Kokondo Training in Connecticut

After the Kokondo seminar in Wellesley, I had two weeks to kill in Connecticut. Now, put yourself in my shoes for a moment and assume that you have been in school for the past 24+ years. Assume that one day you are suddenly no longer in school, and you have all this free time with absolutely nothing to do, and you're in northern Connecticut for two weeks. What would you do? Maybe go hiking, or spend some time at the beach, perhaps?

For me, the answer looks something like this: wake up, work out, eat, read, sleep, read, eat, go to karate class, eat, read, sleep, repeat.

Fortunately, there are a ton of Kokondo dojo in the state of Connecticut, and my weekly schedule looked something like this:

• Monday, 6:30-8pm: Master Robert's Jukido class
• Tuesday, 4:30-5:30pm and 7-10pm: Master Betancourt's Jukido classes
• Wednesday, 6:30-8pm: Master Robert's Jukido class
• Thursday, 4:30-5:30pm: Master Betancourt's Jukido class
• Thursday, 7-8:30pm: Master Scanlon's karate class
• Friday, 6-10pm: Master Betancourt's Jukido class
• Sunday, 7-9pm: Mr. Dylag's karate class

In addition, I've been attempting to keep up on my kata, kihon, and nage waza. For kata, I venture out into the grass behind Master Betancourt's house, and try (unsuccessfully, I might add) to simultaneously work out and keep the gnats out of my nose, eyes, and ears. For those of you who are into math, Humidity + Bugs = Sucks.

In Master Betancourt's basement, I work on my karate kihon, and also use a rubber exercise band to work on my throws.

See that setup there, with the rubber band, and the metal pole? If you try a hip throw and you don't get enough pull, the band will snap you back and you'll slam into the pole. If you try a throw like harai goshi and the angle of your leg is off, your heel will crash into the pole. If you try morote seoinage and you drop your elbow, the band will slip off your arm and snap into your ribs.

For those of you who are wondering, the answer is yes. I am crazy and I have nothing better to do.

Kokondo International Seminar, Wellesley, MA

On July 16-18, I attended the yearly Kokondo International Seminar. This year it was at the Dana Hall School in Wellesley, MA. Dana Hall is a private all-girls' middle school and high school, with athletic facilities that rival most universities. This should be expected, because the yearly tuition is nearly $50,000. However, the dorm rooms were about what you would expect.

Yes, those are 6-foot beds. The seminar itself, however, was a great time. We worked hard, learned a lot, and had a great time hanging out with one another. During the second morning session of Kokondo Masters' Training (KMT), we all covered our rubber knives in washable paint and proceeded to cut the crap out of each other.

At the end of the seminar, I was promoted to sandan (3rd-degree black belt) in Jukido Jujitsu. While this is an incredible honor, it also means that it's time to start working even harder.

Broad Brook, CT

On July 11, I finally rolled into Broad Brook, Connecticut, the home of Joaquin Betancourt, who is hosting me until the end of the month. Broad Brook is a sleepy, former textile town in northern Connecticut.

I must say, that after spending each night in a different place for each of the past 10 days, it is nice to stay in one place for a little while. In addition, I can finally wash these shorts, which I wore for 10 days in a row (note that there was no reason for me to do this, but I did anyway).

I am also developing a relationship with Joaquin's cat, Tess. Here's how it works: Tess meows at me that it's time to eat, and I pet her, and she meows some more, and eventually Joaquin feeds her.

Ah, the life of a cat.

Diablo's Tombstone Campground, NY

On July 10, I made it to the Catskill Mountains in eastern New York, and camped at a place called Diablo's Tombstone. That's a pretty awesome name, eh? I checked in at the campground office, and the park ranger reminded me just a little too much of Jame Gumb. He turned out to be a fairly nice guy, if a little quiet.

This part of New York was extremely wooded, and incredibly humid.

After settling in, I hiked a trail up to a lookout area. The trail was one of those where the rangers must have said, "Screw it, let's just build this thing straight up the hill, switchbacks be damned."

After hiking straight up the hill for an hour, I was covered with sweat and flies. Have I mentioned how much I love humidity? However, the view at the top was magnificent.

After getting back down, I noticed a guy checking out my campsite. His name was Charlie, from New York City, and he wanted to know if I wanted to eat dinner with him. I declined because I was a bit tired, but we talked a bit about camping and getting out of the hustle and the bustle and all that.

