Cross-Country Rambles

Iowa

2009-02-10T11:25:00.000-08:00

Iowa was cool, in that, they had tumbleweeds. And tumbleweeds are pretty cool.

When I rested for the night, it was cold, and I had neighbors. I don't like neighbors. It led to terrible dreams. But I did hear a coyote pack at night, and that is always awesome. (unless you own cattle).

Flat, flat roads ahead of me, and, oh what's this? A tree farm!

Weird.

The great expanse of this tree farm had me stunned...

That's it for Iowa. Except for this sign, which really, really upset me:

On closer inspection...

Which is only really upsetting when water rations are running low - or freezing - both of which I'd been experiencing over the last few days.

Hell, at least Wyoming was in view, and (don't tell the Parks Department), I stole a tumbleweed. It may come in handy one day...

The Search for Mount Hood

2009-02-10T11:07:00.001-08:00

Heading East is a weird thought. And I questioned every moment of it.

But trying to attack Interstate 90 in the throes of winter was a task I didn't think I was ready to take on. As great a blog entry as it would've been, being one of the stranded motorists on a sheet of ice and snow did not win my heart.

So I set my sights on Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to meet up with a friend; see what lured him out of Vermont, and kept him out for so long.

As promised, I tiptoed across the border of Washington and Oregon for a day, before getting back on the highway toward Iowa. But then, as the signs for Portland repeated, I remembered that I wanted to see Mount Hood in all its glory before I left the area. I tried every state campground in that area, but all were closed! I kept driving, into the rainy night, until I finally came across a deserted campground with low-costs and a shower-house. I sat down with a six-pack of Henry Weinhards Blue Boar, cranked up my music and relaxed. When the need arose, I found out that the shower-house (bathroom included) was locked up tight. Meh, at this point, I was fine with it.

I even had myself a buzzed photo-shoot. Spirits were high!

Little did I know that I'd wake up in the damned desert.

The road out of the Campground...

Traveling along, the highway is following Hood River.

Wait, Hood River... Mount Hood? What ever happened to...

Well, an hour up the highway I see something tall and beautiful in my rear-view mirror. Looking up at the desert and canyons that surrounded me, I decided to put my GPS to good use, and took the highest road I could find.

And there, driving on the edge of sun-scorched croplands, at the top of a very sleepy desert town, I got a great view of her majesty:

And then, I wasn't so upset at waking in the desert. Even Hood River didn't look so bad.

Saying Good-Bye to the Pacific

2009-01-28T09:26:00.001-08:00

On my way out. I didn't get to the coast until dark, found some lowly state campground and hit the back. Of course at these campgrounds there are no rangers - this is not the season. So you pay by the honor system.

Makes me wish I didn't have much honor... But I think, for the first time in a long time, I didn't have to pay [extra] for the shower! Ahhh. That's nice.

Some of that eerie silver lining...

The campground bordered the beach, so off I went... The ocean was angry, the wind was raging; it was a bittersweet goodbye.

An old shipwreck, the blustering wind in the grass, and... starlings?

The road out and onward...

Do I look road-weary? Warm, rested and showered! And headed East...

Food and Family in Portland

2009-01-28T09:04:00.000-08:00

Ahh, Thanksgiving. A time to reflect, on those things in life which we are thankful for.

Like food.

But above food - yes, even above cranberries, gravy, sweet potatoes and pie - is family. Family and friends. And for this Turkey-Day, I was thankful for all of the above. And more.

* Let it not go understated that I am immensely grateful for this opportunity *
* and for the good fortune I've had thus far *

Seeing the cousins in Portland was its own grand adventure - and at times misadventure. It had been years since I'd seen these folk and there was much to catch up on. My cousin Jane took me in, and my second cousins took me out. I bonded with each of them, and it was about time! I mean, it's family, so you always know and love them unconditionally - but the "know" part often varies in its depth and intimacy. And that variation, I've found, only increases with physical distance! But that part is kind of what this trip is for, right?

Between the bright lights and taxis of Portland, it was nothing like the typical drive and dive night up in the mountains... And my (second?) cousins and their buddies were a hoot. I won't have to worry about them, although I'd love to get'em up Vermont way...

When my (cousin?) Jane took me for a walk in the neighborhood park, I was taken aback by the view; the scape in Oregon is quite different than what I've known... Oh, most of the same trees are there, and the terrain is quite similar in some places... but the forests here were old, wet and mossy, and eerily beautiful. When the sun spurt through the clouds you could catch a silver tinge lining every spot of green you could see.

But, I'm getting road-weary and homesick. You understand.

So I ate heartily, enjoyed the company of some great people, and took off North-West, to dance on the Washington border and bid farewell to the Pacific.

The Fam:

Okay, so pictured here are second cousins, cousin, and cousins' parents; a ten-cent piece for the one who can correctly identify the proper verbiage for such a thing...

Me with my beautiful second cousins... or if they're my father's cousin's kids, then are they my third cousins??

Northern California to Northern Oregon

2009-01-13T08:18:00.000-08:00

As sour as I'd been the night before, I was excited and relieved to be back on the road with such minimal damages. I continued on the Avenue of the Giants to gaze up at the behemoth trees that lined the pavement.

And, of course, when I saw the signs for "Oldest Tree in the Redwoods!" and "Drive-Through Tree, Don't Miss It!" I had to oblige. It was just beginning to rain, and even though it was shaping up to be a miserable day, my spirit was riding high. I stopped at this old general-store looking attraction, where it cost $2 to drive through an old tree. Actually it cost me $2 for a soda and to drive through a tree. Very nice old hippy behind the counter who felt for me when I told him his vending machine didn't work - he happened to have a 6-pack of Coca-Cola right there. Mmm. So I drove through a Tree.

(Pretend the red car is mine...)

This tree was so old and withered you could see straight out the top!

And I hung out in a Tree House:

You could literally climb up to the second floor! It was much more square-footage than my car allowed me!

I hit the coast for one last peak before retreating into the forests, gorges and mountains toward Portland.

Barely crossed the line into Oregon - what we see here is a river running into the ocean.

A few scary accidents aside, I'd arrive in Portland that night. But the good thing about all the scariest accidents I've seen? They've all occurred about a mile up-road from me. Good, good luck.

Although the sign below was kind of freaky:

Interesting Noises and a Strange Vibration in the Redwoods

2009-01-07T11:00:00.000-08:00

The next great destination is a scrumptious Thanksgiving Dinner with family in Portland. But first, I had miles of coast and forest to chase.

It's colder, and targeting a likely destination to sleep has become much more important, not to mention a wee bit trickier. This isn't exactly tourist season, so many of the State Park campgrounds have been roped off. The cool weather and healthy bear populations made the tent virtually useless, and since the day I arrived in California, I've been hard-pressed to find a decent WalMart for a free nights' sleep.

Taking the crazy, windy Route 1 out of San Francisco and coming back to 101 in Leggett, I investigate the best campgrounds on my atlas. Some I just pass by; those barren side-by-side RV lots, even on the beach, are always in the less appealing sides of town, and even the secluded State Parks get crammed lots with large tents and larger parties underneath. I was not in the mood to be bothered by a drunken outlaw party.

The road through the forest, and what became the Avenue of the Giants, seemed to get even more windy as the afternoon progressed, and the car was acting funny.

What kind of funny?

Funny. Like, funny noises, accompanied by a funny banging sound. And it was funny that this only occurred at deceleration or if the gas pedal was set too firmly. Which was funny because this road forebade any sort of smooth driving. The posted speed limit went from 45 to 25 every 5 minutes. Yeah that was funny.

But the funniest thing was, I absolutely felt as if the drivers-side wheel was about to fall off my car. Sorry, 'fly' off, would be a better term.

Of course I stopped the car to investigate; at first every ten minutes, then every five, which squirreled its way to every two... Thank Goodness these crazy Californy roads have a turn-out or trailhead parking every few miles!

On the second or third 'check' I confirmed that my wheel was about to fly off the car. One of the lug-studs on my front drivers-side tire had completely twisted and broke off, and the remaining four lug-nuts were two threads away from freedom.

Lucky me, I do not happen to have a lug-wrench or T-bar in my vast array of tools and gadgets. I did, however, have an old leatherman a friend had given me for my trip... So I could drive for two minutes, pull over and tighten the lugs, then drive two minutes more - all in an effort to find some suitable place to park and give up for the night.

