American Trails Magazine #3_2018 (International edition)

On the road again!

WE’VE DONE A WHOLE LOT OF DRIVING FOR THIS ISSUE! VERMONT, YOSEMITE, HIGHWAY 49, ALL THE WAY TO CHICAGO! BUT WE’VE ALSO BEEN TO THE RODEO IN PENDLETON, OREGON, AND LEARNED ABOUT THE QUEER HISTORY OF THE NATIVES OF

UK £12. #3 | FALL 2018

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NORTH DAKOTA. ON TOP OF ALL THAT, WE TOOK A TRIP TO DENVER, COLORADO.

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IS PROUDLY SUPPORTED BY

YOUR ADVENTURE STARTS HERE YOSMEMITE.COM

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On the road again

T

here’s no better place for contemplation and reflection than behind the wheel. When your eyes are fixed on the horizon, it gives your thoughts time to be processed, questions a chance to be answered, and new ideas an opportunity to take shape. Last week, we traveled all over the lunar landscapes of Utah. We gazed at the stars while we strolled around, following the moon’s path across the pitch-black night sky. Big-eyed, sweating in the sizzling afternoon sun, up and down the terracotta mountains, and then back into the car, back behind the wheel, where we stared right into eternity, and soon fell into that liberating sense of immersion that a road trip is so good at producing.

In this, our fall issue, we take hold of the wheel and drive through some of the most magnificent states in the US. We also take a mental road trip through the majestic, musical world of Karen Dalton, in which our brilliant musical editor Donivan Berube serves as our guide. Dalton’s music also revolves around traveling, but it doesn’t deal with the euphoric sense of motion and curiosity that a road trip can give you. Rather, it brings to mind the melancholy, thoughtful contemplations of life that travel can also bring out, especially when you’re heading back home, or have already landed and your journey is over. You know you’re never going to be the same again, no matter how much or how little the trip has changed you. You’ve left something behind, and internalized new experiences.

In his article about Two Spirits, Martin Brusewitz tells us how the personal journey every human being makes through their life can give rise to new perspectives and new understandings of who we really are. In our world, differences are something beautiful, and everybody deserves to get to make their own journey, and arrive at whoever they truly are. This makes the world so much more beautiful; a more colorful and inviting place for you to explore on your travels.

We love euphoria as well as thoughtfulness, and melancholy as well as ecstasy, not to mention the personal growth that the journey itself engenders.

That’s why we can never stop.

Welcome! Jonas Henningsson and Jonas Larsson, founders and trail finders.

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Washington

CALM BY THE OCEAN, PAGE 20.

Oregon A REAL RODEO IN

PENDLETON - THE TRUE COWBOY EXPERIENCE! PAGE 92.

California

WE VISIT YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK, HIGHWAY 49, AND MARIPOSA. PAGE 20.

Peek-a-boo!

We’ve been traveling again.

After new twists and turns, countless hours of driving, a few seconds on horseback, and the odd stop for a bite and a beer, we’ve found a new batch of awesome places to mark up on our map of the US. Feel free to send us tips at info@amtrailsmag.com

Arizona

WE CHECK OUT SOME RUINS IN THE BLISTERING HEAT OF ARIZONA. PAGE 14.

Vermont

North Dakota

AUTUMN COLORS AND BEER IN THE EAST.

TWO SPIRITS. THE CENTURIES-OLD

PAGE 62.

QUEER HISTORY OF AMERICA. PAGE 54.

Illinois

A GUIDE TO THE WINDY CITY. PAGE 80.

New York

WE TAKE OUR TIME MACHINE TO THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEP. PAGE 44.

North Carolina BILTMORE ESTATE IS BY FAR THE

LARGEST SUMMER HOUSE IN THE US, A CASTLE IN THE HIPSTER CITY OF ASHEVILLE. PAGE 160.

Florida

BEACH LIFE IN THE SUNSHINE STATE. PAGE 16.

Colorado

RINO, THE VIBRANT RIVER NORTH DISTRICT OF DENVER OFFERS AN ABUNDANCE OF ART. PAGE 106

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a tribe called

Contributors

We have a nice team of contributors who deliver amazing work for us.

We are especially pleased that we had Bruno Ehrs on the trip, one of Sweden's most prestigious and most beautiful photographers.

Martin Brusewitz and Emil Wesolowski are based in New York and have a good eye for the odd things and what would we do without our proofreader and interpreter Lena Mäcs.

BRUNO EHRS, STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

The photographer Bruno Ehrs has traveled around and across the United States since the late 1970s. Lived next to Nathan's Hot Dogs on Coney Island. Almost seen Woody Allen at Broome Street Bar. And in admiration he studied Edward Weston's waves in Point Lobos.

See more of Bruno's photos: brunoehrs.com LENA MÄCS, INSJÖN, SWEDEN

Lena Mäcs is a designer and has worked as a freelance designer to a majority of well-known companies within fashion, textile and the jewelry industry. (presently she is broadening her knowledge on design ceramics).

She is also a fan of line dancing and considers that it is wrong that there is not enough cowboy fashion in circulation. She is also a proofreader, and ideologist for American Trails, and boasts that she is one of very few proofreaders who saw Carl Lewis with his upper body in reality.

MARTIN BRUSEWITZ, NEW YORK CITY, USA

Martin Brusewitz is a Swedish freelance journalist and (mostly analog) photographer based in uptown New York City (because of a mysterious textile designer he met at the MOMA five years ago) (he is now her husband and baby papa). Martin – who also has a degree in islamology and is an outstanding basketball player – writes mainly for Swedish newspapers and magazines on a wide array of topics. You can see his analog photos at @janne.lajon EMIL WESOLOWSKI, NEW YORK CITY, USA

Emil Wesolowski är en svensk ännu inte prisad fotograf baserad i New York City. Han arbetar med många av de största svenska magasinen och dagstidningarna och han jagar ständigt det där perfekta livet med baser på båda sidor Atlanten.

Se mer av Emils bilder: emilwesolowski.com

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Contents

5. THE ROAD ITSELF IS THE DESTINATION

92. THE WILD, WILD WEST

10. A TRIBE CALLED CONTRIBUTORS

106. MY NEIGHBOURHOOD

14. FAVORITES

112. WASHINGTON HEIGHTS

We grab the wheel and head off!

Pendleton Round Up.

A couple of New Yorkers and a handful of Stockholmers.

Carlo De Luca guides through his beloved RiNo in Denver.

Tag along to some of our favorite spots from all over the country.

Martin Brusewitz tells us about his neighbourhood, which is undergoing a transition.

20. YOSEMITE, INTO THE WILD

Get your hiking shoes on and follow us into the wild.

118. LOST TREASURES

Donivan Berube, our music editor, dusts of another forgotten American classic.

42. THE AMERICAN

Say hello to Daryl Chang.

122. PORTFOLIO

Bruno Ehrs shows us some of his favorite pictures from the US.

44. THE NIGHT TOOK ON A COLOR OF ITS OWN

Take a look at 42nd Street in 1979 through the lens of Langdon Clay.

140. HIGHWAY 49, THE MOTHERLODE

We set course for the Sierra Nevada and release the brakes.

54. TWO SPIRITS

People who defined themselves as neither man nor woman were not merely accepted, but highly respected among the native peoples of the US. What went wrong?

158. TO DIVE FOR

62. LOVE ON THE WINDING ROADS OF VERMONT

Usa:s största privatägda hus är mer ett palats.

This time, it’s the Julius bar in The Village, NYC that we can’t get enough of.

160. FULL HOUSE IN BILTMORE

Join us for a road trip seeped in romance.

80. CITY GUIDE CHICAGO

Our city guide to Chicago.

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American Trails EXPLORE WITH US

JONAS HENNINGSSON EDITOR IN CHIEF AND PUBLISHER HENNINGSSON@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

JONAS LARSSON CREATIVE DIRECTOR LARSSON@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

LINDA GREN PHOTO EDITOR GREN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

ANDERS BERGERSEN PHOTOGRAPHER BERGERSEN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

JOHAN LETH PROJECT MANAGER/EDITOR LETH@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

JAN SALOMONSSON TRANSLATOR JAN.SALOMONSSON@EXPRESSIVA.SE

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AMERICAN TRAILS MAGAZINE IS A QUARTERLY PUBLICATION OF PAPER HEART PUBLISHING, AND AN ONLINE COMMUNITY, WHICH FOCUSES ON PEOPLE, PLACES, AND PASSIONS. WE DISTRIBUTE THE SWEDISH EDITION IN THE NORDIC COUNTRIES, AND THE INTERNATIONAL EDITION IN GREAT BRITAIN, USA AND IRELAND. WE DO NOT ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE LOSS OF UNSOLICITED MATERIALS. PERMISSION IS GRANTED TO QUOTE AND PRAISE US AS LONG AS THE SOURCE IS IDENTIFIED. FOR PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF OUR PHOTOS OR STORIES, PLEASE CONTACT THE EDITORS. ISSN 2002-7842

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A very

hot story

WUPATKI NATIONAL MONUMENT, ARIZONA TEXT AND PHOTO: JONAS HENNINGSSON

The temperature has somehow climbed to over 120 degrees Fahrenheit when I arrive at this burning hot, and seemingly barren, plateau. Spanish colonists called the people who inhabited this land Sinagua (‘sin’ - without, ‘agua’ - water), because they seemed to live without any access to water. Unlike today, these northern regions of Arizona were the most inhabited at the time. The Pueblo settled here, and up by the Wupatki National Monument, which is a short drive north of Flagstaff, just West of the Little Colorado River and the Navajo Indian Reservation, you can see five ruins, built out of enormous concrete blocks made from the characteristic red sandstone of the region.

One of the larger villages was built after the Sunset Crater volcano erupted in 1085. The ashes spread across a huge area, and this eventually made the land more suitable for farming. Around the year 1100, the small settlements surrounding Wupatki were at the peak of their power.

Today, this magnificent site is a perfect day trip to make from Flagstaff. Don’t miss the Wukoki pueblo, which is a little further away than the others, as it is also the most dramatic and eye-catching.

Many believe that the Hopi and Navajo of today are the descendants of the original Sinagua population. Their ceremonies and rituals seem to have been passed down to them through the generations, and even their crafts, such as pottery and needlework, are deeply rooted in the past.

Not everything here is barren and dead; the nature in these parts is astonishing, with proud ponderosa pines and snow-covered peaks as the backdrop. But, if you come here in the summer, beware! It gets hot, hot, hot.

FOR MORE INFO VISIT: NPS.GOV/WUPA/INDEX.HTM

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The colorful  saviors MIAMI BEACH, FLORIDA TEXT AND PHOTO: JONAS HENNINGSSON

You can see them all the way from South Point Park to 85th Street: colorful and unique lifeguard towers, lined up all along the never-ending miles of beach. There are 29 of them. When hurricane Andrew ravaged Miami in 1995, many of the lifeguard towers were ruined, and the city quickly decided to make new ones. This time, they would be iconic, and unforgettable. These bright towers stand in stark relief against the golden sand and the velvety blue of the ocean. They tell the whole history of Miami through their optimistic, art dĂŠco architecture and their bright, tropical colors.

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A Monochrome Sculpture Park

RUBY BEACH, OLYMPIC PENINSULA, WASHINGTON TEXT AND PHOTO: JONAS LARSSON

There are no colors here, everything is in a monochrome palette. It’s not exactly raining, it’s more as though the rain and the fog where sharing a tender moment. Suddenly, a ray of sunlight shoots across the beach, and tens of thousands of pebbles sparkle like diamonds all along the waterfront. Ruby Beach on Olympic Peninsula is in the state of Washington, a few hours’ drive from Seattle. It’s like a natural sculpture park. Huge tree trunks and giant roots that have been tumbled around until they’ve turned soft and silver-gray constantly assemble into new formations on the beach. The soft sandstone cliffs that are slowly being eroded by the Pacific Ocean rise up out of the water like sea monsters.

This is a very quiet place – not a beach for sun-lovers, but more like a Zen temple, or a garden planted by the great spirit.

We stroll around in silence for a couple of hours. The light changes, and the landscape begins to shift, the tree trunks and cliffs serving up a continuous succession of new shapes for us to take in. It’s a magical place.

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YOSE It’s hard not to be dumbstruck by Yosemite, one of the most beautiful places in North America. However, there’s much more to the area than the national park. We go there to meet some people who have opted out of all the stress and found a home in the world. Now, they invite us to experience their own slices of paradise.

TEXT: JONAS LARSSON • PHOTO: ANDERS BERGERSEN

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W

e take an exit off of Interstate 5 and roll onto Highway 140. Sacramento, the state capital of California, is a couple of dull hours of highway away from here. But to our surprise, this turns out to be something entirely different.

The 140 winds its way between soft, green hills sprinkled with small, bent oak trees. The cows graze peacefully, and we’re as far away from long, lazy days on the surfer’s beaches by the coast as we could ever get.

– It feels more like we’re somewhere in the English countryside, says Anders, my travel companion and photographer, and curses under his breath about how we’re late for an appointment, as usual, and there’s no time to stop to take pictures.

But Anders is going to get plenty of great photo opportunities over the next few days, because the place we’re headed for is Yosemite National Park, a photographer’s paradise.

Yosemite was kept secret from the white man until somebody discovered gold in the Sierra Nevada in 1849, and thousands of fortune seekers began making their ways across the mountains to look for the precious metal. At the time, the Yosemite Valley was inhabited by the Miwok people, who had little or no contact with the outside world. In the mid-19th century, their relations with the prospectors began to sour, and violence soon erupted. The Mariposa battalion was sent out on a punitive expedition, and rode into Yosemite looking for natives to punish on 27 March 1851. Word soon spread of the wondrous valley they’d seen, and adventurous spirits began arriving in great numbers to explore the landscape. In fact, there were so many of them that on 30 June 1864, President Lincoln signed the Yosemite Grant Act,

which stated that the giant sequoias, a kind of redwood tree that grew in Yosemite and Mariposa Grove, were to be protected and preserved for the future.

Yosemite was awarded National Park status in 1890 thanks to the stubborn efforts of naturalist John Muir (1838–1914), a local legend who worked hard to protect the nature around the Sierra Nevada. Several years earlier, the National Park Service and the Park Rangers had begun working in the area, a topic we’ll be returning to later on.

John Muir, who was born in Dunbar, Scotland, was a glaciologist, a philosopher, and a naturalist. Because of his efforts to preserve the wilderness of America, he is often referred to as John of the Mountains, or the Father of the National Parks. His work is thought to have contributed hugely to the preservation of Yosemite and Sequoia National Park, as well as several other wilderness areas, especially along the west coast of the US. The John Muir Trail, which offers 211 miles of fantastic hiking, was named after him. Muir’s work has had an undeniable impact on how average Americans relate to nature, and countless people have documented the majestic wilderness based on his own point of view – perhaps most famously Ansel Adams, the photographer.

