Showing newest 9 of 17 posts from December 2009. Show older posts
Showing newest 9 of 17 posts from December 2009. Show older posts
31 Dec. 2009
Avalon, Santa Catalina Island, CA
[1] Working to wake free. [2] Praying on Homer's bench. (.mp3) [3] Options for New Year's Eve.
The morning view out Tobey's window. 31 Dec. 2009
[1]
For almost three years I worked multiple jobs at once. Business debts from my early twenties now seemed an unbearable shackle mooring me to Suburbia and the rat-wheel of credit. With a desperate resolve which more than once crumpled me to tears, I determined to settle every deficit before setting out on the long-dreamt-of trip. With eyes to my freedom, I set my shoulder hard against a workweek which could move past seventy hours, rising at 3:00 AM and going to sleep again at 9:00 PM. My pre-dawn "mornings" were devoted to prayer and study before riding a bicycle several miles to work, where I reset a restaurant. Afterwards I would play the part of the photographer, shooting sixteen-hour weddings and traveling for engagements or meetings. Sleep became a scarce commodity, something to be fought for -- even if the opponents to it were simply temptations to check email once more, or inspect the fridge for a tide-me-over.
Opening my eyes this morning to the warmth of the Catalina sun, I was aware of a wonderful sense of rest throughout my body. I hadn't slept a great deal, perhaps five or six hours. But sleep seems less necessary when one has a friend nearby to wake to. I find the pleasure of continuing the previous day's conversation to be rejuvenating, as if friendship provides a rest of its own.
Blooming. 31 Dec. 2009
Geometry and blue sky. 31 Dec. 2009
[2]
Tobey and I shared breakfast before he left for another tour. The afternoon was mine to fill as I would. An hour was spent reading Matthew's Gospel and praying on a green plank bench which bore an auspicious brass placard, "Homer's Bench." Mid-day was passed outside Lloyd's confectionery, writing in my journal. Now and again down the cobblestone streets strutted the polished tones of a fine brass band.
"Homer's Bench" 31 Dec. 2009
Brass band playing "Wolverine Blues" [18 min. 8MB]
Download .mp3
Old brass tooting their horns at El Galleon. 31 Dec. 2009
Admirers. 31 Dec. 2009
[3]
New Year's presented me with options. An invitation came for a "crepes and film party." The familiar company would have been dear. But to be candid, I have little savor for movies these days. The idea that real people are paid to do things which are, by the light of scripture and to my judgment, wrong -- such as an actress who really unclothes herself before cameramen, or an actor who really takes the name of the Lord in vain because the script says so -- introduces an unpleasant taste to the whole experience. How can I justify it as fiction if real people are doing it? Obviously something has changed; I used to watch a dozen films a month.
The weather outside is not frightful. 31 Dec. 2009
Of course there was the choice to go downtown and get sloshed. Avalon is known for having more bars per capita than any other city in the United States, and several years ago the town was featured on television as an ideal haven for wild parties. To me, however, this was no option. "Be not drunk with wine, but filled with the Holy Spirit," and "they consider you strange for not running with them after wild drinking parties." [Eph. 5:18 ; 1 Pet. 4:4]
The church on Metropol. 31 Dec. 2009
As evening approached another opportunity arose, this time to gather with a group of local Christians to "pray in the New Year." At nine o' clock in the little eastern wing of the historic Community Church on Metropol, fifteen believers knelt or stood in worship, and amongst them was Tobey and myself. I derived great pleasure in being with those who wished to enter the year in a posture of thankfulness and petition to God. Several times I was given opportunity to express some edifying words from the scripture. As the city slurred a cheer for the stroke of midnight, this little branch of the body of Christ lifted praise to the Sustainer of times and seasons.
View the full set of images from this day, and in full size.
Go to the next day of this trip >>
Back to the trip overview >>
Avalon, Santa Catalina Island, CA
[1] Working to wake free. [2] Praying on Homer's bench. (.mp3) [3] Options for New Year's Eve.
