8/14/13: Wednesday, August 14, Wha' Hoppen? For reasons I don't fully understand, I simply fell into a sort of deep torpor for about a month plus, hardly getting out of bed except to feed the cats, bathe, etc. I lay in bed or sat in a chair and read one book after another on my Kindle until it died on me! True, I met Cammy for lunch on July 5, but after that? Nada.
Was I so exhausted? Or dead lazy? Or just unhappy at being back in Oceanside? (I AM sick of Oceanside!) Hiding in my "girl cave" and reading is a great way to run away! But I need to manufacture some motivation to get up and get going, and I simply have none. Part of it was a reaction to a unfortunate combination of medications: because Metformin upsets my stomach so, I had recently started taking 2 Ranitidine with each Metformin, instead of 1 Ranitidine. Turns out that Ranitidine and Metformin can react to cause dizziness, sleepiness, space-y-ness, etc., which is just what I was experiencing. But cutting back on the Ranitidine hasn't helped much. I think I just want the hell out of here.
I want my mountains! To heck with the damn ocean! Same for the damn desert!
I'm at Sportsmobile today, getting some little repairs done, and Lynne, who works here and whom I had met before when I had the pneumatic penthouse-raising/lowering system installed, suggested I look into becoming a seasonal campground manager. I've also been considering going full-time as an RVer, with the cats, and moving up to a Sprinter-based van for more room and for a diesel engine. But the cost…! I'd need to sell the mobile home and my current Sportsmobile just to raise the down payment!
With this burning desire to spur me, I may find a way….
Meanwhile, from Fresno (where Sportsmobile West is), I'll spend 3 days at Cisco Grove before going on for a week at Tahoe's D.L. Bliss State Park, where I'll meet Shalle for a week of dayhiking and kayaking. Whee! Good stuff!
(Just found the perfect description of my torpor -- it's depression apparently untouched by the Lexapro -- at http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html. Now I hope I can find my dried corn-kernel to start me climbing out of it!)
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Aftermath
7/5/13: Friday, July 5: Aftermath: A Day to Snooze and Launder. Spoke with friends and relatives this morning, as well as with Pat Forest last night. Bob Lamia called this morning with an assumed voice and manner: "The Highway Patrol has determined that now that you are home, it is safe for everyone else to continue their journeys." The rat!
7/6/13, Saturday: Maybe I'll start a new blog, just for funny and interesting events from life around here. I could focus on one of my favorite "sports," accidentally reading signs and cards wrongly so that, for example, I initially misread a card sideways in a Trader Joe's rack: "CONGRATS YOU LATINOS," it said to me. That's nice, I thought, but what about the rest of us? Then I realized it really read, "CONGRAT YOU LATIONS." So I bought it for Sara's graduation.
7/6/13, Saturday: Maybe I'll start a new blog, just for funny and interesting events from life around here. I could focus on one of my favorite "sports," accidentally reading signs and cards wrongly so that, for example, I initially misread a card sideways in a Trader Joe's rack: "CONGRATS YOU LATINOS," it said to me. That's nice, I thought, but what about the rest of us? Then I realized it really read, "CONGRAT YOU LATIONS." So I bought it for Sara's graduation.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Independence and Return Day
7/4/13: Thursday, July 4, Independence Day: Home At Last? 9 PM, July 4, 2013: 7872.1 miles, and Maybelline and I are back in the carport at 148 Sherri Lane, Oceanside, CA. Soon, I hope to be in bed.
Gettysburg Reflections: (Skip this paragraph if you're not interested in the Battle of Gettysburg.) 150 years ago today, the great Battle of Gettysburg is over, each side limping away, leaving the dead behind and carrying their wounded. A true story I heard on one of the Gettysburg tours says that today or thereabouts 150 years ago, a family in a neighboring village, wishing to see the site of the great Union victory, packs a picnic and heads over there. The site is far from glorious: the family are appalled. The stench is overwhelming, not just of dead and perhaps still dying soldiers and of their amputated limbs, but of heaps of dead horses and mules, putrefying in the July heat. These mounds of animal flesh must be set afire; there is nothing else that can be done with them.
Said goodbye to the Velazquezes and to Bob and then headed for Oceanside.
It was a fabulous, scary, wonderful, bewildering, overwhelming experience that I have yet to fully digest. My great thanks to you who helped and who entertained me along the way.
Maybelline's CHECK ENGINE light is on. So is mine!