THE ART OF LANDING

Two monstrous dogs glare suspiciously at us from the flatbed of the pickup. Further away, two little girls are practicing throwing lassos at the strangest looking mechanical rodeo machine I’ve ever seen.

– Hi there! A rugged cowboy with a friendly demeanor comes walking towards us.

– Don’t pay any attention to Max and Henk, they may look big and bad and all, but they’re lapdogs really.

We do the opposite, and pay lots of attention to Max and Henk; they don’t smell too great, but scratching and 22

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Morgan says hello to Uncle Rusty.

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Yosemite Valley seen from Tunnel view. The two most famous peaks are visible: El Capitan is on the left, and Half Dome is in the background.

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Morgan and Sofia practicing lassoing.

Yosemite has hiking trails of all difficulty levels.

Bryan and Victoria have found paradise in Mariposa.

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The Imrie family runs the beautiful Yosemite Ziplines and Adventure Ranch.

petting them is incredibly satisfying, and they roll around happily in the shade of an oak tree.

Along with their two daughters Sofia and Morgan, Bryan and Victoria Imrie run the Mariposa Zipline and Adventure Ranch, which is located in the outskirts of the charming little town of Mariposa. The Imries are a cool crowd, and there is a friendly mood about the whole ranch, which is framed by gentle hills and oak woodlands. We’re going to go zip-lining here in a couple of days, but now, we’re here to take a look around and say hi to the animals.

– Great! You have a mule!

– Yeah, that’s Uncle Rusty. He was about to be sent to a slaughterhouse in Texas when Morgan, our youngest daughter, caught sight of him online and said: “I’m dreaming of riding him with you, dad, and going riding in the mountains, and fishing!” And well, that sealed it of course. Now, Rusty is king of his pasture, surrounded by lots of beautiful horse ladies, and loving every minute of it!

Bryan and Victoria mount up, while the girls and ourselves walk along next to them as they ride.

– We’ve had to work hard for this, but it’s all working really well now, Victoria informs us in her elegant British accent.

– How did you end up here, you’re from England aren’t you? I ask.

– Oh, you can tell? she says, with an ironic smile. Bryan and I went motorbiking here on one of our first holidays

together, and we fell in love with the area. I mean, just look around! she exclaims.

So, I look around, and I can see what she means immediately. As far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but lush, forested hills, with meadows and little farms in between. And in the other direction is the picturesque town of Mariposa.

Suddenly, the silence is broken by a heartrending noise.

– It’s Uncle Rusty, Sofia and Morgan tell me, he wants his girls back. He’s in love with mom’s horse, Baby Dragon.

– Baby Dragon? I ask.

– Yeah, that’s her name, but we call her “Spider horse.”

– OK, I see, I say, with a confused look on my face.

– I do a lot of trail riding with her, and even though she’s very small, she’s an amazing climber, and she really enjoys it. There aren’t many slopes she can’t make her way up – she can climb like a spider! Victoria explains.

This family is a good crowd, there’s no mistaking that.

They mainly employ people from the area; for example, their graphic designer is also their egg supplier.

– In a small place like this, people have to stick together, says Bryan. We love it here, and we think it’s a great place for our kids to grow up in.

I notice something interesting: in the hour or so that we’ve spent with the Imries, I’ve not seen either Sofia nor Morgan sitting around with their nose in a mobile phone – they seem almost unbelievably content! When Bryan tells us that Morgan’s greatest wish when she was 27

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Two guys who love their jobs. Scott Gediman and Shelton Johnson are Park Rangers in Yosemite National Park.

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Cedar Lodge is a classic American lodge that’s located close to the Yosemite National Park.

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Mariposa County Courthouse was built in 1854 and remains in use to this day.

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The water hurls itself down the 100 yards of Vernal Fall, and then disappears off into the valley where it puts the ‘mist’ in Mist trail.

Pete Donovan, sous chef at The Yosemite Bug.

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Mariposa is a cozy little town, and a great home base for expeditions into Yosemite.

Tom and Jeni Frost from Ionia Michigan, love hiking, and each other.

Yosemite National Park offers phenomenal views.

We dig the cool cowboy esthetics.

ver visited the park before, and he was very impressed.

There’s no mistaking how much Scott Gediman loves his job and his park – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who loves their job the way Scott does.

– The first time I saw a Park Ranger in his uniform and hat, that was it! I knew what I was going to be, no doubt about it! I did go to journalism school first, but I always wanted to be a Park Ranger in Yosemite!

– When you were a little kid, you were so impressed by all the rangers, and now that you’ve become one yourself.

So, is this job as good as you hoped?

– It really is. There are 417 national parks in the country, and Yosemite is one of the ones that attracts the most visitors. This means that every day, there are lots of issues to resolve, and lots of emails. If something happens here, it’s a matter of national concern, and that’s something you need to bear in mind when you’re giving an interview.

Some park rangers would never want to work here; they like the solitude and peace of the smaller parks, but for me, as I said, this is the best of both worlds.

Scott explains that there are three branches within the park rangers: Law Enforcement, who keep the peace among visitors, and act as police officers, firefighters, and security guards; Naturalists, who inform people about the park and its history, and organize walks and man the visitor centers; and then, there are the rangers who do everything from selling tickets to administrative tasks.

– Our uniforms are all a bit different, and the Law Enforcement Rangers are armed, but as far as I’m concerned, what makes a Park Ranger is the hat, the badge, and the love of the national parks and nature – those are the things we all have in common.

I’m very fortunate to be a park ranger, and I love it!

I’m talking from the heart here. Most of my friends make more money than I do, but I have a job that I love.

younger was to ride a yellow taxi cab, like one that she’d seen in a movie, I can almost feel my eyes tear up.

CATCHING THE YOSEMITE BUG

– You’ll be staying in that cabin over there. Doug will meet you in the restaurant in half an hour. The bearded (everybody here has a beard) dude behind the reception is a little stiff, but still a nice guy, and while the rest of the Yosemite Bug, which is where we’ll be staying for the next three days, is nice as well, it’s far from stiff. The Bug, as the resort is known, used to be a boy scout camp, but has been turned into a rather unique, slightly hippie-esque, awesome place.

Doug, the eccentric owner and founder of The Bug, has added his own distinctive touch to most things here. It turns out that the furniture in the cabin where we’re staying used to be his mother’s – it has lots of floral patterns.

The restaurant at The Bug is really good, almost surprisingly so. Doug explains that this was one of his unnegotiable demands, and we find out that the locals come here to eat, too, not just the visitors who are staying at the resort.

– Far out, man! Pete Donovan, sous chef at The Bug, appreciates my compliments regarding his cooking. Pete looks like he talks, lots of “rad” and “far out.” He came from Pennsylvania originally, but he moved out to California, where he’s living his dream: working at the Bug and hiking in nature in his spare time.

He’s one of many unusual characters we’ll be encountering during our days here. They all seem to have one thing in common: they’ve all escaped from major urban centers to get closer to nature and its healing powers. We don’t know it yet, but we’ll soon be meeting somebody who’s going to be able to put that sentiment into words, and explain why it’s so important to be a part of nature.

But for now, we down our last pilsners for the day, and chitchat with the other guests who are staying at The Bug. Tomorrow, we’re going to head into the actual park itself.

THE HEALING POWER OF NATURE AND BUFFALO SOLDIERS

We thank Scott for his time, and meet Park Ranger Shelton Johnson on the beautiful meadow at the bottom of the valley.

– My job is making the granite and the cultural history of the place come alive, Shelton tells us. The Ahwahnechee, a branch of the Miwok tribe, lived here in Yosemite for several generations before the European Americans ever came here. The Ahwahnechee called the valley “Awooni,” which means the gaping maw, and if you look at the rocks, it’s easy to imagine them as teeth in an enormous mouth.

In a way, Shelton is half Google, half Park Ranger, and he’s overflowing with knowledge that he simply has to let

GUARDIANS OF THE VALLEY

– I visited Yosemite with my family when I was a child, but I grew up in Los Angeles. Here, take a look at this photo. It’s me with a Park Ranger when I was about ten years old, and look here! This is myself and my kids, at the same age that I was in the first picture, in the exact same place. Scott Gediman, Public Affairs Officer, is showing us the pictures he keeps in his office. On the walls, we can see photos of Scott with lots of different celebrities.

– President Obama and The First Lady made a visit with their family, and I got to plan their vacation for them.

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MY JOB IS MAKING THE GRANITE AND THE CULTURAL HISTORY OF THE PLACE COME ALIVE, SHELTON TELLS US. THE AHWAHNECHEE, A BRANCH OF THE MIWOK TRIBE, LIVED HERE IN YOSEMITE FOR SEVERAL GENERATIONS BEFORE THE EUROPEAN AMERICANS EVER CAME HERE. THE AHWAHNECHEE CALLED THE VALLEY “AWOONI,” WHICH MEANS THE GAPING MAW, AND IF YOU LOOK AT THE ROCKS, IT’S EASY TO IMAGINE THEM AS TEETH IN AN ENORMOUS MOUTH.

out, although he does so in an unassuming, friendly way.

– How did you end up here?

– I was born in Detroit, but I’ve lived in London and in Austria in the past. My father was in the military, and that’s how I came to take an interest in military history, especially the Buffalo soldiers in the parks.

– Buffalo Soldiers? You’ll have to tell us more about that.

– If you get me started, I’ll never stop! You’ll run away from here, and I’ll run after you, and I’ll be talking the whole time!

– Well, I’m fast, so you’ll have to run pretty hard!

– Hey man, I grew up in Detroit, and if you’re a scrawny little guy in Detroit, you learn to run fast, believe me! Born to run, like Bruce Springsteen sang, ha-ha-ha …

The Buffalo Soldiers thing sounds exciting, so I ask Shelton to tell me more, and promise that I won’t try to leg it out of here.

– The army was segregated until 1948, and after the civil war, African-American battalions fought in the Indian wars of the mid-West. The Great Plains tribes, the Lakota, Dakota, Sioux, and so on, thought that the African-American soldiers’ dark skin and curly hair resembled the color and hair of the buffalo, and out of respect, they named them "Buffalo Soldiers".

– In those days, there was no National Park Service, so the army had to take on the duty of guarding the parks. This was considered a less prestigious posting, so guess who they gave it to? The African-Americans, of course. That caused some tensions – slavery had only been abolished 40 years ago, and Euro-Americans didn’t want to be told what to do or not do by African-American men. They probably had to apply a lot of psychology, and a lot patience.

– I try to teach this history, especially to the African-American population of the US; they’re under-represented in the National Parks, and it’s essential that every-

body, including the minorities, should feel that the National Parks belong to them, too. They often live in the major urban centers, and have very little contact with nature.

I think that a lot of the unhappiness people experience today is caused by their losing touch with nature. Just take the myth of Antheus: he was a wrestler who couldn’t be beaten as long as both his feet were planted on the ground. So, Hercules picked him up off the ground, and strangled him while he held him in the air. If you ask me, this serves to illustrate the way that the Industrial Revolution has distanced us from the Earth, and from the healing power of nature.

National Parks are the antidote to this. There ought to be a prescription for sending people to a National Park for a few days.

– I’m getting very inspired now, Shelton, I tell him, after having spent the last ten minutes listening silently.

– Of course, I work for the government!

WATERFALLS AND HIKING

We’ve spent longer than we planned with Scott and Sheldon, but that’s what happens when you meet interesting people. The sun starts getting low in the sky, and we speed off to Mist Trail, an easy hike that is one of the more beautiful trails in the area. We work our way up to an increasingly narrow valley, which we follow until we reach the foot of Vernal falls, which crash into the granite from a height of100 yards. We’re almost alone here, and seeing the water’s never-ending assault on the rock is quite illuminating. We’re thinking about what Shelton told us about the healing force of nature, and we suddenly understand what he meant. We don’t say much to each other on our way back down to Awooni, the gaping maw.

Maybe that’s because we’re hungry, or tired, or maybe it’s the pink sky, the mountains, and the moon that makes us feel so full of reverence.

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Henk being a good dog and sitting still on the back of the truck.

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The

Yosemite Bug

What happens when a former stockbroker gets tired of being a ski-bum in the Alps and returns to California?

He heads for the mountains and begins his life work of course.

Welcome to the most laidback resort in Sierra Nevada, The Bug!

W

e sit down at the June Bug Café to talk to the owner, Doug, the founder and prime mover of the resort he has named “The Bug”. Although Doug insists that he founded The Bug in order to get away from a stressful lifestyle, he seems a little agitated as he sinks into one of the comfortable couches in the café for our chat. But before long, he breaks out into a big, contagious smile.

– I was working as a stockbroker in the city, but I lost my job when the market took a dive, and so I began to work my way up in the hotel business. It was a fun life, but a hard one, and it took its toll in the end, leaving me with a bad case of burnout. The doctor told me to take three weeks’ vacation, so I quit and took off for the Alps, where I worked for room and board as a snowboarding instructor and in other jobs.

– I went up to Yosemite and asked them how you go about buying land inside the park, and they just laughed at me. But then, I found this place, which used to be a boy scout camp, and I also found an Irish business partner.

– Hey, would you like to start this with me, even though I have no idea what I’m doing? Maybe I wasn’t quite that forthcoming, but in any case, surprisingly, he decided to a accept my offer, and we got started.

– There was something here before I took over. Some people say there are angels in the trees, and others say there is a spiritual presence here. Doug laughs heartily and continues: – They’re right, there is a spirit here. I think it’s the sum of all those things. But it’s definitely the people who are drawn to this place who contribute to this spirit.

– I knew early on that I wouldn’t be working in the kitchen again, but I also realized that good food is an absolute must, so that’s something I’ve really gone for. I grew up in an Italian-American area in San Francisco, where food and produce were extremely important. I grow a lot of the vegetables we serve here myself in the summertime, and my kitchen staff is amazing.

– It takes time to establish yourself in a place like this, especially if you come from a big city like San Francisco.

At first, people were convinced that we were growing cannabis, and having parties in the nude every day, and they wouldn’t let high school kids work here in the summers, because they assumed that we’d be a bad influence on them. Some of my neighbors still think we’re nothing but a bunch of hippies out here, but they respect what we’re doing, and they come here for dinner all the time, so it got better as time went on.

– I’m a dreamer, a romantic, and an idiot, he continues.

