Day Eight: Las Vegas to Berkeley, CA. 560 miles.

We made it!!!!!

Day Seven: Grand Canyon to Las Vegas. 120 miles.

"The Lord Jesus shall be revealed in flaming fire, taking vengeance on those who do not follow His Word and do not obey the gospel."

This proclaimed on a ten-foot sign held up by a wild-eyed disheveled woman with long black hair in the middle of the madness on Fremont St. in Vegas. Then the world´s largest TV - three city blocks long - ignited above our heads with dancing showgirls and huge rolling dice, the hourly promo show on the roof of the strip. Overwhelmed by our first encounter with Lost Wages and its lost souls, coming from the sanctity of the Grand Canyon to this orgy of indulgence and desperation. We stuck to our hotel, the Lady Luck, and gambled slightly, she on 5 cent slot mahcines and me at blackjack.

Day Six: Zion to Grand Canyon. 126 miles.

Our first camping meal: the return of Thick Nutty Stew from the AT (oatmeal and grape nuts). Our first hike in Zion to Weeping Rock, then to Hidden Canyon - very steep, didn´t go all the way because baby afraid of heights. Saw lizards, hummingbirds, black and yellow striped dragonfly and blue dragonfly, and a small frog which din´t interest the baby. Hiked to Emerald Pools. At 2:30pm we left for Grand Canyon. Tired we stopped, tried to sleep in the car and drank coffee instead. Got pulled over by a Mormon policeman because of my (Anette´s) bad eyesight. (We pulled over to take a picture of the Welcome to Arizona sign but apparently weren´t far enough off the road). Lots of lightning and fat, big raindrops fell down on us. Clouds draped like curtains. Saw a family of wild turkeys and three deer on the Kaibab Plateau approaching Grand Canyon. Surprised at the beautiful forest of Ponderosa Pine and meadows at 8827 ft.

Set up camp under tall pines and went for a walk along Bright Angel Trail. Anette led the way as we clambered down the cliff´s edge for our first view of the Grand Canyon. Watched lightning on the other side of the canyon and a beautiful sunset over millions of years of layered rock. Suddenly, a swoosh of wings and turned to see a raven just alighted on our rocky outcrop to drink from a puddle in the rock. Surely a benign omen, and we saw 5 deer at dusk walking back to our tent. Made a campfire and cooked baby´s first mac´n´cheese. Then came baby´s first s´mores, which she loved. She also loved killing marshmallows in the fire med en seksårings glede. Då sov me.

Drove to Pt. Imperial in the morning and enjoyed fantastic views from a ridgeline hike. Heard hawks screaming and caught them in my binoculars. Hummingbirds flitting thru red, purple, yellow flower meadows and white and black trunks of burnt forest.

Day Five: Boulder to Zion. 642 miles.

Rocky Mountain majesty. Unbelievable tabletop cliffs pouring themselves flat onto the mesa. Arboreal green and wet to dry brown to orange. Blue Angels at Grand Junction, CO, chasing each other in the enormous sky. Take´n´bake pizza - no wonder it´s only $5, they don´t cook it for you!! Utah=Mormons=scary?? Providence: Not Rhode Island, the big ol´lighthouse on 15S. Sunset entering Zion, the most awe-inspiring I´ve ever seen. Stayed the night at Watchman campground. Windy.

Day Four: Layover in Boulder with Bree and Ashleigh.

Went out to Mountain Sun last night, the stereotypical hippie restaurant in the crunchiest town of them all. Then Bree gave us a priavte flamenco concert as I played guitar and he sang as only he can in his Spanglish and gave outstanding palmas. This morning drove out past the Flatirons and Flagstaff to Green Mountain. Saw a mule deer on the way up, as well as chipmunks, butterflies and a grouse. Picked raspberries, came back, walked in the rain, then napped. Anette had a little vondt i magen from so much traveling, but better in the afternoon. Went to a Tibetan restaurant then watched the first two episodes of "Six Feet Under." Ladybug earrings and a blue hairclip.

