Old bars are the best bars

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If you're into long underwear, lag bolts, and breakfast links, do I have the bar for you...

Gilbertson's Store is on the edge of Columbia county in central Wisconsin. If you can find the town of Keyeser, you've found Gilbertson's. Because it seems the town and the store are pretty much the same thing.

Inside, once you make your way past the sock rack, the meat case, and the lingerie, you'll find a four-stool bar. You'll also find the proprietor, Kenny. He and his relatives have owned Gilbertson's Store since 1894. He'll be happy to tell you all about it after he cracks you a $2 bottle of beer. He farmed the family land for 43 years, but just focuses on the store now. The bathrooms are in the back. As in the backyard. A fine set of his-and-her one-seaters that, according to Kenny, were the site for at least one wedding and perhaps some honeymoon activity as well.

 

My buddy Clem and I discovered the place last weekend during a non-sanctioned tour of historic bars (aka spring road trip). A sense of propriety keeps me from divulging our entire itinerary (not to mention the firm advice of my sizable legal team). But as itineraries go, it was ambitious. We visited a number of places, most of which originated in the 1800s. The best part, many of them happened to have the owner on hand. Eager to share the history of their place. 

It made for a helluva day.

They say nothing good happens after 2am and I generally agree. But at some point, the clock resets. Because at 10 or 11am? On a fine April morning in the Wisconsin countryside? Bellied up and hearing how things were, straight from guys like Kenny? Plenty of good happens then. 

These types of time-capsule bars are all over our fine state. You've got 'em in your fine state too I bet. I'm hoping to find a few more before they're all gone.

 

Theo Jansen: Maker of Animals

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I came across the work of Theo Jansen the way I come across most things. Randomly. But I'm so happy I did. 

Theo Jansen makes animals. Colossal beach creatures powered by wind and imagination and some of the most captivating engineering I've ever seen. Watch the first video below to see his creations in action and get a sense of what he does. 

Then, watch the second video to see how he does it, and more important, why. He shares some really interesting perspectives on life, art, evolution, and immortality. The things his animals have taught him.

I've always been fascinated by obsessives. Those blessed and/or cursed with the ability to focus on something, on one thing, for years or decades or a lifetime. Sometimes you look at the outcome of all that effort and you say "hm, well, to each his own."

Other times, you look at the outcome and you can't hardly say anything at all.

Fossil Diving! Venice, Florida! Right on!

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So you probably know Venice, Italy – with its wonderful canals and gondolas. And you probably know Venice, California – with its wonderful canals and roller skate dancers with their comically ambitious boob jobs. But whatcha know about Venice, Florida?

Venice is a smallish town/series of interstate exits between Fort Meyers and Tampa. Like much of Florida, there doesn't seem to be much happening away from the water. But the beaches of Venice, and the waters offshore, give it the absolute finest tagline for a city that I've ever heard: "Shark Tooth Capital of the World."  And as if shark teeth aren't cool enough, these Venice shark teeth are fossils. 

I know! My 12-year-old-boy brain reels! 

 

So why are there fossils in Venice, Florida? It's time for a quick lesson in paleontology. If you're turned on by big words, darling, make yourself comfortable. This is gonna get kinky.

During the Cretaceous period (50 million years ago), Florida was under water. During the Oligocene (30 million years ago), sea levels began to drop and north central Florida became an island. Then during the Miocene (20 million years ago), that land mass...

Geez louise. tl;dr. Prehistoric geology evidently isn't my kind of kink. Here's a link if you wanna learn more. But in a nutshell: the dry parts of Florida used to be wet, and the wet parts of Florida used to be dry. Go back and forth like this for tens of millions of years and, I don't know, evidently you get fossils. 

So back to Venice. Five years ago we visited Casperson Beach (which is a real beauty) to look for shark teeth. They're laying and/or buried along the water's edge – pointy little black or grey buggers that you find by sifting through the sand. Looking for them was a perfect activity for my kids who were 8 and 11 at the time. It's a perfect activity for you too if you like to pair your OCD with a little sand and sun. Over the course of an afternoon we found 50 or so fossilized teeth: a mix of mako, lemon, and bull shark mostly.