I have, and have had, so many plans: I want to build treehouses, rope bridges, and more camp sites, but at some point, you have to slow down and just enjoy the moment.

Just getting to run a place like this, and see people enjoy themselves without always being on the way to somewhere else is a great feeling. That was one of the reasons why I founded this place; I love walking in the mountains, letting them rinse away all my stress and all my thoughts.

The Yosemite Bug is the perfect place to stay when you’re visiting Yosemite – it’s close to the park, and close to Mariposa, but most of all, it brings you closer to yourself.

Accommodations from$68 • Website: yosemitebug.com Instagram: yosemitebug • E-mail: bughost@yosemitebug.com

The restaurant at ”The Bug”.

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Doug the owner of The Yosemite Bug have really put a personal touch on the resort.

Anna and Daniel with their kids Astrid 5 and Elliot 6 years are visting from Sweden.

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You can stay in a lot of different kind of cabins at the Bug.

”YOU KNOW, MY EARS ARE RINGING! I NEVER HEAR THAT AT HOME!” TEXT: JONAS LARSSON • PHOTO: ANDERS BERGERSEN

T

he River Inn Grill in Guerneville, which used to be a sawmill town, looks exactly like a diner should. Booths and tables stocked with hot sauce, ketchup, salt, and pepper. The food they serve here is Mexican; a load of huevos rancheros land on my plate, and a Virgin Mary hits my hand. Across from me at the table is Daryl Chang, a handyman from the Bay Area.

– So, you work up here, and then you play with a blues band in San Francisco on the weekends? That sounds great!

– Yeah, it’s awesome! I’ve been playing all my life – we had a steady gig in Hawaii for a while when I was younger, that was pretty cool… Ha-ha!

– I’m thinking I’m going to build or buy myself a place up here and move in. It’s so quiet here – there’s always lots of background noise in San Francisco. When I was in the cabin with my friend a while back, I told him, “you know, my ears are ringing! I never hear – Hey Daryl, is it OK if we take a picture that at home!” Maybe that’s not such of you? I ask.

– Knock yourselves out, guys!

THE AMERICAN a wonderful thing, Daryl chuckles. But you get the point. I nod and shake my Daryl stays in an old friend’s cabin Daryl Chang head at the first musician I’ve ever met whenever he’s up here for work, but he who appreciates having tinnitus. was born and raised in San Francisco, RIVER INN GRILL – But it’s getting expensive here now. and still lives there to this day.

GUERNEVILLE After the fires last year, a lot of people – There’s a lot of work that needs doRUSSIAN RIVER VALLEY had to move, and a bunch of them deing up here now. When I was younger, CALIFORNIA cided to move to Guerneville, and so I used to hang out up here with my old WEDNESDAY 4 APRIL the prices have gone up. But then again, buddy from school, Bill Grimason – it’s 1:12 PM that means more work for me, and more actually his cabin I’m staying in. But money. back then, there was nothing up here – I noticed you were taking pictures of but summer homes and a small local poputhat old pickup outside – are you into cars? lation. Now that the whole Bay Area is becoming overpopulated, people have started to move, and some of them – Well, you could say that, I tell him. are converting their summer homes to all-year residences.

– I’m an old hotrodder! Check out my cars, Daryl tells So, there’s plenty for me to do – lots of work, basically. me, and whips out his mobile. There’s a VW beetle that I’m working on now, there’s my 1956 Ford pickup, and – So, is this where you usually go for lunch? there’s a Honda Goldwing, but I’ve taken off all the junk – No, this is a special occasion! he laughs. I’ve been living that they put on those bikes. on sandwiches and microwaved freezer meals lately, and – Sorry guys, but I’ve got to go now. Have a great day, today I told myself: Daryl, you need to go get yourself a and promise you’ll get in touch if you come through these proper meal! And here I am. parts again!

Daryl turns out to be a man of many talents. He’s also Daryl disappears in his beat-up old van, and we finish the bassist of the Walter Hand Blue Hand Band blues our huevos rancheros in silence, contemplating the wonband, where he plays with his old friend Bill, the guy who der of meeting people and hearing their stories over a cup owns the cabin. Daryl shows me a picture of himself and of watery coffee in a diner. the guys when they were about 16, playing in a garage, looking much like any other group of teens.

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Daryl Chang having lunch at the River Inn Grill in Guerneville.

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THE NIGHT BECAME ITS OWN COLOR 42ND STREET, 1979

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42nd Street in Manhattan was a completely different world in 1979 than it is today.

Mississippi-based photographer Langdon Clay followed the changes. We spoke to Langdon about his new book.

T

TEXT: JONAS HENNINGSSON PHOTO: LANGDON CLAY (FROM THE BOOK: 42ND STREET, 1979).

he Deuce, a TV series on HBO staring James Franco and Maggie Gyllenhaal! It is from this same period as the panorama in the late 70's and explores the beginnings of the porn industry. From “peep” shows on 42nd street and the Times Square area to the 70 billion industries it has become by sluicing through VHS tapes and DVDs on to the current internet phenomenon.

Langdon Clay tells us about the TV series that illuminates the same block he, himself did forty years ago. Now Clay is up to date with the 42nd Street 1979 photo-book, where he returns to the street as it appeared then.

It was an America in change that was reflected on 42nd street, between 7th and 8th Avenue. The hectic political era of the Vietnam War, Flower Power and a time when the winds of change, changed, it was replaced by a sense of apathy and hopelessness, reinforced by the aftermath of the oil crisis and the cold war.

-“America looked different in the 70's, but so did Stockholm I'm sure.

If you think about it, there are qualitative and quantitative differences. In a simple way you could think of the street signage as the difference be45

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tween home-made and corporate branding. If you look at the panoramas from 1979 and 2011 side by side the first has commissioned murals (Harlem), and Portraits of Women by artist Alex Katz on the 7th avenue side. The later version has the Regal cinema, BB King's blues club, Sketcher shoes, a giant television screen, and ads for television shows. They advertise much more about the greater corporate franchises and chains than what is happening commercially on that block.�

The stretch along 42nd street, in turn, had been transformed from the twinkle of the 1940s gold-shimmering cinema to late 70's shady porn theatre. From optimism and budding future faith to profound lethargy. Many

saw this as the final death toll for the area. Others saw the opportunity to turn this bright spot into a spot for tourists; the location was and is still central to NYC. In 1979, worn facades, waving blinking neon and a dystopian world were met by a disillusioned period of time. Now the most beautiful theatres attract tourists into a kind of Disney-esque reality.

-“The reason to concentrate on this part of the city was the fact that the newspapers were touting renovation on an almost daily basis. Not unlike Atget 75 years before me in Paris who was fending off Haussman's reworking of the city. I thought I was in a race to record what seemed past its prime (yet still endearing) before 46

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it was replaced with something brand spanking new and mostly molded from plastic. Basically what it has become- a movie set like Disney or Vegas. The terrible sad truth is that even in this, time will acquire its own patina of age and seedy charm.”

“In short the renovated Times Square area has become the world’s largest theater district. In the 70's it was run down movie houses that had formerly been grand movie palaces, mixed in with legitimate Broadway theaters.”

-“At that time one might take this life in his hands to wander down that street. Now women with babies in strollers feel comfortable walking to the bus station on 8th avenue as if they were browsing in a shopping mall.

There is not a pimp in sight but there are plenty of street vendors plying the tourist trade.”

What is your most enduring impression of this time, was it hard job?

– “In order to photograph this block I had to be on the South side of the street up about eight feet on a ladder so I could see over any cars that might block my view. That left me quite vulnerable up there trying to juggle film holders and light meters. On the street I always had some friend as a sort of bouncer to keep people from accidentally knocking my tri-pod during the minute it took to expose the film. One night a guy high- on who knows what, 47

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“In order to photograph this block I had to be on the South side of the street up about eight feet on a ladder so I could see over any cars that might block my view. That left me quite vulnerable up there trying to juggle film holders and light meters. On the street I always had some friend as a sort of bouncer to keep people from accidentally knocking my tri-pod during the minute it took to expose the film. One night a guy high- on who knows what, approached us asking if we were working for a television news station. He was looking for his 15 minutes of fame I guess. My friend Sam patiently explained that: “No, we're not actually working for television; we're working for the CIA testing a lens that is shooting through 42nd street to 43rd street.”

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approached us asking if we were working for a television news station. He was looking for his 15 minutes of fame I guess. My friend Sam patiently explained that: “No, we're not actually working for television; we're working for the CIA testing a lens that is shooting through 42nd street to 43rd street.” That shut him down pretty quickly. The funny thing is the street people were always curious because it must have looked odd, but not once in the three months on this project did a policeman ever ask what we was up to. Now there is an anti-terrorist squad in riot gear perched on every corner and you can't take photographs without first clearing it with the Mayor's office of film.”

The use of color is absolutely crucial to the feel of the book. A few years earlier, you had switched from black and white to color, tell me more!

– In 1974 something happened. Not just one thing, but an accumulation of things, Langdon Clay explains: “A halting in the brain and a nagging in the gut. I had by then moved up to an 8x10 inch view camera. I was still shooting in black and white but what I was photographing on the street were things that attracted me to their color. I was now seeing differently the way my world really looked. It seemed like it would be foolish not to, so I just switched one day to color film. It was a kind of an “I´m here” statement. Running in the other direction from the street photographer’s decisive moment. A big tri-pod, a Leica, a 40mm lens, kodachrome film and two years of simply wandering around. It was photography of the street itself. One car and one background, so simple.

Night became its own color.”

The Book: 42nd Street, 1979 available at Steidl Books and Amazon.com

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Two Spirits People who defined themselves as neither man nor woman were not merely accepted but highly respected among the native peoples of the US. What went wrong?

TEXT: MARTIN BRUSEWITZ PHOTO: MATTIAS LUNDBLAD

I

t was difficult for me to feel beautiful, because the whole world was treating me with disgust.

Being treated that way from early childhood makes it very difficult to think of yourself as unique and valuable, Jade Kalikolehuaokalani explains.

She has a narrow face, with black eyes, and her demeanor is slightly on the shy side. She speaks in a low voice, without any loud gestures. Jade Kalikolehuaokalani was born in Hawaii in 1990. She is half kānaka maoli, or native Hawaiian, and half Lakota, a North American native tribe belonging to the Sioux nation, who reside in North and South Dakota today.

When she was very young, Jade’s biological parents gave her up for adoption, and she still doesn’t quite know why 55

to this day. She was taken in by a white, Christian family in Hawaii when she was still just a little boy. However, she always felt like a girl on the inside.

– I had a difficult time growing up. It was difficult for my conservative parents, too. I was a little boy, but I behaved like a girl. It was confusing for them.

Some of her friends supported her, but her family and most of the people around her couldn’t accept her fluid gender identity. The family kept moving her from place to place, and she had to switch schools on multiple occasions.

Eventually, the family relocated to the mainland. She tells me that she suffered abuse of various kinds, but doesn’t go into detail on what happened.

– My own family tried to prevent me from being who I really was.

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The only choice I’VE MADE IS TO BE MYSELF. WE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO FEEL ASHAMED OF WHO WE ARE. NOT WHEN ALL WE WANT TO DO IS

laugh, love, and be ourselves

She always knew deep inside that what she felt was right, and that she had to be true to herself, no matter the cost. Any other path could only lead to destruction.

As she puts it, “the only choice I’ve made is to be myself.”

She began her transition in 2008.

– Lots of people got on my case about it and harassed me. It was a difficult time. But one day, when I was researching some stuff online, I came across the term “Two Spirit.” It changed my whole life.

or exclusively male or female. They settled on Two Spirit. Before the Europeans arrived, each tribe had its own terminology; the Lakota said “ojibwe,” the Navajo said “nádleehi,” and the Cheyenne used “hermaneh,” which is literally translated as “half man, half woman.” Among the Crow, men who lived as women were referred to as baté.

A famous baté was the renowned Crow warrior OshTisch, whose name means “finds them and kills them.”

She was born as a man and lived with a woman, but dressed in women’s clothes. When Osh-Tisch was interviewed by the soldier and anthropologist Hugh Scott in the 19th century, and he asked her “why do you wear women’s clothing?”, she simply answered: – That is my path.

Certain academics claim that the native cultures and their views on sexuality were much less free from hierarchy, abuses of power, and sexual abuse than many people would like to think today. For example, historian Richard Trexler has claimed that sexual violence was prevalent among many of the tribes. However, it’s difficult to determine what of all this is fact, and what is simply history as written by the invaders. Much of the knowledge of the Two Spirit tradition and the ways of life followed by the native peoples of North America has been lost to us, intentionally erased from human history by Europeans who feared the unknown.

– The European views on sexuality were based on pigeonholing people. Only two of these pigeonholes were considered acceptable – the rest were thought to be detestable. When the Europeans arrived, they immediately began to eradicate any acceptance of the Two Spirits, explains Tony Enos of The East Coast Two Spirit Society, an organization that supports Two Spirit kids by advocating for their rights and informing the general public.

FIVE GENDERS

Before the arrival of the Europeans, most of the peoples of North America acknowledged more than two gender identities, and the lines between them were not always clearly drawn. Many tribes had five gender identities, which can be broken down as male, female, male two spirit, female two spirit, and transsexual. In comparison to the European conceptions of gender, theirs were more related to a person’s role in society, and less to their body or sexual preference. Individuals who were something other than male or female, or a blend of the two, were not merely fully accepted; in many cases, they were highly esteemed.

– We had different roles, often unique ones, because we were the embodiment of both men and women. Because we possessed both male and female qualities, we were thought to be in closer contact with the spirit world, says Jade.

In many tribes, the Two Spirits held important positions as shamans, advisors, and warriors. They were often skilled craftspeople. They were thought to stand with one foot in the material world and one in the spirit world. The term “Two Spirit” is a modern invention. In 1990, 13 individuals met in Winnipeg, Canada, to choose a term for natives who don’t consider themselves heterosexual and/ 56

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Jade Kalikolehuaokalani

The term “Two Spirit” is a modern invention. In 1990, 13 individuals met in Winnipeg, Canada, to choose a term for natives who don’t consider themselves heterosexual and/or exclusively male or female. They settled on Two Spirit. Before the Europeans arrived, each tribe had its own terminology; the Lakota said “ojibwe,” the Navajo said “nádleehi,” and the Cheyenne used “hermaneh,” which is literally translated as “half man, half woman.” Among the Crow, men who lived as women were referred to as baté.

