The Hills of Boise

I want to thank Petra (and her threat of disciplinary actions) for inspiring me to create this post about a place I love to be...

Traveling abroad, I found myself amazed at the scenery of the countries I've visited.  However, when people ask me where I'm from, I realize how proud I am to be from Idaho, and how much I love being from Boise. On the Map below, I've Circled Idaho and marked where the Capital Boise is.

My state doesn't have any coastline, none of our cities are more than a million, we have barely been a state for over a century.  But Idaho is beautiful.
The picture below is of the Sawtooth mountains in the North West of the State.



 
Here is my big brother hiking into the Sawtooth mountains earlier this summer.

Whenever I fly back into town after being away, the rolling, brown hills always make me feel home.  The hills are the loyal background to every cityscape of Boise.


In Idaho, the summers are often too hot, the winters are freezing, but we have 4 real seasons. 

Here is the Boise neighborhood I lived in as a teenager, the highest hill in the background is called Lucky Peak.  I could see the hills from the windows of my bedroom.

I love biking in the hills, I used to do it all the time a few years ago--whenever I leave town for awhile, I start to miss biking in the hills the most.  I took the two pictures below a couple of years ago on a bikeride.

My friend recorded me coming down a hill once, one of the few times I was wearing my helmet

And I crashed pretty bad, but thanks to my cat-like reflexes, I was able to pop back up again.

 

I was OK except for a scratched knee and elbow!

 

Londontown, Baby

This will be my last posting from the venture in the British Isles.  I am thankful that Mr. Deemworthy and I could end our trip together in Londontown--and I'm thankful that we both prefer museums to clubbing (and I don't mean baby seals).  It has been a pleasure and honor traveling with you, good sir, I wish you the best of luck on your trek to Italy and Spain.

As for London, I think we must have spent a fair share of our time at various museums, or walking en route to them.

We saw many wonderful artifacts, and and committed much tom-foolery.

The video below can attest to both claims.

(No baby seals were clubbed in the making of this video.)

--If you click on the video, you can watch a larger version of it at youtube.com--

Snowdon, the Ceiling of Britain (kind of)

This is the mostly true story of two young men who set out against a mountain.
 They embarked on their quest from a small village in the greenest valley of Wales---
And Leapt into Action < ^ > < ^ > < ^ >

Snowdon is the HIGHEST MOUNTAIN in the British Islands...South of Scotland.

 

 

 

Success... it took most of the morning, and many snacks to complete this journey, but after supping upon some Welshcakes, we could not have been happier.

Edward's Castles

I've just arrived in the lovely country of Wales with my accomplice Nicholas Deemworthy. 

He flew in to Dublin a few days ago, and after sharing several pints at the Guinness Factory,

and touring a Viking museum, we took a ferry from Dublin

across the Irish Sea to Holyhead on the Isle of Anglesy.

 

  

We then took a train across the northern coast of Wales, and were picked up by Nick's Aunt and Uncle, and then drove down into the mountainous interior of the country to a scenic little village in the countryside.  

 After several weeks of backpacking through Ireland, sleeping in hostels, eating whatever was cheapest, I feel like I've arrived in a paradise--which looks much like the Shire!

Today, Nick and I have had the opportunity to see some of the greatest castles of the Middle Ages. 

If you've seen the movie Braveheart--starring Mel Gibson as William Wallace--then you've seen King Edward I "Longshanks" the fearsome English King who not only fought the Scots, but conquered Wales as well.  

 After defeating the Welsh, King Edward built a series of imposing castles throughout the North of the country; several of the castles have survived in excellent condition.  As we toured these castles today, Nick and I had a chance to walk their walls and climb their towers...

Castell Caernarfon

Castell Harlech

Crumbling Stairs (they really were)

"I'm Coming Out..."

 

Le Archway

On the Catwalk with his European Carry-All

No Comment.

Mount Brandon

On Friday, I took a bus from Tralee out to a small village called Cloghane which is near the foot of Mount Brandon.  I was alone on the bus with the driver, and I couldn't help but ask him questions about the mountain, I think he could sense my excitement because I kept jumping from seat to seat to try to snap photos out the window as we neared our destination.

The mountain range is on the shore of the Atlantic, on a peninsula sticking out of Ireland called Dingle.

 

   I think the Peninsula looks like a dragon.

 When I arrived in Cloghane, I wandered around the little village for a bit before I found the path that led up to the mountain, a path which was just tucked away like an alley...

 

Once I started up the trail, I felt a rush as if I had just drunk a free cup of coffee from Java, I even smiled at the sheep I passed, and resisted the temptation to throw small rocks at them.  After meandering through a farmer's field or two, I slowly ascended the first hill. 

 At the foot of the main path, there is a shrine with three white statues, three of the holiest people in Ireland: The Virgin Mary, St. Patrick, and St. Brendan the Navigator, for whom the mountain is named.  I knelt at the shrine, said a little prayer, then touched the staff of St. Patrick with my walking stick and put a flower in the hand of St. Brendan for good luck.  (He is the one in the boat about the size of a bathtub--I don't think his actually boat was too much larger.)

 

 When I reached the top of the first hill, I looked back east at the coast line below me; I could see the sandy beach of Brandon bay, and the green hills rolling off into the distance.  I tried not to pause for too long, however, because the low-hanging Irish clouds, drifting right in from the Atlantic, were already starting to cover the peaks of the mountains.

After rounding the top of the first hill, I realized that the path descended into a damp, rocky valley in-between two of the biggest peaks: the valley was filled with massive boulders, streams, ponds, and tiny waterfalls, the mountains were now shrouded in mist.

 

Although the valley was stunning, I began to feel a bit tired, and I didn't bring the best lunch (a tomato, some beans, some peanuts, and carrots... I also had yogurt, but I was saving that for the top).  

I stop and enjoyed the view for a bit, and prepared myself for the last leg of the climb: the trail went almost vertical before it wound into the ridge of the highest peak, so I had to use my hands to climb...

As I neared the top, the mist grew thicker and thicker, so that I could not see more than ten yards ahead of me... The sun shone through the clouds, though, giving a slight illumination to the top of the peak...

   

As I finally neared the top, through the grey mist, I suddenly saw a great wooden cross.  St. Brendan fasted on the summit over a thousand years ago, and from the highest point, he is said to have had a vision of the new world, a promised land, which he set out for.. some people believe that he is the first European to discover the new world.

I did it----After traveling over 4,500 miles, riding buses for days through the country, and hiking for hours on the rocky mountain trails...

I HAVE CLIMBED MOUNT BRANDON!
August 6th, 2011

In honor of my Family