Showing posts with label camping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camping. Show all posts

Monday, April 20, 2015

[Sketch Trip America] Episode 19: A Stormy Night





A Stormy Night






The building Lowell let us stay in was the General Store that his father owned in his old town. It was the most special one in the entire Red Oak II. Inside the store was a large open hall and in the back of the store was a storage room and a small bathroom. There was no shower but a sink and toilet was more than good enough for us. I washed my face and hands in the sink and wiped the rest of my body with a damp towel. A whore's bath, Lowell had told us that was the name for it. I have to say whore's bath was very refreshing for me.
 

A patch of grass would've been plenty for us, but a whole store building to stay in?  We became a staying-over guest from mere passer-by's and we were inside s store building in Missoura. Lowell liked to separate the lower part of Missouri from the North and called it 'Missoura.' In the corner, there was a wood stove and tables that looked as old as the building itself. Sumi and I put our laptop on the round table and started to write our travel log.

'Today, we enter deep into our journey. I started to feel this sometime today, then suddenly….' I wrote this and suddenly, for sure, it started to really pour with gusts of wind. The roof was rumbling and walls made squeaking noise. The ceiling went dop-dudop-duddadop. The window panes were clattering, and the walls went kwikity-kweek. The romantic mood abruptly turned into eery feeling.

"You know, in movies, the towns people come to 'take care of' the outsiders at nights like this, holding all sorts of farm tools in hands." I said half-jokingly.

"That's actually scarier than ghosts." Sumi said curling in her shoulders.

"Right. The ghosts disappear in the morning, but people being territorial continue on during the day."

"Remember 'Deliverance'? They encounter terrible local people. So scary."


Suddenly, the front door swang open. We looked up in surprise. There was someone standing at the doorway and looking in our direction.     








We also stared him in silence. For a while, we were lost for words. If we were in our house, we would say, 'Who is it?' But we were in someone else's empty building. It actually took some time to think up what to say. Most of all, I had to summon my poor English grammar and began saying, "We…. arr… tra…vel..er… so, ….." But Sumi said in simple, precise and fluent English that we were visiting and Lowell had let us stay the night here. The person standing at the door said that he was Rose's son and he thought it strange to see lights on in the empty building. He then said good night and left. It must be also unusual that someone stayed in this building over night. I admit, it is pretty strange thing to ask to stay for the night at someone's house in this day and age. We finished writing down brief description of today's journey and lied down on the sleeping bag spread on the floor. The old ceiling panels were visible in sight and it became special again that we were staying here.


"It's pretty amazing that we're sleeping here. Don't you think so, Sumi?"

"Yeah, I know. It's pretty, this building. I like that old wood stove, too."

"The building squeaking also makes me think there's something about this place."

"What about this place?"

"Spirits. Ghosts are shaking the panels one on each panel, right?"

"I know! There were religious fanatics lived here and they killed people while doing some sort of exorcism, then buried the bodies underneath this building. That's why there're evil spirits roaming around here."

"Wait. Should I bring the camp axe from the car? Shouldn't we have something with us?"

"No, Jingoogk, we shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"You know that's how people get killed, one by one. While you are gone, something could happen to me, then you. Besides, how can I tell after you're back, if it's really you?"

"You're right. Let's pick a password. Shinkyo-dong! The town we lived when we were in Korea."

"You can't say that out loud? The ghosts already heard you."

"Uh, um. No, no, we said it in Korean. Zombies and ghosts here use English."

"Okay. Then go. Bring me some chips and peanuts, will ya?"

"Where are they?"

"You look around. They should be somewhere behind the driver seat."

"Sumi, I think I better stay. We shouldn't be apart, as you said. Let's hold together tight and go to sleep."








I closed my eyes for a long time but didn't fall asleep. I had been fighting with the squeaking of walls for some time, then I began to feel sleepy. But soon enough, the rattling of the windows woke me up. This whole process repeated several times. There was a thunder in a distance. Whenever the lightning hit, the inside of the building brightened up like in daylight. Flash! One, two, three, four, five…. Craacckkk! Five miles. Sumi opened her eyes. She mustn't've been asleep. Splatt! We started counting together. "One, two, three…" Kaboom! Three miles. Again, splatt! "One, tw…" Boom! One mile. And then? Sumi and I prepared ourselves.