Finally, pulled over on the Avenue of the Giants and a stones throw away from Route 101, I scrawl a note to passersby - set up my customized velcro window curtains - and fall asleep.

Very interesting dreams that night; mostly being discovered and awoken by some ornery old sheriff who proceeds to give me a hard time. He didn't find my situation very funny.

Of course I wasn't actually bothered by anyone - but being preoccupied with this idea I couldn't exactly 'sleep in' either. So up I was, jacking up the car and taking the tire off to inspect the damage.

Only a few cars have passed, and one small pickup turns around to see if I need help. I tell him "I don't need much help, but I could use a second opinion." Apparently lug studs fail for everyone at one time or another, after a mechanic replaces or adjusts the tires and screws in the studs haphazardly. I didn't want to believe this was possible - the last people to touch my wheels were highly regarded as expert mechanics in Tempe, Arizona, and in the region as a whole. Hell, they ran their own radio talkshow! I guess everyone messes up.

Thankfully, my friend with the second opinion also had a lugwrench in his car, and pointed me towards the nearest Napa for the parts. He said it'd b fine to drive on - and it was. No more noises, no banging under my feet - the loose lug stud must have been whipping around in the wheel making a Godawful racket, and had since fallen into the road somewhere.

I arrived at Napa, and was soon the proud new owner of a lugwrench. Half tool and half weapon, I didn't mind throwing down the money. The Napa guys sent me a few more miles up the road to LeSchwab Tires, and after ten minutes and $20 I was ready to go.

A Short Stay in San Francisco

2008-12-19T10:26:00.001-08:00

So, having decided that I am categorically not a city girl, my stay in San Francisco was to be brief. I had a friend from Vermont who had recently traversed the United States in almost 3 days... trying to show me up... he landed in San Fran, so I wanted to meet up and see a piece of Vermont in this bustling city.

So, I meet T at Haight/Ashbury. It was great. That's a fun area. Lots of homeless, freaks and miserable there, but at least this was a city-city, and those kinds of people are expected.

I can't stay, I'm done with the madness and need to head back into the forests. I spent one night on a couch and watched T do some surfing the next morning. Well, 'morning.' I have no idea what time it really was.

Nice, T.

Cool scene. Too cold for me, too expensive for wetsuits, and I'm too ready to head North.

San Francisco: You make my stomach weak and my body tilt slightly to the left. Cool.

Now, as I'm leaving, and headed into the woods, I have one regret. Where the hell are the seals? You could hear them barking at the marina from the main streets of Santa Cruz in the middle of the night... But ask a GPS to take you to the Marina and you get waves and volleyball. So, bummed about this, and looking over an astonishing view of the Pacific (Golden Gate Park, I believe?), I hear one of those slimy buggers barking below! Can't see a darned thing...maybe a shadow... so I take two pictures anyhow. Turns out...

Santa Cruz and the Redwoods

2008-12-19T09:42:00.000-08:00

I'm making my way past Monterrey Bay and headed to Santa Cruz, first to see what the hub-bubs about, second to meet up with an old high school buddy. Third, fourth and fifth, to meet his funky friends, see his funky band and sleep on his funky couch.

No, it was a fine couch.

Santa Cruz was a great little Californian City, with the same problems as all the rest: too many people, too many transients. And I didn't have a problem with Cali Trannies until I came here - In Santa Cruz, their signs aren't funny, they really don't try hard, and they clutter the main streets of downtown - making family outings uncomfortable if not impossible.

I've been sure to call them "transients" or "trannies" because they aren't like the homeless or hobos you sometimes see scattered along the Northeast. At least, they're not like the ones I've seen. You could draw some similarities between these beach bums and the bums of Burlington, I suppose. But no one wants to be wandering in winter months; at least not where winter means something more than scattered rain showers.

Midway during my visit to Santa Cruz I needed to escape into the redwoods. Which, thankfully, was not too dificult. I'm glad I don't have an RV - those windy mountain roads with "Log Truck" warning signs are spooky in the Suby alone, forget anything in tow.

There was, of course, another run-in with raccoons. All signs will warn you of this. And I typically keep my trash well-stowed. But for this evening, while I was strumming the guitar in my driver seat, door open, small trash bag on the ground by my left foot, three of those little buggers charge me. I wave the neck of the guitar at the brutes, and two of them stare at me while the other grabs the bag and runs. I almost felt like giving up - I'd literally have to jab at them to get the goods back, and lord knows what kind of bite (or what kind of rabies) they have... but then I imagine the mess they're going to make, and the person who's going to clean it up in the morning (me), so I grab a stick and chase after them. And, amazingly, I got the bag back. Later on that night one wondered back up to my site and looked at me for a while, maybe four feet away, so I yelled some cursewords, he got offended, gave me the finger and took off.

Wait, what?

So, feeling rested and rejuvenated, I came down from the woods the next morning and showed back up on my friends' couch. Good people there. A long haired biker hippy with short hair (it happens), a bouncy surfer-teacher type, my buddy the keyboard-harmonica-accordion maestro (Mylodican?), and some awesome heart-felt chicas who were a blast to dance with. Went to one of my buddy's shows; they play some excellent music. It was a sea of hippies, of course, but the band was jamming on motown classics, so it's good stuff for anyone, really.

So, it was great to catch up with an old High School buddy, but what's more is his job. Not his job, really, but the location. University of California, Santa Cruz. Oh My God. What a campus. I had to cross a footbridge over a ravine to get to the library from the parking lot, no joke. While driving around the campus roads I saw more deer than people - which is astonishing, considering the amount of people.

So far, I'd just gotten a peak of the Redwoods, from Big Sur to Santa Cruz... I've decided I'm definitely not a city girl, so tromping around Redwood National Park is on my list. And not my "objects to buy from WalMart so they don't give you a hard time" list. Have we talked about WalMart? Oh boy. That'll be a later discussion...

Goodbye, Santa Cruz! I'm gonna make up reasons to take higher ed classes just so I can walk that campus again!

The Real California

2008-12-09T22:32:00.000-08:00

So, I messed up. Instead of taking the Pacific Coast Highway, I failed to merge and ended up traveling back through the wine country on 101. When I got to Monterrey, I doubled back and traveled southward toward Big Sur and the Pfeiffer State Park. I was not disappointed.

I think I've failed to mentioned that, on my last day in Santa Barbara, my dear [new] friend Laurel had scribbled out about 5 pages of notes for my journey northward. It was pretty much an essay of unforgettable sights and hot springs. God bless'er.

Silly me, I hadn't looked too closely at the notes yet, but I did remember her mention 'Big Sur,' and fate brought me the rest of the way.

(squish)

After a[nother] glorious sunset, I finally found a campground I could afford, situated quite pleasantly in the redwood forest. Julia Pfeiffer State Park Campground was closed due to some 2007 fires. Again, fate.

So after signing in, and giving my preliminary "put me away from other people because I am going to play the guitar - badly," I settled down at my site and started poking at a fire. Hours later, the hippy behind the registration desk shows up at my car and invites me to his cabin to play guitar badly together. Bored, and craving some socializing, I follow the fellow. Bad music ensued, and he convinced me to find Pfeiffer Beach with him in the morning. Okay, whatever; unsure if I'll ditch out or not, I head back to my car and sleep.

Eventually I decided to follow the hippy. He seemed harmless enough, and I couldn't exactly sneak out of the campground - I slept in, of course, and still needed to shower. And he'd already come-a-knockin' on my window that A.M.

I tell ya, I learned something that day. Following hippies can be quite the worthwhile adventure:

(hippie)

(small, sketchy little break. awesome height, questionable landing...)

(natural bridge)

(purple sanded paradise)

(why we follow hippies)

(more hippies!)

(the view from above)

Then we were joined by even more hippies! What a life. And to add to the glory, it was such a gorgeous day, almost too hot; at this point I'm totally psyched. This is a wonderful place, with good people - this is how I always imagined California. Well, Northern California.

Obviously I'm happy I went back to check out "Big Sur" and all of its nooks. As it turns out, Pfeiffer Beach is the first item on Laurel's list of sights. And now I know why.

The walk back to the car was similarly fantastic, as the sun was just beginning to creep towards the sea:

California is finally starting to live up to the legend.

Then what happened?

