Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

This past backpacking trip up around Granite Mountain revealed not only how old I am getting, but also how old my equipment is getting on in years.  My legs did not handle the steep climbs like they once did in bygone days.  The second day of my trip entailed about 10+ miles and 3,000 feet in elevation.  I could barely walk the next morning.  It took a while to work out the soreness and return to a normal gate.  One that did not look like I was wearing leg braces anyway.

I discovered that some of my gear was beginning to show its years. The frameless, lightweight backpack I intended on taking had several broken snaps, buckles and belts.  I ended up feeding it to the dumpster.  It was not even worth donating to Goodwill.  My Coleman Peak-1 stove is close to 30 years old and, while it runs like new, it is definitely getting heavier as I’m getting along in years.  Some of my carry-bags had tears and holes, my hiking boots that I got over a decade ago are well ventilated; perhaps too well ventilated when the hiking trip is a wet one like this last one.  Oh well, it is all a part of “roughing it”, right?

My hiking buddy, Dan Tourangeau, on the other hand has kept up on all the newest gear. He’s got all the newest light-weight gear, which is becoming more important with our age.  He also has a lead on me in years by more than a decade.  So, I feel I must allow him such creaturely comforts.  Someday, I’ll be there too.  Hopefully with light-weight gear too.

I must admit a bit of enviousness at my buddy’s gear. He does travel in style.  While we were heading into Hyas Lake above Rosalyn, Washington, we ran into a young family packing out.  Dad had a very heavy and laden pack while carrying an infant in a frontal carrier.  A little girl of about 4 or 5 walked along with her mother who sported her own pack.  They looked like they had had a good time and were heading out of the woods to return home.

Tuck Lake, Washington, September 2010

Tuck Lake, Washington, September 2010 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

At first, we stepped aside for the young family to pass by. But then Dan, who does not know a stranger, noticed the young mother’s backpack and exclaimed, “Hey, we’re twins!

Not understanding what he was referring to, she gave my buddy a worried side-ways glance.

Wanting to reassure her, Dan explained, “We have the same backpack!

A look of relief swept over the young woman’s face and she looked over at her husband.  Forgotten by Dan was the fact that his backpack was completely covered by a pack cover to keep the rain off.  I tried to point that out to him and moved to lift the side of it.

Dan, you’re pack is covered,” I explained.

Oh, that’s right,” he offered to the woman.  “I guess it would help if you could see my backpack.”

We all chuckled at his gaff.  The woman recognized the color of the backpack and said, “It looks like we do have the same backpack.”

At this, her husband then interjected, “That means you have a woman’s backpack.

Dan looked up at him.  “Huh?!

The husband explained, “Well, it looks like you have the Venus backpack.  Those are made for woman.  The Mars backpacks are the ones made for men.”

At this point I was thinking to myself that I have obviously not been shopping for gear for a very, very long time if they now have backpacks that go with the book, “Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus.”  I have obviously been out of the loop!

Dan attempted to dismiss the idea that he had a backpack made for women.  “How come the guy in the store fitting me for it never said anything!?

Then Dan countered with a bit of humor, “That’s OK.  My masculinity is still intact.  I am alright with a woman’s backpack,” he asserted.

The husband came back by stating, “Well, they are slightly shaped different because a woman’s back is not shaped the same as a man.  Maybe the woman’s form just fit you better.”

I smiled a huge grin and looked over at Dan.  Obviously the husband of this young family had a great sense of humor.  I was liking him.  Dan looked a little deflated but was not to be undone by the encounter.

That’s alright,” Dan continued.  “I’m in touch with my feminine side.  I can handle it.  It doesn’t bother me at all.”

Good grief,” I inserted.  “Unbelievable…”

We all were chuckling and started to say our goodbyes when the young daughter with the mother asked, “What are you guys talking about, Mommy?”

The young mom looked down at her daughter and said, “We’re talking about how that man has the same backpack as Mommy.”  That seemed to answer the girl’s question.  I couldn’t help but let out another snort and chuckle.

Outdoor backpack

Image via Wikipedia

That’s just great, Dan,” I told him.  “You have a woman’s backpack.”

Hey,” Dan defended himself.  “It’s working great for me.  So I can’t complain.

Well,” I said.  “That explains the urge I have had to help you in the rough spots of the trail and over the streams.  I thought it was just because of your age, but here it turns out to be because you have a woman’s backpack.”

I snickered.