Splaaattt!! Kaboooomm! Lightning hit right above our heads, and the noise ripped the sky apart. Simultaneously, the front door split open, letting the bright light and rain spears pour in. If there was a dark figure standing in the doorway, it would definitely have been an evil spirit, but there was nothing outside the door. Another lightning struck but no evil spirit or terrible townspeople came. Only rain and wind rattled the door noisily. A thought crossed my head, 'Who is going to close that door?' Now that the inside the blanket was all warm and cozy, I didn't want to get out to close the door. If there would've been a scary ghost, I would've asked it to do it for me. A terrible group of townspeople that despise outsiders didn't come by here when we needed them. It was four in the morning and no one out walking around in this storm. I had to get out of the blanket eventually and put the latch across the front door.

When I laid back down, thunder, lightning, wind, windows rattling and the possible corpses underneath the floor still made me feel uneasy. As the thundering subsided and the rain and wind dissipated, I slowly fell asleep. If Lowell hadn't let us stay here, we would've been camping outside in this storm….. zzzzzz.

Cock-a-doodle-do!
This time, the sound of a rooster had woken me up. Seven ten. The donkey that brayed eeee-ahhh until late at night was quiet. He must not be an early riser. Outside the front window of the store only showed calm and serene landscape with no trace of the storm from last night.

 






Morning in Missoura


The sky that the storm recently passed still looked gray, but the ground was shining and moist making it more vibrant than under the midday sun. Old car, old airplane, metal sculpture and old building…. the sight from yesterday was added with the trees and plants that are refreshed, the town of Red Oak II began to stir and started growing more beautiful than the day before.

The weather in the Midwest seemed unpredictable. The vast flat land has no peak in sight. The grassy fields stretch as far as where eyes meet the horizon. This openness gives no shelter to the clouds and the restless wind only blows in one direction. In the summer, the moisture from ground boils up to form the cloud but has no control but to throw down thunder and lightning wherever the cold wind from far tells it to. Many days of accumulation may come down all at once in one night. And the ground with no hills of peaks remain mute receiving everything that's pummeling down on it. It goes up during the day and upside down, it pours out spilling everything over night. The sky and the ground pass the water up and down, connected in columns of water pipes for a few hours then quiet down all at once. That is the weather here. In between the heaven and the earth, people, animals and houses have to endure it all. That's why the border between the sky and the ground is only a straight line. Nothing of the human shoud dare to invade it.







A Cup of Coffee



We made omelet in the back porch of the General store building then headed to Lowell's home. He was just coming out of the house and we had coffee together with his wife in the front yard. From where we were sitting, there was a good view of Red Oak II. Maybe Lowell had placed his home in such a way that while smoking his corn cob pipe, he could enjoy the outcome of his project and also plan a new one. As we talked about Lowell's new plans for Red Oak II, our travel stories and other stories of our lives, Lowell sometimes smoked the corn cob pipe. Milford the gray cat and Geisha the black and white cat rolled over on the grass often catching our hands petting their soft coat.


 



A Stroll with Lowell



After the coffee, Lowell wanted to show us some place that we hadn't seen. It was the area where Lowell had first appeared when we first met him. Beyond the wide tree shade, there were Lowell's previous studio, his first house when he moved here, his daughter's house and few other houses and gardens. They were private and uniquely decorated. Lowell's stroll route was also unique. A visitor would view it from the front taking the wide paths, but Lowell walked through narrow space between eves of two adjoining roofs, then a path behind house and through a back door. It was the route he takes in his daily routine. A visitor wouldn't be able to see this convenience, function and joyfulness. The visitor and the dweller: This two different ways of seeing one thing made me realize why the old homes that were transported to some of the museums that we visited on the way here felt so fake. It was the lack of 'necessity'. The real life space shows the effort and endeavor for what is necessary, but museums certainly lack that aspect. Lowell's place is full of evidence of this effort and endeavor.  This is why Red Oak II is the true living-history.