All cats present and well, thanks to Renai Landes and her team. Mister is turning brown; must figure out why.
Missed you all! Nice to be home!
Can't wait to hear what YOU'VE been up to!
Gettysburg Reflections: (Skip this paragraph if you're not interested in the Battle of Gettysburg.) 150 years ago today, the great Battle of Gettysburg is over, each side limping away, leaving the dead behind and carrying their wounded. A true story I heard on one of the Gettysburg tours says that today or thereabouts 150 years ago, a family in a neighboring village, wishing to see the site of the great Union victory, packs a picnic and heads over there. The site is far from glorious: the family are appalled. The stench is overwhelming, not just of dead and perhaps still dying soldiers and of their amputated limbs, but of heaps of dead horses and mules, putrefying in the July heat. These mounds of animal flesh must be set afire; there is nothing else that can be done with them.
Said goodbye to the Velazquezes and to Bob and then headed for Oceanside.
It was a fabulous, scary, wonderful, bewildering, overwhelming experience that I have yet to fully digest. My great thanks to you who helped and who entertained me along the way.
Maybelline's CHECK ENGINE light is on. So is mine!
All cats present and well, thanks to Renai Landes and her team. Mister is turning brown; must figure out why.
Missed you all! Nice to be home!
Can't wait to hear what YOU'VE been up to!
California, Here I Come!
7/3/13: Wednesday, July 3: The Ol' Stompin' Grounds: Looking back on yesterday, I marveled as I went at how lonely U.S. Highway 6 is through Nevada. I've seen U.S. Highway 50 called "The Loneliest Road," but it's hard for me to imagine that anything could be emptier than the Basin and Range province between Delta, UT, and Bishop, CA, where Highway 6 officially now ends. (I must get another photo of the sign outside Bishop to complement the ones I took outside Provincetown, MA.) Between Delta and Baker, NV, Baker and Ely, Ely and Tonopah, Tonopah and Bishop, there is NOTHING except dry mountain ranges separated by immense flat, mostly dry valleys. The breadth of the valleys makes it hard for me to appreciate the sheer number of mountain ranges, even though Nevada is the most mountainous state in the Union. So obviously, what this speaks to, is my underestimation of the sheer size of the state!
I cried when I crossed the border into California, and I cried again when the highway cleared the Benton Hills and I could see the Sierra Nevada at last. SO BEAUTIFUL! Nothing like them, not even the Rockies.
I couldn't find a garage to fix Maybelline today, so I saw friends in the valley and, luckily, Shirley Blumberg, who just happened to be coming down to Bishop today. She and I had a great lunch at Whiskey Creek, and she got me caught up on a lot of Mammoth news. Daniel stopped by the motel with Sam to confirm that it was okay to drive Maybelline home. This evening, I had dinner at Yamatani with Bob Lamia, and then we went for a lovely drive in the very pleasant evening -- I really enjoyed that!
Can't figure out why I'm so tired, except that maybe it's the stress of driving with the CHECK ENGINE light on over the past two days. Stress might also have something to do with a sudden rash in a place I won't disclose, a rash that was getting worse and not better until today!
I cried when I crossed the border into California, and I cried again when the highway cleared the Benton Hills and I could see the Sierra Nevada at last. SO BEAUTIFUL! Nothing like them, not even the Rockies.
I couldn't find a garage to fix Maybelline today, so I saw friends in the valley and, luckily, Shirley Blumberg, who just happened to be coming down to Bishop today. She and I had a great lunch at Whiskey Creek, and she got me caught up on a lot of Mammoth news. Daniel stopped by the motel with Sam to confirm that it was okay to drive Maybelline home. This evening, I had dinner at Yamatani with Bob Lamia, and then we went for a lovely drive in the very pleasant evening -- I really enjoyed that!
Can't figure out why I'm so tired, except that maybe it's the stress of driving with the CHECK ENGINE light on over the past two days. Stress might also have something to do with a sudden rash in a place I won't disclose, a rash that was getting worse and not better until today!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The Battle of Gettysburg Began 150 Years Ago
7/1-2/13: Monday and Tuesday: Scary, Hairy Days: One hundred fifty years ago on July 1, the Battle of Gettysburg began. Those of you not interested should skip the next 4 paragraphs.
