Airborne Bus

Caroline Wise and John Wise flying out of Phoenix, Arizona

In momentous personal news, preparations have concluded, and mere minutes remain before our position on the globe will transition to another continent. With that, I needed to turn my attention to finish writing about our weekend visit to Kartchner Caverns, as I certainly don’t want to drag unfinished details into our vacation plans.

At first glance, it might be obvious that we are not in America, not in Arizona, not at home, but that would be a false conclusion based on what you think you see. First and foremost, we are still within ourselves, though the physical positioning of our bodies will be in a location other than what is more typical for our existence. I need to break away from that paradigm and become unseen in this image that betrays what I’m trying to claim. You see, I don’t want to create envy, I would rather share a desire to have gathered more and created more intrinsic value to dreams than to demonstrate our ability to consume.

When you see images of Caroline and myself on these pages over the coming weeks, they are not posted here to show the reader/visitor that these are the faces of the fortunate; they are meant to become vivid reminders that the profound experiences brought into our senses, were in fact, taken in by the two people in the photos. We become incredulous over time that these experiences were our own. On that note, there is a striving to find more than what can be represented visually and hence the nonstop effort to write through attempts of discovery at what is not immediately seen but hinted at through some level of vague understanding. In this sense, I tend to dislike the selfies and feel more meaning is shared through interpretation than through images of us in iconic locations.

I can’t emphasize enough that we do not travel for prestige or to make impressions upon those who desire to envy others for their good luck; we venture into our minds and imaginations for the edification of a deep part from within our souls. Travel is but one aspect of that process that also relies on books, music, and exploration of our local environment, while on rare occasions, we can indulge in conversations with equally curious people that extend how we rewire our brains and enrich our lives.

Aside from our own publicly available journal, where we’ve selectively allowed others to peer into some of the minutiae of the day, we are leaving traces for future generations to more accurately understand where we’ve traveled both literally and figurately in our growth towards our own end. The world of my grandfather in post-World War II America was a wildly different environment of small roads, faraway places, mom-and-pop diners, motels, and destinations where services might be uncertain. Compare that to our time with major highways; we can travel with cars that don’t run on gasoline, cheap airline tickets that can whisk us closer to our destination and can have an Uber deliver us the last miles, diners which are mostly gone, replaced by franchises that serve the exact same food as a location 2,000 miles away, electronic maps that work on phones that are often smaller than the pack of cigarettes my family would have been smoking, and lodgings that are air-conditioned with free WiFi, pools, gyms, and earn us points for discounts on other stuff. To believe that our travel experiences in the 2020s will be like those who will be following in our footsteps in the last decade of the 21st century is folly.

While we can glance back at the black and white images of “classic” cars traveling down Route 66 and gaze upon the old postcards of places that no longer exist, what is rare from that time is the narrative of where those travelers were intellectually as they embarked on adventures into places that were exceedingly distant in ways other than distance. Our world, on the other hand is instantly available where we can easily find what time sunrise will be a year into the future. We can drag an icon onto a map and travel down the street to see a place before ever being physically present, and we can read the reviews of people from around the globe who extoll the delights of a restaurant or hotel or heap disdain upon the service that didn’t match the quality of what they’re familiar with from their far-away home.

The idea that the pampering of travelers and how well they were treated by those feeding, sheltering, or otherwise offering them services should be the core subject of what constitutes an immersive experience is tragically simple-minded, repulsive even. The primary subject of importance in travel is how the individual grows. But such is the nature of our social idolatry in a time where we are the fetish and demand that others worship us while we bask in perceived luxury. For Caroline and I, the intellectual and emotional aspects of travel are the most important, we are astonished that others are available on our behalf to make our explorations so simple and relatively comfortable. We are out here to honor our potential to gather knowledge and experience what remains of our cities, forests, oceans, museums, trails, and the earth in general.

The absolute miracle of having lived so long and seen so much is not lost on us; we are grateful that this peculiarity is our truth and is still an ongoing adventure with infinite potential. Many people who’ve learned about our next travel plans wish us good luck in seeing things or having favorable conditions for the duration of our sojourn into a place, and yet, I believe I can claim without exaggeration that none have ever commented on the opportunity for us to return as more enlightened people who were able to sample something from the depths of human experience that helped the romanticized heroes of the past gain immortality in their own observations outside of their routine. Do others not travel with expectations of discovering intellectual magic extracted from the immense beauty of thrusting one’s self into new experiences? We are not trophy hunters; we are too ravenous to know ourselves better than to waste our time on egos.