The next morning, my neighbors in the campground offered to share breakfast with me. Apparently I must look hungry to these people. This time I agreed, and they made me some coffee, eggs, toast, and bacon. We talked for a while about camping, and jobs, and my trip, and their nephew who plays in a band called Envy on the Coast. After 10 days of near isolation on the road, it was nice to engage in some extended social contact.

Watkins Glen State Park, NY

On July 9, I drove through the state of Pennsylvania (screw you, Pennsylvania!) and made it to Watkins Glen State Park, in the finger lakes region of western New York. It was a pretty nice-looking park.

Unbeknownst to me when I checked in, my campsite was a mere 20 yards from a large playground, and I enjoyed my dinner to the sound of 50 screaming kids. After dinner, I found a quiet field to practice some kata and imagine beating up hordes of obnoxious children.

Findlay State Park, OH

On July 8, I drove to Findlay State Park, just a little southwest of Cleveland. It was a decent place, about 20 minutes south of the freeway. On the way, I passed through the town of Oberlin, home of Oberlin College. This detail is entirely unremarkable except for the fact that I vaguely recall receiving one of their brochures when I was a senior in high school. I know you are all incredibly uninterested in that fact, so let's move on.

Findlay State Park was a decent place, with lots of tall trees.

My stay was fairly uneventful, until I was attempting to go to sleep and was surprised to suddenly hear a horrendously vicious snarling sound right outside my tent. Then I heard a kid yell, "That's a raccoon! Let's get the fuck out of here!" Next I heard the sound of two kids on bicycles getting the fuck out of there, and the raccoon calmed down.

Joliet, IL

On July 7, I drove entirely through the state of Wisconsin without stopping (screw you, Wisconsin!), and didn't stop until I reached Joliet, IL. Like the wussy city boy that I am, I broke down and checked into a hotel room for the night.

All the character-building I had done the previous few days was immediately wiped out by the presence of a comfy bed, a hot shower, and wireless internet. Sweet, sweet wireless internet, how I missed thee.

After eating dried fruits, nuts, and tuna fish for 3 days, I decided to fill my belly with crap from the local Arby's, gastrointestinal health be damned.

Myre-Big Island State Park, MN

On July 6, I drove to Myre-Big Island State Park in south central Minnesota. On the way, I stopped off at the Sioux Falls YMCA to work out, and learned that the lady behind the counter used to live in Mesa, AZ. The Arizona connection strikes again!

Upon arriving at the state park, the park ranger told me that the mosquitoes were out in full force and were extremely aggressive, and she recommended a campground relatively far from the water. Joy.

There weren't nearly as many mosquitoes as at Crater Lake, but they were indeed aggressive. So, I smothered myself in bug spray, and did what any sane person in a Midwest, mosquito-infested campground would do: weapons kata.

After finishing, and failing to impale a single bug on the end of my sai, I went for a walk, and discovered the source of my troubles -- lots and lots of standing water.

During my walk, I attempted to hike down to a little peninsula on the lake. Unfortunately, I was swarmed by a horde of flies, and I had to run, screaming and flailing, back to the relative safety of higher ground. One day, if the insects of the world all decide to band together and wage war on the humans, we're screwed.

Lake Vermillion State Rec Area, SD

On July 5th, I drove to Lake Vermillion State Recreational Area, just a bit west of Sioux Falls, SD. It was a nice area, with grassy campgrounds, and a pretty lake, and showers (NOTE: whoever decided to put showers in a campground was an absolute genius).

The place was out of tent sites, so I paid a bit extra for an electric site.

When I got there I did some kata, did some reading, and went to bed.

Oh yeah, during my drive, I passed through De Smit, SD. Apparently, this town is the hometown of Laura Engalls Wilder, for those who are into Little House on the Prairie.

Mount Rushmore, SD

On the 4th of July, I camped at Legion Lake campground in Custer State Park, SD, just a few miles away from Mount Rushmore. On the way, I passed through Belle Fourche, which is the town nearest to the geographical center of the US. Here's a monument to that fact:

And just how, you ask, is the geographical center of the United States in western South Dakota? The center of the US used to be in Kansas, but it moved to South Dakota when Alaska and Hawaii became states (ha ha, sucks to be you, Kansas!).

On my way, I also passed through Deadwood, which was the subject of a fairly cool HBO series, but today is a disappointingly touristy place. Here's a photo:

That's the Hampton Inn there.

Eventually, I reached Legion Lake Campground, in Custer State Park and just a few miles from Mount Rushmore. The campground was full of people, but the lake was beautiful.

