Hey everybody!

There are more El Submarinium songs available online.  When we put the Octopants on, we had to move the Binoceros.  No small task mind you.

You can hear old favorites from Binoceros -- like the infmaous coffee song -- on greg's page myspace.com/greggoad Also there are some up and coming El Submarinium superhits!

and you can hear other fav's like Appletree and the Rocky Road to Dublin on francis's page  myspace.com/baseballceratops

thanks for listening!

Greg

Hello Everyone.

I don't usually write large group emails... in fact, I'm not sure I've ever written one.
However, time is short here and I thought it would be good to let ya'll know what's going on.  I've probably not talked to many of you for some time, as I'm not a great correspondent, and you probably don't know what I'm up to.  I figured that some of you may want to know what I'm up to. Some of you already know what I'm up to, you may want to know the deeeeetails...

I didn't include everyone of the people I've emailed with in the past couple of years in this message -- for instance, the propeller repairman and the audio vacuum tube specialist and other sorts of people like that did not receive this message.  But most of the rest of ya did.  So, if large group emails like this piss you off... I'm sorry.  You can just call me spam or something and go on about your day. But, otherwise, hello! It's been a while!

My friend Chris Adams and I are walking up the Pacific Crest Trail from the Mexican Border back home to Washington this summer. The PCT is a 2700 mile long trail that goes from the Mexican border to the Canadian border. Why are we doing this? well... for no reason in particular. Not to save any thing or change anything -- other than ourselves. It's a good way to insure that I spend the summer Outside -- really outside. It's going to take 4-5 months.  We're going to get real tough and strong and take in a lot of cool sights, and be distanced from the crazy 'real world' for a little while. Things are going to slow down. Thoughts are going to flow more steadily and clearly -- hopefully.

We left Seattle after stressful weeks of moving, preparing, and finalizing various projects.  I moved all my stuff into storage just after I finished a recording project with some Methow Valley Hip Hop artists.

All the stress started to peel back as we got onto the airplane headed for Palm Springs.  Things started to fall into place as things often do on a trip like this -- when you let things happen to you, rather than expect certain things to happen at certain times.  That sounds a bit silly, but it all worked out so smoothly. 

We stepped off the plane, and inquired about the bus up to the high desert -- The man at the info stand decided to walk us out to the bus stop, just to show us where it was. The bus only goes twice a day to the town of Yucca Valley near Joshua Tree, and according to the schedule, we had already missed the bus.  But it was there. Running late I suppose. The Driver said she would wait for us to get our bags from the claim, and just like that we were off.

We had expected to have to wait around the airport for six or so hours.  We loaded up on some groceries at Yucca Valley, hopped another bus to the town of Joshua Tree, got California burritos at Santana's where I spotted two girls who looked like they were headed up to the park.  I asked them if they could take us up to the park.

Next thing we know, it's not even 1 pm, and we're sitting in Hidden Valley Campground in Joshua Tree Park. Wow. The world of stress and preparation and doubts and worries was someplace else now.  It was hot and silent, and for those of you who've been to Jtree, you know the state of mind that gets induced there.  Chris had never been, so I got to live his first experience vicariously.

After about a week of adventuring around the desert and doing some climbing when Eric came out from LA to meet us, we left the friendly park for the beginning of the PCT at the Mexican Border near Campo, CA.

We'd never been to the Mexican border before. It's a strange and hostile place. As we were filling up some gallon jugs of water in the parking lot of the Post Office,  an ominous man in a truck rolled down his window and said, "that water's going to last you 16 hours out there."  He drove off.

Campo is basically a border patrol headquarters.  There must be over a thousand vehicles there stationed to intercept illegal immigrants and drug runners.  We stopped in at the BP office to make sure we could proceed to the trail with no problems they seemed to think we were silly and a waste of their time.  It's an intimidating place. 

The border itself is a big metal fence behind another barbed wire fence.  In between the two is about 30 feet of sand where the patrol drives their jeeps at high speeds up and down the line. Apparently, they groom out the sand each night so that they can see the foot prints of Mexicans attempting to cross into America.

Being here really brought home the strange reality of our country's relationship with Mexico.  It's hard to describe how many border patrol vehicles and helicopters were there.  How much fuel they must spend charging up and down the line.  And still, it seems many people enter the country daily to attempt to hike through the hot desert with little or no water. 