 


 



After the stroll with Lowell we said our good-bye's. One night seemed like many days of excitement. When will we come back to this place again. I suddenly felt like someone who's lived all his life. It was because Red Oak II came into my life as a precious jewel of a place. Sumi and I put the purple beans and hand drawn map given by Lowell on the dashboard of our car, the green Passat Wagon, aka Nok-Cha(green tea: 'Cha' in Korean is a homonym of car and tea) and turned on the engine.




Jingoogk's Sketch Trip America is written originally in Korean.














Monday, December 15, 2014

[Sketch Trip America] Episode 12: You Corrupt Dragon! Here Comes the Ruler of Justice!







Missouri
Sinclair
On Rt 266(part of Rt 66 at some point in time) in Paris Spring,
20 miles west from Springfield.










"Wait! A ton of old stuff!"

"Stop the car!"

We've passed several Rt 66 museums along the way. Museums were full of shiny things that were long removed from where it belonged. For travelers in pursuit of old times, museum full of shiny object the time had been removed from wasn't very impressive. What finally stopped us was this tiny little gas station on the side of a dirt flying winding road. To be exact, it used to be a gas station and now it stood with all kinds of objects and cars with time hammered onto them cluttered all around it.




The name of the gas station is Sinclair. Opened in 1926.

Sinclair was filled with things that made one wonder what they were once used for. The gas pump was one of them. It took me a while to figure out that the scale on the transparent tank is to tell how much of the gasoline was extracted from the tank. One would watch the scale on the tank to see how much they needed to pay. Watching at it, I thought this analog method might have created some dispute over whether there were more or less gasoline for what one had paid. As soon as the scale became numbers, there might have been less disputes like that. Then, I remembered that some gas station owners tweaked the pump so that meters would show slightly more than what was actually pumped out and and made profit over time. This kind of news was quite frequent as I recall. Staring at the tank, I pondered on what had happened. When the tank became no longer transparent, the way to check it with our own eyes disappeared altogether. Then, there came meters in the place of our eyes. The numbers on meters changed at constant rates and speed. It was digital. People lost the means to check as the spectacular array of numbers changing, and soon, digital became trustworthy. The truth hid behind the splendor forever unchecked.

This transparency of an old analog gas pump, small neighborly disputes over few pennies, were not a mere section of frugal life of bygone days. It was a weapon that protected lives of people from the giant wrong-doings. The scales on the transparent tank of an old gas pump, was the mystical sword that would fend off the evil dragon called corruption. I thought we shouldn't let the truths in life turn into something else that's invisible. I suddenly wanted to raise the sword of justice high and mighty.






You corrupt dragon, I will slay you with the edge of my ruler of justice!

"Sumi, I'll lure his head and you stab in between his butt cheek!"

"Okay. You dragon of corruption, here comes the big wedgie of justice!"

Bzzzzzzz, zchunk, zchunkkk! Bzzzzzzik!

Until the day the charade of deception finally disappear!





Visit Jingoogk's original blog in Korean here:  http://blog.naver.com/hwangjinkook/220184427827



          

Sunday, December 14, 2014

[Sketch Trip America] Episode 11: The Genuine Route 66


The Genuine Rt 66 begins: 





Day 5. Missouri





6:40 AM. I was woken up by fresh and crisp early morning air.  I went to sleep in my underwear with no blanket but this morning, I found myself under a blanket. Sumi must've covered me up, but she wasn't there next to me. She must be up and doing something already. It is not uncommon that I wake up and Sumi is not around. She tends to get out and do something as soon as she opens her eyes in the morning, such as walking, taking photographs or etc.




I, on the other hand, was still wrapped in the blanket in the tent, while looking outside through the entrance. Beyond this thin layer, morning light was getting brighter and there were various bird calls, meandering fog, sweet smelling soil, and pungent smell of phytoncide that surrounding trees emit. This mixture of air was seeping through tent interior. Even a five star hotel couldn't provide this. I was beginning to feel the positive aspects of camping. If you set aside little bit of effort and discomfort, it is simply much better to camp than to stay at a conventional lodging. Fresh air and the positive energy from the forest began to enter my body. I may be turning into a god of the forest. My body started to elevate into the air. This must be levitation that people talk about. I was afloat with the air of the forest, then I heard a voice coming from Sumi.