2008-12-02T13:00:00.000-08:00

After Santa Monica, I traveled up to Santa Barbara. I took the 'PCH,' (as the trannies had warmly referred to it), and it was just gorgeous. I left at a stupid time. It was a little after 4. So there was some pretty bad traffic for the first hours. BUT, it was also a great time, because I got to see yet another spectacular sunset over the Santa Monica Mountains and wide Pacific shores.

I caught this picture, and I simply love it; it looks like a mistake, but it illustrates very nicely how I feel about California:

California is beautiful, that's for sure; the only thing that detracts from said beauty?
All the damn people:

People are everywhere. Wall-to-wall. I know it's a sweeping generalization of the few areas I've traveled through - and let us not forget the desert - but it was incredible.

Although, to their credit, California is home to some of the nicest drivers I've ever been priviledged to drive alongside. The streeets are terrifying, sure, waaaaay too narrow for two lanes; but the people were great! How surprising! Everyone is waving me in, giving me room, giving others room; it was a nice change from the rest of the country.

So, I had a contact in Santa Barbara - yay! But the first day-in I couldn't handle anymore damned cities, so I drove straight through downtown and headed into the mountains. Played guitar all night. That was wonderful. The next morning I went to check out downtown - even entered my first outdoor mall; and promptly exited. Some thrift shopping aside (and a late start to begin with!) I go to meet my friend at her apartment, around 4:30/5:00 PM.

Parking on the street, I notice lots of people looking above and beyond me into the Montecito hills. Well, I'm sure you've heard the rest. Oprah's neighbors and all that. I know I should have busted out the tri-pod, but it was all so exciting. Here's the best I came up with:

You could see the flames licking up the sides of the mountain - and off camera, above and to the right, the moon glowed orange behind the smokey clouds.

Glown orange? Glowed? That's some crappy English, someone please correct it for me...

My contact in Santa Barbara, nice lady by the name of Laurel, was great for me to find. A fellow traveler, she'd seen many sights in her days abroad, and had some wonderful recommendations. By the end of my stay, she had basically wrote me out an essay of places to go, things to see, and hot springs to dip in on my way up California. Unfortunately for me, I was not inclined to travel 4 hours to Yosemite when there was still so much left to see of the coast - but I did follow a couple of her leads with magnificent results!!!

Back to the fires - oh, wow, was the air terrible the next day! I had to get the hell out, and actually headed south to recapture some of the areas I overlooked on the nighttime ride up. Ventura and Oxnard, mostly. Just to go thrift shopping, really. There's this great place called the Buffalo Exchange, dotted across the West Coast, so I've been scouring the Goodwills on my ride to find some awesome items to trade in for even awesomer items. Spellcheck doesn't seem to mind that one...

Anyhow, something powerful is driving my heel, and I'm constantly feeling the need to up-and-out. I want to love California - it's everything I ever thought it'd be - but there's just too much going on. I am categorically not a city person. I guess. But I'll keep trying. Meanwhile, Santa Barbara is not the place for me. So I've got to go check out some of Laurel's recommendations...

Thanks, Laurel! That was a helluvalotof fun!

Oh, and let's not forget wine country! She took me out-and-about the Santa Barbara countryside to see the vineyards and communities found in the movie Sideways. These photos are dedicated to my buddy Dietrich, who had to cross the Atlantic Ocean to feel grapes between his toes.

LA County

2008-11-28T09:55:00.000-08:00

Santa Monica was great. Not because I partied with the stars, or because I was discovered in Hollywood. I didn't venture East any further than Westwood; I set my GPS to enable Highways as an avoidance, and kept myself and my Suby far away from the 16-lane insanity that is Los Angeles driving.

No, Santa Monica was great because I could finally relax, in the madness but away from the madness. Mostly, I slept and watched bad television. And that was everything it could be and more! You can easily imagine how fulfilling this would be, after two months of over-stimulated trucking, day in and day out.

Don't I look healthy? I lost a lot of money to a Whole Foods that was just at the end of the block. It was time to splurge... oh man, I ate good. Let's take the time to acknowledge why I was so relaxed, and able to spend money: My wonderful Uncle Jack. He let me stay at his beautiful little apartment off Marine St., and since he was in NYC for the month of November, no one was around to tell me to wake up. It actually would have been awesome if he were there, and could show me his favorite places and all that, but sleep was great too. Thank you Uncle Jack! You rock.

Of course, I did pry myself off the comfortable couch to go see Santa Monica's main street, the Venice Pier, and of course the Venice Boardwalk. Actually, the first day I hit-up the Venice Pier (or maybe they hit me up - $5 for parking...) I'd thought I'd "been to Venice." You had your Surfers, Skateboarders, tourists, and I thought I saw a muscle man on roller blades. More importantly, as I leaned out over the Pier I saw a whole pod of dolphins swim by, about 20 yards away from the nearest surfers. Or maybe they were porpoises...

After some further research online, I discovered that no, no I hadn't been to Venice Beach yet. So, not having anything better to do, and being real curious about the rollerblading-turban-wearing-guitar-player, I set out to see it.

And I'm glad I did, I actually went back for more the next day...

So, the walk down Venice Beach... First, you're accosted by rap-star hopefuls, who play you their CD and are more than willing to accept donations in exchange for their music. Not a huge rap fan, it didn't sound too terrible - no more terrible than what you've got playing on the 'MtV'. Next, you're supposed to get some cheap sunglasses. I really wanted to get me some of them alien-looking peepers, but settled for the more useful polarized pair. On recommendation from a friend, I had purchased a pair of these beauts when I was leaving New York state, but I think they got crushed somewhere on the East Coast and were darn-near useless come the drive West, when the sunsets were their most vicious...

After the cheap sunglasses, you check out the vendors. And you walk. And you walk. And you dodge some more rap-star hopefuls. You read some of the funnier Hobo signs, but mostly you keep your eyes forward. There are street performers, a muscle man who kinda just walks around with a medicine-type ball, and yes, the fellow with the Turban went whizzing by with his guitar blaring. Some of the street performers truly earned their keep:

There was one drum-circle group, with a super-crazy guy waving his arms around and challenging the board-walkers. "Children First, Women Second" he repeated, only the "Children First" part kept getting lost, and for a while I thought he was a sexist jerk.

Guess which one he was?

I ended up sitting down with a group of alright-looking transients and chatting them up. Most of them I figured was just like me - drive out to California, and... well, that's it. Sleep on the beach. A few of these guys had cars, one even had a VW Passat and a blackberry. I was very confused until he explained that he had a PO Box. And a laptop. So he could pay bills.

A Transient paying bills. Wow.

A few of the kids were electricians, getting money whenever they could find jobs (which I'm sure was proving more difficult in this recession). All of them seemed to be there on purpose. The VW Tranny insisted that his own presence there was "by design." I wonder how many trannies this applies to. For all the people who drive to California and never leave, how many end up with steady jobs, and how many would prefer not to? Why tie yourself down to a monthly rent when showers are available on the beach, and you could sleep under the stars every night?

It's certainly not the life for me, but I could certainly understand it.

The sunset that night was amazing; this shot was taken an hour before, then I stowed my equipment and went out for a game of hack-y-sack with the trannies.

Of course, right when I was Kodak-free, the most beautiful of sunsets I'd ever seen hit the water and mountain range behind me. So, like I usually do for missed opportunities, I justified it: that sunset was for me, for then, and that's all, and I'm lucky enough to have caught it in the first place.

The Blue Pacific

2008-11-19T12:01:00.000-08:00

I've made contact! Finally, I arrived in Dana Point, California. The waters of the Pacific are freezing, so I didn't get to jump-right-in and enjoy, but, driving around Orange County, I can totally understand why people pay millions of dollars for homes on mudslides. It's still the desert, I can tell, but it has been painted over as some grand get-away. I look forward to forests, but in the meantime, I'm headed to Santa Monica for some rest, and to get an idea of LA County.

Squirrel! ...big squirrel...

Going Nuts in Joshua Tree

2008-11-19T11:44:00.000-08:00

Back in the desert - I hate the desert. I can survive here, but I could not thrive here. A long day of beautiful roads winding and turning their way into the flats; and I finally get to the California line.

And do you know what they do there? They stop all traffic, right at the border, and ask if I have nuts. No, sir, I do not. (You are not getting my Georgia Pecans, you bastards!)