Day One: The North had moved around the tiny town in force; the South (Robert E. Lee) had not expected the Union to be present in such numbers but had none of their usual information, Jeb Stuart, their "eyes" with his superb cavalry, being out "joyriding" and not available to provide that info. "Blind," the South blundered into the territory around Gettysburg. In spite of this, the South nearly won on Day 1. Meade for the North wanted to withdraw after Day 1, but Hancock talked him out of doing so. Chance, surprise, cold feet, missing info, plain old mistakes -- on such things do the fates of nations rest.
Day Two: One hundred fifty years ago Tuesday, 7/2, Col. Strong Vincent and Col. Joshua Chamberlain will defend Little Round Top against Confederate troops. When his men run out of ammunition, Col. Chamberlain will have them fix bayonets and charge downhill into the already-exhausted and now astonished Confederates, as part of the Battle of Little Round Top (part of the greater Battle of Gettysburg).
Day Three: One hundred fifty years ago Wednesday, 7/3, at Lee's insistence and against his subordinate General Longstreet's advice, Col. George Pickett will make his fatal charge up against the center of Meade's forces on Cemetery Ridge, and the Union forces will hold him off, inflicting huge losses not including Pickett himself. Robert E. Lee will never forgive himself; his subordinate, Longstreet, will blame Lee for the eventual loss of the war there at Gettysburg, though the end is almost two more bloody years away. Pickett will always blame Lee for the charge's failure, an exposed mile across rocky ground, into the teeth of the Union army's artillery as well as of its men and their repeating carbines. But these very weapons have made the massed charge obsolete, a lesson that will have to be re-learned in the carnage of World War I.
After the three days' battle, Meade declines to pursue the withdrawing Confederates. But the myth of Lee's invincibility suffers a fatal blow both North and South. Casualty numbers were similar: according to Wikipedia, 23,055 Union killed, wounded, and captured/missing; 23,231 Confederate killed, wounded, and captured/missing. Neither side could afford to lose so many, but the Confederate side had fewer such precious resources to spend in the first place and far less chance of replacing them than the Union side.
I loved the drive from Green River, UT, to Scipio, UT. First, the road climbed into and through the weird shapes and colors of the fantastic San Rafael Swell. Then it wound through redneck and forest country in the Fishlake Mountains. At last, it sank back to the high desert around Salina, UT, and then passed through pretty Delta, UT, a farming community. Rounding dry Sevier Lake, the land grew bleaker and the day hotter, as the road went up and down, and Maybelline began acting up. Poor Maybelline!
The CHECK ENGINE light came on, so I slowed down and turned off the A/C -- very hot and miserable in this fiery afternoon. That helped for a bit, but not for long. In a very short time -- very long for scared me -- I reached the Nevada border and pulled into a combination convenience store-gas station-motel-casino (spread across the border so that the casino was exclusively in Nevada). They kindly looked under Maybelline's hood, checked the oil, and opined that in the extreme heat of the day and the fact that the route had a lot of steep little hills coming into Nevada, Maybelline's oxygen sensors had gone bonkers and were making the gas-air mixture wrong for the engine.
So I tipped them and limped on to Baker, NV, where I turned off for Great Basin National Park, ending up in campsite 6 at Upper Lehman Campground. So montane, so pretty! I was charmed, but by this time, the CHECK ENGINE light was on all the time, and the gas fumes were so pervasive they set off the stowed CO-Smoke alarm. I flung the doors open, took the sensor and me out into the fresh air, and all was soon as well as it could be. How well and for how long, I don't know. I was shaking with adrenaline and, after attending an evening ranger talk about bats (GBNP is the home of Lehmann Caves, with a huge bat population), took a sleeping pill and slept well, thank goodness.
Last night in GBNP, there was an astronomy program after the bat program, but I was just too worn out. However, once I'd taken an alcohol bath and changed into my nightgown, I sat outside with my binoculars, enjoying the starry sky. According to the ranger, GBNP has the darkest night skies in the nation, owing to its being so very far from any urban areas (Baker boasts 68 people).
Good montane vegetation here: Lots of wild roses, biggest mountain mahoganies I've ever seen, aspens, junipers, pinyon pines, and lodgepole pines. I wish I could stay longer! Must come back. Site 3 looks like a good choice!
But I have great fears about driving today. Shall I stop in Baker to have the sensors replaced, if that's what they do? Or limp to Ely, where they might have more resources? Should I give up driving in the heat of the afternoon and wait to continue till the air temperature cools -- start doing most of my driving at night? No good choices here. How will this affect my getting home on time?
Well, there's nothing for it but to forge ahead as best I can today (7/2). Wish me luck!
