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The rush to prepare a paper for submission has prevented me from writing about the rest of my trip to New York. I will get around to it eventually, so watch this space. In the mean time, here are two pictures to pique your interest:

I had a "New"-filled winter break: I went to New Orleans with family; Buffalo, New York for a wedding; and New York City for New Years. I will postpone writing about New Orleans until my father sends me the pictures he took and instead write about the awesome road trip to New York State.

To Buffalo!

The trip began on December 28, the day after I got back from New Orleans. I did not even have to unpack my duffel bag. Three UIUC computer science friends and I set off for Buffalo to attend the wedding of Lyndsy—another CS friend—and her longtime boyfriend Dave.

Josh drove and agreed to pick up Alejandro in Urbana, me in Indianapolis, and Zack in the backwoods of Ohio. Lucas would meet us in Buffalo.

For Christmas, my parents gave me a Garmin Nüvi 350 GPS receiver. The timing was perfect for the road trip. That amazing glowing screen led us over winding country roads directly to Zack's front door, across Pennsylvania and New York to Lyndsy's house (where we wished the bride good luck), and through Buffalo to the hotel where we spent the night. Along the way it also pointed us to upcoming gas stations and restaurants. In Ohio it led us to a small country restaurant that we would have never seen or thought to stop at.

We even gave the GPS a name: Marie, after Alejandro's mom. From that point onward, the trip became thick with "your mom" jokes, none of which I can repeat here.

Overall, the drive was uneventful. We didn't get to see much since it got dark early and rained nonstop.

The Wedding

I have attended several family weddings, but Lyndsy and Dave's was the first in which two of my friends got married. I am reaching the age that I can expect many more to come.

The wedding was much more traditional than the other weddings I have attended. There were several bible readings, a full sermon, communion, and guitar-backed hymns. Pretty normal stuff, I suppose.

The one surprising thing is that it got a group of CS nerds to dress up nicely in suits and ties.

After the wedding we had an hour of limbo until the reception started. None of us realized this until we reached the empty and darkened banquet hall. The employees setting out nametags and placesettings gave us some strange looks.

Eventually the reception got under way. First a delicious buffet, then people descended on the bar and dance floor. No, I didn't dance. In fact—and this in no way reflects poorly on the quality of the reception—I fell asleep in my chair at one point.

Meanwhile, Lyndsy and Dave orbited the room, chatting with guests and posing for pictures.

Indeed, there were many pictures.

Thanks, Lyndsy and Dave, for inviting me. I wish you the absolute best as you start your life together. Also thanks to Josh for letting me use some of his pictures.

Niagra Falls

The next morning we repacked the car and set off for New York City via Niagra Falls.

Marie almost led us astray. We were driving toward a bridge and would have crossed it had Alejandro, who is from Guatemala, not exclaimed, "Stop! We're going into Canada! My visa says I can't leave the country!" We turned around to his relief and Marie's confusion. We set a different route to the United States side of the falls and were soon back on our way.

Interestingly, the only way to enter Niagra Falls State Park is through the gift shop. After navigating that and a short trail, we found the American Falls.

There, we took the obligatory "tourist" shots:

We crossed the pedestrian bridge to Goat Island on the opposite side of the American Falls.

Many areas were closed due to ice, including the platform closest to the Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side. Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good picture of the Horseshoe Falls, but we did have some fun with the warning signs and ice on the guardrails.

To New York City!

We walked the trails some more then returned to the car to resume the drive to New York City. Along the way we hit the first and only snow of the entire trip. Nasty, wet, slippery snow. It is interesting that we hit snow only after leaving Buffalo.

Around 11, Josh and Alejandro got hungry. Not much is open at that time, but Marie led us to a fast-food joint that was still open despite the snow. The restaurant was out of everything except burger patties and small buns. We learned that it had only 26 buns remaining for the night. As soon as they sold, the manager would close the store. Alejandro desperately wanted to buy them out, but held back because there were other customers behind him in line. Only four buns remained by the time we left, but the manager had already closed the kitchen, shattering Alejandro's dream of buying all the food in a restaurant.

After another hour or two of driving, we passed into New York City. Once again Marie led us directly to our hotel, located in a particularly sketchy part of the Bronx. The streets were deserted, and all the surrounding stores were closed with steel shutters and covered in graffiti. The only light came from scattered street lamps that threw jagged shadows through the elevated rail line directly in front of the hotel. We quickly unloaded the baggage and removed anything of value from the car.

