Peculiar Suggestions

Peculiar travel suggestions are dance lessons from God.

The late Kurt Vonnegut wrote this in his novel Cat's Cradle. I woke up this Sunday morning and a strange feeling of adventure came over me. Perhaps my brain finally convinced my body that it was time to stop sitting in my lonely apartment, wondering what everyone else was doing on the other side of the world. I threw on my adventuring clothes, tossed my camera, journal, and Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain into my backpack, and I mounted my bike for a destination unknown. While I was riding through my town I remembered a spot where you can see nestled high in the mountains,
a cozy little building surrounded by dense vegetation.








Cozy little building













Photo of the building with no zoom





I wondered to myself how the hell I was to get up there? I rode around looking for a suitable route, and I found a hotel about 1/4 of the way to the top of the peak. I ditched the bike because it was getting much too steep, and I remembered I wasn't training for a mountain top finish in the Pyrénées for the Tour de France. I hid my bike in the bushes, knowing full and well that no one would want to find, let alone steal a jalopy like mine.

When I made it to the hotel, I couldn't find a direct way to get to the top, and I almost decided to call it quits and go get some lunch from a nearby curry place. I wandered around the back of the building, and there I saw, off in the distance, a rusted monorail track that went 45 degrees directly to the top of the peak. Next to the rail was a catwalk, which I'm assuming was for the maintenance workers back when this machine was semi-operational. I found the entrance to the ramp next to the monorail, but believe me, upon seeing the kind of condition the building was in, I immediately thought of R.L. Stine's classic, One Day at Horrorland. This ominous looking rollercoaster was certainly the inspiration behind the kind Mr. Stine uses in his masterpiece.














I also found a road that appeared to ascend to the top, but it looked very
lonely and ill-traveled, so I debated which decision would've been the wisest. I came to the conclusion that in the event that something terrible had happened had I chosen the Ramp of Doom, I would obviously choose to take the road less traveled if given a second chance. I am willing to sacrifice a few extra minutes of walking uphill in exchange for the risk of having the ramp give way, sending me on a fall into floral oblivion.








(No thank you)





I was correct in assuming that the road was lonely. It reminded me of a time when I was younger where my sisters and I drove across the Midwest. The only noise I heard was the teeth-grinding caw of nearby crows and a symphony of a thousand secadas. I stopped for a brief rest, and continued until I reached the summit.

What was at the top of this mountain you may ask? What once existed that was so important that a one-car railroad track was built in order to transport passengers up here? What was it that made me seriously debate whether or not I would risk life and limb just to find out what that little building I saw from far below was all about?









It was an old dinosaur kiddie park that looked like it had been shut down for decades. The building I could see from below looked like it was an old classroom or visitor center. I'll admit it was an anticlimatic conclusion, but the exercise and the breathtaking view made my trip worthwhile.
















Photo of Hagi




I stayed for a while, took some photos of my town, and tried to nap underneath a tree. The breeze was just strong enough to prevent me from slipping into the kind of sleep I was looking for, so I read a few pages in Magic Mountain, and started my descent. I chuckled on the way down when I thought about how I made a good decision not to take the ramp. I also thought about that Goosebumps book, and a strong sense of caution overcame me as I remembered how all the books have those dramatic, unforseen twist endings on the last page. No need to worry, I'm safe in my apartment writing this entry as we speak. I just hope those dinosaurs don't come to life tonight and haunt me because I was trespassing on sacred burial grounds.