I understand the peril of native species at the hands of the introduced variety, and I promise to be very careful with my nuts, and burn them if they start to go downhill... but I will NOT hand them over, they cost a pretty penny and sleep-loss when I was back in the South.

So anyway, welcome to California; first stop, Joshua Tree.

$25 entrance fee, $15 camping fee, and at the end, next to the sign that says "keep dehydrated!" $.25 for water. All for this:

Which is nice, I guess. But I'm totally done with the desert.

Oh, there were also big piles of rocks that look like someone had dumped them there. Gotta love geologic history!

And some pretty-ness. I guess. For the desert.

Life in Prescott...

2008-11-18T17:35:00.001-08:00

...might have easily been a drunken' blur. It's a party town, yessir, with cowboys, natives, hippies and even those saloon-style swinging doors. But the air was crisp, it smelled like Fall, and for some reason, that little college reminded me of Green Mountain and Poultney. I did walk a bit of Whiskey Row at night, and stayed at a little campground a few miles above.

Other tasks for Prescott:

Went to the house my grandparents built overlooking Thumb Butte. I'd been there before - over a decade ago.But still remember gazing out that back window, waiting for a cougar or a coyote to walk out...I couldn't tell you if one ever did, my back then my imagination was much more powerful than my memory, and you wouldn't believe what I "remember" seeing. It may have involved a ninja turtle. That's right.
Find a Geocache and deliver a TB. For the dorks who know what I'm talking about, you're a dork. For those who don't, apparently you're known as a "muggle", and in all honesty I don't know which is worse.
Find a Geocache. Yes, this one gets an honorary second mention. These things were terribly, terribly hard to find. BUT, in looking for the cache, I found this:which makes it all worthwhile, right? NO! Thank God I finally found one, I would've torn my hair out by the end of the day! Well, no, but it was darned frustrating.
Decide whether to attend the McCain speech being held in the court. I decided against it (thinking I'd rather be in Cali when Obama wins), but this is not the first time I've faced this kind of political decision - the candidates were following me everywhere! Nashville, in particular, I left a day before... the first debate? the VP debate? I don't know. Anyway, when these things happen, you see this:And then this:

(Hippies...)

I'll leave you with what I saw as I left Prescott:

And back to the desert I go...

Mi Familia

2008-11-18T17:04:00.000-08:00

So, in Arizona, after Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon, I'm headed down to Tempe to see some kin. And to meet some new additions to the family! It had been maybe 5 years since I've seen these folk, and of course it was great catching up - a lot happens in 5 years!

There was rest, relaxation, and little kids. Now, I know the latter often negates the former, but in my case it didn't - hanging out with the youngins was fun and seriously upflifting. Well, for me - for the little ones, I don't know, it might have been a little intense. Or, at least it seemed that way. One of them was seriously wierded out - he kept running away from me on his trike, going so far and so fast, that he'd eventually run up against the door.

And then, just generally hiding from me, but just a bit curious, he gives me the peek-around from within his room:

In the end, we definitely made friends though.

This was also an excellent break, first because I could hang out with the kids, and more than tha, I got to hang out with the kids during Halloween. Awesome neighborhoods in Tempe! Good people abound.

I've got no good Halloween pictures, but I did dress up as a trucker from Virginia, so give that time to resonate. (Sorry Stevie, totally borrowed your accent for that one... But I think I did it justice!)

Very nice to see family and take a break from the road, and a thousand thank-you's to Uncle Mike for making sure my vehicle was sound, and resolving my navigational dilemma. It was lovely to see you all, and I look forward to the next go-round!

Meanwhile, I'm off to Prescott College to see what life would have been like if I transferred for a Semester...

Temporary Blackout

2008-11-15T19:55:00.000-08:00

I spilled a glass of water on my computer. Ugh. She works for 5 minutes at a time before shutting down.

I'm in Santa Barbara, out of the reach of the fire, and continuing to Santa Cruz Sunday morning.

Articles to come: Arizona, Joshua Tree, SoCal, Venice Beach, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara.

Lots of love! And you buggers in VT, enjoy your fresh air! I now understand the oft-overlooked importance of such a thing...

Feb/08, Pawlet, VT

Wish I were there!

The State of the Grand Canyon

2008-11-11T14:05:00.000-08:00

Gorgeous. Beautiful. Just like every postcard you've ever seen her in. I wish I were down in the crevices. There was one particular lake I would've liked to jump in; but rattle snakes are a factor, also a handful of laws preventing me from (or severely charging me for) the experience.

Tourists!

The Grand Canyon State

2008-11-11T12:11:00.000-08:00

Enter Flagstaff, 7:30 PM; no, wait... The cell phone says 6:30?! That doesn't sound right, I wasn't supposed to cross another time zone for hundreds of miles!

So apparently, Arizona doesn't "do" the whole Daylight Savings "thing." Which is great in Spring - I know "Daylight Savings" becomes a muttered curse-word in my vernacular. But it will be an awful pain when California 'falls back' and I'm an hour behind again.

I have family in Arizona, which is wonderful. My Aunt and Uncle also have a house in Flagstaff, so this was a great check-point for me. A place to get some sound sleep after almost a week in the desert, to recoup and make plans with my kin. I also had to decide whether to shoot up to the Grand Canyon before going down to Tempe to see the relatives.

I've been there before when I was a kid, so there was no real pressure to go see this amazing thing for the first time; but I rationed that I would be looking into the 'grand' expanse with much different eyes than the last time, and what the hell, it's only an hour up the road.

The road from Flagstaff

Where Was I?

2008-11-02T10:32:00.000-08:00

New Mexico was very cool, Albuquerque seemed like an alright city, and Santa Fe was gorgeous. But I was bummed. For no particular reason; I'm sure it was some sort of panic attack. That was Saturday. It did not help that my birthday was Sunday, and I'd be spending it alone; I didn't think I cared about that, but emotionally I was a mess. So when I got to Santa Fe, for the first time on this trek, I bought a hotel room.

And it was the best thing I could have done.

I re-entered my voyage, showered and refreshed, and aiming for Flagstaff, Arizona. On the way back to the interstate I stopped at an outdoor market and bought myself a birthday present - a necklace and earring set - from some nice Native American laides who wished me well in my adventures.

But this was "Indian Country," make no mistake. That much was obvious from the highway signs. No sensitivity whatsoever in the billboards and marquees noting "Indian Souvenirs!" and "Indian City!" Did these people skip 4th grade? This isn't India, we figured that out years ago, Columbus was all wrong. Of course, my school may have been a liberal powerhouse of tolerance and white guilt, but most of this I always felt was quite deserved; it's the nature of the beast (the beast being expansion and exploration by one community, which subsequently leads to exploitation of another - in this regard, no one race or creed is innocent. Except maybe eskimos. They're probably too cold for tribal warfare).

Now, here I am in the midst of the Navajo reservation, and the only solace from these discrepancies comes from passing the Casinos where "Indians" were hard at work emptying the pockets of the tourists. The ladies I bought my birthday present from definitely told me to hit up the Casino. But that's my gas money. And it would be gone in minutes.

It took a while for me to get the nerve to purchase that necklace for myself; this population of people was horribly mistreated, as everyone knows, and are now confined to the desert while we continue to draw up invisible lines in the fertile soil and call it "property" - if these people hold any grudges, who's to say they weren't cursing every bead that they threaded? These two ladies seemed nice enough, and so far I'm still alive and well.

Sufficed to say, I am not a fan of the desert. Well, maybe I'm a fan, but I could never stay here. Only a handful of species can thrive here, and I am not one of them. Survive, yes, but thrive? No way.

So, to all my friends back home, a word of caution from Gallup, New Mexico:

(I think the next panel should be Teenwolf...)

Deep in the Heart...

2008-11-02T09:55:00.000-08:00

I'll give her credit, I saw ten times as many wind turbine operations than oil rigs. Not that I went to the coast, and I wouldn't dare venture into the South Western corner of the state, but for what it's worth, watching the sun set against the backdrop of turbine-covered range really wasn't terrible.

Also, leaving Colorado Bend State Park was an experienced - I crossed the same 'Open Range' that had me cautious and white-knuckled the night before.

"Open Range: Watch for Livestock"

Thanks for the 'Heads-up!'