The inside of the hotel was slightly less sketchy than the surrounding neighborhood. The cable box didn't work and shocked Josh when he tried to fix it; I found cigarette burns in the comforter on my bed; and the entire room shook whenever a train passed along the rails 20 feet from our window. Obviously there was no internet. To the hotel's credit, though, the room was very large and the maid was very helpful.

In the next installment, I'll write about our trip to the Statue of Liberty and our amazing New Year's Eve in Times Square.

Last Saturday I began my return trip from Mountain View, California to Champaign, Illinois. The drive took me through Yosemite National Park, across the deserts of Nevada, over the San Rafael Swell, through the Rockies of Colorado, and over the Great Plains to Illinois.

The day before I left, I went to a company picnic. At one point the conversation turned to the trip ahead. Reactions ranged from envy that I got to take four days off to see the country, to surprise that I was driving the whole way by myself. I feel the trip was akin to an Australian walkabout: I got to wander the country, enjoy the sights, and be alone with my thoughts.

People asked what I did with my time. Play music? Listen to audiobooks? I listened to the radio when I could get a signal, but mostly I contemplated the land around me. The spectacular mountains and rock formations made me wonder about the geological forces that shaped them. I also found it fascinating to watch plants appear or disappear as I changed elevation and crossed ecosystems. For example, dropping out of Yosemite's pine forests into bare desert was particularly jarring. Human settlements, too, varied with natural as well as economic features. One particular ridge in Utah separated salt flats from thriving farmland irrigated by the flow of a shallow river.

This trip, like its counterpart three months ago, was as much about the journey as the destination.

Day One

Unlike my original trip west, I got an early start on my trip east. I had everything packed the night before, and with the help of my housemates, it only took about an hour to load everything into my car. I departed from Mountain View on Saturday, August 11 around 10:30 AM PST.

By the end of the day I crossed California and made it a quarter of the way through Nevada. Here is a map of the route I followed.

It did not take long to leave San Francisco Bay behind me as I took various 80-suffixed interstates toward the Central Valley. The air became drier and dustier the further I got from the coast. I turned onto Highway 120 midway across the valley and was soon surrounded by orchards and fruit stands. Having grown up in the Midwest, I found it interesting to see farmland covered with rows of trees rather than corn.

120 was perfectly flat and straight across the valley, but became much steeper and twistier as it rose into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. I started seeing signs for the first waypoint of my trip: Yosemite National Park.

As I ascended, pines replaced farmland and touristy mountain towns replaced fruit stands. I reached Yosemite's western Big Oak Flat entrance around 2:30.

I regret that I could not stop to do some hiking, but fortunately the highway passes right through the center of the park and overlooks some of the most beautiful landscape in the Sierras.

I saw signs of wildfires throughout my trip. In the Central Valley I passed several patches of scorched grass by the side of the road. In Yosemite I smelled the remains of a forest fire before I saw it. It was a sweet woody smell, like carmelizing sugar and mulch.

The road continued to rise. I ate lunch around 3:30 in a secluded picnic area near a dry stream bed.

Continuing on, I started seeing more gray rock jutting above the pines.

Turning around a bend, the road revealed a spectacular granite-lined valley. Far away in the haze I could see the famous Half Dome.

Had I seen only that valley, I would have been perfectly happy, but Yosemite had many more sights to show me. Not far from the Half Dome viewing area, the landscape once again opened into a breathtaking valley. Tenaya Lake lay at the bottom. The road dropped steeply to follow its northern bank.

Beyond Tenaya Lake lay Tuolumne Meadows, the largest sub-alpine meadow in the Sierra Nevada. Here the urge to go hiking got even greater, but I remained firm. I had 150 to 200 more miles to drive that day.

The eastern park exit came all too soon after the meadow. I left the park and entered the drier, rockier, but no less picturesque Tioga Pass.

The pass spat me out onto the banks of Mono Lake, one of the oldest lakes in North America. The road abruptly turned south, passing through a surreal pine forest. Trees were separated by at least ten feet with open sand or sparse grasses in the gaps. Like the forest of stumps in Yosemite, parts of this forest exhibited some fire damage.

I had entered true desert by the time I joined US-6 beyond Mono Lake. I was the only car for miles, and I was surrounded by sand, scattered shrubs, and mountains. At dusk I ascended a rise to the former mining town of Tonopah, Nevada, where I spent the night.

Day Two

The second day of my trip took me through the remainder of Nevada, across all of Utah, and several miles into Colorado. Here is the route I followed.

US-6 shot straight as a plumb line out of Tonopah. It rose and fell with the mountain ridges like a toy boat on the ocean.

