Marc O’Morain

Smoky Mountain High

Originally uploaded by marc_omorain.

We drove for a few hours, uphill, into the mountains (”Ridge upon ridge of endless forest straddles the border between North Carolina and Tennessee in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, one of the largest protected areas in the Eastern United States”). We got off the bus for a mini hike at around 4pm, which gave us a chance to climb up to an odd concrete observation platform at the top of a mountain. The platform itself was like a concrete disk suspended 20 meters in the air, accessable by a huge curving walkway, that I wish I had taken a photograph of. The weather was very smoky indeed, as you can see in this photo. The mountains seemed to me to be just like the Wicklow mountains, and as Matt, our resident geoligist told us, they are the same mountains as the Scottish Highlands and Norway (Forget Norway, Kenya!).

After out hike we got back on the bus and drove all night. S. W. T.

The Scooby Gang

Originally uploaded by marc_omorain.

Today we were given a choice by driver Dave. Out original plan was to visit Pensacola Beach, on Florida’s gulf coast, then to kayak through a swamp, and finally visit the French quarter of New Orleans. Unfortunately, due to the impending hurricane, the weather in Florida was pants, and were going nowhere near New Orleans. We had two options: To visit Elvis’ home, Graceland, Graceland, in Memphis Tennessee (My traveling companion would have been nine years old; the child of my first marriage), or to spend a day and a half driving westward, with a view to spending an extra night camping in the National Parks. Driver Dave assured us that the extra day would be worth it, and made the descision for us to head west. I kept singing Paul Simon’s Graceland for the next day or so in mock protest, but really I had no interest in seeing Graceland. If you have no idea what I am talking about, have a listen to this Windows Media stream.

We woke up on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina. After a few laps of the town looking for a suitable location to park the bus, we went for breakfast. Susie, Nick, Teresa, Iain, Kim, Jonny and probably some others went to a small coffee shop that was serving warm breakfasts. We had several mugs of piping hot tea and coffee each, what was served outside under a little veranda. Nick, Teresa and Susie spent most of breakfast trying to find out who had won the latest game in the Ashes. I had eggs benedict, served with a lime holondaise sauce, with bacon and hash browns; a quality breakfast. After I had had my fill I went in search of a payphone, and left messages for Aine and my parents, to let them know that I wasn’t going near the hurricane, and that I wasn’t dead. The phone was down hill from the café, and I continued on down the road and met back up with the gang at the post office, where I took my first group photo of the trip, the photo to the right. Our group went for a walk around Asheville, which seemed to be closed to the world on a Monday morning. Most shops seemed to open at noon or on Tuesday. There were very few places of interest, most noteably two Irish gift shops, and one antiques shop. The antiques shop was run by a middle ages man, and I was attracted inside by a cluster of 1950s Japenese tin robots that were in the window. More impressive than the robots was a very old Coke machine, that had a white, hand-written label on it, written with a black felt-tip marker. It said that the vending-machine was an original, unrestored piece, taken from the Asheville Inn. It also claimed that the machine was ‘The Best in The World’. I didn’t see any offical ‘Best Coca-Cola Vending Machine In The World’ certificate, but who am I to judge?

I had a chat with the man in the shop, telling him that I had just dropped in because of his cool robots, and he seemed pleased that people my ages were taking an interest in antiques. I was really looking for a new pair of shorts, not a Japanese robot, so I politely excused myself, and asked him were there any men’s clothing stores nearby (I had been looking for one before I went in to the shop, but saw none). He pointed me in the right direction, and told me that Dave, the owner of the store in question would sort me out. I crossed a car park, and went down an alley onto the street parrallel to the antiques shop, only to find that the clothing shop sold only the kind of suits that the middle-aged gentry would wear on a hunt in Pembrookshire. I rejoined the group on the bus 20 minutes before we were due to depart, and got myself a good seat for the journey ahead.

Rainbow

Originally uploaded by marc_omorain.

Today we woke up on the bus in a small town called Nag’s Head, and we had a short drive to the beach at Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. We quickly prepared our first breakfast: bagels, smoked salmon and cream cheese; tea, coffee and juice.

Driver Dave taught us all about hand washing on the Green Tortoise. There are three buckets, imaginativley labeled 1, 2 and 3. Bucket 1 is filled with water and detergant, bucket 2 is filled with water, and bucket 3 is filled with water and bleach. You wash your hands in each bucket in sequence, and let them dry in the air, rather than with a towel, to allow the bleach kill anything nasty that might be living on your hands. (If anyone has a photo of the three buckets, please leave a comment below).

After breakfast most of the 34 people on the bus went for a swim in the sea. The water was remarkably warm for the Atlantic Ocean. I did some body surfing in the huge waves, and destroyed the skin on one of my knees in the process. After the swim it was time for the first shower of the trip (although because we were in a National Park, we were not allowed to use shampoo). I got back on the bus in wet togs, and flipped up a cushion and sat on wood in one of the dinets until they were dry. We then drove for about an hour before taking two ferry rides, one short, one long.

On the second of the two ferry rides, as I stood at the front of the upper deck, the Crazy Captain accosted me. “Which on of the you is Marc?”; “I hear you can speak Gaelic”. After giving the American enough Gaelic to satisfy his cravings, he told me all about the history of the waterway that we were travelling in. Blackbeard used the shallow waterway to launch attacks from on unsuspecting ships in the eighteenth century, and in world war it was frequented by many german U-Boats.