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A famous baté WAS THE RENOWNED CROW WARRIOR OSH-TISCH, WHOSE NAME MEANS “FINDS THEM AND KILLS THEM.” SHE WAS born as a man AND LIVED WITH A WOMAN, BUT dressed in women’s clothes. WHEN OSH-TISCH WAS INTERVIEWED BY THE SOLDIER AND ANTHROPOLOGIST HUGH SCOTT IN THE 19TH CENTURY, AND HE ASKED HER “WHY DO YOU WEAR WOMEN’S CLOTHING?”, SHE SIMPLY ANSWERED:

– That is my path.

The American researcher Walter L. Williams describes how Western anthropologists have always left out any descriptions of Two Spirits, even to this day, despite having visited societies where the practice was publicly observed.

When he asked them why, he tells us that they would often answer proudly: “That kind of thing is of no interest to me!” Fear of homosexuality and deviations from the expected gender roles took precedence over the ideals of science, he claims.

– Certain aspects of native culture and thought cannot be understood from the European point of view. There are some concepts that just don’t apply; it’s like trying to fit a square brick into a round hole, he says.

In her book “Men as women, women as men,” which discusses the Two Spirits, scholar Sabina Lang writes about how the European tradition of thought has “no place for the ambivalence of androgyny.” The arrival of Christian colonists to the North American continent would eventually bring about the end of this accepting view of alternative gender identities. Two Spirits were often among the first to be singled out for attack, whether it be physical assaults or oppression by means of laws, regulations, and religion. European values took over. The boarding schools that the children were forced to attend turned into a horrendous reality of abuses. There, native children were ruthlessly coerced into adapting to the European way of thinking.

– Our traditions were beaten and starved out of us at the boarding schools, Tony Enes explains.

In the reserves, the old ways were abandoned, and the acceptance of Two Spirits became a thing of the past. The most recent testimonies on record regarding the existence of Two Spirits are from the 1920s. The values that the Europeans brought with them when they crossed the Atlantic

still dominate the cultural landscape today. In the communities, in the churches, in the reserves.

–The European values and the religious brainwashing are the foundations of the present-day repression of the Two Spirits in the reserves. The repression was internalized, claims Tony Enes.

A NEW DAWN

In the last few decades, a struggle to return the Two Spirits to their previous standing in society has begun. Since that little conference in Canada in 1990, there has been continuous progress made until this day. Now, there are Two Spirit organizations in many places all over the US. For Jade, who felt the full weight of her solitary struggles with her identity, discovering the Two Spirits and her own people’s history provided her with a source of strength and a sense of belonging.

– J ust knowing that my Two Spirit ancestors fought so hard and carried themselves with such dignity and pride was a comfort to me; it gave me hope. They inspired me to follow in their footsteps, says Jade Kalikolehuaokalani.

The Christian mindset is dominant among many native families, she tells us. And while things have improved, there is a lot of work left to do. Hate crimes and high suicide rates are both sad realities.

– Many of us don’t make it. It’s tough out there. There are people who try to kill us. Many of us take their own lives, she says.

She sits in silence for a while. Then, she sighs, and looks up.

– The fact that we’re gathering, getting organized, and coming together – it’s a great thing! We need each other, we really do. We shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of who we are. Not when all we want to do is laugh, love, and be ourselves.

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Osh-Tisch 1854-1929

[CROW: “FINDS THEM AND KILLS THEM.”] Osh-Tisch was what the Crow referred to as a baté, an individual born as a male who lived as a woman among the tribe.

However, Osh-Tisch was married to a woman.

Osh-Tisch fought in the battle of Rosebud in 1876, where she and The Other Magpie, a woman of the tribe, rescued another Crow called Bull Snake. On a different occasion, Osh-Tisch killed a Lakota warrior, which was how she earned her name: Osh-Tisch – “finds them and kills them.”

Near the end of the 1890s, Osh-Tisch and a group of other baté were imprisoned by the US government, and forcibly given men’s haircuts. They were also forced to wear men’s clothing and perform manual labor like planting trees.

The Crow, who considered the baté an essential part of their culture, and who held them in high regard for their craftsmanship and cooking, were severely distressed, and claimed that this treatment of the baté was a violation of their tradition. Chief Pretty Eagle went to great lengths to get them freed, and to get the government representative to leave their land.

In an interview from 1982, Crow historian Joe Medicine Crow said “it was a tragedy that they were coerced to conform.”

Osh-Tisch was one of the last baté to live among the Crow, and the tradition was gradually abandoned during her lifetime, and was eventually replaced by Euro-American norms.

TEXT: JONAS LARSSON • SOURCE: MAKINGQUEERHISTORY.COM

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I’m going to tell you how I feel about you under the roof of the covered bridge.

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FALL IN LOVE WITH

VERMONT Vermont is one of the wildest and most beautiful of all the US states.

Each October, the greenery here explodes into an array of magical autumn colours for a few days. We went on a road trip through the Green Mountain State and fell for it like a ton of bricks.

TEXT AND PHOTO: JONAS HENNINGSSON

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Wine harvest time! Smiles all around, of course.

H

alfway across the bridge, under the domed roof, a couple is kissing each other tenderly, gently, slowly. Her head is weightless in his hands. The bridge hovers just as weightlessly over the Pemigewasset River, which is swirling around playfully underneath them. The river is in just as good a mood as we hikers are as it dances along across the stones. Days like this can turn even the most introverted and grouchy of cynics into a smiling ray of sunshine. I’m approaching the end of my journey through the White Mountain National Forest. I’ve mostly been following the Appalachian Trail, but I’ve made a few minor detours like this one along the way. The colors of autumn have erupted all around me during the hike, and today, the leaves seem to have decided to try to set a new world record for color saturation in the glaring sunshine. They’re glowing bright red, yellow, purple, and blood red. The covered bridge,

where the couple is still making out even after I've finished my drink break and checked my map, is one of more than 100 of its kind in Vermont. There’s no other state with so many bridges of this kind per square mile. They started building them in 1820, the first one was Pulp Mill Bridge, which crosses Otter Creek in Middlebury, about half an hour’s drive west of here, but most of them weren’t built until after the middle of the century. The bridges soon became popular spots for lovers, who were able to spend some time together there under the roof where nobody could see them. Well, almost nobody, anyway–I can see them, of course. Maybe he’s proposing to her, right here, at this very moment?

After the hike, I rinse down several days’ worth of trail dust at the One Love Brewery in Lincoln. A crisp Northern Lights Helles brings my vocal cords back to working order, and a Czech Your Head Pilsner chases the fatigue away. Lincoln, which is a sleepy little town, attracts hikers in the summer, and skiers in the winter. And of course, now, in the autumn time – wine lovers! By chance, I find 64

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The winding roads of Vermont.

The covered bridge, WHERE THE

myself at the White Mountain Crush Festival, in which the locals celebrate the wine harvest by crushing grapes under their feet the old-fashioned way, and then gathering to enjoy a long dinner on the terrace of the River Walk Resort at Loon Mountain. When we’re done, and have all made new friends for life, the view of the mountains is gone, and Lincoln is shrouded in the blackness of night.

The party carries on in the illuminated pool, under the stars.

The next morning, I rise at dawn at The Mountain Club on Loon, a mountainside hideaway with most appropriate pinewood interiors, which balances on the slope that leads down to the Pemigewasset River. I greet Cecilia at the breakfast service, who I met at the bar last night, and who is also traveling north through Vermont by car. Cecilia, who has driven here from Cape Cod, is going all the way to Canada, and so, she says goodbye and heads off before me. The air is clear, and a handful of downy clouds are dancing elegantly over Mount Osceola when I get into my car and drive north a short while later. I try some

COUPLE IS STILL MAKING OUT EVEN AFTER I'VE FINISHED

MY DRINK BREAK AND CHECKED MY MAP, IS ONE OF MORE THAN 100 OF ITS KIND in Vermont.

cheeses at Cabot Farmer’s Store in Waterbury; the state has 50 or so dairies that make miraculous cheeses out of the goat, sheep, and cow milk that is produced up here.

I sample rich moldy cheeses and sharp cheddars, and fill a basket with treasures that I simply have to bring along for the drive. Goat’s cheese from the Lazy Lady Farm, Cheddar from Grafton Village, and sheep’s cheese from Vermont Shepherd.

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A tap room where everyone is welcome.

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Stowe, perhaps the most beautiful town in all the United States.

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The hills are alive, with the Sound of Music.

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Rent an Airstream and head north!

in front of my eyes. I have to turn the music down (by now, I’ve switched to a station that’s playing the Puerto Rican rapper Residente, who proclaims his love alongside the French singer Stéphanie Sokolinski, or Soko, in “Desencuentro”). They might as well have been singing about Stowe, because Stowe leaves me speechless. I think to myself that “if this is what Vermont is like I never want to leave” as I park my car downtown and look out over the neighborhood. A chalky white church protrudes from a landscape painted in fiery shades (the colors of love, of course), and there are little houses inserted into the dense foliage with the mountains as backdrop and the eternal, pale blue sky as canvas. A small main street, lined with neat wood and stone houses. Close to my motel, I sneak into Doc Ponds, where I am greeted by a wall of vinyl records. The bar is long, and I find a spot and start sampling local brews. A fresh, citrusy pilsner from Von Trapp, a flowery pale ale from Alchemist, a Mosaic IPA from Lost Nation (which is a little way up the road from here, I know, but it’s still as close to

HIGHWAY 100

Highway 100 is one of Vermont’s Scenic Byways, and because it takes you straight to some amazing skiing locations, people often refer to it as Skier’s Highway. I turn the dial to a local station, and my mood becomes even lighter when I hear Whitney’s “No Woman” fill the car.

I drive past small farms, and a parade of pickups parked in front of flag-adorned porches. There seem to be eggs, vegetables, honey, or syrup for sale in every house. The houses are all neatly painted white, with horizontal panels.

There! An Airstream, polished to a gorgeous sheen by its proud owner. And over there, another white little church, pointing stalwartly at the steel-blue sky. On the meadow, highland cattle stare at me as I pass by – but what else do they have to do? I’m pretty much the only thing going on at the moment.

DOC POND AND THE “CHAOS POET” OF STOWE

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Hill Farmstead, the best brewery in the world.

Stowe

local as you can get). While I enjoy my cheddar burger, I think about Doc Pond. In 1876, the case of The State of Vermont v. One Keg of Lager Beer was put before the court. The issue under consideration was whether the beverage, which was thought to be very weak compared to other drinks, could potentially influence the people who drank it. Many of the witnesses for the defense were medical doctors, one of whom was E. A. Pond. He explained that lager, which only contains 4.6% alcohol, is cleansing, nutritional, and not intoxicating. He ended his statement by claiming that a man can drink 15–20 glasses of it without suffering any effects besides a slight drowsiness and, possibly, minor mental impairment. The body processes the beer before it intoxicates, Doc Pond stated. The keg was acquitted.

While I’ve been thinking, the seat next to me has acquired an occupant: Tom Murphy, a regular customer at this bar. Tom was born in Pottsville, Pennsylvania, but moved away early in life, leaving coal country for the fresh mountain air of Stowe.

IS AN ATHLETE’S

DREAM, WITH FOUR VERY DISTINCT SEASONS. THERE’S GREAT SKIING IN THE WINTERS, AND DURING THE OTHER SEASONS, YOU CAN SWIM, RUN, HIKE, CLIMB, and go mountain biking.

– When I was at college, I really wanted to be a ­ rofessional freestyle skier. The sport had just begun to p develop and grow, and I was doing really well with my aerials. I “moved to Stowe, Vermont” every winter break, and I thought I was going to stay here for good every time, but there wasn’t much work around, so I went back to school for three years before I finally did move here in 1974.

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Porch perfection!

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The Trapp lager is delicious!

Tom and Burr Morse at Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks.

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There’s great, FALL | 2018 intense cycling in Vermont.

Sarah Young at Hill Farmstead.

– We built ramps and soft landing spots by putting bales of hay under the snow, Tom recalls. That was as far as we went in terms of safety precautions. The next year, I began competing on the American Chevrolet Freestyle Skiing Tour, and I finished the first season in sixth place overall.

The year after that, when the tour began in Killington, Vermont, one of the top skiers landed very badly, and broke his back. That was all it took for me to reevaluate my decision and find something else to do. At that same time, I’d also begun to find a lot of success with my stage performances, so I ended up dropping out of the tour.

Before long, Tom realized that he wanted to work on stage instead. He founded two comedy troupes, Mountain Mime and Klown Shoes. For the last 30 years, he’s been one of the most respected slapstick performers in the country. He’s also a clown. His résumé reads like a long list of international tours and Broadway shows, and he was awarded the epithet the “chaos poet” by a German critic.

But the chaos poet prefers to stay right here in Stowe.

– Stowe is an athlete’s dream, with four very distinct seasons. There’s great skiing in the winters, and during the other seasons, you can swim, run, hike, climb, and go mountain biking. You can even go skydiving! Tom says and takes a sip of his Fiddlehead IPA. After a long chat (and more beers!), Tom asks me if I want to join him for a mountain bike ride early the next day.

soar through von Trapp’s replica of Austria, complete with wood alpine chalets and cows grazing in the hillsides, mooing happily at us as we pass by. For a moment, it even seems to me that they’re mooing in German, but I dismiss that thought immediately. The von Trapps may have succeeded completely in creating their own fantasy world, but surely, not even they could have achieved a transformation like that!

– This isn’t so much fun, let’s take the Stepping Stone” trail later, it’s a single track! Tom interrupts my thoughts, but I’m actually having a blast, and I make a point of taking in all the greenery while the biking is still easy. We roll down a slope through a chamber of leaves, where the ground is covered in them, some of them as big as human hands, and where the walls and ceiling are draped in gold.

After our bike ride, we wind down at von Trapp’s brew pub. Johannes Von Trapp couldn’t help noticing that the American beer revolution was very much focused on hoppy beers when it started out 20 years ago. But of course, he wanted to make the clean, crisp beer that you get in Austria. The brewery was ready to open in 2010.

For those who prefer to sip wine, they also offer wine on tap – green grape wine, Grüner Veltliner, and blue grape wine, Zweigelt.

THE FIRST SNOW OF THE SEASON

The next morning, a biting, cold wind greets me. The night seems to have convinced an unusual number of leaves to abandon their comfortable perches on the tree branches, because the car is absolutely covered in dinner plate-sized oak leaves when I walk out to stow my bags. But before I’m ready to go back on the road, I’ll be having breakfast at the Colonial Café.

When I get there, Joe is milling around in the kitchen as usual, and gives me a friendly greeting. He actually seems even friendlier than usual this morning. What’s up? I ask.

– The snow is coming, he smiles, and gazes out into the chill of the morning air. Joe is a snowboarder, and he simply can’t wait for the first snow to arrive. It’s mid-October now, and it should already be here.