The morning view out Tobey's window. 31 Dec. 2009
[1]
For almost three years I worked multiple jobs at once. Business debts from my early twenties now seemed an unbearable shackle mooring me to Suburbia and the rat-wheel of credit. With a desperate resolve which more than once crumpled me to tears, I determined to settle every deficit before setting out on the long-dreamt-of trip. With eyes to my freedom, I set my shoulder hard against a workweek which could move past seventy hours, rising at 3:00 AM and going to sleep again at 9:00 PM. My pre-dawn "mornings" were devoted to prayer and study before riding a bicycle several miles to work, where I reset a restaurant. Afterwards I would play the part of the photographer, shooting sixteen-hour weddings and traveling for engagements or meetings. Sleep became a scarce commodity, something to be fought for -- even if the opponents to it were simply temptations to check email once more, or inspect the fridge for a tide-me-over.
Opening my eyes this morning to the warmth of the Catalina sun, I was aware of a wonderful sense of rest throughout my body. I hadn't slept a great deal, perhaps five or six hours. But sleep seems less necessary when one has a friend nearby to wake to. I find the pleasure of continuing the previous day's conversation to be rejuvenating, as if friendship provides a rest of its own.
Blooming. 31 Dec. 2009
Geometry and blue sky. 31 Dec. 2009
[2]
Tobey and I shared breakfast before he left for another tour. The afternoon was mine to fill as I would. An hour was spent reading Matthew's Gospel and praying on a green plank bench which bore an auspicious brass placard, "Homer's Bench." Mid-day was passed outside Lloyd's confectionery, writing in my journal. Now and again down the cobblestone streets strutted the polished tones of a fine brass band.
"Homer's Bench" 31 Dec. 2009
Brass band playing "Wolverine Blues" [18 min. 8MB]
Download .mp3
Old brass tooting their horns at El Galleon. 31 Dec. 2009
Admirers. 31 Dec. 2009
[3]
New Year's presented me with options. An invitation came for a "crepes and film party." The familiar company would have been dear. But to be candid, I have little savor for movies these days. The idea that real people are paid to do things which are, by the light of scripture and to my judgment, wrong -- such as an actress who really unclothes herself before cameramen, or an actor who really takes the name of the Lord in vain because the script says so -- introduces an unpleasant taste to the whole experience. How can I justify it as fiction if real people are doing it? Obviously something has changed; I used to watch a dozen films a month.
The weather outside is not frightful. 31 Dec. 2009
Of course there was the choice to go downtown and get sloshed. Avalon is known for having more bars per capita than any other city in the United States, and several years ago the town was featured on television as an ideal haven for wild parties. To me, however, this was no option. "Be not drunk with wine, but filled with the Holy Spirit," and "they consider you strange for not running with them after wild drinking parties." [Eph. 5:18 ; 1 Pet. 4:4]
The church on Metropol. 31 Dec. 2009
As evening approached another opportunity arose, this time to gather with a group of local Christians to "pray in the New Year." At nine o' clock in the little eastern wing of the historic Community Church on Metropol, fifteen believers knelt or stood in worship, and amongst them was Tobey and myself. I derived great pleasure in being with those who wished to enter the year in a posture of thankfulness and petition to God. Several times I was given opportunity to express some edifying words from the scripture. As the city slurred a cheer for the stroke of midnight, this little branch of the body of Christ lifted praise to the Sustainer of times and seasons.
View the full set of images from this day, and in full size.
Go to the next day of this trip >>
Back to the trip overview >>
30 Dec. 2009
Avalon, Santa Catalina Island, CA
Shortercat:
[1] Woke early to receive a beautiful sunrise. [2] Conversation with my father regarding handguns. [3] Dana point harbor to Avalon by boat. [4] The Hancocks. [5] The Airport in the Sky. [6] Unexpected run-ins with friends. [7] Evening with Hancocks.
Longercat:
[1]
Through dull gray plumes of an early morning cloud bank burst a revelatory matchstick of sulfur sun. The empty restaurant lot where I stood with my father ignited under a cherry glow, refracting upon the windows the consolatory ambiance of fresh day. Then, as if to prevent the whole land from coming alight under such beautiful tongues of flame, that old, ever looming marine layer of my coastal California town set his silvery shoe back firm upon the dawn glow. It would remain so for the rest of the day, but the image of first light had burned in me with lasting warmth.
Sunrise over Oceanside. 30 Dec. 2009
In the Christian scriptures there is little place for subjective interpretations of natural providence, yet in many of us remains an almost inherent tendency to think in such ways. On the first morning of what is intended to be five months of travel -- a kind of panning of the mental lens across the broad country of my birth, and an internal reflection upon who I wish to become -- I cannot deny being moved by the momentary sunlight.