Eric took a few pictures of us at the Monument, and he took off back for LA.  There we were -- alone at this harsh terminus, with heavy packs and 2700 miles to go.

We started walking. 

Along the way, the boarder patrol paid us no attention.  If anything they laughed at us.  Two gringos with big bags.  Guitar and Banjo.  Gallon jugs of water strapped on to the outsides of our packs. We were pretty green that first stretch.  Carrying way too much stuff.  Too much food.  Too much water. We made about 12 miles that night to a camp on a ridge top before we were totally spent.

There were constant reminders of the border and of the struggle of Mexicans to enter the country.  All along the trail were little pieces of cut up blankets tied with twine.  We figured these were little sacks used to carry water or food.  They were discarded all over the sides of the trail. Possibly to show the way?...  Helicopters flew low throughout the night. 

The next day was very hot. There were warning signs in Spanish saying to not expose yourself to the elements.  They had icons of an angry sun, vicious rattlesnakes, and other such scary things.  We weren't sure exactly the purpose of these signs.  They lined the road that one would descend from to reach the trail to get out of the border region.  We figured they were some kind of intimidation tactic.  Funny that they weren't also in English.  Though, the sun was angry and hot.  There was no potable water.  There were snakes and tarantulas and cactus spines. 

We did not personally encounter any Mexicans.  Other hikers we ran into did.  One offered a parched trio some water.  They declined even though they had no water.

Moving on from here, we experienced an unseasonal heat wave.  Daytime temps were over 100.  We gravitated towards traveling at night, and languishing in what little shade we could find during the day. It was hard to sleep sprawled out under a juniper bush at high noon in this heat.  But we had to keep moving in the night time (with the full moon) to get to water. 

There's a fine balance of carrying water through the desert: You've got to have water, but the more water you carry, the slower you can move. 20 mile pushes on five or so Liters of water became the norm. The pacific Crest Trail Asscn. has established water cashes along the way. These are maintained by 'trail angels'.  Other places we found springs to filter water from.  One day we huddled in the shade of a giant concrete water tank for about six hours until the temps dropped below 100.

One particularly hot day we decided to hitch a ride from the desert to the cool mountain town of Jullian. Because we weren't really moving in the daytime anyways, we figured it'd be good to get out of the blazing desert and get some food and beer and such.

A lot of people hike the PCT each year, and many people in the areas that the trail traverses are quite familiar with thru hikers.  I was sitting on the side of the road playing banjo in the morning sun, and without even thumbing, this guy picked us up and took us to Jullian.  It turned out he had hiked the trial a few years ago. 

It was good to hear his perspectives about how the body slowly adjusts to the punishment of hiking 20+ miles day after day.  After a few weeks, he said, the pain and fatigue stops, and a state of hiker euphoria sets in.  got to get yer hiker legs.

Jullian is a small antiquated town which is remarkably like Winthrop. It was funny to see how the two towns paralleled each other.  They even have their own sort of westernization committee. It was a big day for Harley riders in from San Diego.  It was  a Sunday.  The streets were filled with the same kind of tourri that flood Winthrop on busy summer weekends.

Thanks to Francis, I recognized a good opportunity to start Busking. I set up on the shaded sidewalk and played guitar and banjo and sang for a couple of hours. I made Seven dollars! oh yea!... but it was fun. It was fun to see with my own eyes some of the things Francis noted about busking.  Namely how Animals and small children are always sucked in by the music.. and then their owners nervously pull them away and past you  down the sidewalk.  But it was a good confidence test and builder for myself. Later I ended up playing with some other local musicians on the street. And as one guy saw us later that evening walking out of town looking for a ride back out to the dessert, he called me by name from his truck and asked if we needed a ride!  what luck!  Like I said, things tend to fall into place on a trip like this.