– We usually walk up the slopes to catch the first snow, it’s so worth it, he beams, and pours me another cup of coffee. I notice that I’m starting to feel rather terrific myself – perhaps it’s the omelet and crispy fried potatoes that I’ve drenched in Sriracha Cha! sauce (on Joe’s recommendation; he insisted that it was the best table sauce ever made the first morning I came here). Or, maybe it’s the coming shift of the seasons. Being a Swede, I’m so

HELLO, AUSTRIA!

– Hey, you didn’t even need to ask! Of course, I’ll join you for a bike ride! I offer in the way of greeting when we meet at dawn of the next day. Tom smiles, loads our bikes onto his car, and drives up into the hills. We leave Vermont, and five minutes later, we’ve arrived in Austria. The houses look just like the ones you see in the alps, the landscape looks just like the mountainous country, and yes, even the cows look like they’ve been beamed over from Europe.

– This place reminded the von Trapps of their home to such an extent that they settled here in 1942, and they still live here to this day, Tom tells me as we unload our bikes at The Trapp Family Lodge. Naturally, most of the visitors who come here want to find out more about the von Trapp family’s escape from the Nazis in Austria. The movie _The Sound of Music_ is based on Maria von Trapp’s autobiography. She was the second wife of Johannes von Trapp, with whom she had three children ( Johannes had seven children with his first wife, and they all grew up here).

But the rest of us come here for the nature. There’s Nordic skiing in the wintertime and hiking in the summers. And, of course, MTB in the autumn, like now! We 74

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Everyday life in Vermont

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Tom Murphy, a great cyclist and a bona fide funnyman.

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used to these shifts that I find it hard to imagine living anywhere that doesn’t have such distinct differences between the various times of the year. Bring on the snow! we exclaim together. Joe lives close to the Canadian border, and he commutes down here, driving back and forth each day, and even finding time to go to his second job before returning home in the evenings. But when the weekend comes, he’s off work, and he has a date with his board, and that’s all there is to say about that.

you can watch the brewers at work through large windows while you sip your beer.

- You have to try our cheeses with the beer, tap room manager Sarah Young suggests. Soon, I’m sitting on the porch, gazing at the hills and squinting at the sun. Context is everything, and right here, right now, this platter of local cheeses and this drink from this very place taste better than anything I have ever tasted before. I load as many beers as I possibly can into my car before I head back out onto the road.

THE PILGRIM’S TRAIL

I leave Stowe and drive north, past gorgeous, little Morristown, before I take the turn to Wolcott. I decide to stretch my legs for a while before returning to the pilgrim’s trail, and a sign tells me that the church at the center of the village was built back in 1856.

At the end of the road, at the spot where you have no option but to conclude that you must have taken at least one wrong turn along the way, the GPS breaks down, and my mobile can’t catch a signal. That’s where Hill Farmstead, the world’s best brewery, is located. They’ve been a shoe-in for the #1 spot on the most important beer site, Rate Beer, for the last 5 years. On the large lawn in front of the building, there are dogs running around, and groups of people sitting in the sun, taking in the view while sipping a saison or an IPA, and watching the sunlight curl its fingers around the red and gold of the trees. Out in the parking lot, a food truck attracts a line of hungry customers. Most visitors have a long drive to get here, and another long drive to get back home. The trip to Hill Farmstead is a pilgrimage for beer geeks. The brewery’s beer can be hard to find, but here, of course, you can get several of them as fresh as can be, and many different languages can be heard spoken on the lawn outside the brewery.

Of course, mama Hill is there to receive all the visitors.

This place and this family mean everything to brew master Shaun Hill, and this is even made plain by the names of the brews: Abner, an Imperial Pale Ale (named after his paternal great grandfather), Anna, a Farmstead Ale (after his paternal grandmother’s aunt), Biere de Norma, a Biére de Mars (after his maternal grandmother), and so on. They are all named after relatives who left their marks on this place in the past, and who live on through it today. The ties to the past are engraved into the labels on the bottles.

The significance of the place is obvious even as you drive up here, and it doesn’t take long to realize that this beer could never have been brewed anywhere else. Tradition and home are beyond important – they’re essential! The tap room and the brewery are in the same building, and

MONTPELIER

Montpelier in Vermont is the smallest of all the US state capitals, but it also happens to be one of the most charming. The town, which has a pair of main streets both lined with grand, historical buildings, is home to somewhere around 8,000 inhabitants. European settlers arrived in the area in the 17th century, but no permanent settlements were built until 1787, when their construction was supervised by colonel Jacob Davis and general Parley Davis, who came up here from Massachusetts. They chose a location west of the northern branch of the Winooski river, which is where the town remains to this day, and where I sit down on a bench on Main Street on this sunny day in October, some 250 years later. Frank, who hangs out here every day, is probably not giving much thought to the town’s history; he seems to have things under control. So, what do you like best about this place? I ask him out loud, as though he’d been following along with my thoughts the whole time.

-Montpelier is just like it’s always been: there’s not much going on, and that’s good, and I like it, he responds laconically, and fixes his gaze on the street in front of us. Nope, there isn’t much going on here, and I like it too, even though I have to move on now. A few minutes later, I’ve wandered through the downtown area, along State Street and Main Street. The town’s Historic District has 450 well-preserved houses, each with their own particular piece of the town’s history. Vermont State House, Pavilion Building, a stretch of colorful stone buildings along Main Street.

IT'S A FAMILY AFFAIR

The road is calling me again, and soon, I’m driving straight through the downtown area of Montpelier. I raise my hand in a wave to Frank, who’s still sitting there on his bench, and continue north on Main Street until it turns into Country Road and the urban buildings give way to a rural landscape again. Soon, I spot the sign that points the way to the Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks.

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I’m going to meet with a family that knows all about maintaining a connection to your past. The Burr family has never let go of that connection. As I stroll across the courtyard, I’m in the physical presence of history, in the form of objects and things from times gone by. An 80-year-old tractor from the Wisconsin manufacturer Case is on display on a patch of grass. Burr Morse, the family’s patriarch, comes out to greet me. Burr is over the age of 70, but he remains as active as ever. While he’s showing us around the farm, his son Tom arrives to join us. Tom is the heir who will be carrying on the family tradition. We get to witness this continuity first-hand and see the past walk hand in hand with the present, and with the future. Burr tells me: – We’ve been harvesting maple syrup here for seven generations. My ancestor came here in the late 17th century, he came up from Massachusetts to settle in Cabot, which is just a little way from here. The family originally came from England, and they crossed the ocean in 1635, and then, 107 years later, they found this place. God knows what took them so long! But we’ve been sugaring ever since. My son Tom will be taking over when I’m gone, but then, there are bigger sugaring businesses now, of course, he says modestly, as though he doesn’t want to make too big a deal of his family’s efforts over the centuries.

– My mother’s roots go even deeper. She’s from south Vermont, and her ancestor is what you’d call a woodchuck, a native Vermoner.

The sugaring season lasts up to 5 or 6 weeks during the spring, and it’s a good thing that there aren’t many visitors to the area then.

– It’s a pretty busy time: you work hard, fix machines, toss wrenches, and use language you know you shouldn’t, Burr laughs, and it’s a bit of a relief that not too many come. But now, in the autumn, they’re delighted to receive visitors. When Burr was growing up, they still used buckets to collect the syrup, but today, it’s all plastic tubing. The winters are quieter now, but the lines from the trees stay up all year round, and they do require a certain amount of maintenance, of course.

And this year, we’ve felt the impact of climate change more than ever, Burr claims.

– The weather is playing tricks on us. Normally, we start sometime between the middle of March and the beginning of April, but last year, we had sap weather in mid-February, when many of us hadn’t even finished our work for the winter yet. In any case, Burr doesn’t follow any particular system for knowing when it’s time to start harvesting syrup. – I don’t go about it to scientifically,

– MY MOTHER’S ROOTS GO EVEN DEEPER. SHE’S FROM SOUTH VERMONT, AND HER ANCESTOR IS WHAT YOU’D CALL A WOODCHUCK, A NATIVE VERMONER.

and I don’t document what each year is like. All I do is look out the window and see how much water is flowing down the hillsides.

And it’s all about tradition and having done it before.

That way, you know when the time comes, Burr explains.

Analytic or not, scientific or not, Burr still proceeds to give a highly detailed analysis of the impact of new vacuum technology on their productivity over the last few years, and how the technology that they use is also intended to counteract the impact of climate change. Burr shows me trees that have been harvested for sap for more than a century.

THE BRIDGES OF VERMONT

A fierce rain breaks out just as I’m leaving the Morse family. The road gets so flooded that I can barely make out the yellow lines in the middle. The cows must have found their way to shelter in time, because the meadows are empty by the time I’m driving through the villages, and when the skies open up even more, there’s not a soul in sight.

The rain moves on as I approach Taftsville and drive down to the river Ottauquechee, where I park my car. The river flows on through east Vermont before joining the Connecticut River in Hartland, close to the border with New Hampshire. The village here has one of the most beautiful covered bridges I’ve seen during my travels in Vermont.

I stay for a long while at this bright red bridge, following the rushing rapids as they rush around blissfully, seemingly rejuvenated by the rain. No couples show up during the hour I spend here. I think to myself that I’m going to return here with my own love one day. I’m going to come back here, and stand here, under this roof, on this very bridge, with her. Her head will be weightless in my hands, and I will kiss her, and ask her to marry me. And she’ll say yes.

Visit americantrailsmag.com if you want to know more about Vermont.

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The smaller the road, the better the road trip; it’s an ancient truth!

Hot Dogs

In Chicago hot dogs are holy. The original should be in bread with sesame seeds, topped with mustard, onions, pickles, relish, tomatoes and a pinch of celery salt. And no ketchup, it is important to remember that so you do not mess it up.

Try Portillo's at 100 W Ontario Street.

Chicago A GUIDE TO OUR FAVORITE CITY

America's third largest city has everything needed to celebrate a long weekend. Trendy neighborhoods, some of the world's best museums, hot bars and great shopping. Only New York and San Francisco can come close in terms of innovative cuisine.

WORDS AND PHOTOS: JONAS HENNINGSSON AND JONAS LARSSON

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FOTO: JONAS LARSSON

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Wicker Park / Bucktown

Wicker Park and Bucktown must be at the top priority for anyone looking for vintage, antique stores, vinyl stores, bookstores and a lot of other things (Big B., Una Mae's are a few favorites). Renovation has come quite far here (some say too far), but for the visitor, the inevitable transformation means a superb range of shops, galleries, bars and restaurants.

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FOTO: JONAS LARSSON

The Art Institute of Chicago

Not only one of Chicago's best museums but also one of the best in America, a must. Not to mention the superb restaurants.

111 SOUTH MICHIGAN AVENUE. ARTIC.EDU

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Skyscrapers and architecture

Wow, this city has so many awesome skyscrapers and, you get mesmerizing views from the sky-decks! Take the elevator to the 95th floor of 360 Chicago (former John Hancock) or even higher to the 103nd floor of the Willis Tower (formerly Sears Tower.) Other fine buildings to be built include, Marshall Field and Company Building, Macy's, Adler Planetarium, Tribune Tower and Wrigley Building. Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio is a must for those interested in architecture. Wright lived and worked in Chicago but has travelled much more of the United States as well as inspiring many architects and designers.

FLWRIGHT.ORG

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FOTO: MHUGE GALDONES

Fat Rice

On the small trendy and deliciously sour barrel Fat Rice, you can choose from the Cantonese and Portuguese menu, fresh pickles like Lemongrass Carrot and Sour Chili Cabbage. The main course offers different deliciousness and well-spiced chicken and pork dishes (for around a hundredfold.) Portugese red wine made in National Touriga makes it very easy to wash the meal down. However, you cannot book a table. But they do have a small seating area in the back that offers gorgeous cocktails.

2957 W. DIVERSEY AVENUE. EATFATRICE.COM

Three Dots and a Dash

This little secret tikibar in downtown is our favorite.

The bar always ends up high on the list of the world's best cocktail bars. If you find the dark entrance on the back street you will enjoy the dark basement. Fantastic cocktails, imaginative desserts and a good atmosphere.

435 N CLARK. THREEDOTSCHICAGO.COM

RAINbO CLUB

This classic dive bar has been here since the time of Fred Flinta, almost. The club bit is a little exaggerated, but do you like bars where Charles Bukowski has or should have been drinking up, 86 yes, you've come right. Order a Boilermaker and be your own AMERICAN TRAILS 1 | 2017Bukowski for an afternoon.

1150 N DAMEN AVE.

FOTO: JONAS LARSSON

Billy Goats Tavern

The legendary masonry Chicago Tribune is above Billys, which boasts incredible sixties décor. They offer a good breakfast (you'll be full for a hundred) if you live downtown. Located a bit sheltered under the Mag Mile at the Chicago Tribune, but we love the urban toxic feeling the city gives here, half-dark under the roads. This is how a dive bar should look like.

430 N MICHIGAN AVE. BILLYGOATTAVERN.COM

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Ambassador Hotel

The legendary Ambassador Hotel has gone through a transformation. The hotel has managed to keep the old, beautiful and sophisticated feeling while taking a step into the present. Do not miss the historic Pump Room restaurant downstairs, where many celebritets have been seen over the years. A double room is app $300, but if you think it's too steep, you can just hang in the bar and soak up the atmosphere.

1301 N STATE ST. AMBASSADORCHICAGO.COMFLWRIGHT.OR

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Acme Hotel

Hip and trendy, just a few traits of the cool Acme Hotel. Perfectly located in River North, close to attractions and the Magnificent Mile, but not too close.

Don’t miss the cocktail bar The Broken Shaker in the neighbouring Freehand Hotel. Good breakfast. Double room from approx $100.

15 EAST OHIO ST. ACMEHOTELCOMPANY.COM

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La Colombe

Located just as you step off the blue line at Damen in the downtown area of Wicker park.

Cool place with cool people, ice coffee on tap! La Colombe is a great place to sit down and plan your visit to Wicker Park / Bellington.

LACOLOMBE.COM

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MORE CHICAGO read the whole guide at

AMERICANTRAILSMAG.COM

Playlist Chicago Our music editor donivan berube have picked out his favorite artists from the windy city Koko Taylor - Voodoo Woman Jamila Woods - HEAVN NoName - Reality Check Curtis Mayfield - Love To Keep You In My Mind Common - The Light Sam Cooke - Driftin' Blues Buddy Guy - One Room Country Shack Muddy Waters - Rollin' & Tumblin' Califone - Movie Music Kills A Kiss Andrew Bird - Measuring Cups more from chicago: choosechicago.com 91

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The Wild, Wild West Pendleton Round-Up

This small, east Oregon town gets busy each September, when the Pendleton Round-Up comes to town. It’s a great blend of serious competition, partying, and people just hanging out. Indians and cowboys come together for the biggest bash of the year.