If you want the big stuff (megalodon teeth, mammoth fossils, etc.), I was told at the time, you need to do a dive boat off shore. This year, that's finally what I did. Because, you know, I want the big stuff.

So two weeks ago I boarded the Hammerhead, a 31 foot dive boat run by Megaladon/Florida West Charters (who I'd definitely recommend). We left the harbor around 7:45 am with 10 divers total, for a 20 minute boat ride to an area called "the boneyard." On the way out, Captain Dan did a nice session on what we were looking for, why it was all there, and so on. Then we anchored and in we went. It's an easy two-tank dive, relatively shallow (30 feet) with no current. Visibility was only 4 feet or so (due to storms), but no big deal since you're looking right in front of you the whole time anyway.

So yeah! You creep along the bottom carefully peeping at every damn thing you can find. Every now and again, one of the things turns out to be a shark tooth or a dugong rib from a 14 million year old manatee. New fossils reveal themselves in the shifting sand over time (the sea is a bit OCD herself), so there's always plenty down there if you're patient/lucky.

Over the course of 90 minutes or so, I found more than a dozen dugong rib pieces (heavy and black as night) and other fossils including jaw bones from whales and grind plates from rays. I found a bunch of fossilized shark teeth too, including one big megalodon tooth.

The best discovery, though, was this: I also found a dive partner. Because when I got back, I barely got done laying out the fossils when my 13-year-old son Tobias asked... "How old do I have to be to go scuba diving?"

VICTORY AT SEA!!!

So this past weekend he did a Try Scuba class at a local pool and loved it. (35 bucks all gear included!) He's starting online classes now and should be certified in time for our trip to St. John in July. 

That right there is about as good as it gets.

If you have any questions about diving for shark teeth in Venice, or Try Scuba classes, hit me up in the comments! I'd be happy to share what I know.

 

Morgan Maassen made a fine to-do list for you

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Don't have your summer plans ironed out yet? Nothing nailed down for this weekend?

Fear not my indecisive one, photographer and filmmaker Morgan Maassen has about 4,000 ideas for you and he's compiled them all into one absolutely gorgeous video called "Motion."

I suppose "Things You Can Do If You're Bored" wasn't his intention when he put this together. But if watching it doesn't make you want to get out and do something (like right now!) I don't even know what to say to you.

Anyway, check it. The footage and the edit are fire and the music track by Kelpe drives it all perfectly. This kid is really really good. At 25, he's already shot for some of the biggest companies in the world. His work doesn't feel that way though which is about the highest compliment I can give.  

He's a good follow on Instagram too: here.

Island Silence

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Island Silence

I spent last week on Sanibel Island in Florida.

Although it was a full-on family vacation of the time-share variety, and Sanibel isn't necessarily the islandiest of islands, the rum mixed well with the ocean air and the wind laid down enough for a few fantastic trips onto the gulf for some fishing and diving. 

Finally! Fresh fodder for Bring Limes!

Except... 

Read More

Do you realize?

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Do You Realize is a pretty fantastic song by The Flaming Lips. If you're in a hurry, or if you're opposed to hippies singing in cemeteries, the video below probably isn't for you. But if you've got the time, this is quite gorgeous...

“Do you realize? That you have the most beautiful face
Do you realize? We’re floating in space,
Do you realize? That happiness makes you cry
Do you realize? That everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It’s hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn’t go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round”

Gravity, momentarily defied

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You ever balance a bunch of rocks? Me neither. It never even crossed my mind until this past weekend.

I've repaired cairns before, marking trails across slickrock. But that's more about stacking than balancing. There's an intended permanence to a cairn, and a clear utility. They're not art. 

(Which, as a side note, might be a good reason to ease back on stacking "cairns" by the thousands on every scenic overview. You don't need to plant your flag every time, Neil Armstrong! You're not the first brave soul to have ventured 75 yards from the parking area!) 

Balancing rocks though? This seems different. At least in part because you know it can't possibly last. Out of curiosity, I gave one a quicky try this past Saturday while wandering the shore. I have to say, even my hack-a-stack effort was crudely gratifying. But when someone knows what they're doing? It's art of the highest form, silent and spiritual and strong.