So I forged, and there were no garages in Baker, just an unmanned gas station. At the McDonald's in Ely, I heard that there were no good mechanics in town, but those there were would keep your car for a couple of weeks and then charge you 2-3 times what anyone else would. I telephoned Bob Lamia for advice and told him the situation, thinking I'd try for a repair in Tonopah. Unbelievably, Bob insisted on driving to Tonopah (115 miles one-way for him) to meet me and to follow me all the way to Bishop, and so he did. Now, THAT is a real friend!
Tonight I'm in the Bishop Motel 6, and tomorrow I'll call Mr. K's and try to see if I can't get Maybelline in. If not there, I'll take her to the Ford dealer. She did behave very well today: no near-death by CO, at least, and the CHECK ENGINE light was again intermittent. But something's wrong: she slurps up the gas the way I slurp up smoothies.
Day One: The North had moved around the tiny town in force; the South (Robert E. Lee) had not expected the Union to be present in such numbers but had none of their usual information, Jeb Stuart, their "eyes" with his superb cavalry, being out "joyriding" and not available to provide that info. "Blind," the South blundered into the territory around Gettysburg. In spite of this, the South nearly won on Day 1. Meade for the North wanted to withdraw after Day 1, but Hancock talked him out of doing so. Chance, surprise, cold feet, missing info, plain old mistakes -- on such things do the fates of nations rest.
Day Two: One hundred fifty years ago Tuesday, 7/2, Col. Strong Vincent and Col. Joshua Chamberlain will defend Little Round Top against Confederate troops. When his men run out of ammunition, Col. Chamberlain will have them fix bayonets and charge downhill into the already-exhausted and now astonished Confederates, as part of the Battle of Little Round Top (part of the greater Battle of Gettysburg).
Day Three: One hundred fifty years ago Wednesday, 7/3, at Lee's insistence and against his subordinate General Longstreet's advice, Col. George Pickett will make his fatal charge up against the center of Meade's forces on Cemetery Ridge, and the Union forces will hold him off, inflicting huge losses not including Pickett himself. Robert E. Lee will never forgive himself; his subordinate, Longstreet, will blame Lee for the eventual loss of the war there at Gettysburg, though the end is almost two more bloody years away. Pickett will always blame Lee for the charge's failure, an exposed mile across rocky ground, into the teeth of the Union army's artillery as well as of its men and their repeating carbines. But these very weapons have made the massed charge obsolete, a lesson that will have to be re-learned in the carnage of World War I.
After the three days' battle, Meade declines to pursue the withdrawing Confederates. But the myth of Lee's invincibility suffers a fatal blow both North and South. Casualty numbers were similar: according to Wikipedia, 23,055 Union killed, wounded, and captured/missing; 23,231 Confederate killed, wounded, and captured/missing. Neither side could afford to lose so many, but the Confederate side had fewer such precious resources to spend in the first place and far less chance of replacing them than the Union side.
I loved the drive from Green River, UT, to Scipio, UT. First, the road climbed into and through the weird shapes and colors of the fantastic San Rafael Swell. Then it wound through redneck and forest country in the Fishlake Mountains. At last, it sank back to the high desert around Salina, UT, and then passed through pretty Delta, UT, a farming community. Rounding dry Sevier Lake, the land grew bleaker and the day hotter, as the road went up and down, and Maybelline began acting up. Poor Maybelline!
The CHECK ENGINE light came on, so I slowed down and turned off the A/C -- very hot and miserable in this fiery afternoon. That helped for a bit, but not for long. In a very short time -- very long for scared me -- I reached the Nevada border and pulled into a combination convenience store-gas station-motel-casino (spread across the border so that the casino was exclusively in Nevada). They kindly looked under Maybelline's hood, checked the oil, and opined that in the extreme heat of the day and the fact that the route had a lot of steep little hills coming into Nevada, Maybelline's oxygen sensors had gone bonkers and were making the gas-air mixture wrong for the engine.
So I tipped them and limped on to Baker, NV, where I turned off for Great Basin National Park, ending up in campsite 6 at Upper Lehman Campground. So montane, so pretty! I was charmed, but by this time, the CHECK ENGINE light was on all the time, and the gas fumes were so pervasive they set off the stowed CO-Smoke alarm. I flung the doors open, took the sensor and me out into the fresh air, and all was soon as well as it could be. How well and for how long, I don't know. I was shaking with adrenaline and, after attending an evening ranger talk about bats (GBNP is the home of Lehmann Caves, with a huge bat population), took a sleeping pill and slept well, thank goodness.