"What'cha doing sitting in your undies?"

My short levitation ended with her voice and from god's realm I landed back in the human realm. Swoop and squat. Sumi had gone to take shower when the bathroom was empty.




We had breakfast with Doen-Jang Jjigae(bean paste stew) and beef chili paste and made coffee afterwards. Daily routines that happen in the mornings in the woods are also the best part of camping. While I was thinking this, stars and stripes pattern on the paper cups came into my sight. Half jokingly, I said to Sumi,

"Oh, this is so American!"

Sumi replied piteously.

"There's nothing un-American about any of these."

Right. But then, I realized I hadn't seen much of Korean national flag patterns on anything when I was in Korea. Growing up, national flag was something that hung only from the flag pole. To me, it was refreshing to see American flag pattern on various uniforms of American Olympic athletes. American flag patterns on paper cups reminded me that I was far away from Korea.




For our morning work, Sumi painted the signs she saw yesterday and I drew Sumi in the campground as the backdrop. It was a beautiful sight.

"Now, this is truly American" I said jokingly, again.

"Stop it, you're a yankee to the bones." Sumi laughed hilariously then continued.

"You know, I bet Americans wouldn't know what I meant by yankee."

She's right. When you say, 'yankee' in Korea and 'yankee' in America, they mean two different things.


Yankee

The term 'Yankee' has many origins, but one notable is the Dutch origins. Since there were many Dutch colonists in New England, the Dutch given names Jan("John") was common. Then this had grown to include non-Dutch colonists as well in the area. Now, the term Yankee is to call people from New England or the Northeast, but outside the US, Yankee simply means anyone that's from America. Someone from the South or the Midwest might be taken aback if called a Yankee, but outside the US, a Yankee just means any American. However, this can sometimes be used as somewhat of a derogatory word, so it should be used cautiously.    


 


Now that we started talking 'American' things, I'd like to talk about a real American camping habit. In last year's Blue Ridge camping and this year's trip, I've noticed that Americans love to make camp fires. Even in the middle of summer, people get up in the morning and start the fire in the pit. As soon as there's a fire, everyone gathers and starts chatting around it. It is almost as if it were a ritual, or right out of movies when cowboys camp out in the wild west and the first thing they do is make a fire. Maybe it is the remnants from the old culture, or simply that people watched too much western movies like me. Making fire when camping must be a code engrained in genes of camping and leisure in every American.




After finishing some creative work, we started to pack around 10 AM. We continued to pack down stuff every day and after the fourth day, it was at an optimal level. Efficient packing and daily schedule gave us valuable time in the morning to do more artwork. Within an hour, we left Meramec campground. Good-bye, Meramec Cavern campground! You were alright, just a little disorderly. Kids ran around 'till very late and the guy who laughed silly through the night was pretty funny, though. Thanks to all, anyway!




We got on the Interstate 44. This section of Route 66 runs side by side with the Interstate for a while so we decided to cover more distance and enjoy the view of Rt 66.

Once out of city, highways look very different from the highways in Korea.

"When do we get on highway?"

"We are already on a highway."

"Really? This isn't a regular road?

When I first came to the States, I had asked Sumi this question. Being used to highways in Korea, to me, highways should be at least 4-5 lanes and covered in think concrete chunks. However, the highways in the States were mostly like the one I'm on now. Near cities, highways look like that of Korea, but once past the city boundary, instead of concrete median, a wide lawn spreads in between the lanes going opposite ways. There are usually two lanes on both ways, one for driving and the other for passing. Most drivers seemed clear on this concept and usually kept the passing lane open and drove on the right lane. Sumi said that people are better about the passing lanes in the eastern US in general, probably because there are less lanes on highways than the west or midwest. People know it by heart that the rules are there to their advantage. On the other hand, places like L. A., the drivers are relatively more reckless in changing lanes and driving on all 6-7 lanes all together. Shortage of something made the standard high for some people, I thought to myself. Sumi, of course, didn't forget to mention that Korean drivers are no better than L.A. drivers. I remembered a news commentary from few years back that people that do not know the concept of the passing lane outnumber the ones who know this basic driving rule.

