If you'd like to trek to some far off places in the U.S. and abroad without the usual time and expense (and effort) involved, well then, next week is your week.

On Tuesday, October 4 you can travel to East Africa with native Tanzanian Augustine Minja.

Wednesday night, October 5th, attend the Portland MOAC meeting and go sea kayaking on the rapidly disappearing Lake Powell in Utah.

And Thursday evening, October 6th adventure off to the Indian Ocean and the island nation of Mauritius.

Don't be sitting around drinking beer and eating chips now... get out!

...and my first one back in Maine in a month and a half.

So, what to do?

It'll be a semi-outdoors, semi-sports weekend it looks like.

An afternoon of golf with my buddy Pete tomorrow. Then indoors to the tube and the Yanks-Sox game. Sunday morning a mountain bike ride, then plunked down to watch the Giants.

A good mix of fun and activity. No stress.

What are your plans for what looks like an awesome weather weekend and the start of October?

With the winds blowing to beat the band outside my office window here in downtown Portland, I got a little curious to know what it's doing on top of the big Rock Pile.

Not as bad as I thought.

It's blowing a steady 56mph on the summit of Mount Washington right now, with gusts up to 78mph, and the wind chill at a crisp 25 deg F. Not even a hint of sun up there today though, according to the summit webcam. Check it out.

Sun, wind or not, I'd still rather be up there than working...

Sad as it is that the man is homeless, you have to admire the resourcefulness of Randy Reed, who built himself quite a cozy campsite along the banks of the Kennebec River in downtown Augusta.

Officials removed Reed from the site yesterday, and will likely disassemble his riverside shelter, which has apparently caused a bit of damage to the surrounding area.

Thankfully, Reed was not arrested, but rather taken to a hospital to be checked out.

Winter's not far off, so this was probably a good move.

Maybe with the help of the good people of Augusta, you can find a real home and a better life soon, Randy.

Sign on the wall in Pappy and Harriet's Roadhouse in Pioneertown, CA:

There is no place like this place anywhere near this place, so this must be the place.

I swear, this Maine-ah shoulda been a cowboy...

I've been riding buses since I was a little kid. To me, buses have always signaled adventure, excitement, being on the move, seeing the country. You know, that ever present travel bug thing. It's been with me a long time.

As a little kid, my Dad and I would often catch the evening Greyhound bus at the Port Authority Terminal in New York City for the ten-hour ride to Buffalo, where his mother lived. I'd try and stay awake as long as I could so I wouldn't miss anything, but I probably never made it past 8 o'clock, falling fast asleep to to the steady whine of the bus motor grinding along. But Dad would always wake for the 1am stop at the Horn and Hardart somewhere along the New York State Thruway, where we'd both have a donut. What a huge adventure!

Later on, as a young teen, my Mom would allow me to make the nine-hour trip from Bangor to UMass in Amherst to see my brother (silly Mom!!). The fact that I had to change buses in Boston was always a big deal. I was a real traveler now! More adventure, with a little taste of wild 70s college life thrown in. This was big stuff!

But not all bus trips have been good ones. Always interesting, but not always fun. Often times very sad. And sometimes downright dangerous.

Like the time I got mugged trying to get into the Phoenix Greyhound station, just barely getting through the door with me and my backpack intact.

Ditto the Atlanta Trailways station another time.

Or boarding a midnight bus in Flagstaff, Arizona and minutes later finding myself smack in the middle of a brawl between a busload of very drunk migrant workers and native Americans. The driver actually pulled over in the middle of the desert and kicked half the people off the bus.

My favorite is the time my bus was pulling off the highway at 2am somewhere in North Carolina when, from the roadside darkness, somebody decided to shoot a double-barrel shotgun at the bus. Rather than continue to exit, the bus driver smartly floored the thing and never stopped until the next exit miles down the road. We all got off the bus at the station and were, as you might expect, stunned to see the two round patches of pock marks as well as the shattered, but intact, windows. Miraculously no one was hurt. Pretty damn shaken up though.

A lot of this stuff was running through my head last week on a rather interesting bus trip via Greyhound from Anaheim to Palm Springs CA, where my buddy Tim was to pick me up.

I took a cab from my hotel to the bus station in Anaheim, purchased my ticket and proceeded to a bench outside to wait. A man already occupied one end of the bench. He was slumped over, asleep, and reeked of alcohol.