Last night in GBNP, there was an astronomy program after the bat program, but I was just too worn out. However, once I'd taken an alcohol bath and changed into my nightgown, I sat outside with my binoculars, enjoying the starry sky. According to the ranger, GBNP has the darkest night skies in the nation, owing to its being so very far from any urban areas (Baker boasts 68 people).
Good montane vegetation here: Lots of wild roses, biggest mountain mahoganies I've ever seen, aspens, junipers, pinyon pines, and lodgepole pines. I wish I could stay longer! Must come back. Site 3 looks like a good choice!
But I have great fears about driving today. Shall I stop in Baker to have the sensors replaced, if that's what they do? Or limp to Ely, where they might have more resources? Should I give up driving in the heat of the afternoon and wait to continue till the air temperature cools -- start doing most of my driving at night? No good choices here. How will this affect my getting home on time?
Well, there's nothing for it but to forge ahead as best I can today (7/2). Wish me luck!
So I forged, and there were no garages in Baker, just an unmanned gas station. At the McDonald's in Ely, I heard that there were no good mechanics in town, but those there were would keep your car for a couple of weeks and then charge you 2-3 times what anyone else would. I telephoned Bob Lamia for advice and told him the situation, thinking I'd try for a repair in Tonopah. Unbelievably, Bob insisted on driving to Tonopah (115 miles one-way for him) to meet me and to follow me all the way to Bishop, and so he did. Now, THAT is a real friend!
Tonight I'm in the Bishop Motel 6, and tomorrow I'll call Mr. K's and try to see if I can't get Maybelline in. If not there, I'll take her to the Ford dealer. She did behave very well today: no near-death by CO, at least, and the CHECK ENGINE light was again intermittent. But something's wrong: she slurps up the gas the way I slurp up smoothies.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
6/30/13: Sunday, June 30: Hail and Farewell to the Rockies -- For Now. See Ya Next Year, Guys! I have so thoroughly enjoyed being in the Rockies that I can't wait to come back next year! Stormy or not, yesterday's drive was marvelous, and I must see more of the park and HIKE the park! If I play my cards right, I can take 2 weeks, drive U.S. Highway 6, spend some time in Great Basin National Park along the way, and then spend at least a solid week in RMNP!
This morning is lovely, though puffy cumulus clouds are building over the park. I hate to leave; I've really enjoyed this campground, even though it has only a wi-fi hot spot. Ah, well, time to head west again.
The drive was much longer than I had thought it would be, in excess of 350 miles. The GPS unit took me to Granby and then through Kremmling before vectoring me down Colorado 9 to meet I-70 at Silverthorne. Grand Lake is lovely, with 3 lakes including those adjacent to nearby Granby. I think I'm ready to move there, too, or to Estes Park or Silverthorne or Breckenridge or….Mountains! I need mountains!
The landscape ranged from wonderfully scenic to pretty nice as far as, roughly, Glenwood Springs, though it had been growing lower and drier for some time. Beyond Glenwood Springs, the terrain grew drier and drier, the land became flatter, often distinguished by flat-topped mesas dissected by canyons of various sizes. I-70 crossed the Colorado River often. It was not to my taste!
Then came the Utah border and, finally, Green River and the KOA, where I hooked up quickly and then walked to the nearby restaurant. I'd had only one Medifast meal today, plus a chicken tostada (minus the shell) in Glenwood Springs.
Back at the van, I fell to studying the Rand-McNally atlas for a couple of hours, immersed in rehearsing where I have been, remembering the features that most struck me, feeling a sense of wonder that I have seen so much -- and yet so little. I really had had no sense for how immense the country is. It's truly beyond my grasp.
Tomorrow, I may not go to Ely, NV, but instead detour to camp in Great Basin National Park, where I've never been. Terra nova, terra icognita!
This morning is lovely, though puffy cumulus clouds are building over the park. I hate to leave; I've really enjoyed this campground, even though it has only a wi-fi hot spot. Ah, well, time to head west again.
The drive was much longer than I had thought it would be, in excess of 350 miles. The GPS unit took me to Granby and then through Kremmling before vectoring me down Colorado 9 to meet I-70 at Silverthorne. Grand Lake is lovely, with 3 lakes including those adjacent to nearby Granby. I think I'm ready to move there, too, or to Estes Park or Silverthorne or Breckenridge or….Mountains! I need mountains!
