Tag: visiting friends

behind Hoover Dam

travel is all about trying new things, sometimes simply by virtue of being someplace new, but also because it brings you into contact with all kinds of new people who are involved in all kinds of different activities. take my second trip to Las Vegas, for example (it was the second, wasn’t it? or the third?), friends of the friends I was visiting were heading out to Lake Mead on their boat. those of you who have known me for long enough understand that I grew up in a canoe-outing, fishing-off-a-pontoon-boat type family and this was my first experience on a personal motor boat.

the coolest thing about being on the water was coming up to the back side of the Hoover Dam. on my previous trip to Vegas, we walked across the top of the dam and took in the looooooooong view down to the surface of the Colorado River at the base. construction lasted from 1931-1935 but the location had been scouted as a location for a potential dam beginning at the turn of the century. increasing population resulted in increasing demands for reliable irrigation systems and electricity. at the time construction began, Las Vegas claimed roughly 5,000 residents and somewhere between 10,000 and 20,000 unemployed workers descended in hopes of getting a job on the project. at its peak, just over 5,200 people were on the payroll (which, by terms of the contract, expressly prohibited Chinese labor and, by practice, included no more than 30 black people). not surprisingly, extreme weather and harsh working conditions led to the death of 112 laborers during the course of the project; the first man died in 1922 while scouting the location and his son was the last man to die, exactly thirteen years later. the official record doesn’t include deaths marked down as “pneumonia,” which workers claimed the company used to avoid compensating families for what was actually carbon monoxide poisoning from tunnels (which reached upwards of 140 degrees).

it’s been years now since I visited (four? five?) and I wonder how much lower the water levels have gotten. spillways run along either bank but they’ve only been used twice — once in 1941 to test their functionality and once in 1983 due to natural flooding. following both uses, engineers found major damage to the concrete lining of the spillway tunnels and the underlying rock. the cause each time was the same — cavitation — and, in theory that’s now been fixed. like I said, though, who knows if or when the Colorado River will raise to sufficient levels to test the spillways out. not any time soon, judging by how contentious an issue water has become out west.

bright lights in the City of Sin

no, dear readers, I have neither abandoned nor forgotten you. there was merely the matter of four fantastic weeks of football which I was obliged to watch and celebrate. lots of persuasive arm-twisting to get people to join me for 6:30 a.m. or mid-work-day matches. now it’s back to the important work of dreaming about what new (or old) places I might visit (or re-visit) here and in my travels.

during this hiatus, one of my co-workers went to Las Vegas for the first time (to celebrate her twenty-first birthday) and was, in a word, underwhelmed. it’s hard not to have certain expectations for a city with such notoriety; pop culture has cultivated such an unattainable image of what Vegas ought to be, what ought to happen there, the insanity and hilarity that will ensue on any visit, that reality won’t be able to compare. or, at least, not for anyone I know. with the bigger-than-reality dimensions Vegas takes on in popular culture, upon hearing her reflections I was rather thankful that my primary purpose in visiting Vegas each time was to see friends.

my first trip was chock-a-block with tourist attractions that were, for the most part, worth the effort. no matter how kitschy or cliched, you can’t avoid the sights that make a place famous. I find that the ones that I even have passing interest in are worth the effort, if for no other reason than to say you’ve seen one cultural icon or another. the fountains & gardens at the Bellagio were impressive, the canals at the Venetian something different, the floor shows were what one would expect, the Forum Shops gave me a headache from the lack of natural air, the lions at the MGM Grand were rather depressing, the Cirque du Soleil production of Ka was unquestionably spectacular — a stage that went fully vertical !, if also priced spectacularly.

but for all it’s glitz and glamor, had I not been visiting friends, I’m fairly certain I would have hated Vegas. (of course, if not for visiting those friends, I’m also fairly certain I would never felt any need to go to Vegas …) the very principles on which the city thrives — consumption, excess, careening headlong towards something “bigger” and “better” at any cost — are antithetical to the kind of travel that I enjoy. how many of the casinos that I saw when walking down the Strip for the first time in August of 2005 will be there in five, ten, fifteen years? some of them are already gone. the Bellagio seems iconic now, but so was The Dunes, which stood on the same location from 1955 to 1993. Vegas suffers from the same lack of “historical weight” as does San Diego and other sites in the American West, but Vegas has taken this deficit and capitalized on, exploited and extrapolated it. not only is there a lack of history, but there’s a complete rejection of the remotely culturally passe. Arabian themes? so early 90s (the Aladdin is now defunct). perhaps the Bellagio remains so iconic because it has modeled itself on something with historical weight (Lake Como in Italy) and Paris-Las Vegas is kitschy but memorable because it, too, rests on the historical cred of another structure.