The night before, however, was not so exciting. Enjoying my sleep in the car, with the moon roof open and all the windows cracked, at around 3 AM this part of the state saw the first frost of the season. Goody for me. Too cold and tired to close the windows, I'm lucky I still have all my toes, and thankful for my queen-sized comforter!

Ahh, the beautiful Colorado Bend. No doubt it didn't help decrease the windchill on this frosty night. Ugh.

With Huntsville, Austin, Abilene, Lubbock and Amarillo behind me, I'm on my way to Santa Fe.

Armed and Blind

2008-10-22T14:47:00.001-07:00

How cute is this little bugger?! Eating my lunch, watching a show on my computer, this little guy makes some noise about 20 feet away. He looked like some ugly rabbit until I realized what it was... Finally! An Armadillo that wasn't just roadkill. I followed him around with my camera for a while, he didn't seem to mind. Actually, at one point I was sitting, shooting away, and he comes closer and closer to me, nose in the dirt and leaves, looking for food. He gets all the way to my foot before I shift and he realizes I'm another living thing. He 'runs' away, which, in Armadillo, means he ran two feet, hopped in the air, ran a couple more feet, hopped again and changed direction mid-air, and strolled away. He didn't seem very concerned, but he wasn't taking any chances.

(He's shy...)

More animals of note include these itty-bitty deer. They're so cute! And again, not shy - do these animals know they're protected by the rangers in this small Texas state park?

I'd be browning them in a fire if I had the nerve. That's pretty callous, huh... I suppose I need to get some meat in my diet before I become an enemy to our Nation's Parks and Forests.

Finally, we go from protected and pristine to suburban and skittish:

I wonder if visitors to the East Coast are as interested in our groundhogs, porcupines, red squirrels and falcons?

"Didjer GPS malfunction?"

2008-10-21T11:18:00.001-07:00

"What are you doing in Jackson?"

Good question. At the very least, I'm getting an oil change. I was waaay overdue. (Sorry Mark).

Everything checked out and I filled up my tank with 87 at $2.65. This is great for my budget - I'd initially price-checked my gas expenditures with a conservative $3.50/gal. I haven't hit those highs since before Virginia. Maybe in Florida...

So here I am, at a reststop in Texas that supplies free wi-fi. I am loving this state.

So, the Bayou was pretty cool. I liked Alabama for one of the reasons I love Vermont; the people there know what work is. Cotton fields, Pecan shellers, and Lord knows what I didn't see. And for the first time of many to come, (if you don't count my side-trip to Kentucky), I was driving into the sunset.

No, the GPS didn't malfunction; I was aiming for Jackson. The GPS did sustain a hefty crack on the screen that prevents me from hitting certain buttons; actually it's a lot worse than that, it hits buttons I didn't press, so I can spend 5 minutes trying to see the map and only ending up with Settings or Volume controls. Yippy. Could we make driving any more unsafe? It's still a useful little bugger, and with a little patience and a parking spot I can plug in routes, shops, fuel, etc.; but then as I'm driving if I dare hit the screen there's a 50-50 chance that the current route would be cancelled. That's okay, I'll just go to my "Recently Found" folder... no small task. A fully-functional GPS will be missed.

Meanwhile, it did take me to Jackson... although its choice of routes had been a bit questionable when I reached the boonies. This was a fun one:

Yeah, I was a bit concerned the road would just end. But it didn't. Brought me right into farm country.

So, New Orleans was a pretty neat town; cozy even. Driving in it was a nightmare, when I found myself smack in the middle of the French Quarter; and no less stressful when a bride and groom ride by on a "Just Married" bike, the wrong way down a one way, and my knuckles are white from clutching the steering wheel. Driving around downtown in the morning was a breeze - I've found that the most monstrous of cities become kittens on a Sunday morning... Except that, for a significant portion of the road, the traffic lights were off. I had to drive through a few accidents on my way to the I-10W ramp. Freaky.

If you look closely you can see an example of such an impending accident - this one was averted by cautious drivers in the SUV and van. Good on'ya.

Louisiana is a state under water. Well, I-10 is underwater. With brown, bubbling water at the bse of each of the tresses, I only became concerned when the traffic screeched to a hault. I was stuck in limbo, atop the swamps, for the better part of an hour. I also noticed a lot of dragon-flies buzzing about...only half of them were'nt dragon-flies at all, but strings of ash falling from the sky. Long, strandy bits, so I was quite certain that this wasn't a tell-tale sign of some fatal accident ahead, but more likely indicative of a burnpile, like some of the brush management I'd seen throughout the south so far. But there was no brush, no median, and no properties anywhere in sight. So basically I still don't know 'what the hell.' But I had time to think about it. And watch the bubbly waters below for signs of crocs - certainly something was creating a ripple down below, and constantly; but I reasoned that it was caused by some ancient lunkers, fooled into rising by the large ash that was falling and floating above them.

(A closer look at the trusses - did you see that ripple??)

So, I'm bound for San Antonio. Like I said, I'm liking this state - haven't seen any live armadillos yet, but I'll be at a National Forest, Rec Area or State Park tonight; I'll try and dig something up. No sight of rattlers or vicious-looking spiders either, so I'll be watching my step. I'll get more in depth on the wonders of Texas when I get a cup of coffee in front of me.

Goodbye to the Beautiful Bayou

And Greetings to the Warmth of Texas!

Keyed In

2008-10-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, I also had to go to the Keys. Try out my snorkeling legs, go see Duval street, you know, the touristy stuff.

I sure as hell didn't do this, anyway:

So after having too-good of a time on Duval street, I crash at a Denny's/Holiday-Inn and am woken by the rain. Venturing out to catch another sunrise, I hear the strange yet familiar sound of a rooster crowing... apparently these things run wild through the streets of Key West!

The sunrise on the southernmost edge of the United States was pretty spectacular, even for being cloudy:

And there was a very appropriate rainbow over the open, casual, welcoming city:

But when dawn fully arrived, after trolling through the streets for random goods, I had to get the hell out of Key West, but still felt the need to explore the whole snorkel/beach thing. Eventually I found myself at Curry Hammock State Park. FYI, a 'hammock' is a thick stand of trees. I didn't know that.

The park was almost full, but they fit me in, and the site was, again, spectacular:

And if you aren't jealous yet, check out these apples:

I spent the day setting up camp and going for a short swim at the beach, hanging out with the hermit crabs. Later on I felt I embodied the personality of a hermit crab, sheltered by my tent, only my legs and arms in view, and feeling mighty skittish. I played music, read, and played music, having a dinner of oatmeal and wanting to stay away from all civilization. That night I fell asleep with a nearly full moon overhead, visible from my tent's ceiling window, and lighting over the ocean, visible from the other windows. Later on I would wake to more stormy weather, including bouts of rain that were quite intense, leading to pools of water in my tent and a full-on evacuation by 4:00 AM. Still, the car is not a comfortable place to sleep when the temperature is 90 and humid, and it was quite the disgruntled morning for this girl.

I snorkeled for about an hour on the parks' beach with no real luck, until I swam back to the area where I'd 'hung' with the hermits the day before, and as I scaled the rocks , sneaking by the fat idling birds, I saw two lobsters and a whole lot o' clown fish, more interested in me than I was in them. Finally I could leave this state knowing I'd accomplished what I'd set out to do. Well, not quite yet...

My favorite part:

It's true; the best spots in America can be viewed at 60 MPH as you're blowing by...

Moon Over My-Hammy for Me!

2008-10-15T19:57:00.000-07:00

It was nice to reach Miami... The day after Orlando (et. al.) had found me rocketing down the heart of the state, knowing my newfound 'friend' wouldn't follow, and eventually trolling down the coast through Fort Lauderdale and Hollywood beaches. It was a rainy day and I didn't tary very long, especially in Hollywood, where childhood memories turned to sawdust the moment I stepped onto that Boardwalk. I'm not one for loungers, and feel especially uncomfortable coming across a group of men lounging on the beach; the best guess, always, is they're seeking some sandy eye-candy. Gross. Some people fear specific races. I fear a specific gender.

So I get my butt over to Miami but the house is locked and my Uncle won't return until the next day. I find a shady place to sleep and prattle down the road to my Grandmother's house in Miami Springs. Shaken by my latest encounter with humans, I try to relax and over-indulge in some bad television. The couch is comfy and there's a bed waiting for me, there's nothing more I could ask for. Maybe some internet access, but I find it here and there on the porch.