We got dropped off at the Scissors crossing, where we drank a tallboy of beer in the shade of a bridge, and then headed up on granite mountain in what would prove to be a ridiculous 40 miles of trail.  You can walk from the crossing to Warner Springs on the highway in 20 miles, or you can walk the trail between the two in 40 miles.  The trail here is one of the most silly ones I've ever walked.  It basically meanders around every ridge and gully on the entire mountain. At points you feel like you are walking into the mountain... into and all around every little nook and cranny of the hill.  It made no sense.  You'd walk around one point, and see the trail going the opposite direction for a mile around some other point.  Like a big squiggly octopus.  It was very frustrating. round and round and round.  At one point I got worried that we had just walked entirely around the whole mountain.  But finally the trail straightened out and we moved past that section. 

It's been interesting coming to terms with the limitations of our bodies. We've seen lots of folks along the way who seem to be flying by us.  They seem to be pushing themselves incredibly hard through the heat and these first few weeks of trail. It's been hard for Chris and I to not be affected by the competition. It's hard to be passed. It's hard to see somebody fly by you when you're succumbing to exhaustion. We're still struggling with listening to our bodies rather than listening to ideas of competition and ideas that we need to go a certain distance each day to keep up with  some kind of time line.

In the end, it seems you're just competing with your own body. Trying to know when you can push yourself, when you have to push yourself, and when you've got to rest.

We've been eating really well.  Back in the Methow this spring, Chris and I cooked and dehydrated a whole bunch of good food.  Sausage and potatoes, Macaroni and cheese, Curry... We've been eating the best I've ever eaten outdoors.  The food's been so good that The temptation for burgers and other food from civilization has not been as strong as usual -- although still present of course.  We've been sending these meals and other supplies ahead in boxes to post offices along the way.  C/O general delivery.

Right Now, I'm sitting at the Warner Springs Lodge.  After the first 100 miles -- which proved to be even more difficult due to the unseasonably high temps -- we needed some rest. Time to heal blisters and other abrasions, and let the muscles rebuild themselves after 6 days of abuse.  After traveling only at night in six or eight hour pushes from sunset to sleep and then pre sunrise to the point where it's too hot to carry on, we were pretty low on sleep.  Last night was our first night of more than 4 hours of sleep. This rest affords me the opportunity to compose this message and check in with the world.  I'm pretty happy here with my cup of coffee, just out of the hot springs. The sulfur turned all of my silver black.  It's kind of neat.

So... while much has been omitted, and the rest has only been touched on, that's what I'm up to. Walkin this trail. It's something I never really thought I'd do, but am pleased to be doing.  I can feel already that unless something unforeseen happens, I'll at some point be making it the whole way.  This is hard, but it's satisfying.  It's nice to be outside, to be in motion, to be footloose and open and ready for whatever comes my way on this journey.

I must apologize to Chris for this one sided email.  He wanted to have nothing to do with the computer, so I took it upon myself to write.  Hopefully I didn't say anything that was wrong or leave something out...

anyhow... Hope all of you are well, and thanks for reading this if you've got this far through my ramblings.

Lot's of people hike the PCT every year, so I'm not trying to say I'm special.  Anybody with willingness and patience could do this... But, I thought some of you would like to hear about the adventure. 

I don't know when I'll be near the internet again and have the downtime to write... but there will be some more updates to come. Maybe pictures too! Please forward this to anyone you think may be interested.

Happy summer! 

ps.  Francis, could you please get this to the luna folks?  I don't have any contact info there.

Greg

Hello All.

Here we go.

One day Greg and Francis were working brewing coffee and mopping floors and slinging omelettes at a restaurant in Winthrop Washington -- the Grubstake and co. How we both got there... that's another story. But, we got to talking... "You play Tabla!!!???" Francis exclaimed. And so we got together that night and started playing some weird mix of indian/irish/whatever music.

It was a hot summer. Francis's camp was surrounded by wildfires. We played some gigs at pubs and such... Francis moved to Seattle and Greg stayed in the Methow. Over the past while, we've met up and played at the barter faire and on the streets of ballard and in the living room of a strange house somewhere near roosevelt.

Recently, After several successive days of music playing, we thought it'd be a good idea to get some of this music down on tape... (well... not really tape). So we headed back out to the sub zero Methow Valley to record at Letter B studios. In an intense three days, braving the cold and strange electrical conditions that caused sudden computer crashings due to heating necessities and frozen pipes.....

we recorded these tracks that continue to wow us with their energy and organic qualities. This stuff sounds pretty good.

thanks for listening.

El Submarinium