What is this latent impulse within mankind, that when one observes an unusual phenomenon in the heavens or earth he is stirred to personalize the sight into some fated sign of personal fortune? Whether passing of comets or eclipsing of celestial bodies, heavenly spectacles were for the ancients certain omens of coming events. Are we moderns so advanced that we have overcome natural superstition? Hardly. Who has not once glanced the fall of a star only to half-consciously affirm in himself an increased likelihood of a wish being fulfilled?
[2]
Driving to Dana Point harbor provided an opportunity to speak with my father. The conversation was not especially deep, but I valued the time as significant in this period of transition for both of us. "Your mother's target groupings," he said, "were the size of a coffee can. Very good for a snub nose." Perhaps this was a hint of his concern at being too debilitated to really defend the home. Having recently purchased and practiced with their first handgun, he expressed repeatedly his relief for my mother having done well. Of course, I thought, that was under ideal circumstances. I suppose if one must be robbed, he can only hope the assailants are a rogue band of static printed silhouettes.
My father outside Grandma's Restaurant. 30 Dec. 2009
[3]
Standing in queue for the boat amongst chipper tourists frocked in brightly colored garb, there seemed a certain conspicuousness about my own appearance. The whole of my apparel and accouterments -- pack, satchel, pants, fleece, hat, bottle -- was uniform olive drab. "Is this the boat to Felujah?" Ironically, I would say my preferred color is a gas-flame blue. Item by item, however, my purchases have revealed a predilection for discretion and ambiguity when traveling. But combined, the whole green ensemble probably does little to make me blend in with city folks on an island one-and-a-half hours off the Los Angeles shoreline.
Myself, too much green. En route to Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
Soon we boarded and the Express began making way across the channel. My seat was top-deck in the open air where salted spray and a brisk wind were free to cleanse my cheeks with seasoned tears of joy. What better accompaniment than Robert Shaw's Sea Shanties, harking "Whup! Jamboree!" through my earphones? A squall in pursuit made for the most unusual atmospheric formations which hung ominously above like haphazard chandeliers.
Ominous cloud, en route to Santa Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
[4]
The purpose of my coming to Santa Catalina for New Years was in part to visit a dear brother, Tobey Hancock, and also to pay homage to the beginning of my youthful travels. Eight years earlier, though newly become friends, Tobey and I set ourselves on an adventure together. Really it was my first experience striking into the world without parental oversight. He was twenty-one and I was seventeen. We planned almost nothing but went to Yosemite for a few weeks and then to the island. Our only idea was to spend that month as companions in prayer, fasting, evangelism. Ironically, I wasn't to come to my own religious conversion until four years later, but that trip was the beginning of my travels and all they have lead to.
Santa Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
Port at the city of Avalon, SCI, California. 30 Dec. 2009
Eventually Tobey moved to the island, even marrying a young woman we met there with whom he has a son, and another baby on the way. Like many residents of Avalon who work hard to make ends meet, he tends several trades -- construction worker, courier, and tour bus operator. Meanwhile his wife, Charity, remains home to love, teach, and discipline their child. They seem very happy with their almost anachronistic life of paternal masculinity and maternal domesticity.
Tobey's tour truck. 30 Dec. 2009
Charity greeted me at the port with two loaves of freshly baked banana bread and brought me shortly to the bus plaza. Tobey was already walking towards us when I saw him, with full beard and ten-penny nail earring -- the mark of a biblical bondservant -- which has hung in his ear since we met so many years ago. In our brotherly embrace I was glad to feel the sense of a true friend long after so many transitory ones had faded.
Man at work. 30 Dec. 2009
[5]
Riding shotgun in an enormous rumbling trailer-bus, I was whisked up the winding, dead-fall path of Sky Line Drive. I listened merrily as Tobey gave his rote dissertation of native trivia to the full load of tourists. Our stop was the Airport in the Sky, elevation 1602', which if not for the shroud of fog, would yield boundless views of the Pacific and back to California. But these clouds were more to my liking, having seen the blue over St. Catherine's so many times in the past.
