saturday, I'd woken up on a bed that was a little too small for me in Las Vegas. That evening I had a flight to catch from LA to London so that I could be around for UCL's Rolling Grant review. Now I had no real idea what a Rolling Grant review consisted — and to be honest I'm still not much the wiser — and I had no idea if I was supposed to present anything, or dress up, or anything. Suffice to say I was I was in a state of some uncertainty.
The one thing that I was certain of was that I probably shouldn't turn up at the UCL wearing the same jeans that I had slept in on the flight over from LA. This was the reason I decided to go shopping. Now for those of you who know me, and for those who don't but have seen the photo on my work web site, it is probably evident that I am not a dedicated follow of fashion. I make this point to provide an explanation for why I thought it would be a good idea to go to the shops with Kim and her friend Mali, as between the two of the I might have been able to garner some semi useful advice on the clothing front. It turns out that this was my great mistake.
In retrospect, at the point in the shopping trip where we had been to two stores and had yet to find a pair of trousers that fit me I should have just given up. Further, when Kim resorted to calling her sister to proffer advice I should of stopped listening to her (her sister's advice was wear a tie and a green shirt, in case you were curious). I did neither of these. Instead we drove across LA and went to the Macy Men's store in the Beverly Center or Hollywood Mall or some other similarly named awful place. Again, this can probably be viewed as a mistake.
Still I persevered on my quest to obtain a clean pair of trousers (although by now I was weary and hated the world for making my a clothing pariah) to wear in London. I searched the store high and low (well just low really as it was all on the ground floor), but couldn't find any trousers that fit me (Bastards!), so instead I decided to turn my attention to getting a shirt instead, figuring I would just buy some clean trousers when I got to London. After two more laps of the store we (well Kim really) managed to locate a couple of shirts that were not too hideous. So, sensing at least a partial victory, I went up to the counter and handed the man the shirts and my credit card. He handed me back a little slip of paper asking me for my signature, as I signed I vaguely noticed that the total for my two shirts was $300. It took a little while to sink in. I think I was back in the car and driving to the airport that I realised I'd just bought a $200 shirt.
I still feel somewhat cheated, although when I was wearing the shirt I received more compliments about my clothing than at any other time I remember (being as I remember exactly zero beforehand, well zero that weren't about my offensive t-shirts).
Now I should probably describe my situation and mindset at the time of the shirt buying incident. That morning, it was a Saturday, I'd woken up on a bed that was a little too small for me in Las Vegas. That evening I had a flight to catch from LA to London so that I could be around for UCL's Rolling Grant review. Now I had no real idea what a Rolling Grant review consisted — and to be honest I'm still not much the wiser — and I had no idea if I was supposed to present anything, or dress up, or anything. Suffice to say I was I was in a state of some uncertainty.
The one thing that I was certain of was that I probably shouldn't turn up at the UCL wearing the same jeans that I had slept in on the flight over from LA. This was the reason I decided to go shopping. Now for those of you who know me, and for those who don't but have seen the photo on my work web site, it is probably evident that I am not a dedicated follow of fashion. I make this point to provide an explanation for why I thought it would be a good idea to go to the shops with Kim and her friend Mali, as between the two of the I might have been able to garner some semi useful advice on the clothing front. It turns out that this was my great mistake.
In retrospect, at the point in the shopping trip where we had been to two stores and had yet to find a pair of trousers that fit me I should have just given up. Further, when Kim resorted to calling her sister to proffer advice I should of stopped listening to her (her sister's advice was wear a tie and a green shirt, in case you were curious). I did neither of these. Instead we drove across LA and went to the Macy Men's store in the Beverly Center or Hollywood Mall or some other similarly named awful place. Again, this can probably be viewed as a mistake.
Still I persevered on my quest to obtain a clean pair of trousers (although by now I was weary and hated the world for making my a clothing pariah) to wear in London. I searched the store high and low (well just low really as it was all on the ground floor), but couldn't find any trousers that fit me (Bastards!), so instead I decided to turn my attention to getting a shirt instead, figuring I would just buy some clean trousers when I got to London. After two more laps of the store we (well Kim really) managed to locate a couple of shirts that were not too hideous. So, sensing at least a partial victory, I went up to the counter and handed the man the shirts and my credit card. He handed me back a little slip of paper asking me for my signature, as I signed I vaguely noticed that the total for my two shirts was $300. It took a little while to sink in. I think I was back in the car and driving to the airport that I realised I'd just bought a $200 shirt.