The landscape ranged from wonderfully scenic to pretty nice as far as, roughly, Glenwood Springs, though it had been growing lower and drier for some time. Beyond Glenwood Springs, the terrain grew drier and drier, the land became flatter, often distinguished by flat-topped mesas dissected by canyons of various sizes. I-70 crossed the Colorado River often. It was not to my taste!
Then came the Utah border and, finally, Green River and the KOA, where I hooked up quickly and then walked to the nearby restaurant. I'd had only one Medifast meal today, plus a chicken tostada (minus the shell) in Glenwood Springs.
Back at the van, I fell to studying the Rand-McNally atlas for a couple of hours, immersed in rehearsing where I have been, remembering the features that most struck me, feeling a sense of wonder that I have seen so much -- and yet so little. I really had had no sense for how immense the country is. It's truly beyond my grasp.
Tomorrow, I may not go to Ely, NV, but instead detour to camp in Great Basin National Park, where I've never been. Terra nova, terra icognita!
6/29/13, Saturday, June 29: The Big Mountain Drive Day! What a glorious day! No sleep last night for some reason, but I tanked up on coffee and Mountain Dew, and then I drove slowly through Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP), savoring the scenery and rejoicing in the excellence of mountains, in spite of a thunderstorm that dropped lots of hail on those of us at higher elevations. I accidentally made the loop between paved roads out of Estes Park and then set out, retracing part of my steps, to follow Trail Ridge Road (Highway 34) through the park to Grand Lake. The road is primarily an east-west route, topping out at a viewpoint at 12,183 feet (3713 meters) of alpine tundra, bare rock, and snow-painted peaks. I took a photo there of a couple, and they reciprocated by snapping one of me with my camera. Not far beyond, the road turns principally south, crossing the Continental Divide. There was plenty of hail strewn on the ground as if it had snowed a bit.
There were a number of places along the road where people had stopped (though not in a designated pull-over-and-park area, naughty, naughty) to watch bighorn sheep, elk, moose, lightning, etc. This is verboten in RMNP, and rangers and volunteers materialized quickly at any such spot to organize the swift departure of the erring but enthusiastic tourists.
I stopped early on to enjoy a large alpine meadow on the east side, where I also photographed a group from Nebraska who've been to RMNP many times, the lucky dogs. The scenery reminded me so much of Tioga Road through Yosemite, I almost wept. I had some dark, self-pitying thoughts about the loss of my backpacking abilities, but I pulled myself back on track by pointing out to myself that I must focus on what I CAN do, not what I can't do, and who knows where the limit really lies until I try it? So I'll try it. The season isn't over yet.
I kept going in spite of the storm, because this was my one day to see the park. I confess I was pretty scared at times, especially on a high, wet road with a sheer drop on one side, no shoulder on the other, and hail coming down so hard it was bouncing high off Maybelline's hood and collecting a couple of inches deep at the bottom of her windshield.
At the high point, I felt a bit dizzy, so it was a relief when the dizziness quickly passed. I drove down out of the storm, through the park exit (rats!), and into Grand Lake, where I'd reserved an RV site at Elk Creek Park. Alas, there was someone already in that viewless site, and they looked pretty well established. The management assigned me another viewless site -- where someone had parked an extra car and then gone off and left it. I tried to be calm and cheery about it and wandered down the road to get a late lunch at Sloopy's while management figured out what to do. When I came back, they had assigned me yet another site, much better than the previous two: the new site has great views east of "Old Baldy," back into the park.
(Being cheerful, agreeable, and patient really pays off. I have learned that I can only control my temper if I never let it off the leash in the first place. It took me almost all my life to learn to do this, and boy, it's hard some times! It's all I can do to fight back against the boiling rage that would so easily consume me and the situation and lead to one of the disasters I've precipitated all my life until just recently. I wonder if being nice will ever be easy, come naturally? I always thought I was an anger addict until I realized that, with chemical help, it's a matter of choosing which habit to cultivate: throwing a fit, or smiling calmly and letting the situation resolve itself. Smiling calmly pays. Thank you, Zoloft and Lexapro.
(I haven't changed. I've just found a way, even if it's a hard one for now, to make what I am work better for me.)
There were a number of places along the road where people had stopped (though not in a designated pull-over-and-park area, naughty, naughty) to watch bighorn sheep, elk, moose, lightning, etc. This is verboten in RMNP, and rangers and volunteers materialized quickly at any such spot to organize the swift departure of the erring but enthusiastic tourists.