my co-worker was disappointed that nothing truly “spectacular” happened; there were moments, she said, but nothing sustained, nothing that lasted. and maybe the fact that she didn’t have a sustained feeling of the exceptional lies rooted in that lack of historical weight. someplace that so cavalierly discards the icons of its past cannot produce the environment necessary to create moments of historical significance. I’m sure it happens for some people, that Vegas provides that experience for people who seek it out, but I’m also sure that I’m not the type of person to get satisfaction from that kind of experience (and I suspect that neither is my co-worker). I like my travel experiences to have more depth, and more permanence associated with them.

Hoover Dam

I’ve been to the Hoover Dam twice, visiting Gabrielle both times, and seen it from two perspectives: as a pedestrian crossing it on foot, and as a passenger on a boat on Lake Mead. far more impressive than the Gavins Point Dam on either account.

the first trip was just before I headed back to Knox for my senior year of college. it was also same week as Katrina, and I’d spent no small part of the week digesting news reports and coming to understand the scope of the devastation wrought on New Orleans. as such, it was nice to get out of the house and into the unrelenting desert sunshine for a view of something so massive and iconic.

initially known as the Boulder Dam (since it was to be constructed in the Boulder Canyon but relocated to Black Canyon), the dam was officially named for then-President Herbert Hoover, who was instrumental in getting the project initiated while Secretary of Commerce under Harding. it had been common practice to name dams after presidents — but not sitting presidents. at the time construction got underway, Hoover had an eye towards using the job-creation associated with the project in conjunction with his reelection bid; after he lost to FDR in 1932, Harold Ickes (the new Secretary of the Interior) admonished members of the project to revert to the Boulder Dam appellation. it wasn’t until a California Congressional representative (Jack Anderson) submitted a resolution to the House of Representatives in 1947 that use of the “official” Hoover name resumed.

construction of the dam began in 1931 and was completed in 1936 (two years ahead of schedule) and although there have been obvious benefits for the lower members of the Colorado River Pact (signed in 1922 to decide how to divide resources associated with said river), the environmental consequences of the Hoover Dam are also quite massive. in the six years following the completion of the dam, as the basin for Lake Mead filled, virtually no water reached the Colorado River Delta. the delta’s saltwater-freshwater zone which, at one time stretched some 40 miles south of the river mouth, turned into an inverse estuary, whereby the salinity at the mouth of the river is actually higher than in the ocean water surrounding it. additionally, the Hoover Dam eliminated the pattern of natural flooding that occurred along the lower portion of the Colorado River which, naturally, profoundly and adversely affected numerous species native to the river. of course, those who benefit from the energy generated by the dam accept the  endangerment of this flora and fauna (whether tacitly or implicitly). of the energy generated by the hydroelectric turbines, 29% goes to the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California, 23% to the state of Nevada, 19% to the state of Arizona, and fully 15% to the city of Los Angeles. the price for cleaner energy?

(Hoover on wikipedia)

Gavins Point Dam

on my most recent trip to Sioux Falls, our driving adventures took us out to Lewis & Clark State Park, situated on the banks of the Lewis & Clark Lake,  created by the Gavins Point Dam spanning the Missouri River. it’s kind of cool to go someplace that’s so obviously a summer-tourist-weekend-bonanza in the off season. no competition for parking, no dodging small children, no fighting off boat launchers for access to the jetty or to pose as Lewis & Clark on the launch docks.

although on our impromptu jaunt to the west of Yankton was aimed primarily at checking out the park, I managed to convince Becca to take a right along Crest Road that we might investigate the concrete structure on the south end. in a matter of minutes, we were back in Nebraska (again), crossing over the Gavins Point Dam. the hydroelectric dam that impounds Lewis & Clark Lake was constructed between 1954 and 1957 and was authorized as part of the 1944 Pick-Sloan Plan, aimed at conservation, control and use of water resources along the Missouri River Basin. it’s one of six dams on the Missouri River and (according to the US Army Corps of Engineers who maintains the site) produces electricity for some 65,000 people annually.