I still feel somewhat cheated, although when I was wearing the shirt I received more compliments about my clothing than at any other time I remember (being as I remember exactly zero beforehand, well zero that weren't about my offensive t-shirts).
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Not dead, just feel like it
Yeah, I know long time no post. I bet you thought I'd gone crazy from too many night shifts and killed all my colleagues with a some fishing line, or something. I didn't though. Honest. They are all as alive and well as they ever are.
So, I'm back in Columbus after what seems like nine and half weeks — largely because it was nine and half weeks — and it is good to be back. Who'd think you could miss Central Ohio (miss as in long, not miss as in omit, that is)? Well apparently you can, but I'm sure I'll get over it.
Anyhow is my quick nine and half week recap of myself and Kim's cross-country (and cross-continents in my case) trip in shortened form.
Day 1: leave Columbus... yawn... drive through Indiana... yawn... drive through Illinois... more yawn... spend the night in Iowa... yawn, Zzzz.
Day 2: try to find something interesting in Iowa — see Amana colonies, covered bridges, Des Moines and generally fail — dine in Lincoln, Nebraska (think Nebraska much better than Iowa as drive at night to Grand Island).
Day 3: hate Nebraska, drive fast to make up for lost time, have plane to catch on Saturday in LA, still hate Nebraska, stop in Ogallala — it's very scary — eat lunch in Sterling, Colorado, the restaurant is called
Day 4, national parks day, drive through Capitol Reef National Park, across Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, visit Bryce Canyon National Park, try to see waterfalls in Zion National Park (see some water falling but not really a waterfall), drive to Las Vegas thinking Utah's very, very pretty.
Day 5, drive to Los Angeles, buy a $200 shirt by accident, drive to airport, discover I've been offered a Royal Society University Research Fellowship, fly to London.
Day 6, arrive in London, go to Grandmothers (no wolves), read mail, go to sleep, finally.
Day 7, go in to UCL, eat a tuna sandwich, send email to friends about beer, get drunk, get more drunk, sleep in Finsbury Park (in a flat near Finsbury Park that is)
Day 8, go in to UCL, walk to Paddington, fly to Los Angeles, drive to Tustin, eat at Outback, sleep in our three bedroom town house in Tustin (it's very nice but somewhat lacking in furniture).
Weeks 2-5: go to work at UCI, eat food, drink alcohol, go to bed.
In between Day 1: drive to LA have Thai food, see Josh Ritter concert go to sleep around 1:30am.
In between Day 2: wake up at 5am, watch England beat Paraguay in Hollywood Billiards, the English fans are almost as annoying as the American commentators they are complaining about, drive up the PCH to San Luis Obispo, drive inland to Sequoia National Park, see the worlds largest tree (peh, it's a tree), see a bear (wahoo, it's a bear!), drive to Fresno, Fresno is shit.
In between Day 3: drive across nowhere California to Monterrey, go to Cannery Row and Aquarium, drive to Stanford Linear Accelerator, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Weeks 6-7: Work all day getting ready for beam
Week 8: Work all night on the bloody grave shift.
Week 9: Work all day on hang test and then packing.
Homeward Day 1: Get up early watch England lose to Portugal, on penalties, again. Drive to touristy trashy part of San Francisco, visit Muir Woods with the rest of the world, drive up PCH some more, 'tis very pretty, spend the night in Utica.
Homeward Day 2: Get up late, don't drive through the drive through tree, drive to Oregon, sleep.
Homeward Day 3: Get up early for phone conference, go to Crater Lake (pretty), go to Bend (hippy town), almost run out of gas in high Oregon desert (had to turn off the air conditioning, drive less than 80, and put 13.2 gallons into a 12 gallon tank), drive to Idaho, bit falls off car, unimportant bit, so we drive to Boise.
Homeward Day 4 (Fourth of July): Get up late, still tired, drive to Jackson Hole, some prettiness in Idaho, watch fireworks, stay in scary touristy town.
Homeward Day 5: Go to Grand Teton National Park, finally see a proper waterfall (Hidden Falls), go to Yellowstone National Park, see Old Faithful and other bubbling hot pits, see enormous herd of Buffalo, drive East out of park, don't realise there is a mountain between Cody and Sheridan, know I do.