Between Currant and Ely, Nevada, I passed through a section of the Humbolt National Forest. I did not expect to find a forest in the desert. It was populated entirely by stunted juniper trees clinging desperately to the sandy soil or rock faces.

I passed many mesas and eroded rock formations between the forest and the Nevada-Utah border.

Desert and salt flats returned when I entered Utah, but they only lasted a third of the way through the state. I was surrounded by farmland by the time I got near Holden, Utah. There, I got on I-15, rejoining the interstate system for the first time since California. I then made my way to I-70, which I would follow all the way to Illinois.

I-70 through Utah is the most beautiful interstate I have ever seen. It bisects the San Rafael Swell, a 30-by-50 mile outcropping of eroded sandstone. I-70's entrance into the swell is awe-inspiring.

The freeway borders unbelievably beautiful canyons and mesas. Fortunately, the Powers That Be have placed viewing areas every few miles. The first was perched on top of some white sandstone cliffs that overlooked miles of scrubland and rust-red valleys.

I climbed onto an outcropping and admired the view for at least half an hour.

The next viewing area was no less amazing. A 100-foot path through gnarled pine trees revealed the colorfully-stratified Devil's Canyon.

The third seemed uninteresting at first glance, but I climbed up a small hill next to the pulloff area and was rewarded with a view of dozens of artfully carved mesas on the other side of the freeway.

Then, for the grand finale, I-70 dropped a few hundred feet to pass through a slot carved through the apex of Spotted Wolf Canyon.

Amazing.

The scenery remained interesting for the rest of the day's drive, but it could not compare to those 30 or 40 miles. I passed into Colorado at dusk and spent the night in Grand Junction.

Day Three

The third day of my trip took me out of Colorado and two-thirds of the way across Kansas. Here is the route I followed.

I-70, the train tracks, and the Colorado River braided around each other in system of canyons northeast of Grand Junction.

At one point the walls of the canyon were so narrow that the westbound lanes of I-70 had to be routed on stilts above the eastbound lanes.

After leaving the canyons, the freeway began to ascend into the Rocky Mountains. These were the Rockies that I envisioned when I thought of Colorado: huge cones, covered in pine trees, with (alas, very little) snow on the highest peaks.

I passed Vale and other sleeping ski resorts. At that height, the air was relatively cool compared to the dry desert air I had passed through the day before. I passed under the Continental Divide while in the Eisenhower Tunnel and began the long descent to Denver.

The transition between mountains and plains occurred abruptly in Denver. One moment I was on a ridge with a beautiful panorama of the metropolis, and the next I was looking across golden grassland. Denver itself seemed to end just as abruptly, and I almost missed getting gas before leaving the city. (As you can see, I also missed getting pictures of this stretch of road.)

The plains across the rest of Colorado and Kansas were unremarkable. I won't say "boring" because there is still something particularly impressive about cresting a small rise and being able to see unbroken prairie in every direction.

I stopped for the night in Salina, Kansas.

Day Four

Day four took me across the plains through Kansas, Missouri, and Illinois to Champaign. Here is the route I followed.

I admit that at this point in the trip, I was ready to get home. I was returning to familiar territory, and I kept stops to a minimum. It was a relief to see large broadleaf trees start to reappear halfway through Kansas. I passed through the pair of Kansas Cities and quickly burned across Missouri to Saint Louis. I meant to get a picture of the arch and Mississippi River, but traffic and a desire to return home kept me from stopping.

Illinois, too, went quickly. The only landmark of note was the intimidating, 198-foot Effingham Cross. The final leg of my trip began when I turned onto I-57 after passing the cross.

I arrived in Champaign on Tuesday, August 14 around 7:00 PM CST having traveled 2,269 miles.

Epilogue

It was very dreamlike walking up the stairs to the exact same apartment I had abandoned three months before. Everything was exactly how I left it, including the single drinking glass I left out before beginning the trip west. I joked with Dad, "it was like entering Pompeii."

This trip was an ideal end to my summer. I took the path less traveled and saw some of the amazing sights the western United States has to offer. It also piqued my interest in a third trip. In addition to passing through Yosemite, the route I took also came tantalizingly close to many other national parks—Rocky Mountain, Great Basin, Arches, Canyonlands, and Capitol Reef—and dozens of state parks, recreation areas, and national forests. On my next trip, I would love to budget enough time to thoroughly drink in more of the wilderness away from the highway.

I got the first half of the week off for Independence Day, and I put the free time to good use. Fortunately, my vacation coincided with Mel and her boyfriend Ryan's visit to the bay area.