Though, only two lanes, driving amongst calm drivers next to grassy knolls made me enjoy the drive. But when noon came, strong rays started to heat up the pavement.




The temperature in the Midwest was getting over 100 degrees and we'd been driving several hours on sun-scorched highway. Our destination wasn't anywhere near. Highway was boring to drive in the same way as in the US or in Korea, and our sweat-soaked bodies under afternoon heat had long forgotten about the fun or excitement of a road trip. Then, suddenly, a couple biker women appeared before our eyes. They had matching jackets and their long pony tails flowing in wind behind them like scarves. They've got to be the Rt 66 travelers. Their flowing pony tails perked us up instantly and we were reminded again that we also are travelers on the Route 66.




One thing we got from this boring drive that had some value was this Rt 66 map of Missouri from the visitor center. All sorts of places of interests was listed in detail. It is hard to get this kind of information elsewhere. Another thing we got from our highway drive was….





This half-burnt and acned face that I got from driving from east to west for few days. We alternated driving, but the side that exposed to the sun was always the left side of face because we were heading little bit southwest.




And because Sumi insisted on wearing tank top or sleeveless shirt, she also got half of her face, left arm and knee burnt.




We couldn't just head back east to avoid getting burnt only on the left side. So we endured it and kept on driving under the scorching afternoon heat. Sumi had tuned on NPR and in the radio show, they said the nude models in Paris were on strike. In Paris, the city operates figure drawing classes for its people, so the models were hired by the government. I wondered what it would be like to see nude models on strike, while we drove on Interstate 44. We also couldn't have imagined that in a few hours from here that we'd be pulled into a magic of this jewel-like place on Rt 66.





Next episode in [Sketch Trip America] will feature Gary, the guide to Route 66 and his mom and pop store Sinclair.


 






Visit Jingoogk's original blog in Korean here








Permalink: 
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Sunday, October 26, 2014

[Sketch Trip America] Episode 10: St. Louis and the Melting Pot is still melting










Upon leaving the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge, we entered city of St. Louis. We briefly missed Route 66 and went a bit north somehow. The roads were terrible. There were potholes and deep cracks everywhere and this turtle back of a road went on for a good while. Sumi said looking at the map on her phone that the place of Michael Brown shooting wasn't far from here.

Ferguson is a northern suburb of St. Louis. It is a place with chronic condition of discrimination against Blacks. Recently when Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager was shot 6 times and killed by a white police officer, resulted a national outrage and protests. Also near Ferguson, a black man stole two cans of soda from a convenient store and was quickly surrounded by police officers. He then approached police yelling 'shoot me,' and the police really shot him several times in broad daylight. He also was unarmed. Someone on the street filmed the whole thing on his camera phone and I'd seen the video right before we left for the trip. Ferguson tragedy once again put American society face a turmoil stemming from deep rooted racial discrimination.
In twenty minutes or so later, we happened to drive by Forest Park, near city of St. Louis. All of a sudden, the rocky roads became smooth as if they were ironed. And unlike the northern neighbors, streets and lamps were adorned with flowers and most of passersby were whites. It was a stark difference to us as travelers that got off Route 66 briefly and drove through St. Louis from north to south.



Mom and Pop Store


Mom-and-pop store means a business that is run by mom and dad. In other word, a small, independent, family-owned business. One of the reasons Route 66 brings out certain nostalgia is because there are many mom and pop stores along Route 66. The section of Route 66 (now called Chippewa Street) that passes through St. Louis, there were two notable mom and pop stores. The Donut Drive-In that opened in the 1950's and Ted Drewes Frozen Custard opened in 1929. Perhaps, the fact that they are well and prosperous within the competition with those large franchised businesses also pique interest in people.