But as I sat down, his head popped up, and he turned to me and asked, "Where you going?"

"Palm Springs," I said.

"Oh, that's a nice place," he said. "Spent some time there."

"Really?"

"Yep, two years in an alcohol rehab joint. Very nice. I'd like to go back there sometime."

I didn't ask whether to Palm Springs or to rehab.

Later, sitting in the San Bernadino bus station waiting for my connection, just a few feet from the Target Terror game, which of course, uses guns...

A man, dressed in a crisp white T-shirt, blue jeans and black workboots, approaches the game, throws in some quarters and begins to shoot. Another man, also clad in a crisp white T-shirt, blue jeans and black workboots, comes up and says, "Jesus, man, move back a little. You never shoot from that close in real life."

Uh, okay.

Bored with the shoot-em-up blood-and-guts game, the men saunter off. At that, the man next to me leans over and says, "You did notice their clothes, right?"

Well, yes, but...

"Just released from prison."

I see.

My connecting bus makes a roadside stop in Banning. A man boards and plops down in the seat ahead of me.

And proceeds to talk to, then pet, a cardboard box inside a plastic bag. Then leans the other way, presses his nose firm against the window, and begins to make airplane noises, and continues to do so for the remainder of the ride. Except for the brief moment when he leaned over the seat and announced to me that he was the "Boy Prodigy" of Palm Springs.

There's a very real, very sad part of life out there that is only witnessed by getting right down into it. And, on this short bus trip, I just got another big, eye-opening lesson in it.

Let's just say...

You have been traveling for almost 24 hours. First by bus. Then plane. Squeezed into narrow seats in confined spaces for a long time. Overnight in fact.

You arrive at London Heathrow stiff and cranky. Then take the Express train into Paddington Station in the center of the city.

You desperately need sunlight, air, coffee.

You jump off the train, swing your backpack onto your shoulder and head for the exit to find all three. Quickly.

Street level. Morning light. A breeze. Almost there.

Your eyes scan for a coffee shop. Must have coffee. Turn right and walk to corner.

You look down at your feet at the curb. And notice painted on the street in big white capital letters: LOOK RIGHT.

You see these words, but they don't fully register. Your synapses are firing slowly. Electronic impulses in your system are barely detectable. Your brain is processing information with the speed of chilled molasses.

But it is this very state of semi-suspended animation that you are in that actually functions to save your life.

Because it takes you a very long second to put your right foot out to begin crossing the intersection.

When all of a sudden...

WHOOSH!!!

A red double-decker bus blows by you a scant six inches from your face.

From the right.

You pull your foot back and stand there. Stunned.

But you are fully awake and definitely aware now.

You are thankfully alive. And can now proceed to the coffee place. And then free to embark on your hike in the Welsh countryside.

After looking right, of course.

I've been away for 26 out of the last 30 days. First to the United Kingdom, then to California. I'm a tired puppy dog.

I'm not complaining mind you, just admitting my travel weariness.

That weariness peaked last night on my way home from Los Angeles. My connection in Atlanta was delayed and delayed and delayed. I took it in stride, though, spending the long hours alternating between the Internet access area and the bar.

Seems my plane was coming from Baton Rouge, LA and was held up by Rita-related weather or mechanical problems or swamp creatures or what not.

Finally rolled into the Portland Jetport at the chipper hour of 1:30am.

Have you tried to get a cab at that hour in Portland on a Monday night?

The taxi finally rolled into my driveway around 3 and I dragged my butt and my bags upstairs.

But rather than go to bed like a normal exhausted person, I sat up and read through a pile of mail.

And played with my neglected beasts Molly and Katie, who have clearly indicated that Dad isn't to leave the house again for awhile.

The fridge contains beer, half & half, a carton of outdated eggs, and moldy carrots.

I have a beer.

Then I survey the house.

Clearly a remnant of Katrina has blown through in my absence. Mountains of cat hair, rugs all askew, piles of gear in the corner, papers stacked hither and yon.

It could have been worse I suppose had my dear friends Bubba, Evil Woman and Short Stuff not kept my cats and things in reasonable check.

Finally, I collapse in bed under a pile of magazines, sleep through my alarm, and am late for work.

Ain't adventure travel great?!