Stanford

On Monday, I met them at Stanford. Mel has been working the Los Angeles area and is thinking about returning to grad school. She wanted to visit the campus because she hopes to apply to Stanford and several other west coast universities. I wanted to visit because it was just down the road from Mountain View.

I called Maurice, a fellow UIUC grad who went to Stanford as an undergrad, and asked if he had any suggestions for what to see. At his advice, we visited Hoover Tower, Memorial Church, and the Rodin Sculpture Collection.

We also wandered around the rest of campus. Mel wanted to see the biological sciences building, which we all thought looked like a space station.

And I wanted to see how Stanford's computer science building compared to UIUC's Siebel Center. The building had a lot of interesting displays. In the basement, we found the original Google server.

San Francisco and Alcatraz

On Tuesday I boarded the CalTrain with my bike and rode into San Francisco. I was excited to see the city for the first time. I biked up and down San Francisco's famous hills, along the edge of Chinatown, and between the downtown skyscrapers. I did not get any pictures because I was busy pedaling. I met Mel and Ryan at Pier 33. From there, we boarded a ferry to Alcatraz.

I greatly enjoyed the visit to the island. I find it very interesting how the buildings deteriorated after just 50 years of disuse. Ryan and I debated when the water tower will fall over.

There was a powerful sense of history at the prison. A video in the basement and an audio tour of the cellblock, narrated by former guards and inmates, imparted some of that history. The audio tour was especially well done. It had great ambient prison sounds and pointed out the locations (and remnants) of several escape attempts.

After taking the ferry back to the mainland, we drove across town to visit the Golden Gate Bridge. It is certainly bigger than it appears in pictures.

I had a great first visit to San Francisco, and with a month and a half left in my summer, I am sure I will return.

Two weeks ago I went to the Bay Area Maker Faire.

This festival showcased the creations of hundreds of technologically-inclined hobbyists. It was an unapologetic celebration of geekiness, and I absolutely loved it. I saw too many amazing things to describe individually, but I did take pictures. Highlights included amazing Lego mastery, plenty of fire with a helping of steam, many, many robots (some of which fought each other), and the power tool drag races.

So. Awesome.

Last weekend I went with one of my new roommates to Shoreline Park, located near San Francisco Bay just north of Mountain View. There, we walked the trails while I snapped pictures of the landscape and summer revelers.

Then this weekend I took a drive out into the mountains to the west of Mountain View. The road wound through the grassy hills overlooking the city.

On the return trip, it descended into valleys filled with towering redwoods.

I am continually amazed at the scenery around Mountain View. I passed dozens of amazing vistas and "open space preserves" in just an hour or two of driving.

I am sure you can expect more pictures as the summer continues.

Last week I passed another grad school milestone: I went to ICSE 2007, my first research conference.

I do not think I could have had a better first conference. ICSE is one of the top three or four software engineering conferences in the world, and attracts some excellent submissions. I arrived Tuesday night and spent the next four days listening to many interesting talks (and, of course, a few boring ones) and networking with other researchers. I saw too many great ideas and met too many smart people to describe in this short weblog post; check out the list of papers and presenters if you are interested.

We spent most of our time in the hotel conference center, but I did get a chance to see some of the rest of Minneapolis. On Thursday, the conference dinner was held at Nicollet Island, a historic park in the middle of the Mississippi River. There, one could try hatchet throwing, archery, or a Segway. I hit the hatchet target after only three tries, but did not get a chance to shoot an arrow or ride a Segway because the Minnesota cold drove me back indoors. Has my short time in California made me so thin-skinned?

On Saturday night, after a long day at the Automated Software Test Workshop, I went with a small group to the Mall of America. We ate dinner at a completely ridiculous rainforest-themed restaurant whose walls were covered in jungle foliage and animatronic animals with servers dressed as safari guides. After that, we walked around, basking in the glow of American consumerism.

Last Wednesday I embarked on the longest road trip I have ever attempted: four days, eight states, and 2,225 miles. I drove from Champaign, Illinois to Mountain View, California where I will spend the next three months working as a "research intern" for a company that makes software testing tools.

I debated for several days whether to fly or drive to California. I decided on the latter for several reasons. First, convenience. It will be nice to have my car for groceries and other errands. Second, I hope to visit the many state parks in the mountains around San Francisco and San Jose. Third, and most importantly, I truly enjoy long road trips and eagerly looked forward to seeing the western United States for the first time. I was as excited about the journey as the destination.

I planned to leave early Wednesday morning, but by 10 PM on Tuesday, having nothing packed, I realized I might miss my deadline. I finished packing by noon on Wednesday, ate one final lunch with my CS friends, ran a few errands, and finally left Champaign at 3:00. That's the other good thing about driving: flexibility. I do not think a plane would have waited several extra hours for me to show up.