maybe a tour of the facility would have introduced me to the finer and/or more impressive points of the Gavins Point Dam (but as they’re only open Memorial-Labor Day …); maybe the sight is more awe-inspiring with water flowing over the dam; maybe sunlight glinting off the surface of the lake illuminates this architectural feat of utilitarianism in a mystical way; or maybe I’ll forever be underwhelmed by dams after staring down the slope of Hoover Dam. whatever the reason, I wouldn’t go out of my way to see the Gavins Point Dam again. especially not in the height of tourist season — it goes down to one lane as you pass the generator facility and I have no interest in sitting in that waiting line.

driving down the 163

 the drive down the 163, through Balboa Park, always made the trip from home (in Clairemont Mesa) to the airport pleasant. it’s entirely unlike any other drive you’ll take in such an urban setting.
the El Prado bridge connects the Hillcrest side of Balboa Park with the side of museums and the Zoo. (since this is a bridge theme, I will save any ode to Balboa Park and environs for another day.) (some people refer to it as the Laurel Street Bridge, but that street actually ends at Sixth Avenue.) it was built for the Panama-California Exhibition of 1915 to allow pedestrian and car access across the Cabrillo Canyon (which hosted grazing cattle until the late 19th century). the bridge was dedicated in 1914 by Franklin Roosevelt (then Assistant Secretary of the Navy), prior to the opening of the 1915 Exposition. Roosevelt returned as President in 1935 for Park’s second Exposition. due to the height of the bridge — flush with the rim of the canyon on both sides — traffic on the bridge is not visible from 163.

though initially designed to get people across the canyon to the museums of the Exhibition, the bridge has been used for many other purposes. not surprisingly, the height of the bridge proved attractive for despondent visitors and residents, including sailors. in it’s first 16 years, some seventeen people took advantage of the bridge for suicide, prompting the mayor and city officials to campaign to add some sort of preventative barrier. nothing came of it until 1950, when city workers installed wrought iron fencing on the parapets on both sides of the bridge. that didn’t stop people entirely from using it for suicidal purposes, though the completion of the Coronado Bay Bridge in 1970 provided a more effective means to that end. additionally, in 2008, a group of transients managed to penetrate an opening in the base of the bridge (for rainwater) on the north-facing side of the western edge of the bridge and constructed elaborate, multi-level housing structure inside the bridge. (very much like that episode of  This American Life, “The Bridge“.) they’ve closed up the holes now. don’t want to freak out drivers on the 163 or pedestrians on the bridge, I suppose — people use cars to avoid the problem of homelessness in San Diego, right?

the only time I ever walked over the bridge was when I went to visit last May and went on a rather sweeping walk from near the hospital in Hillcrest, through the park, past the zoo, and back over the Robinson Avenue Bridge. I made an effort to explore all kinds of “touristy” things while I was living in San Diego, but this walk was the kind of thing that you can only really appreciate once you’ve known a place and come back. (why would you take such along wander around Hillcrest on foot while you live there and could just as easily take your car?!) it was a lovely walk, as one would expect of San Diego in early May.

(got some of this info from Wikipedia, but a 2004 Union-Tribune article was much more useful)