A Memento

Caricature of John Wise and Caroline Wise by Becca Wasylenko the Barista at WeBe Coffee in Phoenix, Arizona

Transitions. Over the last days, Caroline finished reading Straits: Beyond The Myth of Magellan to us, I finished Bernard Stiegler’s The Age of Disruption: Technology and Madness in Computational Capitalism after two years of slogging through it, and we returned to Marcel Proust digging into volume 5 of In Search of Lost Time titled The Prisoner a.k.a. The Captive. My transition in reading first attempted to take me back into Jacques Derrida’s Of Grammatology, but that proved too dry, and I ended up in Franco “Bifo” Berrardi’s Futurability: The Age of Impotence and the Horizon of Possibility.

The caricature of Caroline and me above is courtesy of Becca Wasylenko, one of the baristas at WeBe Coffee. She’s transitioning to another job and wanted to offer us this memento that was inspired by a conversation Becca and I had about communication and friendship.

The Cavern – Part II

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

At the beginning of this year, we visited Kartchner Caverns for an after-hours tour of the Big Room. Today, we are once again on our way to Kartchner except this time we are heading into the Throne Room. Our January visit was incredibly impactful. This special photography tour had us linger for more than two hours in a place that typically does not allow visitors to stand and gaze at anything, let alone take pictures. With the Big Room closed in deference to a bat colony that’s busy doing bat things at this time of year, we were offered the opportunity to gather more grand impressions.

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

This post is being constrained by a lack of time, though. When I sat down to write about our experience in the Big Room some eight months ago, I had little idea that it would become my second longest post at over 10,000 words of yammering on about the kind of shite I tend to write when unleashed. Even this bit of rambling is occurring prior to our departure for the 180-mile drive south. Right now, it is still Friday morning while I try to get a jump start on the writing because I have a hard stop time arriving on Monday when we will shift dimensions. More about our dimensional shift in the days to come.

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

As I mentioned in my post featuring our “Balcony Bat,” this blogging stuff wasn’t supposed to be happening at this time but seeing how I’ll have only posted three missives over the previous 30 days, I’d consider that a solid amount of time off from posting stuff. As of a week ago, I’d forgotten about the rather pricey reservation we’d made just a couple of days after our previous visit, and while Caroline asked about canceling our “last minute” obligation, I’m more inclined to take advantage of this rare opportunity to enter the Throne Room and photograph it. Well, that’s about it for what I’m adding to this post here on Friday; more will follow in the minutes prior to our departure, I hope.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

After entering the cavern, we walked into the Rotunda Room, where the mud flats are also found. Here, you can see the original path that brought the two men who first explored the 2.5 miles of passages back in 1974. Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts first trekked into this room, starting the deep trail through the mud that still looks much the same as it has for nearly 50 years. The preservation, methods of visitation, and care shown to Kartchner are meant to preserve this space, so visitors 50 years in the future will see nearly exactly the same thing we are witnessing today. And for your information, the growth of the formations in the cavern will likely be undiscernible in that time frame, even to visitors who walk these passages 200 years from now.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

Being in this space is deceptive as far as time is concerned, and that’s probably appropriate, seeing how the heavy, slow hand of time plays its role here. I’m inclined to race through, trying to capture what I think I want to take visually out of the cavern. While two hours initially sounds like an adequate amount of time to photograph the highlights, everything becomes a highlight, and eyes hard at work to scan things as quickly as possible strain to take it all in. I’m armed with my tripod and a 70-200mm lens, but both are mostly cumbersome tools that interfere with moving fast. Not that I want to rush the process, but I have no idea what’s worth taking photos of before I arrive in front of the thing, and each successive thing might be better than the last, so I try to shoot fast and hope to circle back if I realize I hadn’t given proper due to a formation.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

There’s much in the shadows worth examining, but the powers that determined where the focus of visitors should be directed made choices to best facilitate moving groups through the space while minimizing their impact. While a couple of hours of visitation with the lights up and not being ushered through in the same way as the typical visitor does, in fact, offer us photography enthusiasts the opportunity to capture the sights for ourselves, searching for the hidden gems is near impossible. So, I chase through, lag, turn back, and hope my eye will catch what the spotlights are failing to show us.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

By this time, the zoom lens is put away for the night, I wish for my super wide 10-22mm lens, but its aperture is crap, so I’d have to properly use the tripod and hope I could get close enough to a formation to gain a different perspective. Or, maybe if I had my macro lens, I could approach the molecular edge and see for myself the process of accretion. Well, if my macro was actually a microscope.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

Mineral-wise, these formations are likely quite similar to all other limestone-based cavern formations, and while there are variations of themes regarding forms that evolve in these underground sanctuaries, I never tire of seeing the shapes and patterns melting out of the earth above.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

I’m feeling the pressure to cut bait, remove some photos, and curb this struggle to write something or other about our visit and what we found in the Rotunda and Throne Rooms, but I feel that no matter what garbage I manage to capture it will satisfy something of our interest in our memories when so many other corners of our lives are fading into the past.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

It’s now Monday morning as I return to my struggle of finding metaphors to memorialize the sights we witnessed Saturday evening, which is rendered all the more difficult as I’m pinched by time constraints that see us boarding a flight in little more than 10 hours from the moment I’m turning to finish this post.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

With so many dry areas throughout the cavern, it sometimes comes as a surprise when we find something that appears completely drenched. The desire to touch a thing is amplified when our senses demand to know the level of moisture, if any such moisture is even there, or whether the formation is just highly polished.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

And then you spot an object riddled with a thousand tiny terraces and have no way of learning how this was formed. What I do think I can glean from looking longer at the objects is that on the right of this formation is a beehive-like design/accumulation where water that dripped for thousands of years continued to build up until one day, the drip that formed it was moving slightly to the left and started a new globule that grew atop the old one. Fast forward thousands of more years, and now we have this third bump, or maybe it’s a carbuncle that is emerging above the two older versions.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

Being underground and at an uncertain depth, it’s impossible to know how much ground is above us. I’d love to see an illustration of what this area would look like if it were sliced open to expose a cross-section of the earth so we might see why this area is wetter than other areas and produces so many stalactites. From the nearly luminous stalagmite at the center of this photograph, it seems apparent that a seriously long drought was happening during its formation as for millennia it grew thicker before starting to taper off only to start adding girth again.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

And nature looked within and upon itself, seeing the wisdom of its design; with such inspiration, it realized it was looking at the spine of creatures it would hang bodies from in order to create dogs, cats, fish, elephants, birds, and people. I wanted to work some angle into this about people playing as furries imitating parts of nature’s design, but it was taking too long and I really do need to finish a few things prior to our departure.

Throne Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

We are now in the Throne Room proper where Emperor Kubla Khan holds court. Grandson of the great Genghis Khan and founder of the Yuan Dynasty, Kubla Khan now sits in a metaphorical effigy at 58 feet tall, a showpiece among cavern speleotherms if ever there was one. But even mighty emperors must bid adieu and leave, and so, with that, we were done with our two hours at Kartchner Caverns and must return post haste to Phoenix in order to continue prepping for a departure that was less than 48 hours away.

Surprise Guest

Bat in Phoenix, Arizona

I stepped out on our balcony for some reason or other and looked up to check on the mud dauber wasps’ nests that hold fast to the walls and sliding door frame and saw something out of the ordinary. While I thought I knew what it was, I wasn’t certain. After fetching my 200mm lens to zoom in but still a good distance from framing this thing on the wall, I got this shot, which is cropped in more than 50% to even get this level of detail. Sure enough, it’s a bat. This is the first time I’ve been aware of a bat taking refuge on our balcony! Hopefully, it will still be hanging out when Caroline gets home so she can see it with her own eyes. As this is already a violation of my self-imposed break in blogging I’m going to avoid writing anything else, though this discipline is hard fought for.

Big Plans – Scandanavian Style

Map of Scandanavian Travels

A few weeks ago, I bought two tickets for us to fly to Frankfurt, Germany. Over the intervening weeks, a very detailed itinerary for a trip within our trip has taken shape. As anyone who knows us knows, we have family in the Frankfurt area, and we’ll be spending part of our time in Germany with them, but we’ll also be heading into a big adventure that sees us visiting Sweden and Norway for the first time. Denmark will be a part of this, but I didn’t list it as a first because we dipped a toe into the southern end of the country some years ago.

I’m reluctant to share any more as the details of the trip will be divulged after our return but this kind of journey requires an incredible amount of work, relatively. Planning for vacation hardly seems like work when what is really being done is the creation of a timeline that is intended to see us out playing for the duration of time away from Arizona.

Mapping a course through three countries and a dozen cities over 18 days has already required between 100 and 130 hours, with another 20 to 30 yet to come. The reason for the lengthy planning is to establish a number of touchpoints/options during the course of our journey. With a desire to move by foot, water, bike, and rail into the forest, water, city, museum, mountain, and history, we have many facets of approach mapped out before we land somewhere in order to not lose a moment figuring things out while we are in the midst of traveling. Preplanning is key to maximizing our travel investment. Other than reservations, nothing needs to be adhered to if the circumstances of the moment demand that we alter our plans, so there is flexibility. This idea of flexibility/spontaneity is really only addressed due to the many questions we get about being able to find time for spur-of-the-moment stuff to do on our adventures. I believe this only comes up because the majority of people don’t have this kind of time to spend planning a vacation, and so may suffer the dilemma of finding what they will do once they hit the ground at their destination.