Day One

And I was off! I followed I-72 from Champaign across Illinois. At exit 31 near the Missouri border I took the first of several impromptu detours that peppered my trip west. I saw a lone power-generation windmill on top of a hill. Since I had never seen one up close before, I went to investigate. I was unable to find a path to the windmill, but did find a picturesque gravel road lined with farms.

Not long after that, I crossed the Mississippi River into Hannibal, Missouri, the home of Mark Twain. This was the first time I crossed the Mississippi north of Louisiana. From there I continued on US-36, a state highway that acts just like an interstate across northern Missouri.

I stopped for the night in Cameron, Missouri, having traveled 346 miles.

Day Two

Before leaving Cameron to begin my second day, I stopped at a grocery store to buy food. I was reminded of the old Oregon Trail game in which one had to buy provisions in St. Louis before starting the trip west. Fortunately I did not have to buy a shotgun, oxen, or extra wagon axles, but I did get sandwich ingredients and some vegetables.

Once I got underway, I heard several news stories about flooding in northwestern and central Missouri. I soon saw evidence of the flooding in the fields surrounding the highway.

I picked up I-29 north outside of St. Joseph, Missouri. I crossed into Iowa, but only drove 10 miles into the state before turning west on highway 2 near Nebraska City. I then followed highway 2 west to Lincoln, Nebraska where it met with I-80.

I left I-80 at exit 382 and instead followed US-34 which parallels the interstate. It was along this stretch that I got my first real taste of the Great Plains.

I found a plane on the plains near York, Nebraska.

I rejoined I-80 near Grand Island, Nebraska and stopped for lunch at the mile 270 rest stop near Kearney, Nebraska. It had a peaceful lake with an interesting sculpture.

I stopped for gas at Ogallala, Nebraska where I saw two semis struggling to get their very long cargo through a traffic light. That cargo turned out to be vanes for power-generation windmills like the one I tried to find in Missouri. I had no idea they were so big.

Throughout my trip, I was amazed at the changes to the landscape and foliage that unfolded around the interstate. The trees thinned and it grew hillier as I traveled across Nebraska. By the time I reached the Wyoming border, there were few trees and cattle had replaced farms.

I stopped at sunset in Cheyenne, Wyoming having traveled 629 more miles for a total of 975 miles.

Day Three

On the morning of my third day, I took scenic highway 210 out of Cheyenne. It traveled up the hills to the west of the city and passed through Medicine Bow National Forest. It contained some incredible scenery.

I was amazed to find snow remaining in shadows and depressions.

After about 40 beautiful miles, 210 rejoined I-80 at its highest point.

The landscape transformed drastically around Laramie, Wyoming. Trees disappeared almost completely and it became much more mountainous.

I passed through the desolate Great Divide Basin after which the land dried and became steadily more rocky.

The descent into Utah became greener and passed through a beautiful gorge lined with red rock formations.

There was even some wildlife.

I-80 dropped quickly through the mountains around Salt Lake City. I was unable to get pictures of the approach, but the views made me understand why Brigham Young decided to settle there.

I fought Salt Lake City's traffic and continued into the desert west of the lake.

I soon came to Utah's famous salt flats.

I did not try to set any land speed records, but I did see several deep ruts made by people who tried to drive on the salt.

The highway rose once again after crossing into Nevada. Every time I crossed a rise, I could see the highway continuing for miles ahead of me. Every so often, I passed a small town splashed across the foot of a mountain.

I stopped for the night in Elko, Nevada having traveled 670 miles for a total of 1,645 miles.

Day Four

Day four saw the largest and quickest changes to the landscape: I went from mountains to desert to alpine forest to lush farmland to the Mediterranean climate of Silicon Valley.

I ate breakfast at a restaraunt in a casino along Elko's main street. It seems like all Nevada cities, no matter how small, had at least one casino.

I spent most of the drive winding around mountains and through valleys. I saw several more salt flats, but none compared to the austere beauty of Utah's. By the time I neared Reno, the landscape had turned into true desert, the only green surrounding human settlements.

I even saw some tumbleweed. When I stopped for gas, one stereotypically blew across the road in front of my car.

After passing into California, the mountains exploded with trees as I passed between the Tahoe and Eldorado National Forests. I ate lunch at the Donner Lake rest stop near the famous Donner Pass. The rest stop sat in a beautiful pine forest next to a small mountain lake.

I found a path through the trees that led to a rocky peak alongside the highway. I could see for miles from the top.