more than getting from point A to point B

this past weekend I headed up to Minneapolis to visit and see some friends, one of whom has lived there since moving up to attend the University of Minnesota, two of whom drove in from Sioux Falls to see Iron Man 2 on an IMAX screen. excellent excuses to get out of town all around.
the unparalleled bonus of visiting friends who reside in new places is that (particularly the longer they’ve lived there) they’ve done much of the legwork in finding off-the-beaten path places to visit or things to do. my lovely Leah has gotten to know a lot of Minneapolis in the last *haruph* years and introduced me to one of her favorite places: the Stone Arch Bridge, which crosses the Mississippi River at the Saint Anthony Falls, heading into downtown. the bridge, built in 1883, originally carried two sets of railroad tracks for the Great Northern Railway; it carried trains, including the Empire Builder passenger train, over the river until 1978. it’s been repaired and refurbished over the years (obviously); when the Saint Anthony Falls lock and dam was built, two of the original stone spans were replaced by a steel one, which would allow larger ships to maneuver under the bridge. repairs were again necessary in 1965, when  floodwaters undermined three of the piers holding the 21 stone arches up and the bridge began to sag. restoration and re-purpose of the bridge to its current purpose began in the 1990s, and now the 28 foot wide, 2,176 foot long bridge serves as a pedestrian and bike connection between downtown and the eastern bank of the River. it also offers great views of the Saint Anthony Falls and Nicolet & Hennepin Island, as well downtown and old mills along both banks (the Mill City Museum, in the Washburn A Mill on the west, the abandoned Pillsbury A Mill on the east).
after walking out along the bridge, past a guy who was playing his guitar for change (but, it seemed, mostly for the joy of playing), Leah and I headed back to the east bank to enjoy a beer, the view, and the springtime weather. though I had to be attentive that puffy, wind-blown seeds didn’t end up in my beer, we couldn’t have asked for nicer weather. the three couples we saw getting engagement photos couldn’t complain, either. one set spent about twenty minutes in the same place, with the falls and 3rd Avenue bridge in the background. with another, you could tell that the woman was in charge of the shoot — her heels put her at just the right height to be nicely matched with him, and her fiance was decked out in loafers, khaki pants, a white dress shirt and a white suit coat. we didn’t wait around to see if they made any effort to forcibly eject the falls-bridge-background couple from the ideal photo location.

92 degrees and 92 percent humidity

 
a couple of summers a go (the one before I moved to San Diego, in fact), I didn’t have what one could constitute “full-time” employment, or even “consistent” employment. something to do with the fact that in two and a half months time I’d be pulling up roots and heading to the warmer climes of sunny San Diego for grad school. no job = no money = no grand traveling adventures. or does it? perhaps I couldn’t coordinate something on same scale that I normally dream of, but, I concluded, no money certainly mustn’t mean no travel, let alone not trying something new!
to begin, I took the bus from Madison to downtown Chicago, thus beginning my experiment at the whims of public transportation (or a public-private hybrid, if you will). after some sweltering outdoor activities in the morning, I met up with a college friend and, since I’d only ever been up to the observation deck in the Sears Tower before, decided to head farther up Michigan Ave to the Hancock Building (which is also slightly cheaper).
the Hancock Building is the 4th tallest skyscraper in Chicago, a city know by some as the birthplace of skyscrapers. located on the site of Cap Streeter‘s 19th century steamboat shanty (in brief — Cap Streeter lied, cheated, and forged documents to make money off of the expansion of Chicago into Lake Michigan; landfill dumping produced an additional 186 acres of land extending east of where Michigan Ave is today), construction of the building posed some unique challenges. namely, caissons had to be sunk into 10ft holes drilled 190ft into bedrock to ensure stability of the foundation. the design also all but eliminated the need for internal support beams — the famous X-bracing seen above serves as a kind of skin to hold the structure up. it took 5 million man-hours to construct the building, which was completed in 1970 and, at the time, was the tallest building in the world outside of New York City. the building stands 100 storys and, until recently, could claim the highest residence in the world (it’s recently lost out to the Trump Tower in Chicago and the Burj Khalifa). because of the mixed-use plan for the building, with residences on the top levels, the structure is wedge-shaped (which also makes it look taller than it actually is). Chris Farley lived on the 60th floor and was found dead there in 1997 (his one-time neighbor, Jerry Springer, has since relocated to the 91st floor). including the height from antennas, the the Hancock Tower is listed at 1,500 feet tall, making it the 5th tallest building in the world (following the Burj Khalifa, Sears Tower, Shanghai World Financial Tower, and Taipei 101).
the observation deck is on the 94th floor of the building and a restaurant occupies the 95th floor (currently the Signature Room). elevators will take you to the deck at a speed of 20.5 mph. the weather in Chicago on the day that I visited (in late July) was hot and humid. from the top of the Hancock building, you could see loads of people out on the beaches along Lake Shore Drive, and clumping up together in boat parties north of Navy Pier. we also caught a glimpse of people lounging beside a rooftop pool of one of the residential buildings to the southeast of the Hancock Building. wonder if those people think about how many tourists will spot them on their lounge chairs when they head up to the roof for a session in the sun …
more on the John Hancock building from Wikipedia, and from the Observatory’s website.