I stopped early on to enjoy a large alpine meadow on the east side, where I also photographed a group from Nebraska who've been to RMNP many times, the lucky dogs. The scenery reminded me so much of Tioga Road through Yosemite, I almost wept. I had some dark, self-pitying thoughts about the loss of my backpacking abilities, but I pulled myself back on track by pointing out to myself that I must focus on what I CAN do, not what I can't do, and who knows where the limit really lies until I try it? So I'll try it. The season isn't over yet.
I kept going in spite of the storm, because this was my one day to see the park. I confess I was pretty scared at times, especially on a high, wet road with a sheer drop on one side, no shoulder on the other, and hail coming down so hard it was bouncing high off Maybelline's hood and collecting a couple of inches deep at the bottom of her windshield.
At the high point, I felt a bit dizzy, so it was a relief when the dizziness quickly passed. I drove down out of the storm, through the park exit (rats!), and into Grand Lake, where I'd reserved an RV site at Elk Creek Park. Alas, there was someone already in that viewless site, and they looked pretty well established. The management assigned me another viewless site -- where someone had parked an extra car and then gone off and left it. I tried to be calm and cheery about it and wandered down the road to get a late lunch at Sloopy's while management figured out what to do. When I came back, they had assigned me yet another site, much better than the previous two: the new site has great views east of "Old Baldy," back into the park.
(Being cheerful, agreeable, and patient really pays off. I have learned that I can only control my temper if I never let it off the leash in the first place. It took me almost all my life to learn to do this, and boy, it's hard some times! It's all I can do to fight back against the boiling rage that would so easily consume me and the situation and lead to one of the disasters I've precipitated all my life until just recently. I wonder if being nice will ever be easy, come naturally? I always thought I was an anger addict until I realized that, with chemical help, it's a matter of choosing which habit to cultivate: throwing a fit, or smiling calmly and letting the situation resolve itself. Smiling calmly pays. Thank you, Zoloft and Lexapro.
(I haven't changed. I've just found a way, even if it's a hard one for now, to make what I am work better for me.)
6/28/13: Friday, June 28: Slowly the Land Rises: Because Burlington is at more than 4,000 feet, I know that the land is rising slowly, slowly before me. I wonder what Estes Park will be like. I've received feedback requests from several of the KOAs I've stayed at on my way back, but I can't remember a thing about some of them. This rushing back doesn't suit me, and I feel a deep weariness now.
I wonder, too, if the seeming flatness of the western plains is due to the gradual rise and greater aridity: there are few streams to cut into the land, to leave behind the lush, shallow valleys that made eastern Kansas so pretty. Thus, it seems there are fewer hills and less relief.
I wrote the above in the motel this morning before taking off. Naturally, the elevation gain grew more noticeable for a while, as if to defy my title for today!
In less than a week I shall be home, if all goes well, home with Da Boyz and glad of it. The cost for gas, running these last few days across the prairies and plains with the air conditioning sucking the tank dry and drier, has been shocking, except that I'm almost incapable of being shocked right now. Highway near-misses shock me. I think if I make it, I shall be ready to sit and stay in the same place for a while -- at least till mid-August.
Leaving Junction City yesterday morning, I saw rising out of the hazy blue distance in the west the ghostly frames of immense but spindly structures, as if white aliens had landed in the night. My guess was that they were immense wind turbines, as they indeed proved to be. I've never been that close to them, I guess. Twice I passed a truck loaded with a single turbine blade, and I couldn't believe how huge it was; it seemed to go on forever.
This morning mounds of cumulus clouds rode the blue haze on the horizon. At Limon, CO, I passed under that line of clouds and saw another….Suddenly I was on the outskirts of Denver, CO, in heavy traffic on a freeway with weedy brown roadsides -- gee, I miss them a lot less than I thought; they're pretty ugly -- soon to bear northwestward for Estes Park. I had no idea the Rockies were so far from Denver! But soon I was skirting the green foothills as I passed through Boulder.
Then up on a road that reminded me of California State Highway 89 over Monitor Pass, and into Estes Park's KOA campground! My campsite looks right into Rocky Mountain National Park, straight at Longs Peak, the highest in the park. It is 7,500+ feet here, cool and dry, and right now we are enjoying the most fabulous lightning show I have ever seen! It is amazing, spectacular! The flashes show not only as sheet lightning and huge bolts but through the clouds as brilliant lavender and rosy purplish light! Not all that much thunder, but WHAT A SHOW!