I stopped again at the Emigrant Gap where California settlers would lower their wagons by rope to the bottom of the valley.

From there, I-80 fell several thousand feet to Sacramento. I passed through the city and several miles of orchards. When I neared San Francisco, I turned onto I-680 which flows through the hills around San Francisco Bay. I transferred to I-880 near San Jose, then navigated the suburbs of Silicon Valley to my home for the summer.

Again, I was unable to get pictures while driving, but this entire stretch was incredibly beautiful. I saw Navy ships on Grizzly Bay, multimillion-dollar homes perched on grassy hills overlooking San Francisco Bay, and the tree-lined boulevards of Mountain View. The vibrant and colorful plantlife of California could not have been more different from the shining deserts I had passed through mere hours before.

I had arrived.

Epilogue

Yesterday I moved in and got settled into my room. I even went grocery shopping for the first time. I am living in a large, beautiful house with three Google employees and a microbiology graduate student who is married to one of them. I start work on Wednesday. Until then, I plan to explore Mountain View. I hope to write about the town and post pictures in a future post.

Last week was spring break, and since The Paper consumed the first three days of my vacation, I was eager to make the remainder count. I have wanted to take a trip to Chicago ever since I became an Illinois resident, and I finally got my chance last week.

Most of the other CS grads either went on trips of their own or had work to do over break. Lucas, Zach, and I were all free and ready for a road trip. We left early— or at least early for graduate students— at 11 AM on Thursday. The trip started out windy and overcast, but steadily calmed and cleared as we drove north along US 45.

I love driving on back roads. The trip takes a bit longer since one must slow down for stoplights and villages, but the scenery and personality of the road make up for the lost time. I am fascinated by the fractal grouping of humanity that one encounters when driving down a state highway. On nice weekends, I will often choose a random direction and drive or bike until it gets dark or I decide to turn around.

However, I dislike city traffic as much as anyone else, so we picked up the interstate in Chicago's southern suburbs. From there we drove to a Park N' Ride where we caught a train into the city. I think this plan was ideal because parking was cheap and we did not have to fight with the crazy downtown roads.

We disembarked in front of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Since the day was beautiful—warm, sunny, and cloudless—we decided to walk around downtown.

First we walked through Millennium Park where we saw the famous (and incredibly photogenic) Cloud Gate sculpture and Gehry-designed amphitheater.

Then we walked along the entire Magnificent Mile on our way to lunch consisting of traditional Chicago deep-dish pizza.

After eating, we returned to the art museum. It has free admission Thursdays after five, so we walked right in and browsed until it closed at eight. I certainly could have spent all day there, but we saw many amazing works despite the shortened visit. Unfortunately I forgot to keep my camera when I checked my bag, so I do not have pictures. Zach, meanwhile, posted a whole lot.

We were all incredibly tired by the time we left the museum, so we took the train back to the car, then found a hotel in the suburbs.

On the second day we started early again (11 AM) and drove to the Museum of Science and Industry.

I am very interested in the history of science and technology, so I greatly enjoyed the museum's many technological artifacts.

Especially the old locomotives. Very steampunk.

The museum also had a very interesting automated assembly line that made little toys that children could buy.

After about three hours of browsing the exhibits, we queued up to enter Body Worlds 2. This was the best part of the trip. I was particularly amazed by a specimen/sculpture/exhibit that displayed all sorts of orthopedic hardware and another "exploded" man that reminded me of the Incredible Cross-Sections books.

We spent several hours browsing the bodies. Afterward, we had hoped to see The Second City, but learned that they were (unsurprisingly, being a Friday night) sold out. Having quenched our thirst for seeing the city, we began the trip back to UIUC.

Last weekend I went camping, hiking, and whitewater rafting in West Virginia with the Outdoor Adventure Club. We drove through four states, camped for two nights, got rained on, and had an absolutely grand time.

The trip began with a marathon 10-hour road trip from Champaign, Illinois to Fayetteville, West Virginia. I rode with four other people— Scott, Bianca, Amanda, and Greg— crammed into Scott's Chevrolet Impala. We were one of the first groups to arrive at the campsite. Other groups trickled in all night. I am told that the last group arrived sometime around 5 AM local time.

We drove through sporadic rain to get to the campsite, and it rained during that first night. This would become a common theme for the weekend. Fortunately, the tent held up with only minor drips.