Dan was silent.  Yes-sir-ee, having new gear and fancy backpacks sure helps on those long trips up the sides of mountains.  It offers a great deal of comic relief as you work yourself into near catastrophic muscle failure.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Read Full Post »

Wheat Heads in the Park, Howard Amon Park, Richland, Washington, Fall 2009

Wheat Heads in the Park, Howard Amon Park, Richland, Washington, Fall 2009 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Some roads we choose
to travel
some roads are chosen
for us.

Some roads like detours
cause us to wander
all roads take us to an end
we choose.

All roads we travel to the end
we have chosen
all roads like roundabouts
offer us to wonder
where we are going
and turn back.

Along every road
there are bitter cries and
sweet rejoicings
along every road
we create travel companions and
log memories.

Along every road
like billboards
we discover opportunities for
occupations and distractions
for our journey.

At life’s final exit
we will want to know
not where have we traveled
but did we travel well?

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Read Full Post »

Truck Stop Jesus

One would have expected a different plan to introduce an important person; even if that person was a baby.  Historically, after all, royal births were always accompanied by fanfare and celebration.  Every important dignitary in the world is notified and invited to the event.  When the savior of the world arrived little more than 2,000 years ago, maybe someone made a mistake and got the address wrong.  Not only that, but they forgot to get reservations.  The young couple was left out in the cold to give birth to their child among animals and all that accompanies animals posted in a barn.  These would not be the first sights and sounds that I would have wanted any of my children to have as their first experience in this world.  Jesus’ birth was so radically different than the antiseptic world we live in today.  It leaves the modern individual amazed he survived his first year.

The irony and mystery of Jesus’ birth is that it was planned ahead of time to take place just the way it unfolded.  Prophets hundreds of years before had already laid out how this baby boy was going to come into the world.  The details they left for others to figure out, who were some of the wisest people on earth by the way, did not include royal privilege, birth in a capital city or any of the other things that would normally accompany the birth of someone important.  There was no golden spoon privilege for this messianic figure.

Imagine a modern day set of new parents caught far away from any hospital, family or friends when the expectant baby decides to come into the world.  Not only that, but now the birthing plan, carefully prepared hospital bag for mother and baby and new born baby clothes are all forgotten.  The fact of the matter is that even for 1st century Joseph and Mary the conditions of the birth of their child were far less than desirable.  Any parent of any socio-economic class at any time in history would have hoped for better.

Jesus was to be born in Bethlehem of Judea.  Bethlehem, the city of ancient king David’s origin, was not an important city on the world map 2,000 years ago.  It still is not in today’s political or economic world.  It was more like a modern day truck stop on the way to a major city – Jerusalem.  Today it is a walled-up small city that survives on the arrival of tourists who come to ogle the supposed site of Jesus’ birth.  It is a battle-scarred town divided by deep religious factions that only seems to know peace once a year.  In Jesus’ day, Bethlehem was not prominent.  Its history was more storied than its present.

Bethlehem was a place that served the more impressive city of Jerusalem to the north.  Its trade in sheep, wool and grains provided for the needs of the much bigger and more important metropolis.  Bethlehem was a place one passed through on the way to Jerusalem.  It was rarely, if ever, a destination city.  On the trade route from Egypt, it served as a resting place for the traders.  The surrounding hills provided pasture for the sheep that were used in the temple sacrifices or kitchens of Jerusalem.  Bethlehem, “the house of bread”, also had rich fields surrounding it that provided the wheat and barley for Jerusalem’s bakeries and kitchens.

Like a modern day truck stop, then, traffic was always flowing in and out and through with goods on the way to the more important city of Jerusalem.  At the time of the census, when Joseph had to report to his ancestor’s hometown, Bethlehem, the already bustling city was packed.  The only space available was the equivalent of a small garage where some vehicles of transportation were parked.  Unfortunately, these eco-friendly vehicles would also leave their exhaust all over the floor of the place.

Cascades from Elk Pass Rest Area

Cascades from Elk Pass Rest Area ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2009)

Truck stops are never pretty places.  As much as I appreciate the Flying-J Travel Plazas, Pilot Travel Centers and TravelCenters of America, they are not places I ever intend to stay very long.   I am always just passing through.  On top of it, I would definitely not ever have dreamed of having a child at one of those places.  Perhaps it is for the purpose of avoiding having children at truck stops that doctors now discourage women from traveling during their final couple weeks of pregnancy.