Homeward Day 6: Drive past Devils Tower, visit Deadwood (the town that the best show on television is set in), pay $20 unintentional to see Crazy Horse monument, also drive by Mount Rushmore, stop at Wall Drug (well you have to, don't you), visit The Badlands National Park, spend the night in South Dakota.
Homeward Day 7: Drive east, through South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, stop for dinner in Chicago, get stuck in Chicago traffic, who's stupid idea was this, oh that's right it was mine, drive in to Indiana, give up and stop for the night. We'd have made it all the way home if it wasn't for that stupid dinner idea.
Homeward Day 8: Drive to Columbus, watch Germany beat Portugal, go camping (cause I'm stupid), sleep, sleep, sleep.
It was fun a couple all in all, but I'm still pretty tired. I think the only excitement I've had since getting back were the two messages from a TV producer and what the hygienist said at the dentists. They went something like this:
(mid way through the cleaning the hygienist picked up a dental tool and said)
So, I'm back in Columbus after what seems like nine and half weeks — largely because it was nine and half weeks — and it is good to be back. Who'd think you could miss Central Ohio (miss as in long, not miss as in omit, that is)? Well apparently you can, but I'm sure I'll get over it.
Anyhow is my quick nine and half week recap of myself and Kim's cross-country (and cross-continents in my case) trip in shortened form.
Day 1: leave Columbus... yawn... drive through Indiana... yawn... drive through Illinois... more yawn... spend the night in Iowa... yawn, Zzzz.
Day 2: try to find something interesting in Iowa — see Amana colonies, covered bridges, Des Moines and generally fail — dine in Lincoln, Nebraska (think Nebraska much better than Iowa as drive at night to Grand Island).
Day 3: hate Nebraska, drive fast to make up for lost time, have plane to catch on Saturday in LA, still hate Nebraska, stop in Ogallala — it's very scary — eat lunch in Sterling, Colorado, the restaurant is called
T J Bummers, no that really is the name, see (notice the heart as an apostrophe), drive through Colorado, the mountain part is very pretty, drive into Utah, stop at Green River, the restaurant has no alcohol, but the hotel did have wireless.
Day 4, national parks day, drive through Capitol Reef National Park, across Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, visit Bryce Canyon National Park, try to see waterfalls in Zion National Park (see some water falling but not really a waterfall), drive to Las Vegas thinking Utah's very, very pretty.
Day 5, drive to Los Angeles, buy a $200 shirt by accident, drive to airport, discover I've been offered a Royal Society University Research Fellowship, fly to London.
Day 6, arrive in London, go to Grandmothers (no wolves), read mail, go to sleep, finally.
Day 7, go in to UCL, eat a tuna sandwich, send email to friends about beer, get drunk, get more drunk, sleep in Finsbury Park (in a flat near Finsbury Park that is)
Day 8, go in to UCL, walk to Paddington, fly to Los Angeles, drive to Tustin, eat at Outback, sleep in our three bedroom town house in Tustin (it's very nice but somewhat lacking in furniture).
Weeks 2-5: go to work at UCI, eat food, drink alcohol, go to bed.
In between Day 1: drive to LA have Thai food, see Josh Ritter concert go to sleep around 1:30am.
In between Day 2: wake up at 5am, watch England beat Paraguay in Hollywood Billiards, the English fans are almost as annoying as the American commentators they are complaining about, drive up the PCH to San Luis Obispo, drive inland to Sequoia National Park, see the worlds largest tree (peh, it's a tree), see a bear (wahoo, it's a bear!), drive to Fresno, Fresno is shit.
In between Day 3: drive across nowhere California to Monterrey, go to Cannery Row and Aquarium, drive to Stanford Linear Accelerator, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Weeks 6-7: Work all day getting ready for beam
Week 8: Work all night on the bloody grave shift.
Week 9: Work all day on hang test and then packing.
Homeward Day 1: Get up early watch England lose to Portugal, on penalties, again. Drive to touristy trashy part of San Francisco, visit Muir Woods with the rest of the world, drive up PCH some more, 'tis very pretty, spend the night in Utica.
Homeward Day 2: Get up late, don't drive through the drive through tree, drive to Oregon, sleep.