From ridge to ridge. 30 Dec. 2009
Airport in the Sky. 30 Dec. 2009
The Unimog. Pure awesome. 30 Dec. 2009
[6]
Having time to read in the afternoon, I found shelter from the rain in Courtyard Coffee, a lovely little cafe tucked in the Landing. There was a young woman playing guitar in the corner, and who was it but an old friend from my first visit with Tobey. Sarah's stunned expression gave way to a shout and, despite confused patrons which surrounded us, she lunged upon me with a hug. Though twenty-one and in college, she was in many senses not a different person than that sprightly teen of eight years ago.
Sara playing. 30 Dec. 2009
We spoke of literature. I asked her if she knew John Muir. She blushed, opening a journal to reveal the old man's photo taped to the cover fold. I could hardly believe the irony of it: generally obscure Muir, whom I expected Sarah to know nothing of, glued within her notebook in all his bearded environmental triumph. We took a meandering walk through the town and back to the shop, stopping to look at gorgeous leaves lying scarlet and bumble bee on the rain soaked sidewalk. Another friend was now at the cafe and we spoke mostly of the state of American politics and culture, of patriotism and injustice.
Leaves on the walkway. 30 Dec. 2009
[7]
I concluded the evening with Tobey and his wife, playing board games and talking into early hours about theology, nutrition, family, until at last my head fell in thanks for this wonderful start to a long time out. Even if this first day proves only a brief flash of dawn fire, the warmth of it will remain for a long time in my heart.
View all images from this day, plus larger sizes, at this link.
Go to the next day >>
Back to the trip overview >>
Avalon, Santa Catalina Island, CA
Shortercat:
[1] Woke early to receive a beautiful sunrise. [2] Conversation with my father regarding handguns. [3] Dana point harbor to Avalon by boat. [4] The Hancocks. [5] The Airport in the Sky. [6] Unexpected run-ins with friends. [7] Evening with Hancocks.
Longercat:
[1]
Through dull gray plumes of an early morning cloud bank burst a revelatory matchstick of sulfur sun. The empty restaurant lot where I stood with my father ignited under a cherry glow, refracting upon the windows the consolatory ambiance of fresh day. Then, as if to prevent the whole land from coming alight under such beautiful tongues of flame, that old, ever looming marine layer of my coastal California town set his silvery shoe back firm upon the dawn glow. It would remain so for the rest of the day, but the image of first light had burned in me with lasting warmth.
Sunrise over Oceanside. 30 Dec. 2009
In the Christian scriptures there is little place for subjective interpretations of natural providence, yet in many of us remains an almost inherent tendency to think in such ways. On the first morning of what is intended to be five months of travel -- a kind of panning of the mental lens across the broad country of my birth, and an internal reflection upon who I wish to become -- I cannot deny being moved by the momentary sunlight.
What is this latent impulse within mankind, that when one observes an unusual phenomenon in the heavens or earth he is stirred to personalize the sight into some fated sign of personal fortune? Whether passing of comets or eclipsing of celestial bodies, heavenly spectacles were for the ancients certain omens of coming events. Are we moderns so advanced that we have overcome natural superstition? Hardly. Who has not once glanced the fall of a star only to half-consciously affirm in himself an increased likelihood of a wish being fulfilled?
[2]
Driving to Dana Point harbor provided an opportunity to speak with my father. The conversation was not especially deep, but I valued the time as significant in this period of transition for both of us. "Your mother's target groupings," he said, "were the size of a coffee can. Very good for a snub nose." Perhaps this was a hint of his concern at being too debilitated to really defend the home. Having recently purchased and practiced with their first handgun, he expressed repeatedly his relief for my mother having done well. Of course, I thought, that was under ideal circumstances. I suppose if one must be robbed, he can only hope the assailants are a rogue band of static printed silhouettes.
My father outside Grandma's Restaurant. 30 Dec. 2009
[3]
Standing in queue for the boat amongst chipper tourists frocked in brightly colored garb, there seemed a certain conspicuousness about my own appearance. The whole of my apparel and accouterments -- pack, satchel, pants, fleece, hat, bottle -- was uniform olive drab. "Is this the boat to Felujah?" Ironically, I would say my preferred color is a gas-flame blue. Item by item, however, my purchases have revealed a predilection for discretion and ambiguity when traveling. But combined, the whole green ensemble probably does little to make me blend in with city folks on an island one-and-a-half hours off the Los Angeles shoreline.