Hanging out with my Uncle was a treat. Turns out he was just IN Saint Augustine; his softball team from Westport, CT rented out a condominium for a tournament they were in. Had communication been a bit better, I'd have avoided the whole Anastasia catastrophe! But oh well, things happen for a reason, and I won't be making the same mistake twice (what mistake was that? Ahh yes, lingering). His softball team, the Slaterock, won second place. Here's my Uncle Bobby with a trophy glove from the ordeal:

He's also a hand-model. Can you tell he's done this kind of thing before?

Sure his hands are pretty, but they know how to work; like my mother, my Uncle is a massage therapist. Currently he works for several of the upscale spas in town, and brought me with on a tour of a "day in the life" of the rich folk. The bathroom in the spa was incredible

And I spent some time on the second-story pool, observing the Miami traffic beneath me.

But alas, I couldn't help but observe a poor woman begging from the Mercedes and BMWs waiting in a line of traffic below, which brought me to a stunning conclusion; I could never live like that. Yes it would be nice to wake up and fall asleep in the lap of luxury, but I could never pretend to be above my fellow people; it would be awfully hard to live so high above it all when there are so many struggling below.

My Uncle was quite entertaining though; we're talking about one of my mother's little brothers. My mother is a trip, crazy, but in a good way; spending time with her childhood playmate was a ball for me. He showed me footage of Hawaiin waves (holy expletive), made me some nice kona coffee, shared stories from his work and overall made my stay in south Florida a relaxing and inviting one. I chased around some lizards in the front and back yard:

And he took me to the only surf break in Miami beach:

Scoff if you will; I surely did. But I was also amused to see a cargo ship hauling the freights I'd so often seen on the highways:

I also tagged along to one of his softball games. Here he is in action:

Thanks Uncle Bobby! Literally. My Uncle also plays drums for a rock and roll band. And that very Alf is always an accompaniment.

More pictures of the house, just 'cus it brings me back (last time I was here I may have been 11 or 12...):

My Room

The House at Large

The Pink Flowers

Gorgeous Fleeting Craziness

2008-10-04T17:18:00.000-07:00

A very interesting time into Georgia and Florida. I breezed through Georgia for the most part. Still unsure why? I mean, I did go through the heart of her; I kept trying the cities (Macon, Savannah) but was chased out by all the ruckus. Not a city girl. AND I could have sworn there'd be more road-signs directing traffic towards Peanuts, Pecans and Peaches... I was wary of going into a place called "WE'RE NUTS!" allbeit a cute pun, and that turned out to be the last sign for such a market. So, I didn't get any nuts. Nuts. But I will be headed back up through Alabama, I'm sure I'll come across something good.

So, in Waycross, Georgia, at an awesome little coffeeshop called Hotty Toddy, I had internet for just long enough to review cool spots and state parks along the coast of Florida. The first and best looking option for the hour was Anastasia State Park off Saint Augustine. Amazing place. 4 Miles of beach, a pier, a rental shop, beautiful palmettos everywhere, best looking campsite ever, pitching my tent over white sand.

With virtually no neighbors, I spent a good deal of time partying by myself and making dinner, with only a few fleeting pangs for want of company. I actually found myself falling asleep before the VP debate could even begin. Or maybe I was still blasting music and trying not to care at all about the political quagmire that has overwhelmed our country... Either way, you've heard about the rest of my evening in my sunrise report.

So, let's start in the morning, amidst the beautiful scenery, with the sun making its first appearances into the dimlit pink sky; a woman, fresh from a morning swim, crosses my path - well, actually, she stands between me and the glorious view until I've acknowledged her presence - and she initiates conversation. Usually I would be pretty annoyed at this most unwanted interruption, but in favor of 'getting out there' and 'meeting new people,' I went along with the whole thing. Apparently a veteran surfer and surfboard designer (Tom-Lee boards? Anybody? Anybody? No? Oh...), she had some interesting tales; being as socially-starved as I was (read: bored), I was in a unique position to be intrigued.

So, after talking through the whole damned sunset, she helped me take some footage of a tri-color heron doing some early morning fishing in the shallow tide.

TANGENT
Let me advise my readers right now; If you click on theses pictures, more often than not they get a helluvalot bigger. Go ahead. Try it. And while you're trying new things, take another look at this guy. I mistakenly identified him as a lizard. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a juvenile skink. Also on a tangent, did you know that there are lizards who have no legs? Yeah, I would call them snakes too, but they're not, they're Glass Lizards.

So, when a jogger scares the heron away, it's time for me to try and catch up on some sleep. I'm invited over to coffee and tea at this lady's tent in an hour, and I consider it. I go back to my site to strike the tent and straighten up the car, and the lady walks over to again request my presence at her tent for 'hot liquids' and to meet the nice park rangers she'd met. Now I begin to rethink my 'convenient' location to the bathroom - it certainly strips away the privacy. I tell her I'll come, and I mean it; I had already made up my mind, despite her weird ways; I know I'll leave her and be off on my own adventure soon enough. Free coffee sounds wonderful, especilly before I head down the coast to check out the surf spots she'd told me about during our conversations on the beach.

I stroll over to her site and am offered some nice hot tea. She's got one of those single-coffee-doers and I don't want to put her out. As a side-note, I could feel the burn from that first sip of tea for the next 36 hours...

In conversation with myself and the park ranger(s), she speaks of her plans to visit Saint Augustine for some olde-tyme Spanish food and a glorious chocolate store. The chocolate store peaks my attention, and she invites me to follow her to the city. She also stresses that she wants to be my Sacajawea and bring me to Flagler Beach to check out the swell. She's got an ounce of Native American blood that makes her very proud. I think it's sweet, but all the while I know that I have to shake her and regain my solitude; after I experience the city.

And experience the 'city' I did - the historic city, where people were dressed in 1700's gear and the food was delectable. Before we made it that far, though, she introduced me to this old guy, who she'd met earlier:

And this big feller (gopher tortoise, by my best estimation):

While we 'met with' the turtle, a transient she had befriended in the city the day before pedaled by, and she invited him over. He looked like a pirate and wielded a guitar, so aside from being skeptical as hell about hanging out with this man, I was somewhat comforted by the fact that he wasn't getting into my car. So he joined us in the city. He actually proved to be much more interesting company than she was; when we were asked by the 1700's dressed tavern maiden where we were from, he jubilantly replied "under the bridge." Eventually I hear him play music with another old hobo, and that was nice.

All 'amped up' on leading me down the coast, this lady is quickly becoming hard to shake. I had planned to lose her in traffic after the Spanish food and the chocolate store, but tragically I hit a huge obstacle - apparently, though both of us were camping at the State Park, only I had brought a cooler, a necessary element in keeping "our" chocolates cool for later down the road. So she puts her chocolates in my car! She hadn't done anything to cross me yet, I just yearned for solitude - I never had any intentions of stealing her goods... And this lady is so intent on leading me on my adventures that she's pulling over anytime a car gets between us, and driving 5 below the speed limit to boot. Somehow it got late in the day, and all day-dreams of catching a wave in Florida had dissipated. I tried to photograph the sunset at 60 MPH.

It was nice to say goodnight to the same sun I'd said good morning to, although in a much different state of mind; in the morning I had been as free as one of those birds and as careless as the idle fisherman, and at the present time I was seeking the escape route that would bring me back to such peaceful times.

We make it to Flagler where live music abounds, putting us on the top deck of a bar overlooking the beach. All suspicions on this lady's sanity are soon proven sturdy by her own alcoholism; she freaked when we couldn't order a certain shot. Not being a huge fan of the alcohol, I'm unphased by such a letdown, but she wouldn't have it, causing a semi-scene and making my anxiety for flight a little more urgent. After I calm her down and the mood returns to a high-pitched normal, she continues bonding with me, and at some point calls me her twin sister from a different mother...

Yeah, a terrifying thought, even with her dentures in..

A few rounds later (although I secretly poured out a few of my beeers while she wasn't looking, well aware of the late-night highway scramble I had before me), she takes me down the road to a freebie campground where we could spend the night. So immediately I start tapping away at my GPS looking for that escape route - but we stop too short! I hesitate to get out of my car, but she's pacing around; again she has a semi-melt down, exclaiming that she doesn't feel I'll approve of the sites she has to offer. I calm her by feigning confidence in the spot she'd like the most, and, sharing her relief, we continue down the road. More tapping on the GPS, and I discover that I-95 is one right turn and a windy road away from my current locale.