I see that the Portland City Council has voted to ban smoking on walking trails throughout the city.

Way to go.

Listen, I'm not a big fan of smoking. In fact, I changed my tune on smoker's rights when the ban on smoking in bars and restaurants went into effect awhile back.

I like having a brew in a smoke-free place.

But that's inside.

Outside? On open-air trails?

Nice idea, but I really think you council folks have too much time on your hands.

Another ordinance that feels good, but can't be enforced. A bit silly, in my view.

Why not just ban the evil smoking all together?

Never gonna happen.

Making smoking illegal would dry up the wealth of tobacco money that has come pouring in to government coffers, redistributed if you will, from Bad Tobacco.

The beer industry is next. I'm telling you. And then I'm going to get really p----d.

You know, I've got a pair of running shoes that emit a loud and rather obnoxious squeak when I wear them into Hannafords when I grocery shop. The shrill noise has just got to be bad for people's hearing.

Will the city council label me a public health hazard and and ban my New Balance 903s from the grocery store?

Possibly I failed to mention earlier that conference is in Anaheim near Disneyland.

Silly people, why would they go and do something like that? Just kidding.

I may just have to make a visit to Adventureland, Fantasyland, Tomorrowland... you know, just to check it out!

I haven't been there since I was a kid.

But then, having rather successfully dodged maturity, I'm still a kid.

So this should be way cool!

Magic Mountain, Space Mountain, the Matterhorn, whatever, here I come. Woo-hoo!

But that's tomorrow. Right now, as a brilliant full moon illuminates the sky over Anaheim, I just have to marvel at being lucky enough to live in a time when, in the course of a single week, one can travel 7,500 miles from the north coast of Wales to Portland, Maine to southern California.

But that's the world we live in, tied ever closer by information and technology.

The adventure continues...

A dear friend, a true friend, Alison Kisch of Portland, passed away unexpectedly on September 3rd.

I got the shocking news via e-mail while overseas. I, and all who knew Alison, are still in shock. We can't believe that she's not with us any more.

Our hearts and prayers go out to her husband Bob and her two adorable little children, Ellianna and Karina, and to their families. It's difficult to imagine what they are going through.

Alison was the most selfless person I've ever known. Quiet, kind and gentle, she always had an ear for me and encouraged me to dream big and live big. Just as she did in a big way.

She was everyone's best friend for these wonderful, loving qualities and many others. It would be hard to hold a candle to her. We have all lost someone truly remarkable.

Read Alison's obituary and weep for her loss.

Andi Bartlett, president of the Maine Outdoor Adventure Club, where Alison and Bob and the kids were long time members and regular outdoor enthusiasts, wrote a beautiful tribute to Alison last week:

Dear Friends,
Last evening was our monthly MOAC meeting in Portland. It was with great sadness and heavy heart that I announced the death of Alison Kisch on Sept. 3rd. She passed away peacefully in her sleep. Alison and her husband Bob Boothe are long time members. Last night we honored and remembered Alison by reserving and placing a flower in her usual chair in the front row. As their busy schedule allowed, the entire family would attend MOAC meetings. Or, Alison would come alone with her two sweet young daughters, Ellianna and Karina. Their presence always brightened the room. Today I attended Alison's celebration of life service at Kettle Cove. It is clear that heaven has an extremely radiant new angel to guide and support us. You may check out the link below for some pictures of Alison. Notice her smile was always wider when with one of her daughters. I will miss Alison deeply.
Sincerely,
Andi

I spoke with my Mom the other day about Alison's passing, and she passed along a fitting inspirational quote (author unknown):

Life is not measured by the number of breaths,
But by the moments that take our breath away.

Alison, you took our breath away. We will always remember you dear friend.

I know, I know, I just got home and now I'm off again. To California. Tomorrow.

It's a tough life, but I'm up for the challenge. If it helps, this trip is work related. Well, sort of.

A transportation conference through the middle of the week.

Then off to Twenty Nine Palms in the beautiful Mojave Desert for a few days of fun in the sun in Joshua Tree National Park with my oldest friend Tim.

Maybe we'll hike, maybe rock climb, maybe mountain bike. Maybe all three.

Or maybe we won't do squat other than sit in the yard and throw back a few brewskies.

Hard telling.

In any case, it's always an adventure when I get together with my buddy Tim.

