Epilogue

This is how I said goodbye to my father driving back into Las Vegas when it was 136 degrees out. I was tired of pictures and camping and thought that it would be a funny pic to end my blog with in good fun, not to be offensive. It is the closing thing I have to a wave goodbye.
On a more serious note I really enjoyed the multi genre aspect of this project because pictures help out writing in so many ways. For children it helps with understanding and adds depth to the writing for others. I could describe in great detail the size and beauty of Sequoia National Park but you wouldn't be able to judge how tall the tree is if you didnt see this picture. Yep, that is me in the middle there.

I learned that it is more important when travel writing to include the details of not just your surroundings but the smells and specifics that can really make your writing unique.

Dear Fellow Peers,

I chose to write and do my multi-genre project on travel writing. I have been traveling around the United States and its National Parks via Amtrak, bicycle, plane, and motorcycle since I was thirteen. I not only became immersed in the beauty of America’s Park System, and developed a fraternal like bond with my father, but recorded so man y important parts of my life that I would have forgotten about, had I not written it down.

My first experience traveling and writing was when I was thirteen. My father and I threw our bikes on top of his mercury sable, what a hideous problem ridden car that was, and hit the road at three a.m. Our destination was Freeport, Maine, home to the L.L. Bean factory store open 365 days a year twenty four hours a day, which was convenient because on our return trip I got some much needed shut eye in the tent section of the store. We embarked on our trip ill-prepared for the road ahead. Instead of taking all the scenic backroads that Maine had to offer we were on main highways and at times interstates. Though our naivety almost got us killed it forced us to come up with a numeric hand system for approaching semis and man-eating crater that lie in the road ahead. This trip did have it perks though, riding thorugh “Bah Habah” and Acadia National park while living out of our lunch box sized bike bags. This trip was important though because I was going to miss the first week of high school and orientation, and as a result my father said my first homework assignment as a freshman was to keep a journal. This was the start of a life-long ongoing journal that has brought back so many memories that were sure to be lost.

The following two or three summers I was to busy being cool and hanging out with friends do take another trip with my father, which I regret to this day

My father and I embarked on a two week, 1300 mile bicycle journey in Penn Station, NY, bound for Whitefish, Montana on a three day trip via Amtrak. Spending three days on Amtrak is in and of itself something we should all experience. From the vertigo one feels after being on a train for so long, to vagabond travelers passing time through awkward conversations, rank food, whiskey and chewing tobacco, an entire travel book could be written on riding Amtrak across the country. Once we arrived in Whitefish, we were to start peddling towards our destination, Denver, Colorado…..

I came up with this idea of travel writing for my multi-genre project because I have written about travels with my father before but not in depth. I have hundreds of pictures and a book full of journals that have been collecting dust and I wanted to finally do something with therm. When this project is over I am going to continue my blog on the travels I had with my father and write about my experiences in more detail.

I think that writing about travel is an easy way to get students to write and use multi-genres while doing so. I feel that it is important to write about things that we are passionate about and can do so off the top of our head.

Lonliest Planet Travel Guide to National Parks in the Midwest

This is Living


Whether you are into rafting the wild waters of the Colorado, riding a Harley Davidson on rugged mountain roads, or fly-fishing remote streams where the trout run wild, this tit for tat guide will provide you with first hand secret spots that natives don't even know about. From the Red Rocks in Arizona to Glacier National park in Montana this guide is for you.




Getting There

I suggest you fly, or if you are truly a warrior than get on your hog and ride from your home. My trips have been based out of Las Vegas. I suggest you take three trips form here. One trip north, one west, and one south. The trip north through Jellystone, I mean Yellowstone is one of my favorites. Make sure you stop in Jackson Hole and most definitley check out Jenny Lake at the base of the Grand Tetons, on the Montana/Wyoming border. It is truly a magnificent secret little spot with world class fishing, and nightclubs. Joking aside it is a great ride. From there you should head up the Beartooth Highway for gorgeous scenery and a lonely ride. Stay off of Highway 15 as much as you can and take all of the roads through the mountain passes until you get to Glacier National Park.