Palisades State Park

on my recent trip to South Dakota, the weather proved infinitely more agreeable for “outdoor activities” than it had been in January. still windy. very windy. but much, much warmer.

on Saturday, we set out for Palisades State Park, located just northeast of Sioux Falls in Garretson. the Split Rock Creek flows between the pink quartzite walls of the canyon, which rise between 30 and 50 feet from the surface creek. in the U.S., major quartzite formations are found in central Texas, Utah, southwest Minnesota and eastern South Dakota, and the Baraboo Hills of Wisconsin. these particular rock formations are somewhere around 1.2 billion years old and is one of the only places in the country to contain catlinite (also known as pipestone), which is used by native peoples to create peace pipes. apparently, several pipestone quarries can be found within the park (we stuck to walking along the Creek and climbing the rocks).

because of the quartzite cliffs, Palisades State Park offers excellent rock climbing opportunities (not unlike Devil’s Lake) and, despite not having any proper equipment, the three of us took the opportunity to scramble up the “Queen” spire. (the picture below is of the “King”, from where we stood atop the “Queen”.) Josie, with her much longer legs, managed to get up onto the very highest point of the spire, while Rebecca and I settled for slightly lower perches.

during the 19th century, there was a huge flour mill overlooking the bluffs and the town of Palisades bustled on the banks of the creek. in 1886, silver was discovered downstream and produced a short-lived boom (the ore turned out to be of poor quality). several years later, the railroad company built a switching yard where Garretson is now located and the town relocated. railroad officials offered free lots to business owners located in Palisades to relocate to the new town.

info from the South Dakota state park system and from the town of Garretson

zoning regulations

an interesting characteristic of Houston is the city’s lack of zoning laws. rather, city officials of yesteryear thought it better to let the market decide. on Sunday, while Laura was at work, I walked up Heights Blvd to a coffee shop called Waldo’s. it’s located in a bungalow and, without the sign and cars parked out front, it looks like any of the other quaint, historic-looking nestled houses between apartment buildings along the tree-lined boulevard. the counter is located at the back of the house, near the original kitchen, and when you first walk in there are an array of tables, an alcove with a couch, and a stage for live performances. stepping from the overcast, humid outdoors into the cafe, the tables were filled with students and their laptops, textbooks, notebooks, all manner of study materials. rather than disturb them, or take my tea outside where it was still a little chilly and a little misty, I nestled into a fold-out loveseat in the front room.

during the course of the day I was joined by a family eating breakfast whose pre-verbal son was still a little unsteady on his feet; a woman studying spatial relationships (architecture perhaps?); several woman looking for a room in which they could gossip, but who left after a few minutes just as the young girl with them got settled into an awesome high-backed chair with matching ottoman; a young woman typing up notes on her laptop.

after an hour and a half, once the sun peeked out and the threat of precipitation dissipated, I went out to the porch for awhile. unfortunately, after about ten minutes a pair of guys came out to smoke while drinking their coffee. they had a lengthy and embarrassingly cliched conversation about cars and the relative merits of Audis and Volkswagons (one, who was wearing cowboy boots and, in spite of them, sounded rather like a walking stereotype of east coast ego and privilege, had recently purchased an Audi). but, after about an hour, another smoker wandered out onto the porch and I decided that, while I very much liked being outside in the sunshine, I much preferred the non-toxic, air conditioned sitting room, once again acknowledging how great we have it in Madison and Dane County.

tacos & enchiladas

while much of the cliche about Texas and size panned out in monuments, animals, and trucks, the food portions weren’t as astronomical as I anticipated. and while I wouldn’t say the taste was “bigger,” everything I ate was quite delicious and often quite inventive. note to self: always get recommendations from a friend who grew up in the area and knows what a good vegetarian meal ought to look like.

first up: a surprisingly sweet black bean burger at The Hobbit Cafe, where many of the dishes were named after locations, characters, and things from the series. My sandwich didn’t have a fun name, but it certainly made up for the oversight with the taste. Made pretty good (and again quite interesting) leftovers on Sunday!

on Monday, we drove up to Austin and our first stop was Torchy’s Tacos, where I encountered the wonder that was a taco with fried avocado. really, what did I do with my life before I ate avocado? I do not know!
lastly, we tried out Teala’s for some Tex-Mex on a rainy Tuesday night. pretty standard fare, but wonderful bean dip and a unique peanut mole sauce, inspired by the restaurant owner’s first property, a Thai restaurant.