Over the years, I've seen some impossibly cantilevered towers and spires. They stand completely still, of course, but you can almost feel them vibrating with the impatient energy of the momentary. It's hard not to watch and wait for the inevitable: a return to earth of heavy things. 

Anyway, I think I discovered a new hobby perfectly suited for my strengths: An inordinate capacity for focusing intensely, but briefly, on fanciful endeavors. Coupled with access to rocks. 

Of course, with me it's amateur hour. Holy crap though, when done well? Check out Michael Grab in the video below. Check out his site too.  What he does is really something to behold.

Me and Pac and that guy from Loverboy

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So let's see here. It's Sunday morning. What should I write about?

Maybe something about the first day of Day Light Saving time? Or the freakishly warm weather? How about some thoughts on my country's vulgar decent into the meanest, basest aberrations of human instinct? 

No wait! Bandanas! 

 

I really like bandanas, you see. While I've never "collected" them, I realized the other day that I ended up with a stack of 'em anyway. Most of them I've acquired randomly over the years, going back to high school. Others have a very distinctly remembered provenance: the shop in Hillsborough, Carriacou, for example, stacked to the rafters with boxes of cheap electronics and sarongs... the lilt of the shopkeeper's voice as he took my $4 EC... the stiffness of the new brown fabric as I rolled it and tied it around my head... wearing it fishing the next day...

I've been tying on a lot of bandanas lately due to my burgeoning yoga habit. Per tradition, the yoga room is kept at a comfortable 247 degrees. Since I misplaced my prized 1977 Harlem Globetrotters headband, I've taken to the bandana instead. I tie it on every morning, nervously, like Christopher Walken in the russian roulette scene from The Deer Hunter. 

But there are lots of reasons for owning an unreasonable number of bandanas. A few for consideration:

  1. Looking awesome. Tupac and the dude from Loverboy can't be wrong! Axl is also a noted bandana enthusiast. But Axl can be wrong.
  2. Sun protection. Over the head, do-rag style. Over your face Buff/cowboy style. Or hanging out the back of a hat – all the protection of one of those sun-flap hats without the embarrassment of wearing one of those sun-flap hats.
  3. Bug protection. I'd much rather spray down a bandana with bug spray and tie it around my neck than spray down my neck. Especially if I'm going to be in a sleeping bag later.
  4. Water filter protection. A bandana won't make unsafe water safe. But it'll let you filter out the bigger crud before you run it through a proper filter.
  5. Tied to a cord with a rock inside, to throw the cord up over a limb (when hanging tarps, bear bags, convivial piñatas)
  6. As a makeshift tie down, strap, guy line.
  7. As a "container" when collecting berries and nuts (or whimsical pebbles and twigs for your new etsy craft shop). 
  8. For first aid: tourniquet, wound coverage, eyepatch, other gnarly shit.
  9. Tied to a stick to carry all your possessions when you finally say "screw this" and change your name to Utah Bindle Bill and live out the rest of your life happily riding the rails.

And don't worry, I didn't leave you hanging. I know you want some Loverboy right now. You can check out the video here. They did it with a silly skit in front. The cowbell (and the rawk!) kicks off at 2:22. 

5 reasons to give Matt Duncan a try

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If you think 70s AM radio was a golden era in music, as you should, then I bet you'll like Matt Duncan. 

Full disclosure: I just discovered him a few weeks ago while poking around on Spotify. So I can't proclaim any special insight here. There's not much of his background online, other than he's in New York (currently the bass player in Hedwig & the Angry Inch!). And I think he's originally from Kentucky. That's about what I know.

But dude, these songs!

I've had his awesomely titled 2013 album, Soft Times, on repeat since I first heard it. Why? Because the weather's turned nice. Because I've taken to cracking the windows on the Jeep. And because this is the easiest album to listen to that I've heard in a long while. 

I realize "easy" isn't usually considered a musical compliment. The cool kids like their music artsy, with bold undercurrents of fartsy. I get it. When it comes to music, I occasionally (and delusionally) fancy myself one of the cool kids. Fuck the cool kids. 

Sometimes you just want to hear something that makes you happy. Like right now? On this beautiful morning? I'm not looking for musical quadratics in 32/8 time. I just wanna smile and maybe clap my hands a little while I'm whipping up these pancakes.