TEXT: JONAS LARSSON PHOTO: ANDERS BERGERSEN

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Giddy-up! They don’t exactly ride dogies at the Pendleton Round-Up.

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Grown-ups and kids alike have style in droves. Having the right clothes and the right accessories really matters here.

W

e soon find out that they take the cowboy code rather seriously in the rodeo world. We’re fully kitted out, from top to toe: cowboy hats, long-sleeved cowboy shirts with the sleeves neatly buttoned up at the wrists, jeans, and cowboy boots – mine are two sizes too big, because they were the only ones I could find before I left to come here. I drag my feet over to the press area, where a mean-looking cowboy eyes me suspiciously, and then, on the stands, I get told off a couple of times for not knowing the rules about where to stand and where not to stand. It’s all a bit annoying, but being visitors, we take it on the chin, and boy does it prove to be worth it! Suddenly, the gates open, the crowd erupts into a thunderstorm of cheers, and a monstrous bull barges out. Trevor Brazil is tossed around on the beast’s back like a rag doll for a few seconds, before sailing through the air in an elegant arc and landing in a cloud of dust. The bull is lured away by two rodeo clowns who are dressed nothing like proper cowboys. What is this place? I think to myself.

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Well, I’m in east Oregon, in the small town of Pendleton, population 16,000 or so, which lies spread out over a beautiful valley, nested among a range of soft hills. The city comes alive in a big way every September, when the Pendleton Round-Up is held. Main Street is crawling with cowboys and cowgirls, and the native Americans are setting their teepees up behind the enormous rodeo stadium.

Rodeo is equal parts spectacle, sport, and subculture. The people who come to the Round-Up are drawn to it just as much by the lifestyle and the parties as they are by the actual rodeo itself. Everybody is in a great mood, and all the bars are packed.

NO COUNTRY FOR TENDERFOOTS

Inside the arena, the cowboys are being tossed through the air like confetti by bucking horses and bulls. Trevor Brazil, Chad Finley, Cody Teel, and Bryce Barrios (how about those names?) are some of the biggest stars. These aren’t exactly cappuccino-sipping hipsters from Södermalm. All I can taste myself is the dust that Mac Erickson of Sundance, Wyoming, showered me in when he streaked right past the press stands riding bareback on a horse. Rodeo time, baby! It’s a childhood dream come true, and not a

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The Umatilla, Walla Walla, and Cayuse tribes have all lived here for generations, living mainly on fish from the Columbia river.

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A beautiful image of mutual understanding and respect. It makes a great contrast with the polarized society we live in today.

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The rodeo has something to offer for the whole family.

Cowboy, bull, and clown, in that order.

PLÖTSLIGT SLÅS GRINDARNA UPP, JUBLET STIGER SOM EN ÅSKKNALL OCH UT FAR ETT MONSTER TILL TJUR, TREVOR BRAZIL FAR SOM EN VANTE PÅ RYGGEN AV BESTEN INNAN HAN EFTER ETT PAR SEKUNDER FLYGER I EN VACKER BÅGE OCH LANDAR I ETT DAMMOLN. moment too soon. And what a magical experience it is!

We make our way down to one of the pop-up bars that has opened up between the enclosures where the horses and gigantic bulls are milling about. Dakota Beck and his buddy Nick Gutzwier from Edwall, Washington are hanging out outside the bar with a beer and a smoke each, oozing sick amounts of cowboy cool. This is Nick’s fourth time here in four years, and he participated in the bareback ride today on a horse called Rye Whiskey.

– How’s it going? I ask.

– Not bad, Nick answers curtly. I try to squeeze him for some more information his day’s work, but he doesn’t seem to have much time for tenderfoots. Mac Erickson from Sundance, Wyoming, the guy who sprayed me with dust earlier, is a little easier to talk to, although he’s far from a chatterbox.

– What makes the Pendleton Round-Up so special?

I wonder.

– Well, there’s the prize money, of course. But it’s also one of the three major classic rodeos – if you win here, you’re really somebody. I only ride horses these days, I gave up bull riding a few years back. Bulls are cooler, but the biggest difference is that the bull will be coming after you after he throws you off, and that can get a little sticky. I totally get that, I think, and realize that the major hazard I face at work, the coffee at the office not always being too great, sounds rather insignificant in comparison.

AMERICAN INDIANS AND POW WOWS

If the cowboys are a bit suspicious of strangers, the Native Americans at the Round-Up, mainly members of the Umatilla and Walla Walla tribes who have both set up camp here, are a lot more approachable. This is a classic pow wow: a great party and a gathering of the tribes.

Doctor David Close, who’s wearing a spectacular feathered headdress, looks just like the native Americans I’ve 98

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Each year at the Pendleton Round-Up, the local tribes come together for a party, or pow wow, where they gather to show off their traditions.

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Bildtext They perform fascinating dances in their ceremonial outfits.

seen in the photographs taken by Edward Sheriff Curtis in the early 1900s, and I feel a little star struck when I politely ask him if we might take a picture.

– Of course! he answers, and begins to tell us about the clothes he’s wearing, which he’s designed and sown the greatest part of personally. David Close is a biology professor who specializes in fish habitats. He belongs to the small Cayuse tribe, who have always lived in these parts as neighbors of the Umatilla and the Walla Walla, making their living by hunting and fishing in the Columbia river. He tells us about the importance of tradition, and how the local native Americans have played a significant role at the Pendleton Round-Up ever since it first began over a century ago.

However hard I try to look beyond my childhood stereotypes of cowboys and Indians, it’s difficult at times.

I was always an Indian when we played as children, usually a Kiowa, like Silver Arrow from the Zilverpijl comics, and I feel a great deal of fascination and respect as we walk among the various members of the tribes and speak to them.

– We have fixed spots where we set up our teepees, and it’s all very organized. It’s important for us to get to show off our traditions, and it’s always a blast to meet friends and family here, David continues.

– You should go check the dance out! he suggests, and points to a spot some distance away, where we can hear rhythmic chanting and drums.

No sooner said than done, and then, we spend the next hour transfixed in front of native Americans in beautiful outfits who dance in front of us while the sun sets behind the teepees.

THE IMPORTANCE OF RESEARCH

– Are you from these parts? I ask the taxi driver.

– No, but I’ve lived here for more than ten years, he answers.

– Do you know any good restaurants?

– Well, there’s a Mexican joint over there that I like.

We decide that a good Mexican meal would hit the spot. Although our suspicions are awakened by the restaurant’s exterior, which looks frightfully dull, we’re slipping into hangry territory by now, and stuck in the outskirts of Pendleton to boot, so we really don’t have any other options.

The food isn’t any good; it’s actually close to inedible – and this from a journalist who’s eaten half a city map of Bologna without complaining. We briefly consider getting up and

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The bulls make sure to get some practice in between rides.

A handsome, well-matched couple.

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are little boys wherever you go.

Woah! Hold on to your hat!

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Richard at Stapleman's Custom Boot makes a damned fine pair of cowboy boots!

– Your hat is an unusual color, I announce.

– We’re supporting breast cancer research, Richard explains. This adds a whole layer to my respect for cowboys – great stuff !

Richard shows us around his store and the workshop where he demonstrates how cowboy boots are made, and how the various materials are used.

– This part on the heel is sharkskin, it’s the toughest material you’ll ever find, he tells us.

– Could you take a look at my pair? I ask him.

– Good boots! Handmade, ostrich skin… they look a little big, though?

We learn that it takes more than 10 days to make a pair of boots, and that on average, they cost 800 dollars a pair.

I’m tempted, but we don’t have the time. And besides, I’d have to come in and try them on while they were being made. But one day, I’m going to get myself a pair of genuine, handmade cowboy boots, made from ostrich and shark, and the right size.

walking out, but instead, we force the mushy food down and leave in a rather frustrated state. While we’re drowning our sorrows in bourbon at the Rainbow Café, we agree that research is a must if you want to get a good meal. Outside, a band is playing country music and some slightly less digestible country rock tunes while teenagers ride mechanical bulls, and we find our good moods slowly returning to us.

THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKIN’

The next day, we go shopping for cowboy boots; the town has a handful of great stores. Western Working Girls Gift & Antique Shop is an interesting vintage store, and before thinking better of it, I come very close to walking away with a tattered old bearskin. We drop into Hamley’s, the most famous store in town, where you can find anything a cowgirl or cowboy could ever need. Another place you shouldn’t miss is the city’s main source of pride: the Pendleton Woolen Mill & Retail Store. They’ve been making blankets and clothes out of wool for more than 150 years in Pendleton.

We head over to Stapleman’s Custom Boot, where Richard greets us in the pink ten-gallon hat that he’s decided to wear on this special day.

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Every night is a busy night at and in front of the Rainbow CafĂŠ.

You can buy all sorts of bizarre food items.

Nick Gutzwier is done competing for the day, and winds down with a cigarette.

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RiNo,

we have a CRUSH on you CRUSH stands for Creative Rituals Under Social Harmony.

Bringing people together around an enriching art experience will be at the heart of Crush Walls 2018 that takes place in September. Carlo De Luca is the director for Crush Walls.

TEXT: JONAS HENNINGSSON

W

ho are you? getting a coffee, to stopping by a microbrewery or local – Lover of art, known for spontaneously foodie hotspot, to visiting a gallery... you can feel the crebursting into song — and more imporative culture. tantly surrounded by an awesome team.

So why RiNo, why should visitors come here?

What makes RiNo unique?

– There’s a vision and spirit here that’s really inspiring; – I find that RiNo Art District is actually quite unique. an energy that fuels new ways of doing From its scale as an arts district to the things, I find. It does feel like people level of focus with which it brings toMY NEIGHBOURHOOD here are looking to break the mold, regether conditions that enable art and Carlo de Luca imagining, in a way, the responsibility culture to thrive. The district was foundthat comes with ownership. They put ed on the idea of setting new precedents RINO artists in the lead when it comes to for how places evolve. From what I’ve DENVER conversation surrounding the commuseen so far, they keep pushing boundRIVER NORTH DISTRICT nity and the evolving nature of the disaries on what is possible in terms of MAY 7 trict. Artists, creators and makers are a collaboration.

2.24 PM key part of the district’s growth — and RiNo is focused on securing a long-lastTell us about CRUSH? ing role for them.

– Crush Walls has left a lasting imprint – Being a district of artists and makers of many sorts, on RiNo, Denver and street art fans. This will be the 8th RiNo is also a place of discovery. Around a corner, down edition of the festival. And this year is going to be very an alley, over train tracks... you’re surrounded by creators exciting; everyone working on the festival is aiming to and small businesses. The mindset is palpable too. From raise the bar. We’ve got amazing artists from Denver and 106

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My name is (Carlo de) Luca.

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abroad that will be taking part. We're anxious to unveil the program.

– Crush Walls 2018 will be a week-long event this year: 7 days and 77 art happenings with artists. When you see art on the street, it’s really a sign of many more interesting creative things going on in a city or neighbourhood.

More than ever, we want Crush Walls to be a compelling reflection of the RiNo Art District’s vibrancy — it’s signature IS ‘Where Art is Made’ — also a reflection of the dynamism of the City of Denver.

– For the first time, Crush Walls festival will be connecting both East and West sides of RiNo. We’ll also be curating off-the-wall events with a host of experiences that offer the opportunity for everyone to experience the arts — whatever people's background or profile. We’re

SPEAKING OF Larimer och Brighton, THESE STREETS ARE TWO

BACKBONES OF THE DISTRICT THAT ARE WORTH EXPERIENCING. LARIMER IS WELL ESTABLISHED, WHILE BRIGHTON HAS JUST UNDERGONE A MAJOR REDEVELOPMENT.

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CARLO DE LUCAS HOT LIST FOR RiNo HELIKON repurposed warehouse comprised of galleries and artist studios and exhibition space 3675 Wynkoop St helikongallery.com RATIO BEERWORKS Great microbrewery in RiNo 2920 Larimer St ratiobeerworks.com BIGSBY’S FOLLY Urban Winery 3563 Wazee St bigsbysfolly.com BLACK BLACK COFFEE Super intense coffee 3459 Ringsby Ct Blackblackcoffee.com ZEPPELIN STATION Cool hub for chefs, merchants and creative companies 3501 Wazee St Suite #100 zeppelinstation.com CART-DRIVER Wood-fire pizza 2500 Larimer St #100 cart-driver.com ACORN Awesome food by chef Steven Redzikowski 3350 Brighton Blvd denveracorn.com LARIMER AND BRIGHTON These streets are two backbones of the district

also working with amazing partners like Denver’s MCA, Museum of Contemporary Arts.

Can you give us your top list for RiNo, your favorite places to go?

– I’m still in the process of discovering all the venues, and all types of venues here. I’m not kidding when I say there’s a lot going on in RiNo. One thing's for sure, there’s a definite art de vivre vibe.

Overview from what I’ve seen and experienced: I really appreciate the offer and experience at Helikon — a repurposed warehouse comprised of galleries and artist studios and exhibition space. RiNo has great microbreweries like Ratio Beerworks. Bigsby’s Folly is a great urban winery too. Black Black Coffee: they’re super intense about their 109

coffee, but their coffee is super intense as well! Black Black Coffee is itself located in a very cool place I enjoy: Zeppelin Station. It’s a new hub for chefs, merchants and creative companies adjacent to the new A-Line light rail station at 38th and Blake. Great vibe and industrial design set against RiNo’s industrial backdrop.

– Other foodie places I’ve enjoyed: Cart-Driver woodfire pizza restaurant on Larimer. Acorn on Brighton by chef Steven Redzikowski is awesome. Speaking of Larimer and Brighton, these streets are two backbones of the district that are worth experiencing. Larimer is well established, while Brighton has just undergone a major redevelopment and there’s exciting stuff set to unfold on this historical artery.

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WASHINGTON HEIGHTS

Street life in New York

Each sizzling day, people move their living rooms out onto the sidewalks in the heat. But how long will they keep doing that? Join Martin Brusewitz on a walk through his neighborhood, Washington Heights in north Manhattan. These city blocks are going through some major changes.

S

TEXT AND PHOTO: MARTIN BRUSEWITZ

ome people don’t have A/C’s. They run from the heat. In the afternoons, when the sun have been blasting all day and the humidity creeps up to damn near 100%, they spill out onto the sidewalk. Like condensation on the side of a cold beer.