So she puts on her left blinker. I put on my left blinker. She comes to a full stop and takes a left turn. I come to a full stop looking to take a left turn. She continues slowly down the road, brake lights flashing at her jerky driving, and I feign a left. When her brake-foot relaxes and the red light disappears, I swoop a right and go, looking back every half second and noting her abrupt stop and idling. I do not see her turn around as I pass the nearest corner. To add to the drama, as take the corner, a pick-up truck slows me right down, coasting between me and my I-95 retreat. Having a few drinks under my belt and not wanting to test the law (though not nearly enough to declare 'impairment,' I didn't want to take the risk), the slowest high-speed chase you'd ever imagine ensued. At least in my mind. And even when I got to the ramp and entered anonymity, I still felt like she was close behind. Vermont plates are not easy to hide in a sea of white, orange and green Gators.

I didn't stop until I reached Orlando. You wouldn't believe the traffic in Orlando at 3:00 AM on a Friday night.

This is why I'm a fricken' recluse... you meet crazy people like this and your solitude is justified in a hurry. I was elated to hit the city limits, call that a first.

Here's to family in Miami, a safe-haven from the madness of strange strangers.

Kinnakeet

2008-10-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

Kinnakeet rocks. That's Avon, North Carolina, an island town(ish) that straddles the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. Through great contacts (Johnny, you're fricken awesome) I found some amazing people, who were nice enough to let me stay the week and awesome enough to show me the real Kinnakeet, beyond what most of the tourists see.

Wonderful from the first day - the lovely Grace Souter took me out and about to see the town and to test out my surfing legs. Down at Billy Mitchell the sets were rythmic and rideable, even for a beginner. I mean, not that I actually physically 'rode' on my first day... No, no no, not at all. But I nearly stood a handful of times, and didn't do the whole 'belly to knee' thing, which people apparently tend to do. Anyway, that doesn't matter, what matters is, the very first time we paddled out, no more than 20 feet in the distance a pair of dolphins surfaced and did their beautiful dolphiny thing. Good God. It was incredible. I could not believe I was in North Carolina! After that I notice the stingrays jumping out of the water in every direction, truly amazing! If this is what surfing is (and apparently waiting IS the bulk), count me in.

The next day in the water was stormier, but with a good shove from Justin Souter, I was finally able to pop-up and ride a wave to its completion. Hell yeah. No problem. At first it seemed like I was wobbly and about to topple, but then I somehow realized how sturdy the board beneath me felt, and I was snowboarding on thawed molecules. Ridiculously fun. But hell, just being out there in the water is fun!

The storms hit, which was a great and windy time, and like a fool I follow the locals to go body surfing. Very, very glad I did. As much as it kicked my ass (very, very much). Trying to tackle the waves (but being tackled in turn), enhances your perspective on just how powerful the ocean is. I quit early, and it turns out that later on down the tide the group I was with had to pull some struggling kid out of the water. (I say 'kid,' but it was easily a 20-something). Good work guys!

More hanging out in a beach-town ensued, with some incredibly nice and crazy people. I also met Robin-Hood. Nice shot, Sammy.

Oh yeah, and we saw some Kite-Surfers. There wasn't a good time for me to try it myself, but there's always next time. Almost everyone I met was a kite-surfing instructor at one time or another in their lives. What we see below is Justin's friend Ty.

Bad. Ass.

It was sad to leave a place with faces that had grown so familiar, but I must travel on. The ferries weren't so bad, except for the 2+ hour ride - one of the ferry employees was hitting on me (but I got to ride up in the bridge for a bit and check out the navigation equipment), and I got a phone number from a couple of surfer/fisher guys who were headed to the Morehead City area. Funny thing about that number, it was printed on the back of a receipt from Lowe's, which contained such items as tape, a utility knife and a titanium blade. I know I may be reading too much into this, but needless to say I did not follow up on their offer for a free place to stay.

A huge thank you to Justin & Grace Souter, two wonderful people who opened their arms so graciously to a relative stranger. You guys rock.

Sunrise

2008-10-03T03:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in my car overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Anastasia State Park, Florida.

6:14 AM.

Who knew sunrise wasn't until 6:54?!

I was sleeping peaceful, lost in some dream world, where my buddy Larry showed up in Vermont with a 'fro... Definitely a weird dream, but everyone was there and it was good. Right as Larry says "Hi Jaime," I'm immediately woken by the footsteps of a fleet of racoons bombarding my campsite. Thanks for the 'heads-up' Larry.

So, feeling strangely rejuvenated at 5:30 AM, and with nothing better to do, I decided to go watch the sunrise.

Last Night's Sunset ->

Actually, I had considered doing as much last night when I saw the sunset behind a palm in the West. I'd honestly thought to myself "isn't it a shame I wouldn't be up to see an Atlantic sunrise...?'

6:21 AM.

Gives me time to research any bidding prospects on uShip.com. There's a few puppies I may befriend along the Texas way. Earn me some gas money!

6:30 AM.

And then....

Hello, Sun.

Inventory

2008-09-18T17:35:00.002-07:00

The Automobile.

It's an RV to me!
2002, Subaru Outback Wagon Ltd.
Recently serviced by Mark Teetor at Riverside Motors, Poultney, Vermont.
70,000 Miles.
I wonder how she'll do...

The Kitchen.

Cooler, pots, pans, plates.
Propane range with two stove-tops.
Just your basic stuffs.
Also some ketchup, mustard, salt and pepper packets I 'borrowed' from fast food restaurants.

The Pantry.

Yeah, it's a paltry pantry.
Peanut Butter & Jelly on-tap, noodles, candy, and extra water.
I ate a whole loaf of bread all-by-myself over the first two weeks. Yeah, that can't be good...
There was also a hot-dog water incident that I'd rather not talk about...

The Bed.

A bit tight, but she'll do.
On a side-note, that fluffy blue and pink blanket was mine and my brothers' baby blankets, now sewn together.
Yes, isn't that cute.
You can also see my closet and generator at right. That generator is awesome. When fully charged, it can jump-start my car, it's got accessory AC and DC outlets, and an air-compressor! Good investment for this trip. So far it's just kept my computer alive, but that's no small task!

The Library.

Short of WiFi, this is my entertainment center.
I've got the complete tragedies and comedies of Shakespeare, and a tree ID guide.
So far I've read:
King Lear, Romeo & Juliet, Timon of Athens, Troilus & Cressida
Oh yeah, and the Penguin's name is Columbus. He's one of Mr. Popper's.

The Campground.

My new Guitar, road atlas, and fresh apples.
Yes, those are Vermont apples.
I have no idea why they're still fresh, but I am very happy about it.
Next campground I may turn most of 'em to applesauce.
If the hotdog-water-mishap is resolved...

Road-Ready.

Tennessee & Kentucky

2008-09-18T17:35:00.001-07:00

Obviously I've hit some sort of Bluegrass Kick, and in an effort to stick with it I decided to rearrange my travels to include Owensboro, Kentucky, home to the International Bluegrass Music Museum and Hall of Honor.

Travelin' was pretty, as usual...

Good ol' Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway!

And I finally hit lizard habitat. Awesome.

The Bluegrass Museum was wonderful, with old suits and guitars from the stars. I had my first sample of Sweet Tea from a bistro down the road, and was sent to Rosine, Kentucky, homeplace of Bill Monroe:

Enchanting. The same property they hold the Jerusalem Ridge Bluegrass Festival at. I received a tour from a very nice guide.

Apparently, this is the home where Bill Monroe lived until his teens, when his parents died and he moved in with his Unlce Pen. Yes, Uncle Pen is real. Which makes it an even better song, if that's possible! Bill was the youngest sibling by 10 years, definitely the 'baby' - his family wasn't so bad-off for his time, either, with a coal mine in the back yard and timber sales from the same . But, times get hard, and Bill's brother Charlie ended up selling most of the land to a grinch of a man, who owns most of that land to-date - along with most of the county. Bill has tried repeatedly to regain the land where he was born and raised, but every time he came to the owner with the money, the grinch would raise the price.