Jerusalem was the capital city; the city of commerce and politics; the center of religion and learning.  Everything and anything important that happened took place in Jerusalem.  In the United States, it would be the equivalent of New York or Los Angeles.  In Europe, it would be the Paris or London.  In Asia, it would be the Tokyo or Beijing.  Anyone who wanted to be anybody made their way to Jerusalem, bought property, and hobnobbed with the rich and powerful.  Perhaps God did not get updated about conditions in Palestine during 1st century B.C./A.D.  I suspect, however, that he had a different plan and procedure than the one derived and practiced by humans since their arrival.

The birth of a messiah and savior would have been much more pronounced if I had been calling the shots.  Everyone on earth would have known that “God-in-the-flesh” had shown up on the scene to straighten out the crookedness of humankind’s ways.  It surely would not have been left up to a few foreign wisemen and local low-class shepherds to welcome the arrival of the most important figure in human history.  But then, I am not God.  This is not my creation.  It is not my story.  Plus, I suspect that God’s ways are directly counter intuitive to most of our human ways.

As it is, God might as well come in disguise. I mean, who among us would be apt to recognize his arrival today anymore than his contemporaries did then?  His economic class, education and means of arrival did not shout “God’s here!” in neon letters that is for sure.  Besides the angelic proclamation to lowly shepherds, no birth announcement cards were sent out.  Likewise, most scholars and religious leaders did not get the cryptic prophetic message left hundreds of years before by various writers of the Old Testament.  So, in a sense, when God sent a savior, he did it on the sly.

So, the most important birth of the most important human was scripted ahead of time to take place in obscurity – a couple of low socio-economic status and a shed on the back side of a truck stop served as the main characters and the setting.  As the story continues, things do not get any better.  Soon the couple was on the run from the law, spent a few years as illegal immigrants in a foreign country and only returned to their own home town years later.  The messiah grew up in obscurity and learned the family business.

This amazing story of truck stop Jesus violates our highest sensibilities of what we believe God is like.  We like to picture him in a Cathedral with mighty stone pillars and statutes, rich woods and tapestries, and lofty music.  I think, rather, that given Jesus’ birth record he would be just as out of place there as he would be at a Macy’s, Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue or Bloomingdales.  After all, we like our deities to remain “high and lifted up” – far above the corruption of lower class humanity.  We would rather have the name of our deity pronounced in the more lofty open throated English “Gawd” than the too familiar buddy-buddy name of Jesus.  Somehow, a god who would prefer blue-grass music to Mozart and Beethoven just does not meet our criteria for divinity.

I suspect that if we were to have to look for Jesus’ arrival today that we would be better off looking for him at a truck stop.  His neighbors are more likely to be migrant workers and trailer park inhabitants than a gated suburban community.  I suspect that his address would more likely be under a bridge, overpass or homeless shelter than in a 2,000 square foot house.  He would be more acquainted with the living conditions of foreigners in our land than the economic well-to-do and socially established.  As a religious reformer, his audience would more likely be among the illiterate and poorly educated working class than among the highly respected theologians and seminarians of our day.  His calloused carpenter hands would shake more gnarled and calloused hands than manicured ones.

In short, most of us might have a hard time relating to this truck stop birth of Jesus.  I suspect, however, that it is all part of God’s redemption scheme.  For those of us who think we are better off than others, we will need to get down on Jesus’ level and humble ourselves to accept him and his mission to the least, the last and the lost of this world.  To those among this latter group, he raises their vision, empowers their future and invites them to participate in his redemption story.  So, the next time you have a chance to stop in your travels at a truck stop, just think to yourself, “Maybe Jesus is here.”

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2009)

Read Full Post »

At Least We Don't Have Hurricanes

It was the beginning of December.   The trip had gone reasonably well, and the business traveler was ready to go back home.

The airport on the other hand had turned a tacky red and green with loudspeakers blared annoying elevator renditions of cherished Christmas carols.

Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly tired, he was not in a particularly good mood.

Going to check in his luggage, he saw hanging mistletoe.  Not real mistletoe, but very cheap plastic with red paint on some of the rounder parts and green paint on some of the flatter and “pointier” parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only in a very Picasso sort of way.

With a considerable degree of irritation and nowhere else to vent it, he said to the lady attendant, “Even if I were not married, I would not want to kiss you under such a ghastly mockery of mistletoe.”

Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is.”

Ok, I see that it’s above the luggage scale, which is the place you’d have to step forward for a kiss.”

That’s not why it’s there.”

Ok, I give up.  Why is it there?”

It’s there so you can kiss your luggage goodbye.”

(unknown)

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: