An Upstate, South Carolina river

I rarely let go of a story.

I’ll research an article or essay, write it, and have it published, but it’s not often that I just file the story away and stop thinking about the subject. I like to keep following the story.

I’ve been writing about and following John Lane since 2008, when I interviewed him^ about his book, Circling Home. John lives in my hometown of Spartanburg, South Carolina, so many of the places he writes about are familiar to me. That’s one reason I keep reading his work; the other is, quite simply, that he’s a good writer who wants to make sense of his experience through the writing process.

John’s newest book, My Paddle to the Sea, was just published by University of Georgia Press and the launch party, hosted by Spartanburg’s indy bookstore, Hub City Bookshop, was probably the best attended in Spartanburg’s history, if Facebook chatter is any indication. My Paddle to the Sea opens with Lane’s recounting of a tragic white water trip in Costa Rica and his subsequent 300-mile paddle of South Carolina’s waterways, a trip initiated partly for catharsis. But as with all of Lane’s projects, writing and otherwise, his 300-mile paddle trip was also undertaken as one more effort to understand himself, his local ecosystem and history, and his place within them.

Though I’d have rather interviewed John while walking around a riverbed in Glendale as I did three years ago, I was happy to have talked with him about My Paddle to the Sea via email.

*
Julie:
One of the qualities of this book that struck me–and has stayed with me since–is the way in which you honor other people by reflecting upon and celebrating what they’ve shared with you, whether an experience, as with Venable Jr. [Lane's partner on the paddling trip], or a lesson or idea, as with other writers. You did so in an artful, elegant, authentic way that I found quite moving. Were you conscious you were making these acknowledgements of influence as you were writing?

John:
The major decision I had to make with this project was: go it alone, or go with a friend, or a number of friends. Originally, when I conceived of paddling almost 300 miles to the sea I’d thought, yes, I’ll do the trip alone and make it into one of those “man against the wild” type adventure stories. You know, rugged individual sets out against the elements in a kayak with only a can of pork & beans, a sleeping bag, and a Swiss Army knife. But our tragic trip to Costa Rica changed that. After the deaths on that river in Costa Rica I realized I’d have to have the help of my other adventurous friends if I wanted to pull this trip off and get back in the adventure saddle. I’d lost the desire to be alone on the trip.

After Costa Rica the idea of the trip became a celebration of friendship– planning and doing, sharing stories, overcoming adversity, and telling the tale. And I knew from the beginning that telling my tale would include telling the tales of my good friends Venable Vermont and Steve Patton. They are both adventurous men who have pulled off long river trips and had near misses like the one I had in Costa Rica, and they both had plenty to say about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as we paddled along.

As far as the other influences–the writers and others who have come before– I’m always conscious that landscapes have deep histories, and I always want to acknowledge that other minds have passed before me. I knew going in that the Santee River basin wasn’t “unwritten,” wasn’t a blank slate. There was the mind and work of Henry Savage and his great Rivers of America volume on the Santee, and then there were literary writers such as WJ Cash, John P. Kennedy, Julia Peterkin, and poet Archibald Rutledge. Their voices had to be included along with mine. They had already sung of this river.

Julie:
I also felt like you struggled with trying not to be judgmental of people who don’t share your world view, and I wanted you to write about them in a way didn’t set up or reinforce binaries of “us” and “them.” I think the place where I felt most frustrated about this was the characterization of the “hook and bullet crowd” in the Low-country. (I fully acknowledge that I wanted you to do this because I struggle with it in my own life/work.). Any thoughts about this?

John Lane

I probably understand the motives of the person who sits in a tree to stop it from being cut down more fully than I understand one who sits in a tree stand all day to shoot a deer. But I do share many values with the hunting and fishing tribe–my love of wildness, my observation skills, my knowledge of landscapes– but there are still often some fundamental difference between many of those who hunt and fish seriously and those who do not. Mostly these are simply management issues. Most wild land is managed now and I’m generally more of a preservationist as opposed to a conservationist. I’d like to see land set aside and managed for all creatures great and small, not just deer and turkey. I’d like to see large tracts of territory where ecological processes can go on without us. I prefer free-flowing rivers to recreational lakes. If you forced me to choose between the ideas of John Muir or Gifford Pinchot, I’d choose Muir. Pinchot’s “Wise Use” doesn’t cut it for me entirely.

And in South Carolina there is a huge spectrum in the hunting/fishing world. Many who hunt and fish I admire deeply and they too would vote for preservation. Others I wouldn’t agree with, and those are usually the ones who think of hunting as a “sport.” Through the years I’ve come closer and closer to understanding and even admiring those particularly who eat what they kill. (I’ve even developed relationships with several hunters where we eat what they kill.) But I still can’t kill game myself, and I know that “they” generally see the wild world through the scope of a rifle or as just off the tip of a rod. I see it at the end of a paddle or under my feet or bike tire. The worlds of the hunter and the non-hunter are often very different and they are managed in different ways.

Julie:
In the book you say, “There are no simple answers to contemporary recreation in the [American] South.” But besides kayaking your local waterways, what are some of *your* answers? How do you engage with the land apart from the time in your kayak?

John:
Well, in some ways this is a continuation of the question above. There has been a shift in our culture in the last 30 or 40 years from wilderness to recreation, from preservation to conservation, from nature worship to use. During the 60s and 70s the lobby for the values of wilderness and preservation were strong. Read Wallace Stegner’s “Wilderness Letter.” Read the 1964 Wilderness Act itself. The idea of limited and controlled human access to wilderness in particular was supported politically and intellectually.

Lots has happened to bring some of those values into question since then. The work of historian William Cronon in the 1980s brought into question the idea of wilderness itself. Cronon suggested that wilderness was an idea invented by urban people, that the places we call wilderness– take Yellowstone for example– were actually inhabited and used by people regularly for thousands of years.

There has also been an explosion in technology and income that can take people into wild places– from airline routes to kayaks to four wheelers to light weight hiking gear. Every improvement in gear makes it easier for humans to “use” wildness easily. Every uptick in the adventure travel industry has made it harder to support the values and ideals that were outlined in the Wilderness Act. That document saw value in difficulty of access and use.

In the [American] South it’s even more complex because there is such a large population within easy driving distance of our limited wilderness areas. The Chattooga Wild & Scenic River and its Ellicott Wilderness is within a 2 hour drive of 7 or 8 million people and many of them like to recreate “in the wild.” It’s complex for me because I value wilderness, but I also like to go into it, to recreate. Here’s another place where the easy “us” and “them” breaks down!

Lane's home river

Julie:
What are the other places you want to explore in the South that you don’t know so well yet?

John:
I really want to spend more time up in the Blue Wall area, the mountain front west of here. I’d like to hike the whole Foothills Trail. I also want to paddle as many of the South Carolina rivers as I can.

Julie:
Regarding some of the practical aspects of promoting and selling this book, what’s your strategy?

John:
I’m hoping that readers who know my work from the past will pick up on it, and I’m hoping that there will be a few good reviews. I’m also hoping that the 30 minute video RIVER TIME (www.rivertimefilm.com) that film makers Chris Cogan and Tom Byars put together about me and the trip will take off and get shown on local ETV stations around the south. They have a few screenings set up in SC and Georgia and we’ll sell some books there. I’m not sure how it will be received in other regions. We’ll just have to wait and see.

—
^One of the unfortunate aspects of writing online is that technology evolves and some published works get lost in the evolution. My article that accompanied the oral interview linked to above has been eaten by the interwebs.

There have been dozens of anniversary events and exhibits, each one motivated by the impulses to remember that day and to honor the lives that were lost on September 11, 2001, as well as the people whose health was affected irrevocably that day and in the days and weeks that followed during the recovery, and who have died since.

In a way, the number and variety of these events have been overwhelming, insisting that we not bypass this year’s anniversary without a long, hard pause.

On Friday morning, the public art collaborative Illegal Art chalked the sidewalk of Fifth Avenue, running from 14th Street for a length of 1,368 feet, the height of the taller of the two Twin Towers. People passing by could take a piece of chalk and write a message on the sidewalk.

Francisco was dissatisfied with most of the photos of this art installation, complaining that none of the photos gave the full scope of the project.

But I told him that was like 9/11 itself– that none of the TV coverage, none of the magazine or newspaper articles, and none of our individual accounts of the day, including mine or his (he was at his apartment, a few blocks away, sleeping, when he heard the first plane crash) — give any sense of the scale or scope of loss and grief and confusion.

Sometimes, just a fragment makes enough sense and lets us move forward.

It wasn’t until I downloaded the photos from the F1 race that I noticed the tattoo on his arm.

What, exactly, inspired the kind of devotion to racing that would compel a man to tattoo a car on his forearm? I couldn’t imagine.

After watching today’s race, though, I felt like I maybe understood… not enough to get a tattoo, mind you, but enough to have a deep appreciation for this sport. In fact, I felt like I actually understood life itself a little bit better. Racing requires incredible amounts of mental discipline and emotional control, and there were plenty of take-away lessons:

1. A great racer is nothing without the team.
I’ve long been more interested in the people behind the scenes who make things happen than the people who are up on stage, headlining an act, so this characteristic of racing pulled me right in. In racing, the crew is everything. You can have the best driver in the world, but if his crew isn’t tight, then he’ll have a hell of a time pulling to the front of the pack.

One of the Red Bull crews at F1, Valencia

2. Egotism has to be replaced with self-awareness and self-assuredness.
Each racing team spends millions on attracting top talent– not just drivers, but mechanics, engineers, designers, data crunchers, PR people, and peons. But no matter how good each one is, he’s got to keep his ego in check. The limited space and time available for prepping a car before a race create an environment where peacocking isn’t permitted. Each team member keeps his head down, focuses on his job, and realizes that his contribution is just one of many, which together make a safe, successful race possible.

Keeping their heads down.

3. You’ll get out of the pit faster if you can change your tires in 1.5 seconds.
If I had to choose the single element of this entire experience that absolutely blew my mind, it was this: a pit crew can change a set of tires in less than two seconds. Do you understand what kind of coordination and teamwork that requires? (They can also set up and break down entire garages in less than 12 hours).

How fast can you change four tires?

4. Attention to detail is everything.
Racing doesn’t permit a single lazy moment from anyone on the team. If you take a close look at this photo, you’ll see that everyone is either (a) doing something or (b) paying attention to what’s going on in case they need to step in and help out. No one’s staring off into space or playing with their iPhone. When it’s race time, there are zero distractions.

Focus.

5. The greater the investment, the greater the risk.
These cars are expensive. The crews are expensive. The transportation and shipping of vehicles and gear are expensive. Racing is not a hobbyist’s game; it’s a big business. And when the investment is high, so is the risk. The only way to mitigate that in racing is to know your job and do it well.

Seems like a pretty good metaphor for life.

High stakes

One of the Formula 1 cars used by bestlap F1 events

The hardest thing is to quiet my mind.

I am thrilled to have the opportunity to ride in a Formula 1 car on the same practice track that racers use to prepare for the Formula 1 race in Valencia. It’s a top-shelf, peak experience, even for someone like me: someone who knew nothing about racing before I was invited to Valencia to speak at a social media conference and then participate in F1 events, including a behind-the-scenes tour of the Team Lotus garage.

It’s also an expensive experience, and one I’m grateful to have as a guest of the local tourism board.

After signing a waiver (in brief: “You could die doing this. Please sign to acknowledge risk.”) and listening to a briefing by driver Felix Porteiro, I zip up my fireproof jumpsuit, tie the laces on my red, ankle-high loaner sneakers, and pick up a pair of yellow foam earplugs. When it’s my turn for two fast laps around the circuit, an assistant pulls a balaclava over my head and then pushes a tight helmet on top of that, pulling the chin straps.

Suddenly, excited anticipation is tempered by acute anxiety. The helmet is so tight that it pushes my cheeks smack up against my jaws. The rush of heat is immediate; the heavy safety gear and the relentless sun create an oven effect and I feel desperate for air. The laps will go fast, I know, but can I make it through them?

I climb into the car, seated to Felix’s left. I can see his eyes in a side mirror and there’s something about them I trust. But as the assistant tells me to shimmy farther down into the car, almost horizontal, and as he pulls the four point restraint seatbelt harness tight around my waist, I am gripped with fear. No one wants to be inside my mind right now, consumed as it is with the irrational thoughts that plague many of us when we are confronting a situation–no matter how exciting–for which we have no prior experience to serve as a point of reference.

The car is being checked and a camera is being secured to the car body by a video blogger. Just when I think “I can climb out of this car right this second,” we’re ready to go. I look at the assistant and ask him what to do in the event of a total freak out… because, honestly, I feel like it’s entirely possible. My mind is racing with crazy thoughts, like “What if I throw up inside my helmet and suffocate on my own vomit?” and “What if I pass out?”

“Just signal Felix,” the assistant says, as he snaps my visor into place and Felix hits the gas.

At this point, there’s absolutely no turning back. We are screaming down the track and for the first five seconds I think I might spontaneously combust- not because of the experience itself, but because I can’t control my own thoughts. This is high octane meditation: “Breathe. Breathe. Let go. Breathe,” I keep telling myself.

The Cheste F1 practice circuit, just outside Valencia.

And then, just as we’re coming out of the straightaway and into the first curve, it all just falls away. I feel the blood coursing through my body in a way I have never felt in my life and it is indescribably exhilarating. It’s as if I have gone into my own body, turned inward, and I’m hurtling at light speed through my own blood vessels.

It’s insane and it feels good and the fears of biting my cheeks and drowning in vomit disappear, replaced by the desire to just go faster. Three-quarters of the way through the first lap, Felix looks at me in the mirror and raises his hand: thumbs up? Am I ok?

I raise a thumb and keep it up. How he can even take a hand off the wheel at this speed is beyond me.

The "after" shot.

As we pull into the pit, just three minutes after we went screaming down the track, I stumble out of the car, peel out of the top half of the jump suit, and all I can think is “More.”

*
If you’re in Valencia and want to ride in a Formula 1 car, contact Carlos Molla Bataller of bestlap F1 events at cmolla@bestlap.es or by phone: 96 141 77 28.

Everything I’ve read to date about the Museo Soumaya has left me dissatisfied… not the facts, which are what they are (a museum housing 66,000 or so pieces of art acquired by Carlos Slim, the world’s richest man), but the assessment of the collection (“tragic”); Slim’s style of collecting (“more of a bargain hunter than an aesthete”); the building in which the museum is housed (“like an oversize mushroom thought up by Magritte”); and even the neighborhood itself (“the slick establishments paving the way are just enough to make you forget you’re in Mexico”– as if Mexico can only be slick or poverty-ridden).

Everyone’s entitled to his/her own opinion, of course, and here’s mine: the collection may seem random (Dali, Rodin, Mexican masters), but I prefer to think of it as the reflection of diverse interests. Who but an absolute art snob cares, anyway? There are some incredible pieces in the collection and you don’t have to look hard to find them; check out this intricate piece, made entirely of rice paper (except the frame, obviously) in 1883:

There are pieces in this collection I haven’t seen the likes of anywhere else, and that’s particularly true of the religious art.

I mean, take a look at this version of Eve, literally coming out of Adam’s rib:

The curation is excellent, particularly in the gallery exhibiting 20th century Mexican painting, where thematic preoccupations are grouped together in a way that’s logical and obvious without being redundant and boring.

Bottom line: Who cares about Slim? It’s about the art.

For more photos from the Soumaya, check out this gallery.

Few visitors to New York know about the city’s many cultural centers (The Korea Society, Scandinavia House, Instituto Cervantes, and the Mexican Cultural Center of New York, to name just a few); there are probably plenty of locals who don’t know about them, either.

The cultural centers are generally open to the public and offer a range of free programming–films, art exhibits, concerts, lectures and discussions, and live music performances–intended to promote awareness and knowledge for the cultures and countries the centers represent.

One of New York’s cultural centers is the Austrian Cultural Forum. Francisco and I had been to the ACF before–it hosted one of the panels for the PEN World Voices Festival last year– but hadn’t thought about it since then. We happened to be walking past the ACF recently and noticed that its current exhibit (running through January 11, 2011) is about Serbia.

The works in the FAQ SERBIA show are exhibited on several floors, and include photos, videos, and installations, as well as drawings and other media. According to exhibit materials, the show “reflects on two decades of drama in the Balkans with a special focus on Serbia. The artists expose the culturalization of the Yugoslav conflict…, [serving as] a powerful guide to a tumultuous and painful chapter in recent European history.”

The show runs now though January 11, 2011. The Austrian Cultural Forum is located at 11 East 52nd Street. Admission to the exhibit, as well as the remaining event associated with the show (a roundtable on January 10), is free.

To see all of Francisco’s photos from the FAQ SERBIA show, click here.

“Children need fats….”

You’d never see this ad on the subway in 2010. A modern ad about fat, courtesy of the NYC Department of Health, shows a cup of soda overflowing with revolting adipose, the calories from the sugary soft drink converting into fat like magic.

But the ad above is from a different era.

The New York City MTA has brought old train cars and vintage buses out of its Transit Museum and back to the tracks and streets. Now through the end of December, you can ride on the decommissioned subway cars and buses (trains on Sundays only; buses on weekdays only. The full schedule and more information are available on the MTA’s site).

The reappearance of the old transit vehicles, which happens every once in a while, brings out all types of folks– parents who are looking for a cheap way to entertain their kids; train aficionados and former MTA employees; vintage-loving hipsters who even dress the part of the mid-century New Yorker; and camera-toting locals and tourists who just want to capture the image of these vehicles in motion.

But more interesting than the people who show up to ride the old trains (which were in service from the 1930s until the 1970s) and buses, and even more interesting than the old light fixtures, the ceiling fans (!), and the subway seats with a cane-like upholstery, are the advertisements of the period that decorate the cars. They’re an indication of what life was like in those decades–and how much New York and society at large have changed (and how much they haven’t, too) since then.

When was the last time you saw an advertisement for… NATO?

Or heard about a public celebration of American Citizenship Day?

I’ve never heard of Bond Bread, have you?

And what happened in our society that 84 out of 100 women in 2010 aren’t like their 1950s counterparts, who preferred men in hats?

One thing that hasn’t changed– the MTA’s guilt-trip tactics intended to inspire common courtesy:

See Francisco’s complete set of vintage subway photos here.

Steven Roll, the founder of the blog, Travelojos, has just released Celebrating Latin America at Ground Level, an ebook to which I and many of my Matador colleagues and friends contributed.

The participating writers are all passionate about Latin America; many of us have lived there for an extended period.

If you’d like a copy–it’s free–please email me at writingjulie[at]gmail[dot]com to request one.

New York City is a destination on many travelers’ bucket lists, but its reputation as an expensive city deters visitors from booking flights and making travel plans. They believe that if they save enough money they’ll be able to visit New York someday, and for too many people, that someday never comes around.

It’s true that New York is expensive, but there are lots of ways to stretch your travel dollar to ensure you make the most of your visit. Here are 8 insiders’ tips:

1. Skip the obvious tourist traps.
Guide books and hotel concierges don’t tend to encourage visitors to stray from the tried and true touristy activities. Not that any of those activities are bad; they’re just not all New York has to offer. Plus, they tend to take quick, deep hits on your wallet.

Instead, visit some of the places locals frequent. Some of the city’s most interesting museums don’t charge an entrance fee. Some of the best shows cost a fraction of a Broadway ticket. And some of the most photogenic views can be had for free. If you want to know where some of these places are, check out my article “What NOT to Do in New York City” on MatadorTrips. You can also read our “Overlooked New York” series right here on this site.

2. Book hotels offline.
Smaller New York City hotels, such as The Inn on 23rd Street, don’t sell rooms through online fare aggregators. You’ll get the best deal by calling directly and asking for the lowest available rate. Even hotels that do sell rooms through online aggregators will often match the online rate if you call directly and mention the site through which you were considering booking. Many hotels prefer that you book directly with them, so they’ll meet or beat the price you find online.

3. Take the subway.
Don’t let anxiety or fear prevent you from using New York City’s subway system. Millions of locals and visitors ride the subway every day (5 million + in 2009), and more than a billion people use the subway every year. Don’t waste your money on taxis or a rental car here; buy yourself an unlimited Metrocard and take trains or city buses.

4. Eat a heavy lunch…
Go light on dinner and eat a heavier lunch instead. One of my favorite quick, inexpensive lunches is the “Rickshaw Regular” at the Rickshaw Dumpling Bar on 23rd Street. For $9.00 you get six dumplings and a soup of your choice. The portions are generous and filling. Rickshaw has a strong social media presence, too; if you’re on Twitter or Foursquare, check out the occasional deals they post through their channels.

5. Or wait for the afternoon deals and have a late lunch/early dinner.
Some shops offer half-price specials once the main lunch rush has died down. Amy’s Bread in Chelsea Market sells sandwiches 50% off after 4 PM.

6. Use your social media savvy.
Where do you want to stay? What do you want to see and do? Where do you want to eat? Check to see if the places you want to patronize have Twitter, Facebook, and/or Foursquare accounts. Hundreds of New York businesses do, and they often announce exclusive deals for their online followers.

Waterfront Museum

7. Take advantage of New York’s free attractions.
We shared 30 of our favorites in this list.

8. Find out what’s happening in the city.
Newyorkology and NYC GO are two comprehensive websites listing what’s happening in New York on any given day. By checking their online calendars in advance, you can plan to take advantage of free or low cost activities that won’t be mentioned in guide books.

Have you done New York Cit on the cheap? Share your tips in the comments!

As far as experiences go, I’m willing to try almost anything once.

So when the US Virgin Islands Department of Tourism invited us to the US Open, I immediately said yes.

No matter that my knowledge of tennis is limited to this: two people hold rackets and bat a neon green ball back and forth across a net.

Seriously, that’s all I know about the sport.

Francisco and I headed out to Flushing last week to watch a few of the qualifying matches before we attend the games with the USVI this week. The qualifiers, held the week before the Open itself, are free. And they’re a lot more fun than I expected.

If you’re attending the US Open for the first time this year, here’s a beginner’s guide. And if you’re interested in attending next year–or you’re on a budget–consider the qualifiers.

*
1. Don’t bring a bag.
Security isn’t as tight as I expected–no metal detectors–but they’re picky about what you bring into the venue. No backpacks. Period. There are lots of other prohibited items, too, so read the full list before you show up with a flag, banner, sign, noisemaker, or laser and get turned away.

2. Wear a hat, sunglasses, and sunscreen.
Though there are evening matches, daytime matches are brutal, and the Monday and Tuesday games, at least, are going to be scorchers; the temperature is predicted to top 95F. There’s little, if any, shade on the courts, especially the numbered courts outside the Arthur Ashe and Louis Armstrong stadiums. Is there some unwritten rule that says the fans must sweat and squint along with the players?

3. Bring cash.
The venue is a small city, with food vendors (everything from BBQ to sushi) and shops, all waiting to capitalize on your enthusiasm and your lack of alternatives. A bottle of water can set you back $5.00 or more, and you’ll need to shell out $13.00 for a Grey Goose “signature” US Open Cocktail.

There’s gear, of course- t-shirts, hats, tennis racquets, books, and oversized balls you can buy, made especially for autographs.

In short, bring cash. Or your ATM card; Chase has machines placed strategically for your withdrawing convenience.

4. Brace yourself for the bourgeois.
Tennis is not football.

Ball boys and girls stand with their hands clasped behind their backs (which, by the way, are emblazoned with enormous Ralph Lauren logos; he’s a sponsor of the games). You are asked to put your cell phone on vibrate, to refrain from talking, and to restrict your coming and going to breaks between sets. Which, by the way, is when the ball boys and girls produce gigantic umbrellas to hold over players’ heads, shading them from the punishing sun:

It’s more formal than Broadway theatre.

**
To see all of Francisco’s photos from the 2010 US Open qualifying matches, visit his portfolio.