His songs are as hooky as they come. Lots of keyboard and bubbling bass. Lots of gently wafting Chicago-ish horns and backing vocals. A touch of Steely Dan sheen. It's a 70s era sound for sure. (I swear I hear the ghost of Couldn't Get It Right in his song The Keys). Lyrically, he's in that same comfy pocket. 

But the familiarity? That's what I love about it most. There's familiarity in the sunrise too, but it's still freaking awesome every single time. Sometimes simple wins. As Matt says on Summer Song: "When days are long, you need a summer song."

You can check out Matt on Bandcamp (where's he's posting a new free song every month). 

Also: as a reader pointed out (holy hell, I've got a reader?), both Matt Duncan albums are available on vinyl from Soul Step. Ooh I bet they sound good on vinyl.

Here's a sampler set to get you started:



The opposite of beauty is indifference

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This couple collects beach trash and turns it into art. And they are awesome.

Richard and Judith Selby Lang live north of San Francisco. Since 1999, they've been walking the same 1000 yards of beach within the Point Reyes National Seashore, picking up plastic, then cleaning it, cataloging it, and turning it into art.

To be clear, they don't pick up ALL the plastic. Sadly, this would be an impossible task not only along the California coast, but along pretty much any coast anywhere. According to the video below, there are 46,000 visible pieces of plastic in every square mile of ocean around the world. Nonetheless, I pick up what I can. As Richard says "The opposite of beauty isn't ugly. The opposite of beauty is indifference." 

These guys, though, go a step further. Yes, they've brought back tons of plastic over the years. But they do so with a curatorial eye. Since they can't possibly get it all, they focus on getting what they need. Free art supplies!

I'm really inspired by this. Artistically and environmentally, yes. But I'm also inspired by them as a couple. They just seem to have it figured out. Happily working together every day, making beautiful things while on a treasure hunt that never ends. 

You can learn more about them and their work here. 

But watch this first:

The best road trip song ever? I'm pretty sure this is.

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Spring break is nigh(ish). It's almost time to hit the road.

If you prefer the overnight driving shift, like I do, the secret is the right playlist. One song to be sure to include is Windfall. It's the first track on Son Volt's 1995 album, Trace, and it's one of my all-time favorites.

A little bit of history in case you're not familiar with Son Volt...

Back in the late 80s and early 90s there was a mighty and fearsome band called Uncle Tupelo. They ruled from Belleville, Illinois and held dominion over all the alt country land. The band was led by the mostly brooding Jay Farrar and perkier (by comparison) Jeff Tweedy. Jay and Jeff were two extremely talented songwriters who eventually ended up hating each other's guts. This seems to be what extremely talented songwriters do. So Jay quit the band, took the drummer, and formed Son Volt. Tweedy took the rest of the band and formed Wilco. 

Back to Windfall. There are a number of road and river related songs on Trace (Tear Stained Eye is another one that's highly recommended.) But Windfall, in particular, has always killed me. I honestly believe it captures the experience of the open road better than any song I've ever heard.

I sang it to my son every night for the first three or four years of his life. On his fifth birthday I woke up, my truck was gone, and I haven't seen him since.

I included the lyrics below. 

“Now and then it keeps you running
Never seems to die
The trail’s spent with fear
Not enough living on the outside

Never seem to get far enough
Staying in between the lines
Hold on to what you can
Waiting for the end, not knowing when

May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away
Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel
May the wind take your troubles away

Trying to make it far enough
To the next time zone
Few and far between past the midnight hour
Never feel alone, you’re really not alone

Switching it over to A.M.
Searching for a truer sound
Can’t recall the call letters
Steel guitar and settle down

Catching an all night station
Somewhere in Louisiana
It sounds like 1963
But for now it sounds like heaven

May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away
Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel
May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away”

Dreams are needs

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What a great line that is: "Dreams are needs." It's the culmination of this video by Duct Tape Then Beer. As you may have noticed by now, I'm a huge sucker for "reminder videos." The ones that remind me to get out there and be the person I aspire to be. 

It's officially March. In 11 days, the clocks change. Now is the time for the planning of trips and the prepping of gear. Now is the time to get excited.