Now, for those of you who are all jealous and think this trip is so awesome, check out what I had for dinner on the date of our glorious nation's inception:

Anyway, on the evening of the 4th I drove up to Mount Rushmore. The road there was exhilarating -- no shoulder, winding left and right, up and down, one-lane tunnels, and some freaking huge buffalo just off the road.

Eventually, I made it up to the monument (the guy who took my $10 has a winter home in Mesa, AZ. Go figure.) On my way there, I was expecting to be mildly disappointed, but the sight was actually very impressive; those were some big fucking heads.

As I promised before leaving AZ, I got a picture of my trusted companion, Mousey, next to those four famous dudes.

That evening, the park ranger gave a speech about supporting our troops, and then we all watched a video dedicated to the awesomeness of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. Personally, I can't think of a better dedication to George Washington than this.

After the video, all the folks who had served are or currently serving in the armed forces came down to the front, and took down the US flag. All in all, it was quite a fun experience, and I'm glad I went. The view from up there was also spectacular.

Little Bighorn National Monument, MT

*** WARNING: this post contains a smidgeon of lighthearted political commentary! Proceed at your own risk! ***

While in eastern Montana, I also stopped at the Little Bighorn National Monument, the site of Custer's last stand. Here's the hill where he met his famous demise:

The monument on the hill has the names of all the soldiers who died in the battle, include ol' George himself:

I was a little confused by this monument, as it essentially celebrates a guy for getting his ass kicked while he was attempting to forcefully remove Native Americans from their homeland.

Red Shale Campground, Custer National Forest, MT

On July 3, I drove to the Custer National Forest, in eastern Montana. The Red Shale Campground, where I stayed, was just off of highway 212. Upon selecting a campsite, I was greeted by this grisly scene:

Seriously, what the hell was a severed deer leg doing in my campsite?

In the picture below, it's pretty obvious where Red Shale Campground gets its name:

The area where I set up my tent was pretty rocky, and therefore I was only able to get the stakes pounded halfway in. I realized this would be a problem if a storm came during the night, but I wasn't too worried; a thunderstorm had been brewing, but it passed harmlessly by to the south, and the rest of the skies looked relatively clear.

It turns out, however, that I spoke too soon. At about 1:30am, I awoke to the sound of thunder in the distance. I listened, hoping that it would pass by like the previous storm. However, as the sound of thunder grew closer and closer, I decided that I might have a problem. Suddenly, an otherworldly roaring sound filled my ears, and I realized that it was the wind rushing through the trees. As fast as I could, I tore out of the tent and threw my sleeping bag and myself into the car. Seconds later the wind, rain, and thunder ripped into the campground. After sleeping a few hours in the car, I awoke to the sight of my broken and battered tent:

The tent was soaked, but at least it didn't blow away.

Bozeman, MT

On July 2, I drove from Lee Creek over to Bozeman, MT, to stay with Mike See for a night. Mike is a guy I met in Kokondo, when he was a student in Richland, WA. Here's a picture from his black belt test several years ago:

After I arrived in Bozeman, Mike showed me around town, and we saw the big empty space where a bunch of stores used to be. Apparently, last summer a restaurant exploded, taking out half a city block with it, and breaking windows all over downtown. Here's a picture I found on the internet:

Is that crazy or what?

For dinner, we headed to Old Chicago for $1 pizza and beer night, truly one of the best ideas anyone has ever had. After dinner, we headed back, talked Kokondo for a while, then watched a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory. I am ashamed to admit the level of empathy I felt for the main characters.

Lee Creek Campground, MT

On the morning of July 1, my mom and I left Pullman and headed east through Idaho and into Montana along highway 12. Here's a picture of the end of some rapids on the Lochsa river. My dad, for whatever reason, likes to raft this river in the spring when it's in flood stage. He's always been a little crazy.

We ended up camping at the Lee Creek campground, just a few miles from Lolo Hot Springs. The campground wasn't too shabby, just off the highway.

While we were setting up camp, we were greeted by a ferocious mountain lion.

That night, we went down to Lolo Hot Springs to soak in their pools. On Wednesday nights, they have a late session, from 9pm to midnight. We learned that this session is "swimsuit-optional," which in English translates to "everyone goes naked." My mom and I were the only non-naked people there, and it felt backward to be ostracized for wearing clothes. But, whatever.

The hot pool was in a steam room, and I spent an hour slowly drifting on a rubber raft, listening to Bob Dylan on the loudspeaker, and surrounded by naked strangers. At that moment, I felt about as far from my days in grad school as I could possibly be, and it was simultaneously wonderful and a little disturbing.