I awoke on Saturday, donned my PVC rain suit, and ate a breakfast of dry granola on a wet picnic table. The rain let up around 10 AM, after which the majority of the group emerged from their tents. It took a while to get organized, but eventually one of the OAC veterans declared that we were to find a car, drive to the New River Gorge visitor center, and split off to do whatever we wanted from there. Several groups walked down 800+ stairs to the banks of the New River. Others went to hike through some abandoned coal mines. Scott, Bianca, and I decided to hike the Endless Wall Trail that follows the cliffs bordering the gorge.

I think we made the best choice.

The trail began on the opposite side of the ridge from the river. There, the woods were lush and moist like a rain forest.

After we crossed over the ridge, the forest became more rocky and dry. We soon came across the first of many amazing vistas overlooking the gorge.

I lost count of how many beautiful overlooks we came across.

At one point, a train went by on the tracks far below us. It looked like a miniature toy.

We also saw some tiny kayaks and rafts navigating the rapids. We could faintly hear their whoops and laughter from where we sat.

After admiring two or three more overlooks, we came across a “climber access point". We learned that this was where the park rangers have set up ropes and ladders leading to popular rock faces. Scott went down the precarious-looking rope first, and Bianca and I followed.

The rope led into a cave beneath a building-sized rock that had broken off from the main cliff face.

Beyond the cave we found two ladders that took us through a crack in the rocks to the bottom of the cliff.

We explored the woods at the bottom of the cliff and found some impressive rock faces that had obviously seen some use by climbers. We could see chalk marks and rope hardware in many places.

We eventually made our way back up the ladders and through the cave to the main trail. We admired several more amazing overlooks and saw some interesting wildlife.

None of us were able to identify a pair of strange birds we saw on a rock outcropping.

It turns out they were American black vultures.

We soon found another climber access point. It had a knotted rope leading through a narrow crack in the rocks followed by a very intimidating ladder.

At the bottom we saw more climbing walls, hundreds of enormous spiders (no pictures of those!), and some interesting rock formations.

We found a final climber access point near the end of the trail. This one had a very Myst-like staircase curving between the rocks.

After that, a ladder deposited us on a very steep, very slippery slope. Strangely, it was easier to climb back up the slope than it was to scramble and slide down it.

We had been hiking for several hours by that time, so we quickly finished the last leg of the trail and walked along a one-lane country road back to the car.

None of us expected such an amazing and adventurous hike. We would have been perfectly content with the views of the gorge and the trail itself, but the side trips down the climber access points made the trip many times more fun and surprising.

We ate dinner at a highly-recommended Mexican restaurant and returned to camp just as the night’s rain started. We knew we were fortunate that it had not started pouring while we were on the trail. A few folks were optimistic enough to start a fire despite the rain, but I decided to get some sleep in preparation for an early morning. Everyone in the club had to be awake, packed, and ready to go whitewater rafting by 7 AM.

I almost made the deadline. I had all of my stuff packed except for the tent which I planned to take down after I returned from rafting. The morning was lukewarm and overcast. I arrived at the camp general store just as the first rafting group was leaving. This left me time to eat some more granola for breakfast while waiting for the second trip’s group to gather. It wasn’t long before we boarded a bus and made our way to the dam at the start of the Gauley River.

The Gauley is one of the top whitewater rivers in the country. I am not sure how far we traveled, but the guide told us we traversed five class five rapids and numerous threes and fours. Obviously I was unable to bring my camera, but I seriously considered buying a waterproof enclosure just for this trip.

I sat at the front of the boat for most of the ride down the river. I caught all of the splashes right in the face but only fell off twice. The first time, everyone but the guide was forcefully ejected when we slammed into a rock. The second time, the entire boat flipped for some reason I was unable to determine. Just before I hit the water, I remember noting calmly that the boat was tipping an unusual amount. I also swam through the “swimmer’s rapid" and jumped off one of the diving rocks.

The most exciting part of the river was one especially long class five. After my boat ran it successfully, we sat in a calm area to watch the other boats navigate a rock funnel that my boat missed. Several rapids earlier, we succeeded in “surfing" our raft on a particularly large current.

Unfortunately, my enjoyment of the trip was tempered by the rain that started about halfway through the river. It caused the air temperature to drop and prevented me from drying between rapids and swims. Despite wearing a layer of wool over polyester, I was shivering by the time we reached the end of the river. It is disappointing to think how much more enjoyable rafting could have been had the weather been sunny and 80 degrees.

We returned to the campsite exhausted and dripping from the adventure. I ate the lunch provided by the rafting company, packed up my tent, and not long after rejoined my carpool for the trip back to Illinois.

I cannot wait to do it again.

Update

Bianca posted some of her pictures in this Facebook album. It is interesting to see pictures from a different point of view.

