Packing out Last Night’s Dinner

It’s not every day that the New York Times writes an entire article about poop.

And yet, they did exactly that last week when they sent a reporter to the top of Mt. Whitney to crap into a little plastic bag.

Fellow Gadling blogger Erik Olsen recently posted about the new environmental requirements for those scaling the largest peak in the contiguous United States: pack out what you pack in. And yes, that means your poop.

The Forest Service, tired of cleaning up after the slew of hikers who summit the peak every season and airlifting their poop down to the desert floor, has finally closed up the outhouses along the route and are now handing out baggies with climbing permits.

This change in policy was something the New York Times felt was worth some investigative journalism and therefore sent reporter Felicity Barringer and her bowels out to the West Coast to summit the peak and try out the bags.

The result is a rather engaging article accompanied by a cool video with some amazing footage–none of which, by the way, is of Barringer squatting, thank god!

Band on the Run: Rockin’ Out in Buffalo’s Allentown

Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, will be keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), she offers a musician’s perspective on road life.

We drove over the border yesterday to a sunny early evening in Allentown, a Buffalo neighbourhood that was the location of our gig last night – a bar called “Nietzsche’s.”


Allentown
is cool. It’s got the vibe of a community of artists, preservationists, historians, antique-lovers, and good chefs. The latter was easy to peg via the smells of incredible cooking coming from several local restaurants and taunting our hungry selves when we really needed to be unloading equipment and setting up for sound check.

This district of Buffalo is one that we’ve been in many times. I always feel comfortable here. It’s an area of the city that borders the downtown and seems to embrace diversity. There are rainbow flags and biker bars, gourmet restaurants and late-night snack stands, funky modern galleries flanked by dusty bookstores.

One of the bookstores also sold music and had displays of their used cds and cassettes in old-fashioned kids’ wagons out on the sidewalk. Love it!

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Historically, I learned last night that Allentown was named after the original settler to this land, Louis Allen, who bought the land in 1822 (around 29 acres) and used it to farm cattle. It is said that this very street, Allen Street, was his original cow path for transferring his herds from one edge of his property to the other. In 1832, he sold his land to the encroaching city and it was developed into both residential and commercial structures. Now, the Allentown region stretches 36 blocks or a half a mile squared.

After the gear was hauled in (thanks to some friends and Kenny, the resident and helpful sound guy), I stood on the street and just looked left and right to take it all in. I imagined a bunch of cows in place of the pedestrians and cars. I wondered how they’d react now to the pavement, the bright colours, the sounds of a nightlife hub starting to come alive in the early evening. Maybe they’d just graze the leaves of low-hanging trees and ignore us all. Maybe they’d leave their paddies expertly deposited on the sidewalks in disgust and wander away to greener parklands.

I wandered a block or so to truly appreciate the paint job on the local bar called “Boddington’s.” (At least, I think this is the name of it, although I know that’s also the name for a beer. Does anyone know?) It’s painted purple and decked out in rising flames as though it were a motorcycle or hot rod. They’re beautifully painted – must have taken forever! – and the neon beer signs in the windows were like the feather in the artist’s cap.

When I came back in a few minutes later, the gear was already half set up and I had to hustle to catch up to everyone. I unpacked my guitars and pedals plugging everything in while simultaneously chatting with Kenny about his last six months or so since we’ve been there last. He asked me about China and I asked him about some good artists he’d mixed lately.

It’s always nice to come to a place and actually know the people there. I always feel welcomed at Nietzsche’s.

This venue is definitely a rock room. The old wooden stage and banisters have the faint stench of stale beer and cigarettes (although it’s now non-smoking in there.) Maybe its name has inspired proliferation, but the bathrooms are home to so much graffiti that it takes a long time to pee, I find. I can’t help but read peoples’ philosophical outpourings. (It’s all well-placed, I’d say!) There are also great installations of paper mache artwork hanging in the room from the ceiling and a wonderful busted and slightly crooked ceiling fan that hangs right in front of the stage. I always laugh inwardly at the notion that at least there will be one fan, crooked or not, that will be in front of the stage when we play.

Kenny also has a collection of small tinker toys and dinky cars that are permanently stationed at his soundboard. I asked him if he ever finds some have disappeared after the shows he has in there. They’re fairly visible and my pessimistic self figured there’d be some drunken theft here and there. He said, “Yeah, of course. But, they all just appeared anyway so it doesn’t really make a difference.” I smiled at that idea. I liked the image of these little toys just coming and going as they were meant to, not permanently attached to his sound board or to the decorative role they are temporarily playing. Sort of like a toy liberation movement. People as pawns.

After the show, we hung out for a while in the parking lot with friends before pulling away from Allen Street and staying just a few blocks away, still in Allentown. We rarely stay over in Buffalo since it’s often just a one-off show that enables us to return to friend’s places in Toronto after we play, but the tour rolls on today into more U.S. cities.

I woke up this morning having dreamed about cows and toys taking over the city when the people have all disappeared. Buildings crumbled, trees growing out from broken windows and grass taking back the asphalt.

I guess we’ll never know.

Until that day, Allentown‘s worth a visit. In fact, a spontaneous night out to Nietzsche’s will probably introduce you to a great band you’ve never heard of. They have music every night and sometimes even a late and an early show.

When was the last time you did that?
Ignore the listings. Just take a stab.

Arrive.
Order a drink.

See what happens.

Where On Earth? Week 23: Oman

Well done to moody75 for the winning answer of Oman. To be precise it’s standing at the top of the Jebel Shams mountain range loooking into the Wadi Ghul canyon. Wadi Ghul rivals Peru’s Colca Canyon and is about as unknown.

It looks incredibly isolated but when you get out of your 4WD you’re soon surrounded by local kids eager to sell you rustic woven rugs.

Points off to neil_metblogs for asking why Tiger Woods is wearing a robe? I really thought the good people of Melbourne knew their sports stars better than that.

Portable Oxygen: Swank Fad or Practical Tool?

Although I’ve spent my share of time gasping for air high atop mountains, I’ve never traveled any place where I needed a bottle of supplemental oxygen to suck on. Sure, a bottle really could have helped when I had altitude sickness in Tibet, but one simply doesn’t travel with an emergency bottle of oxygen. It’s not practical.

Or so I thought.

A company by the name of Oxia is now selling personal oxygen canisters that contain six gallons of pressurized oxygen and weighs less than a pound. The company is marketing the “personal oxygen” as a pick-me-up that will “recharge and refresh anytime.” The website features attractive models enjoying a hit of oxygen while talking on the phone and relaxing at the beach. The target market here is not the outdoorsman struggling to summit a local peak, but rather the swanky consumer who would rather suck down some O2 than a Red Bull.

I’m sure it gives you a nice oxygen buzz, especially considering that the mixture in the canister is 90% oxygen and 10% nitrogen (compared to normal air which is just 27% oxygen). I don’t think I’m going keep a bottle around to huff when I get tired, but it might be nice to throw into my pack if I ever try and summit Mt. Whitney.

Photo of the Day (9/13/07)

Pack out what you pack in.

This is the age-old outdoor rule. And here, taking this decree to the extreme, is a good friend of mine who recently climbed Mt. Whitney in California.

I’ll let you guess what he’s packing out.