Myself, too much green. En route to Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
Soon we boarded and the Express began making way across the channel. My seat was top-deck in the open air where salted spray and a brisk wind were free to cleanse my cheeks with seasoned tears of joy. What better accompaniment than Robert Shaw's Sea Shanties, harking "Whup! Jamboree!" through my earphones? A squall in pursuit made for the most unusual atmospheric formations which hung ominously above like haphazard chandeliers.
Ominous cloud, en route to Santa Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
[4]
The purpose of my coming to Santa Catalina for New Years was in part to visit a dear brother, Tobey Hancock, and also to pay homage to the beginning of my youthful travels. Eight years earlier, though newly become friends, Tobey and I set ourselves on an adventure together. Really it was my first experience striking into the world without parental oversight. He was twenty-one and I was seventeen. We planned almost nothing but went to Yosemite for a few weeks and then to the island. Our only idea was to spend that month as companions in prayer, fasting, evangelism. Ironically, I wasn't to come to my own religious conversion until four years later, but that trip was the beginning of my travels and all they have lead to.
Santa Catalina Island. 30 Dec. 2009
Port at the city of Avalon, SCI, California. 30 Dec. 2009
Eventually Tobey moved to the island, even marrying a young woman we met there with whom he has a son, and another baby on the way. Like many residents of Avalon who work hard to make ends meet, he tends several trades -- construction worker, courier, and tour bus operator. Meanwhile his wife, Charity, remains home to love, teach, and discipline their child. They seem very happy with their almost anachronistic life of paternal masculinity and maternal domesticity.
Tobey's tour truck. 30 Dec. 2009
Charity greeted me at the port with two loaves of freshly baked banana bread and brought me shortly to the bus plaza. Tobey was already walking towards us when I saw him, with full beard and ten-penny nail earring -- the mark of a biblical bondservant -- which has hung in his ear since we met so many years ago. In our brotherly embrace I was glad to feel the sense of a true friend long after so many transitory ones had faded.
Man at work. 30 Dec. 2009
[5]
Riding shotgun in an enormous rumbling trailer-bus, I was whisked up the winding, dead-fall path of Sky Line Drive. I listened merrily as Tobey gave his rote dissertation of native trivia to the full load of tourists. Our stop was the Airport in the Sky, elevation 1602', which if not for the shroud of fog, would yield boundless views of the Pacific and back to California. But these clouds were more to my liking, having seen the blue over St. Catherine's so many times in the past.
From ridge to ridge. 30 Dec. 2009
Airport in the Sky. 30 Dec. 2009
The Unimog. Pure awesome. 30 Dec. 2009
[6]
Having time to read in the afternoon, I found shelter from the rain in Courtyard Coffee, a lovely little cafe tucked in the Landing. There was a young woman playing guitar in the corner, and who was it but an old friend from my first visit with Tobey. Sarah's stunned expression gave way to a shout and, despite confused patrons which surrounded us, she lunged upon me with a hug. Though twenty-one and in college, she was in many senses not a different person than that sprightly teen of eight years ago.
Sara playing. 30 Dec. 2009
We spoke of literature. I asked her if she knew John Muir. She blushed, opening a journal to reveal the old man's photo taped to the cover fold. I could hardly believe the irony of it: generally obscure Muir, whom I expected Sarah to know nothing of, glued within her notebook in all his bearded environmental triumph. We took a meandering walk through the town and back to the shop, stopping to look at gorgeous leaves lying scarlet and bumble bee on the rain soaked sidewalk. Another friend was now at the cafe and we spoke mostly of the state of American politics and culture, of patriotism and injustice.
Leaves on the walkway. 30 Dec. 2009
[7]
I concluded the evening with Tobey and his wife, playing board games and talking into early hours about theology, nutrition, family, until at last my head fell in thanks for this wonderful start to a long time out. Even if this first day proves only a brief flash of dawn fire, the warmth of it will remain for a long time in my heart.
View all images from this day, plus larger sizes, at this link.
Go to the next day >>
Back to the trip overview >>
Let's help one another out. Here are links that I find useful. If you have some, share in the comments. Cheers!
Traveler Blogs
Heinz Stucke >> Guiness Record, "most traveled man ever", over 300,000 miles on bike.