Others just come out for the social life. To gossip, to laugh, to talk about life. Or maybe just to see. See the street, see the spray from opened firehydrants raining down on the asphalt, see the kids run their scooters up and down the block. See their neighbours they haven’t seen since… yesterday.

The houses up here, many of them, were built to house workers. To cram as many humans as doable in on as little space as possible. The houses are built close together. Tiny airshafts in between. No balconies, no gardens, no French windows. No place for a warm, sweaty individual seeking a shady space outdoors where they can await night to fall.

So people take to the streets! Well, not in that way… they just pick up their beach chair and go out.

Place it on the sidewalk. And sit down.

I live in Washington Heights. Northern Manhattan if you didn’t know. It’s big. Stretches from where Harlem ends on 155 street to where Inwood begins north of Dyckman street, from the Hudson river in the west to Harlem river in the east. 150,000 inhabitants. It’s known since the 70’s to be a Dominican area, Spanish is the main language. But other groups live here as well. Mexicans, Ecuadorians, African Americans, Jews, a handful of off broadway singers and dancers that want to stay close to the A, C and 1 train. There is still a community here. An old population. People that’s been here for decades. It’s one 110

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161 Street. Rocio has finished work at the hospital and walked down with a beer to watch the sunset.

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Delia and her dog hang out for a while to get some fresh air and meet the neighbors.

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Larry plays chess with his buddy on the street. “I am from Brooklyn but my wife grew up here.”

On 166 Street Elizabeth is sitting with Little Noa and her friends.

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Angel knocked his knee when he was playing with his mate.

of the few neighbourhoods on Manhattan where that is the case. It manifests itself in many different ways. One of those ways: BEACH CHAIRS.

In the warm summer months people make the sidewalk their living room. It’s every contemporary urban planners dream – public space as a meeting point, as something social, as a place where community is built, where the social fabric is strengthen. It’s a culture. The people here don’t see it that way of course, they don’t see it at all. For them it’s just a part of everyday life. Like going to the grocery store. I talked to a photographer and dog walker who lives across the street from me, been here all his life. “I never thought of it... I’ve seen these chairs all my life so I stopped noticing. It’s good that fresh eyes come in.”

He’s young. Because not long ago this beach chair culture wasn’t here. In the 80’s people people sat on their cars. And soon it will be gone.

CHANGE IS COMING TO THE HEIGHTS.

Gentrification has begun. A lot of people have already left. The Dominican community is shrinking.

There’s more white people by the minute. Rising rents and prices push people further and further north on Manhattan.

In a decade or two there will be no beach chairs on the streets of Washington Heights.

That’s why I’ve been biking around the area with an old Olympus 35mm film camera that a man called Blade gave to me a few years ago. Couple of rolls of film in my pocket. Shooting beach chairs, the people in them, chatting to my neighbours. It’s a portrait of a time and a space. Of a community and of a phenomenon. It’s a story about humans, about migration, about people of colour. It’s not about despair, not about poverty, not crime, not trouble – it’s about everyday life and how most of us in one way or another, with the small means and the little time we have at hand, try to give our life a little something extra.

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Victor has lived here for over 20 years and says that much has changed.

"Now it's quieter, before you had no chairs, you sat on cars and on the walls of Riverside Drive, it's crowded with people."

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FORGOTTEN CLASSICS

Karen Dalton

The Bitter the Blues the Better They Keep TEXT: DONIVAN BERUBE • PHOTO: LINDA GREN

In every issue, American Trails music editor Donivan Berube presents the story of an American album classic.

T

he best singer you’ve never heard of ” doesn’t quite paint the picture. Imagine if Billie Holiday came back from the dead to cover Neil Young’s Harvest from front to back. Imagine if Nick Drake’s Pink Moon was written by Nina Simone and recorded live at a Saturday night barnstormer. The late folk singer Karen Dalton only released two albums in her lifetime, but they’ve each gone on to become veritable lost classics in American roots music, quietly blazing her own trails between folk, blues, pop, and soul, while leaving behind a tragic legacy of love, loss, and resilience.

THE FOLK REVIVAL

Born in the summer of 1937 to a Cherokee mother in rural Oklahoma, Dalton married, divorced, and moved away to New York City before she’d even reached her twenties. She arrived on the scene in near perfect time, finding herself right in the middle of one of the most

revered movements in American music history, the 1960’s folk revival of Greenwich Village. Stunning her listeners and making friends fast, she quickly became Bob Dylan’s favorite singer and is rumoured to have inspired his Basement Tapes song with The Band, “Katie’s Been Gone,” which features lines like: “Katie's been gone and now her face is slowly fading from my mind.

She's gone to find some newer places, left the old life far behind.” It wasn’t until 1969 that Bob Dylan’s manager Albert Grossman was the one to set up her first proper recording session.

Before then, the only time she’d been captured on tape was either in private or in secret. Accompanying herself on the 12-string acoustic guitar and an extremely rare longneck banjo as pictured on the cover of her debut album It’s So Hard to Tell Who’s Going to Love You the Best, her sound is commanding, raw, and beautifully simplistic. Sparse instrumentation added by friends and studio session players only heighten the earthly atmosphere, through which Dalton guides the listener lovingly, mournfully, hand-in-hand.

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musical notations using Dalton’s old journals overflowing with lyrics.

A WAY BACK HOME

This is certainly traveling music, but not the kind that you hit the road with. It’s the kind you take to at the end of your trip, exhausted and searching for a way back LEAVING FOR THE COUNTRY home. And it’s not only the unrivaled, otherworldly tone While the common myth is that Dalton died of drug of her voice that makes this so. Dalton only picked the abuse while homeless on the streets of New York, her perfect songs to sing, and she delivered them with a masfriends would say that it was often her finding them in terful attention to detail. The lack of vocal production the street, trying to convince them to move up to the effects like reverb and echo country like she’d done. She THIS IS CERTAINLY traveling music, BUT mean that each and every makes a strong case for it in note is hung out to dry, left the closing track to 1971’s NOT THE KIND THAT YOU HIT THE ROAD entirely in the open. Her In My Own Time with the WITH. IT’S THE KIND YOU TAKE TO AT crippling shyness drenched lines: “Are you leaving for each pained line in a cav- THE END OF YOUR TRIP, EXHAUSTED AND the country? Do you feel like ernous sincerity, as in her something's not real? Let SEARCHING FOR a way back home. haunting rendition of the the spirit move you again. traditional folk song “KaYou say the city brings you tie Cruel,” singing: “When down.

I first came to town, they Leave the iron cloud called me the roving jewel. behind and feel the circus But now they’ve changed moving on.” She moved into their tune, they call me Katie Cruel.” Dalton’s blues are a friend’s trailer near the fabled town of Woodstock, New so present in her delivery that it’s as if her voice would York, at the end of a long dirt road, estranged from her break the heart of anyone who could bear to listen, and children and with nothing but her instruments to keep eventually the music would even break her own. her company. Eventually, she’d lose those too, and died of She’s so often referred to as a folk lover’s jazz singer, AIDS after a decade-long battle with the disease. or as “folk music’s answer to Billie Holiday,” but there’s Whether it was her devastating voice, her quiet demeannever even a hint that she’s commiting to either of those or, or her preference for recording covers as opposed to styles. The opening bars of “Something On Your Mind” original material, she was simply too rough around the edgsounds like a lost cut from Nirvana’s Unplugged. A es to find commercial success in the mainstream folk scene, chugging bass guitar growling with tube amp distortion which at the time was dominated by the angelic Joan Baez or clean-cut Peter, Paul & Mary. She wasn’t necessarily uncounts in the band, giving way to lightly brushed drums known in her own time, but inarguably vanished into cult and the classic country twang of slide guitars. Of course it’s her voice that always steals the show, with wailing status by the end of it, with even close friends and family lyrics like: “I’ve seen the writing on the wall. Who cannot seeing her for decades before her untimely passing. not maintain will always fall. Well you know, you can’t Posthumous releases of home recordings and reissues of her studio classics have continued to shine the light make it without ever even trying.” In an interview with Pitchfork, the Melbourne, Australia-based indie icon on Dalton long since her death, exposing her story to an Courtney Barnett describes that song in particular as a entirely new generation of songwriters and music lovers. heavy influence: “Every time you play her music, someFirst pressings of her aforementioned debut album are one goes: “Who’s this!?” No one else has a voice like her, incredibly rare to come by and cost several hundred dolcrackly, hoarse, so damaged and vulnerable. In a weird lars, a true gem that’s dug for only by the most devoted way, people are attracted to that part of a songwriter.” record collectors.

Pioneers of the mid-2000’s “freak folk revival like Jo“If I gave you time to change my mind,” she sang. “I’d anna Newsom and Devendra Banhart also site Dalton find a way to leave the past behindKnowing that you lied as an influence, while other still, like Sharon Van Etten straight-faced while I cried, still I look to find a reason to and Marissa Nadler, covered previously unheard Karen believe...” Not only was Dalton able to find peace in the Dalton originals on a 2015 tribute compilation entitled country, but that onesame spirit of peace and kindness Remembering Mountains, interpreting unpublished lives on in the hearts of her listeners.

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PORTFOLIO

BY PHOTOGRAPHER BRUNO EHRS

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Café Filter, Damen North/Milwaukee, Chicago.

It was in the late 70s.

I was a young photographer working for MĂĽnadsjournalen.

It was my first visit to New York.

The taxi cabs were yellow, the police were on horseback at Times Square,and there really was smoke billowing from the streets down by West Broadway.

Life simply couldn’t get any better.

Bruno Ehrs

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T

vällen är varm i Austin Texas där vi står längs South Congress Avenue, eller SoCo som man säger här. Bergersen, fotografen utsätter sig för dödsfara hela tiden, kryssandes mitt i gatan mellan hot rods, kustoms och underbara originalbilar. Men det går rätt långsamt, det är cruisingkväll och SoCo är kantat av människor på riktigt bra humör.

LEGENDS ON STAGE

CRUISING SOCO

SoCo igen. Rätt som det är hojtar John D’agostino till från Sweet Nadine, han och Mercury Charlie glider långsamt nerför gatan, ”Spring i förväg och ta en bild på oss när vi kommer glidandes”, hojtar han till Bergersen som sätter av i fyrsprång nedför gatan. Det blir många fina bilder och till slut är vi så fullmatade med intryck att vi bestämmer oss för att en mycket lång arbetsdag är över och vi sätter oss i baren på The Continental Club och beställer in varsin drink, sällan har det smakat så bra.

AT DAY AT THE MURPHO'S

I två dagar har vi glott oss skelögda på helt fantastiska åk på Lone Star Round-Up, hot rod och customfestivalen som funnits sedan 2002. Det är en gigantisk bilbonanza och vi har sett byggen som vi fått fullt haksläpp av. Vi har sett rockabillylegenden Wanda Jackson, hon måste vara över åttio men det svängde helt otroligt. Det är något väldigt folkligt över de här träffarna, barnen är med och ofta spelar ett band eller så är det någon annan underhållning. Det är lite svenskt föreningsliv över det hela. Trevligt.

Vi har hört oss för om bra bilbyggare och fått tipset om Murpho’s Rod and Customs. De ska vara ett ungt gäng med Murph själv som stamledare. Vi hittar hela gänget inklusive ett litet gäng pin-uptjejer bland bilarna. Murph och company ser stenhårda och coola ut, men visar sig vara ödmjuka på gränsen till blyga. Bilarna de bygger är dock inte de minsta blyga, det är både originalbilar som kaxiga hot rods på plats.

Vi kommer överens om att hälsa på uppe hos Murpho’s dagen efter och ger oss ut bland bilarna igen. Bergersen får gå för sig själv och ta bilder medan jag går runt och snackar med folk. Jag träffar bland annat Göran som bor i Kalifornien och tillverkar hårpomadan Cock Grease, cock som i tupp alltså. Jag köper en burk och bestämmer mig för att skaffa en oljigare look. Göran kör en vinröd Mercury som står utställd på showen, stil rakt igenom.

översättas

LEGENDS IN MOTION

Plötsligt kommer Bergersen småspringandes. – Vet du vem jag träffade? Han kom fram och frågade om jag var den norske fotografen! Ingen aning svarar jag och börjar undra om värmen gått hårt åt honom. –John D’agostino!

Han vill att vi ses på cruisingen i kväll och tar lite bilder på honom och Mercury Charlies bil Sweet Nadine! Jag lyckas lugna ner honom och han förklarar att John D’agostino och Mercury Charlie är legendariska bilbyggare. Jag inser att jag fortfarande har en del att plugga på när det kommer till amerikanska bilbyggare.

Efter en natt på legendariska Austin Motel på SoCo drar vi upp till Murpho’s verkstad. Vi möts av en jättelik skäggig dam målad på väggen till garaget. Murpho’s öppnade 2011 lagom till Lone Star Round-Ups 10 års jubileum.

Ambitionen är att skapa en mötesplats för människor med ett stort bilintresse. I anslutning till verkstaden finns en butik med kläder och accessoarer. Men även en lounge med biljardbord och bra häng.

Vi vill att Murphos ska vara en hub för bilälskare i Austin. Vi kör filmkvällar, band, barberque och annat skoj här i stort sett varje vecka säger Murph.

Han flyttade sin verksamhet till Austin efter 25 år i Kaliforniens customvärld. Och det märks att han och hans gäng trivs och att businessen går bra. Garaget är fullt av bilar i olika stadier av renovering. När vi är där hänger en Pontiac Trans Am cab från tidigt 70-tal i en av pelarlyftarna.

Den blir faktiskt bättre än när den var ny” säger Murph, vi sätter in moderna bromsar och annat som gör bilen bättre utan att det påverkar ursprungsdesignen, fortsätter han. Jag får ett galopperande ha-begär redan där. Ute på gården står ett 20 tal bilar och väntar på sin tur att lyftas upp ur glömskan.

Det här är en Dodge Custom Royal som vi precis renoverat för en tjej som fick ärva den efter sin pappa när hon tog studenten men nu hade den stått i över tio år och häckat så det var en del jobb men nu är den i strålande skick.

Liana, Murphs bättre hälft ansvarar för butiken och är stajlad i en skön 50-tals stil. I butiken står Murphs egen Mercury, en taksänkt skönhet. Vi kan inte hålla oss och kommer ut med varsin cool hatt det gäller passa på när man hittar något i storlek 60!

COMI'N BACK FOR THE BBQ

Vi lämnar Murphos motvilligt, de är ett skönt gäng som bygger fantastiska bilar. Vi bestämmer att vi ska tillbaka – snart , vi missade ju den legendarisak Murpho barber125

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The Standard, Hollywood, Los Angeles.