I know what you probably thought after reading the title of this post: "Brett joined a club?! What is he doing in a social organization?" Yes, I joined UIUC's Outdoor Adventure Club. They go on all sorts of fun trips throughout the year and this weekend went canoeing on Sugar Creek in western Indiana.

We carpooled to the campground separately throughout the day on Friday. The group occupied a large tree filled campsite right next to the river.

Friday night turned into a big outdoor party. The 50 (!) of us gathered around various campfires and socialized late into the night. I brought my harmonica, and at one point I was jamming with a guy who brought a ukulele and another who brought a mandolin. It was a great time.

I slept terribly since I my sleeping bag was still in my Indiana home. Instead, I used a makeshift bedroll made from some extra blankets from my apartment. Luckily, I was able to snag a tent, but several people chose to sleep under the stars.

I was the second person—after the club president—to wake up the next morning. People slowly trickled out of their tents, and we ate a breakfast of bagels and PBJ. Someone eventually realized that with the time change, we had only 30 minutes to pack up the tents and meet at the canoe rental place across the river. We must have made it in time because not long after that we were in a repurposed school bus driving to the headwater. We cast off about five miles upriver.

The river was cool and clear, the weather was absolutely ideal, and the scenery was spectacular.

Much of the river was lined by steep rocky banks.

Near the end of our portion of the river, we stopped at a beach nestled against a sheer rock face. There, we ate our lunches, and a few of us followed a small stream a few hundred yards back into the woods.

We were only on the river for maybe two hours. Everyone agreed that it was too short, but that it was definitely worth the trip.

This year, my parents, sister, and I spent Christmas with Sue's family in New Orleans. It was three days of nonstop eating and giftgiving with family I hadn't seen in two years.

We flew down early on Christmas Eve. I don't remember the last time I flew. It must have been after my knee surgery but before September 11, 2001. I know the implant set off the metal detector, but I don't remember having to stand in a tiny glass-walled room while a chatty security guard patted me down. Dad had to mail his chrome cigarette lighter to himself because Mr. Homeland Security said, "he could empty the liquid somehow." Dad wisely ignored the fact that butane is a gas at room temperature and pressure.

I had a window seat and clear skies for almost the entire trip. The snow, still fresh from two days before, put the roads, rivers, and forests in stark contrast to the surrounding farmland. I could clearly see the highway corridors studded with exit ramp bowties stretching to the horizon. Small towns lay in jagged, organic splashes across the landscape. The snow diminished as we traveled further south, disappearing completely when we emerged from a cloud bank over southern Tennessee. I could have watched the scenery all day long. I told Erica, who sat next to me, "I wish the plane had a glass floor." She disagreed.

We transferred planes in Atlanta. I napped for most of the second leg of the trip but woke for the descent into New Orleans. I don't know why people joke about California falling into the ocean when it was obvious from the plane that New Orleans, perched on a waterlogged strip of land between Lake Pontchartrain and swampy Mississippi delta, already is.

The four of us stayed with my Aunt Donna and Uncle Geoff in the tightly packed checkerboard suburbs surrounding the city. We had the first of three gift exchanges at their house that evening. A few family members were unable to make it because the bridges connecting New Orleans to the rest of the country had frozen in a rare cold snap. Ironically, we had left subfreezing Indiana for freezing Louisiana. The possibility of snow dominated both the conversation and local news channels.

We spent Christmas Day at my grandparents' with the rest of the extended family. There was quite a crowd despite freezing rain and bridges. Food and drink abounded. After another gift exchange, someone glanced out the window and exclaimed, "It's snowing!" For the first time in 50 years, New Orleans had a white Christmas. The wet flakes accumulated on car windshields and eventually the ground. I could hear laughter all down the street as children who had never seen snow in their lives threw snowballs at each other.

All of us slept in the next day. We had a leisurely brunch and then set out to visit Aunt Mary's family in Baton Rouge. The rest of New Orleans felt the need to travel that day, too, so we took the back roads to avoid the traffic. We followed one winding two-lane highway for about an hour and a half, passing rundown plantations, sugar cane fields, and towering industrial installations that all fed off of the nearby Mississippi river.

We arrived at Aunt Mary's house to find another dose of food and gifts. We ate; we opened. Sue and her sisters gathered around the kitchen table to catch up. The males, meanwhile, watched football in the living room. I spent a good deal of the afternoon reinstalling Windows on my cousin's virus-infested laptop. The poor thing could barely run.

That was the last day of our whirlwind visit to Louisiana. We returned to Indiana the next day after another two-leg plane ride.

I hope your holiday contained just as much food and family as mine. Merry Christmas.