'Open' neon sign is lit. The friend we're going to meet in L.A. recently had a donut shop in Dallas, Texas just a year ago. It wasn't a franchise but a mom and pop store which he and his wife made all donuts themselves starting in the crack of dawn. He once told me that the people in Texas prefer donuts made in small stores than big chains like Dunkin Donuts. He believes the donuts made in far away factories can't compare in taste to his donuts made from scratch all in his store. I agree with him. He also described the scenes of his store in early mornings. When he and his wife make donuts from dawn and turn on the neon sign when it's still dark, it meant the freshly made donuts are ready. And because Dallas was so flat, people can see the light and come to buy his donuts from far away. Now, looking at the donut store that existed over 60 years and the tall sign standing above the roof, I thought that people in St. Louis also like donuts from mom and pop store and the owner of this store started to make donuts from the crack of dawn every day, just like my friend.






Ted Drewes is popular for its frozen custards. Until then, I thought custard was a bread with a cream filling. It was because of a well-known bakery brand in Korea that I thought such. It turned out the custard that I knew was just bread, but the cream filling itself was called custard. When I found this out from Sumi, I felt empty for being misinformed about custard, but was satisfied for learning it before I was dead. Puuhaha! I could only laugh a hollow laugh. Sumi expected to taste a good custard at this store, but when we saw the long line, gave up at once. I think we're not, so called foodies.






Ted Drewes' custard is supposed to be so thick that it doesn't spill when you turn it upside-down. I wondered what that meant exactly, in the world of custard. Instead of tasting it, we only gathered facts about the store being started as an ice cream truck in 1919 and now Ted Drewes, Jr is running it, then left for our next destination, Meramec Campground.






On our way to Meramec campground, Joongdeok(aka JD), the friend in LA, who used to have a donut shop in Dallas had called. JD asked, "I heard you started your trip, when are you going to get to LA?" I answered him, "We're on our way. It'll take about 10 days." JD told us to give him a ring 2-3 days before arriving in LA and I told him that we'd call 7-8 days later. After hanging up the phone, 'What a strange conversation,' I thought. Back in Korea, we used to live 5 minutes apart by walking. Now I'm telling him that it would take 15 days to get to his house to see him. And he says, "Okay, give me a call 3 days before." What a strange situation. 'America is so big,' I talked to myself, incoherently.






Meramec Campground was privately run. Basic camp site was $18 and site with electrical hook-up was $25. Usually, electrical hook-ups are for the RV's, but anyone can use it if you're particularly in need of electricity. Usually, other campgrounds are shaped in circles, but Meramec campground was a large grass field with sites scattered all over. There were many campers already there to enjoy the weekend.


Some photos of Meramec Campground.












We pick a spot under a big tree. The picnic table was moved from an area several feet away. It is all right to move tables little bit as long as it is not tied down. We like to put the table close by so we can shorten the distance between tent and table. It makes it efficient for us to go back and forth between working, cooking, and going into the tent. We weren't going to make camp fire or use barbecue grill, so we put everything even tighter than usual.





Inside of our tent. For a long trip, we've set up a few rules as below:

Tent.
We need to move to a new location every day, so we wanted to minimize the stress from having to set up and take down the tent. We had the specific needs in mind while shopping for tent. Now it only takes a minute for us to pitch the tent and another minute for taking it down. Tent is from Kelty, for 4 persons and 3 seasons.

Inside the tent.
Let's put only necessary things in the designated places inside the tent. It's faster to pack up that way, too.

Pillows.
For a good rest everyday, we should have the most comfortable pillow.  So we brought our pillows from home that we've been using.

It's nothing too grand, but we planned to keep everything comfortable and also simple. I thought it was important for a long trip such as ours.





After pitching our tent, we started to paint and write, then cooked up a spicy stew with sausages and veggies. Looking at the stew inside the pot, I suddenly remembered the streets in St. Louis.


A melting pot!






America is often mentioned as a good model of melting pot with all its different races, ethnicities, and cultures mixed together. However, to me, it was a melting pot that still hadn't been successfully melted, as long as there were flawed ideas of superiority and aversion to integrate. 

However, at Meramec campground, these people with different skin colors, races and ethnicity, were all melting away, having sweet and restful Labor Day weekend and enjoying the pleasure of camping outdoors. We were also melting together with them in good harmony and our fourth day of the trip was slowly closing down.







To go to Jingoogk's original blog in Korean --> http://blog.naver.com/hwangjinkook/220160154000