LAX, here I come. See you in a week...

In case you haven't already figured it out, I just love the Bicycle Coalition of Maine. In my 8 years or so of association with them, I've watched them do an incredible job furthering the cause of bicycle safety, education, access, trails and just plain and simple enjoyment of bicycle riding, for all ages.

I credit the energy and enthusiasm of Jeff and Deb, and now Pete, for all the good things they've done and will continue to do. Bicyclists all over Maine are fortunate to have such a dedicated crew working on their behalf. So kudos to you folks!

And whenever I can assist BCM in getting the word out about bicycling news and events I do. So here's the latest from Uncle Petey at BCM on their upcoming ride this weekend...

The last of the Bicycle Coalition of Maine's Tour de Trails rides for 2005 is happening at the Kennebec Highlands. As the BCM website says... "We wrap up the 2005 season exploring the Kennebec Highlands in the Belgrade Lakes Region. A 10-mile intermediate ride will be offered as well as a much more strenuous, advanced level ride of 18 miles. Both rides will consist of dirt two-track, single track, hill climbing, stream crossings and the highlight of the rides, topping out at the "Blueberry Barrens" with views of the White Mountains in N.H., the mountains of Western Maine and the coastal mountains of the Camden region. Meet at Park & Ride at intersection of Routes 27 and 225 in Rome at 10:00 a.m. FMI: www.kennebechighlands.org."

Join 'em and have fun!

The MaineShare Hike & Bike Fundraiser is being held this Sunday, September 18th at Bradbury Mountain State Park in Pownal.

Participants can take part in a 2 or 5 mile hike, ride their road bikes anywhere from 15 to 62 miles, or mountain bike through the park's awesome trail system.

The money raised helps to support 36 statewide non-profit organizations with missions ranging from the environment, social justice and peace, and economic and human development to health and human services, and cultural diversity and the arts.

Good stuff.

Hikers and bikers are asked to raise a minimum of $60, but additional sponsorship is encouraged and very welcome. That's doable.

Contact MaineShare for registration and pledge information on this fun day for many good causes.

OK gearheads, just in case you've been hiding under a rock somewhere instead of hiking on top of them...

Maine Mountain Works on Marginal Way in Portland will be closing its doors soon. And right now everything in the store is 40% off.

Wow. Cool.

So come check things out and you'll surely discover some gear you need that you didn't think you did.

And starting Monday, September 19th, anything left in the store will be as much as 50% off.

Ding, ding, ding... Come and get it!

If you enjoyed the Banff Mountain Film Festival last winter, you'll surely enjoy the Telluride Mountain Film Festival coming to Portland's State Theater next Saturday night, September 24th. (I'm telling you now 'cause I'm gonna be away...).

The exciting menu of 11 films, which range from 3 to 26 minutes in length, will include everything from sled dog mushing in Alaska, protecting an ecosystem in Colorado and extreme rock and ice climbing to the early days of alpine skiing, whitewater kayaking and the lives of reindeer herders in Mongolia.

It's certain to be a fun and entertaining evening for any and all outdoors lovers.

Get your tix in advance so you don't miss out!

Greetings fellow Americans!

It's good to be back on home soil, although I must admit I've taken quite a fancy to the United Kingdom, especially Wales.

I could surely live there for awhile and spend some time hiking their huge network of trails and putting forth a valiant effort in helping them to draw down their stock of real ale.

We'll see...

But for now, I'm back and you'll have to start dealing with my regular ramblings again.

Oh goody, you say.

Be nice now...

By the way, it goes without saying that flying is always quite an adventure since 9/11. But coming home I had a most interesting experience...

Seems the gentleman sitting directly behind me spent the first half of the flight from London to Boston consuming 2/3 of a bottle of Smirnoff's that he'd purchased at the duty free shop at Heathrow.

That's a big no-no, of course.

So, somewhere south of Greenland I woke up to quite a commotion behind me.

A number of flight attendants were gathered around this guy trying to take away the bottle of wine he'd ordered, and in attempting to do so, discovered the illicit bottle of vodka.

A good deal of kicking and yelling ensued (the kicking was done to the back of my seat mind you), when the wine bottle was finally wrestled away. But he wouldn't budge on the vodka.