Homeward Day 3: Get up early for phone conference, go to Crater Lake (pretty), go to Bend (hippy town), almost run out of gas in high Oregon desert (had to turn off the air conditioning, drive less than 80, and put 13.2 gallons into a 12 gallon tank), drive to Idaho, bit falls off car, unimportant bit, so we drive to Boise.
Homeward Day 4 (Fourth of July): Get up late, still tired, drive to Jackson Hole, some prettiness in Idaho, watch fireworks, stay in scary touristy town.
Homeward Day 5: Go to Grand Teton National Park, finally see a proper waterfall (Hidden Falls), go to Yellowstone National Park, see Old Faithful and other bubbling hot pits, see enormous herd of Buffalo, drive East out of park, don't realise there is a mountain between Cody and Sheridan, know I do.
Homeward Day 6: Drive past Devils Tower, visit Deadwood (the town that the best show on television is set in), pay $20 unintentional to see Crazy Horse monument, also drive by Mount Rushmore, stop at Wall Drug (well you have to, don't you), visit The Badlands National Park, spend the night in South Dakota.
Homeward Day 7: Drive east, through South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, stop for dinner in Chicago, get stuck in Chicago traffic, who's stupid idea was this, oh that's right it was mine, drive in to Indiana, give up and stop for the night. We'd have made it all the way home if it wasn't for that stupid dinner idea.
Homeward Day 8: Drive to Columbus, watch Germany beat Portugal, go camping (cause I'm stupid), sleep, sleep, sleep.
It was fun a couple all in all, but I'm still pretty tired. I think the only excitement I've had since getting back were the two messages from a TV producer and what the hygienist said at the dentists. They went something like this:
Hello Dr Ryan, I'm so-and-so and I read about you in Golf Digest, I'm starting a golf TV reality show and wanted to know if you'd be interested in taking part, please call me on ***-***-****.
Hello, it's so-and-so again, I had the wrong doctor, please disregard my last message, sorry about that.
(mid way through the cleaning the hygienist picked up a dental tool and said)
I have no idea what this tool is for.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Five o'clock in the morning
So tonight marks the fourth (I think) night for which I've been in charge of the night shift here at SLAC — where the ANITA payload is currently dangling from a crane and recording pulse after pulse of Askaryan radio Cherenkov radiation emanating from a ten ton block of ice in the beam line. For some reason, even though I am getting something close to my normal (recent) quantity of sleep, when I'm working nights I find it much harder to maintain a coherent thought. Probably because must of the time all I can think about is curling up in a ball and going to sleep. Ah, sleep how much I miss you.
Despite the early kickoffs here in California, I have at least managed to watch two of the three England games so far this World Cup, having missed the Trinidad and Tobago game due to East coast West coast confusion. They don't look terribly impressive, do they. But having said that they did win their group, and you have to fancy them against Ecuador on Monday.
Only two and half more hours to go until the shift ends. Two and a half achingly long hours. Did I mention how much I hate the night shift? More than a little.
Despite the early kickoffs here in California, I have at least managed to watch two of the three England games so far this World Cup, having missed the Trinidad and Tobago game due to East coast West coast confusion. They don't look terribly impressive, do they. But having said that they did win their group, and you have to fancy them against Ecuador on Monday.
Only two and half more hours to go until the shift ends. Two and a half achingly long hours. Did I mention how much I hate the night shift? More than a little.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
In which the author misses a wedding in Bismarck, a bachelor party in Vegas and much sleep
Yes, it's that time of year again... it's ANITA integration time! Wherein a large number of physicists, engineers and technicians group together in a large room and try to figure out how we put all our toys together and make them work. What fun!
So, here I am at nine O'Clock on Tuesday evening bravely battling against the evil forces of malignant disks and misanthropic IDE buses (trust me you don't want to know).
This weekend I had two invitations that I ended up being unable to attend due to work commitments. I could have been celebrating the nuptials of Andy and Amy in Bismarck, North Dakota, or commiserating the emasculation of Jason in Las Vegas. I could have been, but I wasn't, instead I was stuck in tooth and nail fight between firmware and software. And neither was fighting particularly clean. Still, at least I got to eat genuine Puerto Rican at Jason's (from Hawaii) leaving party after work on Saturday.