Karl Bushby and Odyssey XXI >> The longest, farthest backpacking trip in history.
Kevin Yang >> Lots of useful info
Brett on Stuff >> Useful info
Dudes from Down Under >> Really old guys who get out.
The Longest Way Home >> a guy traveling the world in search of a home.
Gear Review & Tips
TrailSpace >>
Section Hiker >>
Backpacking lite >>
Bug Backpacker Guide >>
Ask Buck - Medical Advice for Hikers >>
Merchants
Moosejaw.com >> Instant 10% rewards points.
REI.com
Amazon.com >> The store with almost everything.
AntiGravityGear
Appy Trails – Tents
BearVault
Black Rock Gear
Bozeman Mountain Works
Brasslite
Bushbuddy Stove
Cilogear
Clark Jungle Hammock
Dirty Girl Gaiters
Equinox
Etowah Outfitters
Fanatic Fringe
40 Below
Gossamer Gear
Grand Shelters
Harmony House Foods
Hennessy Hammock
Ion Stove
Jacks R Better
Kickass Quilts
Light Heart Gear
McHale Alpine Packs
Minibull Design
Moonbow
MountainAbout
Mountain Laurel Designs
Northern Lites
Nunatak
OMM
Outdoor Equipment Supplier
Oware
Pacer Pole
Packit Gourmet
RBH Designs
Rivendell Mountain Works
Simblissity Ultralight
Six Moon Designs
Speer Hammocks
StickPic
Tarptent
The Packa
Thru-Hiker.com
The Titanium Goat
Trail Designs
Ula Equipment
Ultralight Outfitters
Ursack
Vargo Outdoors
Warmlite
Wild Ideas
Wilderness Dining
Zpacks.com
I know it's hard to find the right gear and fun to hear what's out there. Whether en route to the Ganges or the grocery store, these items might help you on your next excursion.
Most recent reviews at the top. Feel free to leave recommendations in a comment!
Sea to Summit AlphaLite Long Spoon 8.5" >>
Voigtlander 35mm Optical Viewfinder >>
Buck Pilot folding knife >>
iNova LED key-chain flashlight >>
Photon Freedom LED key-chain flashlight >>
Leatherman Charge TTi multi-tool >>
Canon G11 Compact Camera >>
SOG Gov-TAC Survival & Tactical Knife >>
Trangia Alcohol Stove & Westwind Base >>
Most recent reviews at the top. Feel free to leave recommendations in a comment!
Sea to Summit AlphaLite Long Spoon 8.5" >>
Voigtlander 35mm Optical Viewfinder >>
Buck Pilot folding knife >>
iNova LED key-chain flashlight >>
Photon Freedom LED key-chain flashlight >>
Leatherman Charge TTi multi-tool >>
Canon G11 Compact Camera >>
SOG Gov-TAC Survival & Tactical Knife >>
Trangia Alcohol Stove & Westwind Base >>
The SOG Gov-Tac is a full-tang workhorse. I have it for survival and tactical purposes, and chose the SOG for my 3,000 mile solo cycle trip. The thick-backed design with a reinforced tip is good for batoning wood and, thanks to durable 6" AUS 8 steel, it retains a fine edge. Double hilt guard and non-slip Kraton-G handle, plus excellent jimping on the blade, make it safe to operate. The included Kydex sheath is excellent and drains water. The pommel can be used for blunt tasks like pounding stakes.
Longer review coming soon!
Blah
Blah
Blah
Blah
Blah
Blah
BlahHere's some info from Nut'n Fancy
Trangia stoves are iconic. Like Zippos and Swiss Army Knives, they are always imitated, but never replaced. So what are they? Well, Trangias are practically invincible, lightweight brass stoves that burn methylated spirits such as HEET (yellow bottle, not red!) available at auto and convenient stores, or -- even better -- Denatured Alcohol located in the paint section at Wal-Mart, etc. 32 ounces cans run about $5, and one ounce of fuel will burn for about half an hour. Typical burn times are 7 minutes for one liter at room temp, or less. Despite an impressive flame Trangias are virtually silent, which I think is wonderful for not disturbing the natural ambiance.
burn methylated spirits such as HEET (yellow bottle, not red!) available at auto and convenient stores, or -- even better -- Denatured Alcohol located in the paint section at Wal-Mart, etc. 32 ounces cans run about $5, and one ounce of fuel will burn for about half an hour. Typical burn times are 7 minutes for one liter at room temp, or less. Despite an impressive flame Trangias are virtually silent, which I think is wonderful for not disturbing the natural ambiance.I have used my stove pretty extensively in a variety of conditions. It was my choice for a Pacific Coast cycle tour lasting several thousand because it is economical, durable, and predictable.