He then proceeded to scream for the FAA rules prohibiting consuming your own liquor while on board a commercial airliner.

"Show me the regulations," he slurred, as the heavy odor of vodka wafted past my seat.

More airline people showed up and had no luck in dealing with the increasingly loud and belligerent jerk.

What exactly don't you get about not being able to drink your own booze in flight?

Duh! Moron.

Anyway, eventually somebody really important, likely from the cockpit, showed up and calmly read the man the riot act, which included landing the plane and having him forcibly removed and arrested.

No more warnings. Now or never.

I nodded my approval to the official looking man.

The I clicked on the GPS locater map on the seatback in front of me.

St. John's, Newfoundland seemed like a good possibility to dump off this loser.

This could be interesting.

But the incredible professionalism of the flight officer worked.

The bottle of vodka was relinquished, the man calmed completely down, and that was that. And the kicking of my seat stopped too.

The next thing I knew we were descending toward Logan.

So no side trip Newfoundland on this journey. But I'll settle for Massachusetts and a bus home to Portland.

Wobbly knees and all, I've finally reached the north coast of Wales and the Irish Sea, where I walked right into the rising tide at 4PM yesterday afternoon.

Then walked directly into the nearby Offa's Tavern for a celebratory pint(s).

After 15 straight days of walking, 188 miles (plus at least 20 more miles of misadventures in all directions but the correct one), I've completed the Offa's Dyke Path across the length of Wales.

It's been quite a journey. Quite beautiful, but considerably tougher than I imagined. Thank goodness for the fine string of B&Bs and pubs to take the edge off each evening!

I have a full notebook, more than 1GB of digital photos, and a head full of Wales Tales to tell of the people and places along the Offa's Dyke Path through this fantastic land.

On my way home now...

See you soon for a pint at Bleacher's!

A beautiful morning in the highlands of North Wales. Heading off in a few minutes from Llangollen and the wonderful Abbey Grange Inn.

The wild moorlands rise above just outside the windows here. Four more days of walking and I shall be at the north coast and the completion of the Offa's Dyke Path.

150 miles down, countless mountains and villages and people. Much to tell. But that will be later...

For now I've got to shoulder my rucksack and get the day under way. And see if this painful right knee will allow me to get along a bit further.

All in all, it's been a magnificent walk...

The nice folks at the George & Dragon Inn here in Knighton served me up another delicious full English breakfast this morning: a fried delight of eggs, two rashers of bacon, two sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, cereal, fruit, coffee, and juice.

It's my 7th in a row and while I do feel my arteries beginning to clog a bit from this daily dose of lard, I just can't help myself. The meal provides all the fuel I need to get through the day's walk, and most days I can only manage to get down a granola bar during the day.

Knighton is considered the halfway point of the Offa's Dyke Path and the center of hill walking for the region. I've covered some 80 miles of the path thus far, with 97 to go. And no rush. Too much too see!

The highlight of the walk has surely been the 17 mile stretch from Pandy to Hay-on-Wye across the barren, windswept reaches of Hatterrall Hill. Magnificent ridge walking and not a soul about, except for the ever present sheep. A close second in beauty would be Disgwylfa Hill and Hergest Ridge. Wonderful high walking above the Hobbit-like countryside.

Navigation of the route was a bit spotty at first, and I covered a few extra miles due to several "miscalculations." At one point, late in the afternoon, quite tired and frustrated, I stopped to query a farmer about the location of the Offa's Dyke Path, which I had not seen for several hours.

He looked me up and down, smiled and said that yes, he did know where it was.

Oh good, I thought.

But I waited a few very long seconds wondering if he was going to spit out the precious information.

"See that fence post over there (about 50 feet away)? Well, you go over to it, and on the other side you'll find what yer lookin' for."

I did just that. And went on my way, officially like.

My getting about has improved dramatically since and I've come to be quite comfortable with my surroundings. So much so that for the last two days I haven't bothered to consult either my guidebook or maps.

I've just walked, well, sauntered really, and let things figure themselves out.

It's been quite wonderful and relaxing.

A few other trail tidbits...

Best pub: Ye Olde Taverne (really!), Kington

Best ale: Hobson's Town Crier @ the George & Dragon Inn, Knighton

But it's early yet. More villages and pubs to go.

And more miles of wonderful Welsh hill walking.

Talk soon...