Anyhow between the work and drinking and the driving across America and the flying to London for a tuna sandwich and the work, I have not been getting my usual allotment of beauty sleep recently. Which as you can probably imagine is devastating. Still who knows maybe Rooney's foot will miraculously heal and all will be well with the world. Maybe.
Oh, in other news I found out I had a job at the LA airport (I was at the airport when I found out I had the job, not that the job is at the airport) and I found out we're definitely going to Antarctica this year (assuming that everything starts working sometime soon). So it's not all doom and gloom and insomnia.
So, here I am at nine O'Clock on Tuesday evening bravely battling against the evil forces of malignant disks and misanthropic IDE buses (trust me you don't want to know).
This weekend I had two invitations that I ended up being unable to attend due to work commitments. I could have been celebrating the nuptials of Andy and Amy in Bismarck, North Dakota, or commiserating the emasculation of Jason in Las Vegas. I could have been, but I wasn't, instead I was stuck in tooth and nail fight between firmware and software. And neither was fighting particularly clean. Still, at least I got to eat genuine Puerto Rican at Jason's (from Hawaii) leaving party after work on Saturday.
Anyhow between the work and drinking and the driving across America and the flying to London for a tuna sandwich and the work, I have not been getting my usual allotment of beauty sleep recently. Which as you can probably imagine is devastating. Still who knows maybe Rooney's foot will miraculously heal and all will be well with the world. Maybe.
Oh, in other news I found out I had a job at the LA airport (I was at the airport when I found out I had the job, not that the job is at the airport) and I found out we're definitely going to Antarctica this year (assuming that everything starts working sometime soon). So it's not all doom and gloom and insomnia.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Tales from Utah
Yeah, that's right I'm in Utah. I know it's hard to believe but it's the truth. Of all the States I thought I'd be spending a night in, Utah wasn't very high on the list. Can you believe I even suffered the indignity of eating a steak dinner without alcohol at the restaurant this evening.
Actually, to be honest with the exception of the no alcohol thing Utah isn't all that bad. For a start there is the 75 MPH speed limit which is a whole lot nicer than Ohio's measly 65, then there is the gorgeous vistas, again way better than Ohio. Tomorrow should even bring two national parks and hopefully a lot more prettiness. With luck I'll be able to avoid the crazy religious aspects of the state and escape to the relative normality of Las Vegas unscathed and unconverted.
On the way to Utah we've been through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado. Obviously, Colorado is clearly the prettiest of those states, what with the great big mountains and cliffs and rivers and everything. But, I am surprised to say that my second favourite state on the list would probably have to be Iowa. Now don't get me wrong I'm not going to move there, but it wasn't as awful as I thought it was going to be. I even bought a bottle of rhubarb wine (it seemed like a good idea at the time) and walked across one of the bridges of Madison county (ditto). But Iowa had lots of pretty rolling hills whereas all the other states were pretty much flat as the proverbial pancake. On the downside Des Moines is just about the last place on Earth I'd ever want to live, even Lincoln Nebraska was a whole lot better.
Only Las Vegas tomorrow, Los Angeles on Saturday and London on Sunday to go. Should be fun.
Actually, to be honest with the exception of the no alcohol thing Utah isn't all that bad. For a start there is the 75 MPH speed limit which is a whole lot nicer than Ohio's measly 65, then there is the gorgeous vistas, again way better than Ohio. Tomorrow should even bring two national parks and hopefully a lot more prettiness. With luck I'll be able to avoid the crazy religious aspects of the state and escape to the relative normality of Las Vegas unscathed and unconverted.
On the way to Utah we've been through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado. Obviously, Colorado is clearly the prettiest of those states, what with the great big mountains and cliffs and rivers and everything. But, I am surprised to say that my second favourite state on the list would probably have to be Iowa. Now don't get me wrong I'm not going to move there, but it wasn't as awful as I thought it was going to be. I even bought a bottle of rhubarb wine (it seemed like a good idea at the time) and walked across one of the bridges of Madison county (ditto). But Iowa had lots of pretty rolling hills whereas all the other states were pretty much flat as the proverbial pancake. On the downside Des Moines is just about the last place on Earth I'd ever want to live, even Lincoln Nebraska was a whole lot better.
Only Las Vegas tomorrow, Los Angeles on Saturday and London on Sunday to go. Should be fun.
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