Trangias function essentially the same whether in winter snow or summer sun, only varying in how long they take to "bloom" (check out videos on youtube) into a full flame. Just pour fuel in the inner cup, light up, and the heated gas will be pushed out holes in the rim where they ignite to look like your kitchen burner. Wah-la!
Every Trangia comes with a simmer cap / flame snuffer, and and an O-ring sealing lid that allows you to store fuel inside (about 1.5 ounces).
If I haven't stressed it enough, the Trangia stove is extremely efficient and reliable, owing to it's solid, no-moving-parts design. I could throw mine off a cliff and expect it to cook at the bottom. It may not boil as fast as one of those jet-pack canister stoves, but why fool with gadgets on a long journey when there is a bullet proof option with readily available, cheap fuel? Your dinner might depend on it.
The Westwind base is also excellent for the minimalist, weighing almost nothing and taking up no room, while doing its job admirably.
Feel free to add your thoughts or ask questions, thanks!
28 Dec. 2009
Carlsbad, CA
I used my beloved Trangia stove tonight to make (some excellent) soup near the beach. Just me, my cooking gear, and Handel's Messiah. The serenity of a December night and the alternating blues of an alcohol flame that vary like glacial ogives 
-- it was a moment of crystalline peace on earth -- until an eruption unsettled everything.
A bottle of hand sanitizer (70% alcohol) had escaped my notice, hiding behind the pot. As the bottle heated, pressure built until a tiny hole melted through. The noise startled me, but more so was the sudden spurting of flammable gel right through the flames of my stove! The newborn Purell dragon spewed fire mercilessly upon the table. Fortunately, I was about to put it out quickly.
Sounds more dramatic than it was, but I was reminded to be cautious even with such friendly things as Trangias and sanitizer.
-- it was a moment of crystalline peace on earth -- until an eruption unsettled everything.A bottle of hand sanitizer (70% alcohol) had escaped my notice, hiding behind the pot. As the bottle heated, pressure built until a tiny hole melted through. The noise startled me, but more so was the sudden spurting of flammable gel right through the flames of my stove! The newborn Purell dragon spewed fire mercilessly upon the table. Fortunately, I was about to put it out quickly.
Sounds more dramatic than it was, but I was reminded to be cautious even with such friendly things as Trangias and sanitizer.
More than any other medium, the written word has arguably had the most formative influence upon my personality and beliefs. In books I received my first glimpses of far flung lands and heroic endeavors, imbibing from their exploits a yearning to see it all myself. As I grew older the desire to merely see was honed into a passion to know and understand the significance of all things.
If you would like to know more on why I think you ought to read, or how to develop good habits for consistent reading, you can begin here: Making time to read. If you would like a definitive list of recommended reading on all subjects, check What's on my bookshelf. For a look at my literary diet, see the book list for 2009.
There are also many persons whose remarkable stories I heard online or through word of mouth, which also excited in me a zest for life.
I could list a great deal more, but these are the ones which, for better or worse, have moved me most to live expansively. The list is arranged chronologically.
Complete Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Waterson - These oft' profound and always witty comics were my childhood companions until the age of ten. By them I learned not only how to read, but began to think deeply about life, to laugh and grieve and cherish the treasure of friendship. In his own way, Waterson instilled in me an awareness of death, destiny, and one's existence. By the imaginative stroke of pen and watercolor he imparted real appreciation for nature and art, philosophy and also levity.
Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe - Perhaps I was eleven when I received a beautiful edition of Defoe's classic tale of shipwreck, complete with paintings by the illustrious N.C. Wyeth. The combination of manliness and spirituality have hung on my memory ever since.
Disney Movies - Lots of them. While in certain ways wishing I had not been oversexed at age five by the emotional deluge of thirty wispy cartoon romances, I cannot deny the lasting impact of their poppy songs, vibrant colors, and themes of problem/resolution, good/evil, beautiful/horrid,love/loneliness.