Off the Beaten Path, Get off your bike and do this:

The vintage red tram ride around the park is a must. As some of the roads in the park are closed to the public this vintage, environmentally friendly bus will take you to must see places in the park. It is also commentated by a ranger that is very familiar with the park and hits history. For some of the best fly-fishing in the world you should check out http://www.riverwild.com/fishing.html This family run outfit will bring you to remote eddies, and fishing holes other fish couldn't find. What is unique about wild River Adventures is that they offer a four day horseback/rafting ride down the Flathead River, if fishing is not your fortay. Some of the guided fishing tours are a little pricy but well worth the campfire trout you will be feasting on later that night. Be sure to hide the bones and skins far away from the bears and other unwelcome visitors! If rafting, hiking, horseback riding and fly-fishing aren't enough to satisfy your needs, then you should bring some cards and play solitaire while everyone else has the time of thier lives.


Dangers and Annoyances

When you are out here one thing you must respect is mother nature,. You are in God's Country and there are not hospitals around the corner. Pack a real first-aid kit and tread with caution. Heed the warnings the park system has posted. For example, if there are bear boxes provided, dont be a fool and store your food in your tent, put it in the box. Also wear appropriate hiking boots and bring plenty of water. Many of the hikes here are through bear country and the weather can change in a heartbeat. Do not bite off more than you can chew and alot yourself an extra hour or two on your hikes in case you get hurt. You dont wan to get stranded out here over night. Hypothermia can set in over night and the risk of bear, wolf , or mountain lion attacks are eminent.

Flat Fran Goes to the Hofbräuhaus?

Seven years ago while both studying and traveling abroad, my eight year old niece asked me to take her "Flat Fran" with me on a trip and mail it back to her, at school, post marked from some obscure city. She was excited because the rest of her class had sent thier "Flat Fran's" to cousins across town or at most a grandmother in a Florida. My niece was in for, not just a history lesson, but a moral dilemma. Not only did I bring "Flat Fran" to Omaha and Normandy beaches, the cemetary etc, but I brough "Flat Fran" to the infamous Hofbräuhaus where they have beer steins, as big as Fran, breathalizers in the urinals, so you can see how drunk you are, and real oom-pah bands with beer wenches to satiate your thirst.

Thursday March 21, 2002

Sitting here in the hostel, full from spaghetti bolognase and one too many glasses of house red wine, it is difficult to express in words what one feels when walking on Omaha and Normandy Beaches. Even though I wasn't alive when the American, British and Canadian troops were being bombarded, and murdered by the thousands, by German soldiers, I still felt as though I was at their wake. There was a very somber tone, walking through the gigantic divets on the hills surrounding the beach that was caused by mortar shellsand were now filled in with grass. I walked away from my friends and strolled down the beach and was blanketed by a silence that leaves a funny buzzing sound in your ears. I was imagining what it must have been like to be eighteen years old and hearing bullets and mortar shells blowing up around me. What could it have felt like to wade through the crimson colored sea water filled with your comrades blood? The hair on my entire body was erect and and the cool ocean breeze sent chills down my spine. The grounds at the Normandy American Cemetary are impeccable, and the scene is breathtaking. Thousands of perfectly symmetrical, white, marble crosses are carefully set on top of grass that looks as though it is manicured by hand. The crosses are etched with the names of the brave young men and women who lost their lives on this infamous day.
The French people in this part of the country are so warm and welcoming to us "Americans," compared to the Parisians. They offered us coffee and were eager to chat, it was very uplifting and I have never felt so proud to be an American in all my life. I was treated as the grandson of one of the fallen heroes that lie in the ground below me and the patriotic feelings that rushed through my body made me quiver with ecstasy. I am going to make it a point to pay tribute to these fallen soldiers every Veterans Day. This is a place that everyone should visit.

Following a visit to the museum at the cemetery, we decided to take our little fiat, to a place called Mont St. Michel. This ancient monastery that is now a tourist mecca that is incredible. It sits a top of a cliff overlooking the currilean blue waters over the Atlantic. At low tide we were going to walk out to another island as the tide changes are so drastic, however we dicided to drink a pint of kronenbourg and watch the other tourist walk through the muck and mire, as we contemplated the depthness of our morning. The castle encapsulates a small village filled with cobblestone streets and old french vendors selling the usual trinkets to the tourists. So I did the ususal tourist thing and bought my granmother a bell with the castle on it, my nieces some spoons and I bought myself a patch to put on my hat. Mont St. Michel is one of those places that are always damp and cold. Climbing up the stairs were treachorous as they were all covered in a microscopic film that was more slick than water on oil. It smelled like my friend Flea's basement that I remember alwasy being musty. I thought that this place is truly picturesque but didn't care for the almost twenty dollar entrance fee. Gotta get some much needed shut eye for our excursion to Aix-en Provence tomorrow!