Battery Park, New York.

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Downtown Chicago.

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Andy Warhol, The Factory, New York.

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Aria Resort & Casino, Las Vegas.

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Santa Monica, Los Angeles.

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Golden Gate Bridge, San Fransisco.

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Fishermans Wharf, San Fransisco.

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Restaurant Hakkasan, Miami.

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The Raleigh Hotel, Miami.

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Musso & Frank Grill, Hollywood, Los Angeles.

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Santa Monica Beach, Los Angeles.

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Highway 49, The Mother Lode

The US offers an abundance of driving through vast, endless landscapes, and countless one-horse towns that make for great stops along the way. The old gold-digger’s route, Highway 49, which winds its way along the Sierra Nevadas of California, makes for an enchanted road trip. Whether you travel its full length or just a section of it, be prepared to encounter ghosts, prospectors, and Snake-Eyes Sam. TEXT: JONAS LARSSON • PHOTO: ANDERS BERGERSEN

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Highway 49 winds its leisurely way along the foot of the Sierra Nevada.

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Coulterville has that old west, small-town charm.

C

oulterville? OK, you can’t miss it!

Coulterville is actually even smaller than Mariposa, but if you just follow Highway 49, you’ll end up driving straight through town. It’s really no more than a long street, but all the same, it’s a nice place with an interesting history – make sure you don’t miss the museum! Keith Ericson, who’s manning the bar at a great little Mariposa watering hole called The Alley, explains.

It’s a winding road that’s perfect for driving, and maybe even better for roaring along on a motorcycle. A billowing landscape extends off in front of us, all green hills, grazing cows, and oak woodlands. Thousands of people made their way along this old gold rush road during the second half of the 19th century. They came looking for gold, or rather, for the dream of gold. In their wake, the people who probably made the most money off of the gold rush followed: bar owners, hoteliers, and traders of various kinds of goods. Before long, small communities began to

appear along the road. Many of them have retained their old west charm to this day. As we approach Coulterville, a hen runs across the road, we see the blue outline of the mountains in the distance, and the only street in town leads straight ahead, lined with old houses on both sides.

This is an authentic town from the old west at the foot of the Sierra Nevadas.

– No, this isn’t working! I was in here just yesterday, how can this be? Maybe it’ll work if you both look away? Helen Bauma, a fifth-generation resident of Coulterville, and a passionate volunteer worker at the museum, is fiddling with the lock. We obediently turn away, and Helen laughs.

– You actually did it, ha-ha-ha! Helen is a charming lady, but this century-old key is refusing to play along.

We leave the old drug store locked, and decide that the ghosts probably didn’t want us to see all the treasures inside. Maybe they want us to return here one day? As we’ll discover, the ghosts are involved in most of what goes on in Coulterville.

Marianne, Helen’s colleague, also has trouble opening the doors to the glorious Jefferson Hotel, but in the end, 142

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The Cakewalk Heirloom Baking Company & Micro Farm is one of the best coffee shops in Coulterville.

Helen Bauma doing her best to turn the key in the lock.

the ghosts decide to let us inside the old saloon after all. It’s like walking right into a western movie, and it’s most certainly spooky. The hotel burned down a couple of years ago, and now, it’s being slowly, painstakingly renovated. Thick cobwebs hang from horns of a deer’s head on the wall, and all the dividing walls on the upstairs floor are gone. It’s a fantastic place, and we really hope it can re-open soon; I want to stay here, and have a shot of whisky slid across the bar to me, just like in the movies. In the meantime, we quench our thirst at Snake Eyes Sam’s Old Johnny Haigh Saloon, which is just a little further up the street.

AS WE’RE ABOUT TO LEAVE, HE GRABS MY HAND FIRMLY, AND SAYS “YOU SHOULD

ALWAYS PART with a handshake and a

smile, AND PASS IT ON! IT’S GOING TO BE

A BETTER TOMORROW!”

the flames could never spread anywhere. This is the third saloon in this building, and with these walls, it’s not likely to be going anywhere.

As we’re about to leave, he grabs my hand firmly, and says “You should always part with a handshake and a smile, and pass it on! It’s going to be a better tomorrow!”

He fixes my confused blue eyes with a friendly, intense squint, but it feels good. The world would be a better place if there were more Snake Eyes Sams in it!

The gold rush of the mid-19th century has left plenty of traces behind. Coulterville is far from big, it would even

SNAKED-EYES SAM

Snaked-Eyes Sam, who is originally from Wyoming, came here for breakfast when he was visiting relatives in town a few years ago. But the ghosts reached out and grabbed hold of him, and he understood that he needed to live here. Today, he runs the saloon, and is one of the town’s more recognizable characters.

– Coulterville has burned down three times, but this building has such thick walls that even if it caught fire, 143

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The historic Jefferson Hotel burned down a few years ago, but is being painstakingly renovated. This is an exciting place to be.

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Snake Eyes Sam is a captivating storyteller.

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Coulterville is basically a single street, but what a street it is!

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Now, that’s a saloon!

The bar at the Jefferson Hotel.

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The saloon has a pretty long bar.

THE tolerant attitude LIVES ON TO

be fair to call it very small. But the families who live here are dedicated to it, and it seems that it’s always been that way. Many of the local families here go back several generations, and as Helen, at the museum, puts it, Coulterville has always been an oasis of tolerance. One of the town’s most prominent families in the 19th century was the Sun Sun Wo family, which had roots in China. Chinese were not generally held in high regards in those days, and they were often treated very badly. But here, the Sun Sun Wos found respect and success.

– The whole town ordered Chinese goods from them.

Unfortunately, there are none of their descendants living here today, but their family in California have sent us lots of pictures and artifacts.

This small museum is really good, with lots to see and a very educational guided tour. Since I am reasonably grown up, I’m easily fascinated by anything that’s old. Rifles, dolls of the Sun Sun Wo family in formal attire, models of buildings, and lots of other stuff.

The tolerant attitude lives on to this day. This rough little western town welcomed Dawn, who opened a coffee shop here, and her visiting gay friends with open arms.

THIS DAY. THIS ROUGH LITTLE

WESTERN TOWN WELCOMED DAWN, WHO OPENED A COFFEE SHOP HERE, AND HER VISITING

gay friends WITH OPEN ARMS.

– My friends were amazed at how friendly everyone was – you can’t always count on that in the country, she laughs over a cup of coffee when we visit her in her coffee shop. Good for you, Coulterville!

Dawn’s coffee shop serves contemporary, well-cooked food, and Cassandra, who works there, must be one of the nicest and happiest café workers in history.

In the days of the gold rush, this area really was the wild, wild, west. There was a lot of gold in circulation, and carrying gold in your pocket meant that you were 150

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Monty, who runs the John Muir Geoturism Center, knows everything there is to know about Muir.

Cassandra, who works for Dawn, has to be one of the friendliest café workers we’ve ever met. Keep it up, Cassandra!

Andy and Michelle moved here together, 151 and they love it! Their TRAILS Gold Country BistroAMERICAN is FALL | 2018 a popular local eatery.

Dawn, on the right, runs a small store and café with a long name: The Cakewalk Heirloom Baking Company & Micro Farm.

Red Barn House of Blues is an authentic roadhouse, and Cindy Napoli is its secondgeneration manager.

Incredible stuff! It doesn’t get any realer than this.

never really safe. In order to secure their gold shipments, they built tunnels under the town, which they used to transport the gold. The tunnels are still there, and there is a renovation planned to make them accessible to visitors who’ll be able to take guided tours. Andy and Michelle are involved in this work, but they also run a restaurant and keep tabs on all the ghosts of Coulterville.

– We were running a successful business in south California, but it was incredibly stressful, and we weren’t happy. So, we decided to leave all that and go panning for gold in Arizona. Once, when we were on vacation, we stopped here for a couple of days, and we felt so at home here that we decided to buy a house and open a bakery.

We ended up running both a bakery and a restaurant, the Gold Country Baking Co Restaurant. After the first day, we were already on a first-name basis with most of the town, and lots of people flocked here to help us out. This really is an incredible place to live. However, we also do some gold-mining, and show tourists around town. We offer ghost tours and town walks, Andy tells us. I think to myself that these are some busy ghosts.

I’ve not encountered many ghosts in my life, but Coulterville seems to be teeming with them. One ghost that

I would very much like to meet is that of John Muir, who passed through Coulterville on his trek from San Francisco to Yosemite, as the only road to Yosemite at the time went by here. Monty J Thornberg, who runs the John Muir Geoturism Center, is something of a Muir expert.

– The journey took him three months, and he stayed here for a few days, he explains. Monty a walking encyclopedia, and he shows us books and photographs documenting Muir and his work.

When we reluctantly roll away along Coulterville’s Main Street, Monty and Snake Eyes Sam are sitting in chairs outside Monty’s establishment, squinting in the sun, and it’s hard to tell if this is 2018 or 1918.

THE RED BARN ROADHOUSE

– Stop, stop, stop! There was no need for me to shout; the photographer had already seen the small red shack with the old plastic sign promising beer, wine, and groceries.

The Red Barn in Tuttletown is a proper road house, with every detail in place, just like the one in the first season of Twin Peaks. It’s absolutely spot on! No lover of Americana could ever resist it. We stop and open the door, and then quickly close it again. After almost tripping on a micro152

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Highway 49 is a motorcyclist’s dream, and a great road to cruise along by car. Imagine driving down it in a convertible Chevrolet Corvair!

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phone stand, some old plastic crates and a loudspeaker, I think to myself that this can’t be the right entrance.

However, I can’t find another way in, so I soon try it again.

I take a few careful steps, and then, I’m inside the little shack. There’s nobody else around apart from Cindy, who’s working the bar. Her eyes are kind, and she tells us that she inherited the Red Barn from her mother.

We order in some beers and sit down at the bar, but since it’s a warm day and nobody is using the pool table, we soon move on to the back garden.

– My mother ran this place for many years. I took off and did other stuff, but when mom got on in years, I came back to help, and now, I run the Red Barn myself.

Art, a dog who’s practically blind, and who seems to have lived here since the dawn of time, comes over to greet us.

– We have live music here a couple of times a week, and a karaoke night, which is always jam-packed, Cindy tells us.

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It’s only mid-day now, but there’s nothing I’d rather do than stick around until the karaoke begins. Imagine doing Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried,” or Doc Watson’s “Stream of Whiskey,” I think to myself. But we have to keep moving, and in any case, I doubt I could have done justice to either of them if we’d stayed in the Red Barn all day. We head back out onto Highway 49, and set our sights on another little western town: Murphys, and the Iron Stone vineyard.

– Somebody should make a horror movie about an evil GPS system that leads unsuspecting tourists astray, sending them straight into the clutches of a crazed killer at the end of a road just like this one, I say after our own GPS has directed us to what looks like a cow trail, but is apparently the best way to get to the Iron Stone vineyard. The photographer glares at me, locks the doors, and drives on warily.

Iron Stone is an enormous vineyard that’s owned and run by local hotshot and super entrepreneur John Kautz

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Soft hills, a Harley, a cool dude, and sunshine.

Priceless!

Murphy’s Hotel, a classic old weststyle hotel, is on Main Street.

along with his wife Gail. Our guide here is yet another of those interesting characters you keep bumping into when traveling around in the US. John Kautz’s own story is at least as interesting as the vineyard itself, and this only serves to make our visit doubly exciting. It’s easy to get the idea that Sonoma and Napa are the be-all and end-all of Californian wine, but there’s also a lot of wine being produced here, at the foot of the Sierra Nevadas, and good wine to boot! We sample a delicious portfolio of vintages.

After a few hours at Ironstone, we drive on into Murphys itself. We check in at Murphy’s Hotel by the midpoint of Main Street. It’s a classic old west-styled place, complete with a saloon with a long bar, which is where we’re inevitably going to end up later on this evening, but before that, we want to try out some of the many wine bars that the town has to offer. You see, however western Murphy may seem, the town isn’t full of bow-legged cowboys. On the contrary, most of the people you see are week-ending wine aficionados from the bay area, which makes for a refreshing contrast.

Murphys is just a notch bigger than Coulterville, but there’s still not much here apart from a Main street lined with charming old buildings. We sip our way down the

street; there really is an impressive number of wine bars here. We meet a cool crowd from Monterrey while enjoying a glass of Chardonnay.

— Well, don’t you look sharp! I tell them.

— Ha-ha, thanks! We often come to Murphy’s for long weekends – it’s just the right distance for a drive, and it’s such a charming place! And yeah, we do dress up. It is the weekend, after all! Ben tells us, and shows off the penny loafers that he’s pimped out himself.

URBAN COWBOYS

There are plenty of Bay Area folk around, and it’s really no surprise that Murphy’s should be crawling with coastal weekend revelers if you consider the fact that it’s only three hours away along the gorgeous Highway 49. We’re enjoying these old gold rush towns, and we’d love to keep going north along Highway 49, but we’ll have to leave that for another time. So instead, we retire to the long bar at Murphy’s hotel, to drink whiskey and pretend that we’re cowboys.

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The cowboys and prospectors of Murphys are long gone. These days, you’re more likely to strike gold by running a wine bar for visitors from The Bay Area.

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To Dive for JULIUS BAR, NEW YORK

TEXT: JONAS HENNINGSSON • PHOTO: LINDA GREN

There has been a bar in the house at Waverly Place, on the corner of Amos and Factory down in the Village, ever since 1864. During the prohibition era, Julius was a speakeasy, and gathered many jazz musicians and writers, counting Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote among its regulars. Starting in the 50s, gay people began to flock to Julius Bar, and the pub won its place in history in 1966, when activists organized a ‘sip in’ in the Village to protest the NYS Liquor Authority’s rules prohibiting bars and restaurants from serving homosexuals. The owner of Julius at the time objected, despite the bar’s history of serving open homosexuals, but after the media frenzy that followed, Julius made history, and the event ushered in a whole new bar culture in America.

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159 WEST 10TH STREET, WEST VILLAGE, NYC. JULIUSBARNYC.COM

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Full House at Biltmore ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA TEXT AND PHOTO: JONAS LARSSON

When George Vanderbilt visited the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina in 1888, he realized that this was where he wanted to build his summer home. In 1895, it was finished: 250 rooms and 165,000 square feet of French Renaissance-style château. It is the largest privately owned house in the US, and today, it is a museum run by the Vanderbilt family.

This jaw-dropping palace designed by Richard Morris Hunt, its gardens, and its vineyard are all open to visitors. Make sure to set aside plenty of time, though, as there are lots of incredibly interesting things to see. It makes a perfect change from hip Asheville.

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