Day Three: Des Moines, IA to Boulder, CO. 686 miles.

Anette´s first time in the tent, unused since the AT in 2000, set up among cornfields at 11pm last night at the Timberline Campground. She was surprised to have a good night´s sleep, as did I, and we were off at 7:30am. Endless cornfields continued into Nebraska, but the western part of that state is devoted to beef cattle and pastures for grazing. It´s real cowboy country, with signs for ols Pony Express stations and the Buffalo Bill home/museum. Now we´re ascending the mesa into eastern Colorado, an incredibly beautiful, lonely, barren place. John Wayne should appear at any moment over the next ridge...

Day Two: Sandusky, OH to W. Des Moines, IA. 625 miles.

Rolled thru three states today - Indiana, Illinois and into Iowa. Anette had more bad luck driving on 80W south of Chicago at rush hour when two lanes suddenly split into four, with exits everywhere and people weaving in and out. Once again, she was a rock! Iowa is nothing but cornfields and the smell of cow manure, and at dusk it began raining insects on our windshield. All´s well that ends well. Love to all our relations.

Day One: Red Hook, NY to Sandusky, OH. 562 miles.

Said goodbye to family at noon and started driving. Two crazy confused old women came at us the wrong way on the road somewhere in western Pennsylvania and gave us a scare. But we will always remember western PA as the place Anette drove for the first time in America! On her very first merge, of course, she was up against a charging 18-wheeler that wouldn´t leave the right-hand lane, but she handled it superbly (I was pleasantly surprised at her smooth transition from the small roads of Norway to the madness of our freeways). Ate Chinese food in Youngstown, OH and had breakfast the next morning on the shores of Lake Erie, looking across at Cedar Point.

Ali Sallah and Baboukar...Meridian turns Gambian

Ten days in Senegal and the Gambia and my life will never be the same. And all because Ali Sallah, the one and only BIG BOSS, has had the heart to embrace village life and slooow village time for two years now, learn Fula, Wolof and some Mandika, and become Gambian.

First day in Dakar: filth, rot, noise, chaos; a madman drinking water by filling up his cup with water from the blackened gutter. Two Senegalese men practicing their wrestling, a national pasttime, on the trash-strewn beach used also for sunning, swimming, and football. Drinking ginger juice and a boy hacking open coconuts in his hands with the deftness off a violin virtuoso. The gorgeous day-glo elegant colors of flowing African clothing. Alhamdoulilahi buses and cramming long legs into tiny broken seats of broken-down cars.

Kaolack, Senegal, the saddest, most desperately dirty town in the world, where all the people have dark brown teeth from drinking the putrid water. Burning trash, open sewers, the smell almost making me vomit but they don´t even notice cuz that´s where they grew up. Let us never speak of "developing countries" again, for it is a cruel euphemism at best. Jake and I decided upon a new term - ICOs: Impoverished Cesspools of Opression. Impermissible that people live like this.

Finally away from the cities and into the bush and Jake´s village, Sare Sofi. I bought a goat to show my thanks to the village for hosting me, and I almost fainted as I watched it being butchered. Jake didn´t flinch. He held the intestines with gusto. African food bowls, all the men eating first, squatting, dipping in with the right hand only. Rice, rice, and more rice. Peanut sauce, peanut sauce, and more peanut sauce. I was sick of it after three days. Jake still loves it after two years, but he relishes meat, fruit, and greens when he gets the chance.

Swimming in the Gambia river at night, lightning and stars in the sky. Chasing baboons through the bush with Ali´s brothers. Walking the 9km from the village to the road and stopping to see a renowned fiddler. It began with just the 3 of us, but one by one the women and children stopped their work and entered the hut, stooping under the four-foot high door. The light steadily diminished and the heat and dust inside the hut grew by the minute until it soon felt like midnight, and we were a tribe of revelers carrying on late into the night. El duende aparecio as we formed a ring around the fiddler, the clapping intensified, and the dancers entered the ring encouraged by the jaleos of the others. Eventually the Mantis appeared, and it was on. The Mariachi song was played to delight of the villagers.