After visiting the old homeplace of the Father of Bluegrass, it's high time I head toward the coast. This time traveling south through Chattanooga toward Asheville, I hit an amazing ride, full of winding roads and white water rapids below. A much better option than traveling back through Pigeon Forge again - Outside the Smokies, that built-up sprawl was nothing to write home about, so I won't. Instead, enjoy some more pictures of my return to the Blue Mountains:

Tunnel through the Mountain

TVA: Snail Darter Killers.

Goodbye, Tennessee...

Sweet Virginia

2008-09-18T17:35:00.000-07:00

A treat for the folks at home!

This past Friday, I followed the tip to the Floyd Country Store Friday Night Jamboree. No small ordeal. A band, a dance floor, a large seating space, and room enough to still sell ice cream, gifts, CDs, nick-knacks, and barrels-full of candy. Ahh, the Floyd General Store, in beautiful Floyd, Virginia. As you can tell from the video below, the dancers aren't shy! What you see is 'clogging' and 'flat-footing.' Apparently the difference is that flat-footers are too old to raise their knees... Half of the dancers had some sort of taps on their shoes. Very cool. Good for them.

Inside the General Store

But that's not the best part. Outside the general store, even more bands gather - well, not 'bands,' per-se, but musicians anyhow. I counted a maximum of 6 groups playing outside at one time. Young, old; punk, hippie, redneck; all come together with a single goal: to enjoy some good old fashioned bluegrass music.

Outside the General Store

I'll return here someday. In the meantime, another cool landmark in town is County Sales, a virtual warehouse of bluegrass music. But buyer beware, browsing will take a considerable amount of time - artists are organized by label! Very helpful staff will guide you in the right direction. Or just go to the website and order online!

Galax, Galax, Galax

2008-09-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

Ahh, what a town. The people there are angels, open-armed and eager. No lack of mountain music to be made here! From Stringbean's Cafe (live jamming every Tuesday) to Barr's Fiddle Shop (live jamming every other customer), it's a fantastic place to catch some music or meet some musicians. And it's within a half hour drive from every other big event in the area - you could literally see music every night!

And how on Earth did I get here, I'm supposed to be in New Jersey? Well, good things happen when you drive Southwest to avoid Hurricane Hannah. I wouldn't change a thing. To hell with New Jersey. I owe y'all a new map

So, let's take a closer look:

Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway Music Center
That's a mouthful! I'd heard about this from the start, and thank goodness I went to check it out. Not only a museum, showcasing the best of Old Time Mountain Music, this venue actually hires musicians to play the same, every day from 10:30-4:00! With rocking chairs set out for interested visitors, this was a wonderful place to take a break - and to hear the haps on all the music in the surrounding area. These were the kind folk who sent me to Stringbeans in Galax, and Barr's Fiddle Shop to mend my cracking fiddle-face. I also received a two-minute dobro/dulcimer lesson from a friendly ranger inside, picked up Ralph Stanley & the Clinchmountain Sweethearts CD, and spent a good hour reading about The Hillbillies, the Carter Family, The Stanley Brothers and more. PLUS, they had an old Sears-Roebuck issued guitar on the wall that belonged to one of the Hillbillies. Good stuff, good stuff.

Stringbean's Cafe
I counted possibly 6 or
7 antique stores on Main Street, Galax; this one can be set apart by its delicious coffees (mmm, frozen mocha), pie-by-the-slice (mmm, apple), and the old time mountain music played from every corner on Tuesday nights. I'm not kidding, there was a separate group playing a separate song in three different corners of the store. It's a pretty big store. The harmonies of the group I observed were unmatched - some Father/Son mixture had something to do with that, I'm sure. Get up and dance if you want to, or sit down and play your hand at rummy with the old folks. What a great retirement - tea, cards, AND music all around! I wish I'd had my camera there on Tuesday...

George's "Cones & Coffee"
What a great guy, this George fellow, and what a great little shop. Delicious foods and bakery items (I settled on a scrumptious orange/cranberry muffin and cookies-and-cream flavored frozen coffee), and an antique store to boot! A great place to sip and read. And let's all wish George some "good luck!" on his Hallelujah diet! And no bananas, God help you if you pester George with a banana.
Being the oh-so-studious and attentive planner that I am, my reading of choice in this cafe was the City of Galax Comprehensive Plan. No light reading, to be sure... The city is currently undergoing some "revitalization" (I know how that is), and I hope to keep up as much as possible. You know it's a lovely town when you actually start to give-a-damn!

Barr's Fiddle Shop
How many times have you found yourself sitting in a music shop for 7 hours, and then come back the next day for more? This is the hub of town, as I see it, and the door is always swinging open. I met several awesome people here, not the least of which was one Stevie Barr, owner, banjo player, total angel. He grew up in the store, bought it from his father, and continues the tradition of bringing music and musical instruments to the residents and visitors of Galax. (Remind anyone of the Ralphs?) Stevie is "kind of a big deal," sort of like a local legend or idol. The sonofagun played before the Queen in Edinburgh! I love Edinburgh! And (tell me if I'm wrong, Steve), at 13, played with Earl Scruggs, played the inaugural ceremony for the new governor of Virginia, played all over Europe, etc. etc. He's also on the in-ter-net. Check out his band "No Speed Limit." These guys (and gals) gots skills.Stevie sold me a wonderful little beater guitar, and I'm getting pretty good at the G chord. That's right, watch out. Hopefully this will spur some song-writing in me - I've got a pretty good amount of fiddle-fodder to formulate. Plus I promised I'd post "Bluegrass Lullaby" when I learned it.

New River Campground
Now, not everything happens in Galax (except the Fiddler's convention - last weekend in August - 2009, I'm totally there). Some good stuff happens in Independence, VA; or was it Sparta, NC? For all my days gallivanting around Galax and surrounding towns, I spent the most comfortable nights at the New River Campground, right on the line of Virginia and North Carolina. Well, I registered in Virginia, but I slept in North Carolina. Only a few feet away from the New River ("Oldest River in America," whatever that means...)! It was gorgeous! The campground offers tubing, kayaking and canoing, which one day I will take advantage of! The lady behind the counter was the sweetest gem I've met on this trip, and the grounds were immaculate, secure, and restful. Even for a girl sleeping in her car! (yes, it rains in Galax).

The Blue Ridge Parkway

2008-09-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

What a place! Vistas overlooking the ridge every ten minutes, windy roads and switchbacks - I wish I had a video camera attached to my car, y'all would get motion sick in a minute!

The campgrounds so far have been excellent, and decreasing in price as I go; The first stop in the Poconos, where I did not dally, cost some $30. The next from some friendly folk just outside the parkway, $22. Then I finally found the parkway. Now, the ride from Pennsylvania to Virginia was nice; and I finally saw just what 'Virginia Creeper' was...but nothing could compare to the Blue Ridge Parkway!

The campgrounds just off the Parkway have been modest and affordable... aside from some humongous bees and the constant threat of some ornery mother blackbear, it was fine.

I'll have to do an 'in-depth' look at the contents of my RV (read: subaru wagon) at the next campground.

Countdown: T-130 (Days)

2008-04-02T07:03:00.000-07:00

August 9th, 2008

I love Vermont. I really do.

I love the people, the places, the opportunities.
I love the food, the farms, the familiar faces and the general stores.

But how do I know it's the place for me, when it's the only place I've really been?

I imagine that most young Nutmegers dream of the far and wide: Generally just getting the hell out and never looking back. Perhaps it was just me... The warmth and beauty of California has always been a cunning draw; Up until now, I've had the frontier attitude without the frontier.

Things are changing. Rapidly.

For the past 3 weeks I've been living on a couch in little ol' Poultney, Vermont. Call it training.

I've spent the last 6 years in the area, in the towns of Pawlet and Poultney, home of my Alma-Mater, Green Mountain College, and at least 6 of my part-time jobs. If you live here, I most likely folded your taxes, sold you a dump sticker or reviewed your application for a shed on a non-conforming lot.

No hard feelings.

I've spent many a late night crooning at The Barn Restaurant and Tavern, seen my share of Vermont Bluegrass Festivals and porch-picking sessions, and swept up the floor time and again with good friends.

There's a lot that will be missed.

Over the next 4 months I will be taking down names, numbers and couch locations across the country. Any recommendations or must-sees are greatly appreciated. Tales of caution and creepiness are also encouraged.

I will be updating this blog with maps, photographs and anecdotes from my journey.

Stay Tuned!