The places of note that are on our itinerary include Roskilde and Copenhagen, Denmark. Next up are Malmo, Ystad, Lund, Gothenburg, Uppsala, and Stockholm, Sweden. From there, we move on to Oslo, Flåm, Gudvangen, and Bergen in Norway before flying back to Frankfurt, Germany, for more family time. None of this will be traveled by car, while the majority will be by train. Though I’d enjoy the flexibility of coming and going as we please, meaning we’d be doing a lot more driving, my absolute lack of joy in trying to park in big European cities means I’m willing to sacrifice some broader spontaneity for my mental health. I could imagine someone reading that we’ll be in a dozen cities over the course of 18 days as already questioning the mental health equation, but that’s the way we travel. With over 440 waking hours to wander through 4 countries, our mode of operation dictates that we should stuff our days full of experiences that tax our ability to keep up with ourselves.

In our world, vacation is not a time of recuperation in the traditional sense of how many Americans travel, we are spending hard-earned treasure to gather experiences that will continue moving with us for years to come. In a sense, exploration is a method of putting money in the bank for our experiential retirement savings, as who knows what happens in our later years and if we are able to push ourselves like we can during this stage of our lives. And from my perspective, we must consider the environment and overtourism where we may not be allowed to visit some of the places we’ll be dipping into in the next weeks.

From the realm of absurd and meaningless statistics, this will be our 328th trip away from Phoenix since September 1999, meaning we’ve averaged nearly 14 getaways per year since that time. I’ll likely be shooting between 12,000 and 16,000 photos while on this grand adventure, depending on the weather, and between 1,000 and 1,300 of those will be published to around 78,000 to 140,000 words across the 26 days of blog entries. Our vacation will last a total of 624 hours and will ultimately be documented with approximately 109,000 words and 1,150 photos, requiring about 95 hours of image prep and another 30 days of transcribing and writing the text, thus bringing me to nearly 12 weeks in total between planning and the last post being shared before this period of immersion comes to an end. And for this luxury of time afforded me, we’ll have a document that will allow us many years of exploring, in fine detail, our first Scandinavia-centric vacation.

Two Million

Sketch of John Wise by Becca

I have been approaching 2,000,000 words written on my blog, so imagine my disappointment when at 1,999,999 (yes, exactly that number by some strange quirk of the universe), I uploaded some images for what was to be my next post and recognized that the blog’s word tracker was counting images as words! When I glanced at the stats prior to digging into my writing session, I saw that I’m already over 2 million words. Now, I suppose I have to consider that I’m not over that giant number after all because some 20,000 photos or more are likely skewing the total number. No matter, the milestone has been met or will be soon enough, and it’s just fine for me at this time to post this point of bragging. By the way, don’t even consider reading the entirety of this blog, as it would take you a staggering amount of time, to the tune of over 133 hours.

Some days later, I return to the draft for this post looking for what else I want to say, and it all feels so arbitrary, aside from the fact that I do intend to change the focus of my writing. There is so much momentum captured here with what I put into my blog posts that there’s a sense of loss knowing what I have to curtail, at least for a while. However, I will not give up posting about our travels, and while I can only reluctantly slow down routine updates, I must. So much of this endeavor has lent riches to memories that would otherwise be pale compared to what the minds of the two of us would have retained.

There are over 3,140 posts spread out here throughout my blog, and while that is likely plenty, it still feels like I’m turning my back on a friend. Over the coming months, I’ll be scouring every one of these missives as I hunt for bits and pieces that must be extracted for my next big project.

Something else I’d like to see happen to these 2 million words is to have them fed into artificial intelligence to spit out a profile analysis describing what it can see and learn about the person who wrote it all. Maybe next year, AI will have matured to that point.

This post has been hanging out as a draft for over a week as I get ready to pass it over to Caroline for the old once-over, a pause during which I’ve grown ambivalent about posting it at all because it really means just about nothing. The bigger accomplishment would be that I love writing, and if I’m fortunate enough to dig in every day, I feel keenly delighted that I’ve committed something from my head and thrown it into the cacophony of other voices who write into the void. I looked with anticipation to the day I saw the word count roll over to 2 million words and only now realize that had I only ever written 100,000 words about Caroline and my life together, I still would have likely written 1,000 times more than the majority of humans ever shares about their life and love.

The sketch was a few-minute doodle drawn by Becca Wasylenko, the Barista at WeBe Coffee.