We stopped at Cape Hatteras lighthouse (Pictured here before its relocation in 1999). Susie, Kim and I were the only ones brave enough¹ to climb to the top. The climb terrified me for some reason. The steps were the scary kind with no vertical part, that you can see right through. The view from the top was hardly impressive, but the climb was worth it for the adrenalin rush.

¹ Where brave means ‘willing to pay’.

That evening we stopped to cook on the sea shore, under a rainbow, as you can see in the photo. Some people had a swim, but I chose to cook because Driver Brian was cooking up a nut feast of pesto pasta with a walnut salad. I chopped stuff, made a vinagerette dressing, and opened the can of artichoke hearts and did some stirring. As were were preparing the food a nasty looking storm was drawing closer to shore. Just before dinner was served I took a servering before the nuts were added, and ran into the bus to eat. I got onto the bus just before the heavens opened, and I decided to stay on the bus and allow other to do the clean up, because I did not want to get wet.

Later on in the night we stopped to convert the bus into sleeping mode, in an act known as ‘The Miracle’. I chose to sleep at the front of the bus, but was forced to move down the back because no one liked me (or there not being enough space at the front of the bus - everyone likes me!). That night I learned how much Katie kicks in the middle of the night, and Edel learned that I do the very same.

I have three minutes to write an update, I am on a public terminal in the hostel in Boston right now. I am paying $1/minute for the service. I arrived in Boston late last night, and randomly met tweo girls from Trinity who are going into second year occupational therapy in the dinning room. The three of us did a tour of Boston today, on a tram type thing. Saw lots of the city, did a walking tour of Beacon Hill where John Kerry lives. Nice place. No more time.

California

Originally uploaded by marc_omorain.

Yesterday we went to see the Aneheim Angels play the Boston Red Sox, in Angels Stadium about half an hour north of here in Aneheim. Alex bought the tickets on eBay for $12 each. I also had a $12 doller beer, which is the most expensive pint that I have ever had. Alex had to buy that for me too, because I had no ID. They were checking anyone who looked under 40 according to the Governators signage pasted all over the shop.

I have played tennis for the last two days with Alex. I have some nasty blisters but I am really enjoying the excercise. Last night we played until 9pm and then went for a swim.

I also bought a new 1gb SD Card for my camera on Amazon. It will store 735 standard photos on it, which should be enough for all my photos from the Green Tortoise.

Newport Beach

Originally uploaded by marc_omorain.

My first couple of photos from Newport Beach are on Flickr. Here is a photo of the complex that we are staying in. For the last couple of days I haven’t done much - just chilled by the pool, played some table-tennis and did some shopping.

I flew from Dublin to L.A. yesterday, with a short, stressful stop in Newark, NJ. The flight from Dublin to Newark wasn’t bad. It was on a nice new 767, and I had an aisle seat. The in flight movie was Madagascar, but the screen and sound were terrible, so I didn’t watch it. I chose instead to play Gameboy and read. The plane took off an hour late. The incoming plane landed late in Dublin, then there were delays with passengers disembarking. The plane was overbooked by one; a volenteer was sought to take the flight tomorrow in return for $500 and a night in a hotel. A large bearded American took the offer, and we had to wait on the tarmac while his bags were taken off the flight. Then we had to wait even longer for two people who didn’t make it through U.S. immegration in Dublin. The two never appeared, so the man’s bags were put back on the plane, and so was he.

Because we were an hour late landing, my 85 minute time for transfering to the LA flight was looking very tight. Getting our bags took far longer than it shoul have, and I had to run from one end of Newark airport to the other, and up three stories to get to my gate (gate 96 is the last gate in a very long hall). I ran onto the plane, while the man checking boarding cards shouted ‘Go go go!’. I had made it onto my plane, only to learn that 55 people were also connecting from the Newark flight, and the LA flight waited for them all. It took another hour before they closed the doors. I imagine that it would cost Continental far more to re-route 55 passengers than to delay one flight to accomodate them.

Alex collected me from the Airport, and we drove south for an hour on the freeway to get to Newport Beach. Every road here is four lanes wide in either direction, and every other car is a jeep or a pickup truck. Driving down the freeway for an hour was odd - there is no visible change - one minute you are at LAX, the next you are in Newport Beach, yet both look identical. I had a bird’s eye view of LA as I came in to land - the whole city is dead flat, and everything is grid aligned. Flying over London is a competely different experience. While driving down the freeway we drove past a castle and there was a pyramid on the horizon. I got to Alex’s appartment at about 6pm local time, and I had been up for close to 24 hours by the time I went to bed at 8pm. I slept until 10am the next morning, and I seem to be quite well adjusted now.

Today we went to the beach to go surfing. The beach was really nice - just like the baywatch beach really. Very wide, lots of white sand, little towers for the lifeguards every 200 meters. The waves were the biggest that Alex, Aoife and Geoff had seen since they arrived in June. After about 10 minutes spend mostly being dragged along the sea bed, we gave up and went to sunbath. We left the beach at four, and later on we went to the cinema to see Four Brothers, in which Mark Walberg pretends that he is black.