Start with this video right here. And if you're so inclined, I included links to a few more below.

The Art of Lunch Hour

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Lemme start by saying I don't draw.

While my travel journals include the occasional "illustration," I only do it so I look more artistic to others from afar. Up close, my "charmingly naive outsider depictions of everyday life" are quickly seen for what they are: "pretty shitty dude."

So as a rule, the only things I draw are the wrong conclusions. (Ba dum dum!)

But today at lunch I saw something on the information superhighway that caught my eye. A piece called "How To Draw A Wave." Holy moly!!!

Long story short, I spent 20 minutes eating a sandwich and drawing a horribly wonky wave. Clearly I wasn't the top student in my one man class.

But it got me thinking about what other stuff I could get done over a lunch hour. It turns out, lots!

Whatcha doing right now? I bet there's time for something extraneous.

10,000 hours? How about let's start with 10 and see how it goes.

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I thought this might pass as a yoga image. It's actually a picture I took in a bar during happy hour. But you probably suspected that.

I thought this might pass as a yoga image. It's actually a picture I took in a bar during happy hour. But you probably suspected that.

I recently began practicing yoga. 

I shit you not.

I've had several non-yoga types (aka my people) rave to me lately about yoga. About how I should try it. About how it stretches stuff you didn't know needed stretching. Fortuitous timing, I'll admit, since I've had this vague sense for a while now that some of my stuff could use a stretch.

For starters, there's a tightness in my hamstrings that's getting harder to ignore. A lack of snow this year put the brakes on snowboarding, which I deftly replaced with a winter’s worth of ale and atrophy. The ramifications of this decision are now conspiring against me.

But there's also this: I've noticed a tightness in my heartstrings too... a spiritual contraction... other soul-related metaphors. It's nothing catastrophic. Hell, it's not even mildly dramatic. It's just an odd little mood that's been catching me on occasion. I'm sure there's a clinical term for it. Maybe "Late Winter in the Midwest." 

Anyway, this is how I came to find myself lying on a rubber mat in a darkened room at 6 a.m. On my left, a tiny woman doing elegant upside-down yoga things with smooth arms and strong legs and healthy heart. And on my right, a younger guy with a thick beard who was easily three times her size. He was sweaty and wobbly and, I don't know, approximate in his moves. Smack in between 'em was me. Sweaty and wobbly and approximate too, with just an extra yoga class or two under my belt.

I don't know either one of them. In fact, I don't know anyone in the entire room. The only words I've spoken in my five or six yoga classes so far are my name when I sign in, and "thank you" when I'm done. Instead of making small talk, I prefer focusing 100% of my energy toward my yoga mantra: "Don't tip over... don't tip over... don't tip over..."

The silence suits me. As does the solitude. I've always gravitated toward solo pursuits: silent sports, corner stools, writing (the introvert's ultimate escape). Clearly I'm not what they call "a team player." To me there's just always been something wonderful about private victories. And something forgiving about private failures, if I'm being honest. 

So it could be very weird for me to be in a room full of people, sticking my ass in the air. Especially since almost everyone one in the room is better at sticking their ass in the air than I am.

But it's not weird. It's not weird at all. In fact, I'm thankful that they're with me. And I'm thankful that I'm with them. 

Yes, I'm as rickety as can be. And I'm probably the only one who thinks it's fun to imagine he's longboarding during the Warrior 2 pose. But I feel like I belong there. Quietly attempting something gangly and new. Stretching things I didn't know needed to be stretched. Surrounded by others who, at some point in their lives, decided to do the same.

It's a big ol' goofy world

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So here's something I didn't expect...

There are actually people in the world who are coming to Bring Limes. The list above is a look at the top 50 countries that have visited over the past 6 months. I know it can't all be my mom because she doesn't travel that much. And I know it can't all be spiders and bots because quite a few of them have actually written very nice notes.

All told, people have visited Bring Limes from 65 different countries so far (Venezuela comes in last with one visit). I'll be honest, I still have no idea what you guys are doing here. But I'm glad you're dropping by and I'm honored that you would take the time to even consider it.

Thank you so much.

More scribblings and whatnot to come soon. I promise.