Hatchet, Gary Paulsen -
My Side of the Mountain, Jean Craighead George -
Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia & Tolkein's Lord of the Rings trilogy -
Lord of the Flies, William Golding -
Kim, Rudyard Kipling-
Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret - Dr. & Mrs. Howard Taylor
Karl Bushby - Longest walk in history, over 14 years and more than 36,000 miles.
Confessions - Augustine
Autobiography of Charles Haddon Spurgeon - W. Y. Fullerton [review]
Missionary Patriarch: The True Story of John Paton, John Paton
The Life of A. W. Pink, Iain Murray Ω [review]
The Worst Journey in the World, Apsley Cherry-Gerrard
Sailing Alone Around the World, Joshua Slocum
Heinz Stücke - The most traveled man in history did it on bicycle, and on a dime.
If you would like to know more on why I think you ought to read, or how to develop good habits for consistent reading, you can begin here: Making time to read. If you would like a definitive list of recommended reading on all subjects, check What's on my bookshelf. For a look at my literary diet, see the book list for 2009.
There are also many persons whose remarkable stories I heard online or through word of mouth, which also excited in me a zest for life.
I could list a great deal more, but these are the ones which, for better or worse, have moved me most to live expansively. The list is arranged chronologically.
Complete Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Waterson - These oft' profound and always witty comics were my childhood companions until the age of ten. By them I learned not only how to read, but began to think deeply about life, to laugh and grieve and cherish the treasure of friendship. In his own way, Waterson instilled in me an awareness of death, destiny, and one's existence. By the imaginative stroke of pen and watercolor he imparted real appreciation for nature and art, philosophy and also levity.
Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe - Perhaps I was eleven when I received a beautiful edition of Defoe's classic tale of shipwreck, complete with paintings by the illustrious N.C. Wyeth. The combination of manliness and spirituality have hung on my memory ever since.
Disney Movies - Lots of them. While in certain ways wishing I had not been oversexed at age five by the emotional deluge of thirty wispy cartoon romances, I cannot deny the lasting impact of their poppy songs, vibrant colors, and themes of problem/resolution, good/evil, beautiful/horrid,love/loneliness.
Hatchet, Gary Paulsen -
My Side of the Mountain, Jean Craighead George -
Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia & Tolkein's Lord of the Rings trilogy -
Lord of the Flies, William Golding -
Kim, Rudyard Kipling-
Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret - Dr. & Mrs. Howard Taylor
Karl Bushby - Longest walk in history, over 14 years and more than 36,000 miles.
Confessions - Augustine
Autobiography of Charles Haddon Spurgeon - W. Y. Fullerton [review]
Missionary Patriarch: The True Story of John Paton, John Paton
The Life of A. W. Pink, Iain Murray Ω [review]
The Worst Journey in the World, Apsley Cherry-Gerrard
Sailing Alone Around the World, Joshua Slocum
Heinz Stücke - The most traveled man in history did it on bicycle, and on a dime.
Since you couldn't be there with me while I roamed little scraps of the globe, I snatched the soul of those places and have preserved them here for your learning and enjoyment.
Favorites of All // * click images to view them larger in new window.
Coming into NYC
Favorites of All // * click images to view them larger in new window.
Storm forming over Lake Michigan, WI
Carnival rides at Bay Beach, Green Bay, WI
Young girl thinking, La Jolla, CA
En route to Catalina Island, CA
Desert clouds over Arizona
Covenant sign, San Onofre, CA
Scripps Institute Pier, La Jolla, CA
Lovers at Dundalk, Ireland
4th of July, Avalon, Catalina Island, CA
Julia Pfeiffer State Park, CA
Abandoned house outside Appleton, WI
Need, Tijuana, Mexico
Cloud formations over Catalina Island, CA
Yosemite, CA
Post-Soviet cat, Moscow, Russia
Chargers game, San Diego, CA
Happily married, Carlsbad, CA
Weather over Arizona
Glaciers, probably Greenland
Sequoias, Yosemite, CA
Sunset over Catalina Island, CA
Abandoned house outside Appleton, WI
Done for the day, Oceanside, CA
Coming into NYC
Brothers, Red Wing, MN
Brickwork building, Point Beach, WI
Colorado Monument, Grand Junction, CO
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