I looked in the local phone book for my cousin Todd Browne, saw a K Browne and a D Browne, but no T Browne. Cammy tells me he actually lives in Golden, CO. I haven't seen him for perhaps 50+ years, so maybe now I never will. He's probably too big to dress up as a baby angel now, anyway.
I wonder, too, if the seeming flatness of the western plains is due to the gradual rise and greater aridity: there are few streams to cut into the land, to leave behind the lush, shallow valleys that made eastern Kansas so pretty. Thus, it seems there are fewer hills and less relief.
I wrote the above in the motel this morning before taking off. Naturally, the elevation gain grew more noticeable for a while, as if to defy my title for today!
In less than a week I shall be home, if all goes well, home with Da Boyz and glad of it. The cost for gas, running these last few days across the prairies and plains with the air conditioning sucking the tank dry and drier, has been shocking, except that I'm almost incapable of being shocked right now. Highway near-misses shock me. I think if I make it, I shall be ready to sit and stay in the same place for a while -- at least till mid-August.
Leaving Junction City yesterday morning, I saw rising out of the hazy blue distance in the west the ghostly frames of immense but spindly structures, as if white aliens had landed in the night. My guess was that they were immense wind turbines, as they indeed proved to be. I've never been that close to them, I guess. Twice I passed a truck loaded with a single turbine blade, and I couldn't believe how huge it was; it seemed to go on forever.
This morning mounds of cumulus clouds rode the blue haze on the horizon. At Limon, CO, I passed under that line of clouds and saw another….Suddenly I was on the outskirts of Denver, CO, in heavy traffic on a freeway with weedy brown roadsides -- gee, I miss them a lot less than I thought; they're pretty ugly -- soon to bear northwestward for Estes Park. I had no idea the Rockies were so far from Denver! But soon I was skirting the green foothills as I passed through Boulder.
Then up on a road that reminded me of California State Highway 89 over Monitor Pass, and into Estes Park's KOA campground! My campsite looks right into Rocky Mountain National Park, straight at Longs Peak, the highest in the park. It is 7,500+ feet here, cool and dry, and right now we are enjoying the most fabulous lightning show I have ever seen! It is amazing, spectacular! The flashes show not only as sheet lightning and huge bolts but through the clouds as brilliant lavender and rosy purplish light! Not all that much thunder, but WHAT A SHOW!
I looked in the local phone book for my cousin Todd Browne, saw a K Browne and a D Browne, but no T Browne. Cammy tells me he actually lives in Golden, CO. I haven't seen him for perhaps 50+ years, so maybe now I never will. He's probably too big to dress up as a baby angel now, anyway.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
6/27/13: Thursday, June 27: Frying Across the Rest of Kansas and into Colorado: And I DO mean "frying," not "flying." By 10 AM, it was already 93 and wretchedly humid in Junction City! I was surprised my tires hadn't melted into the asphalt pavement.
It was a long haul across western Kansas, which grew steadily flatter and browner, with less and less of the scenery I enjoyed yesterday. I can't say I'm fond of western Kansas: in places, it really was the ironed-flat countryside I'd expected to find in all of Kansas.
Now I'm in a little motel in Burlington, CO, which is at 4,000+ feet and somewhat cooler and drier than the Kansas lowlands. And I'm in the Mountain Time Zone. Can't see the Rockies yet.
It was a long haul across western Kansas, which grew steadily flatter and browner, with less and less of the scenery I enjoyed yesterday. I can't say I'm fond of western Kansas: in places, it really was the ironed-flat countryside I'd expected to find in all of Kansas.
Now I'm in a little motel in Burlington, CO, which is at 4,000+ feet and somewhat cooler and drier than the Kansas lowlands. And I'm in the Mountain Time Zone. Can't see the Rockies yet.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
6/25-26/13: Tuesday and Wednesday, June 25-26: Columbia, MO, and Beautiful Kansas! Tuesday I passed quickly from Indiana, through southern Illinois, and on into Missouri, over the Wabash and multiple channels of the Mississippi rivers. The roadsides in Indiana, besides having the blue flowers (which may be blue flax after all), also had brilliant patches of orange daylilies. How they got there, I have no idea; someone must have gone on a planting spree, or maybe they spread by bullets. Very pretty!
The landscape grew flatter, the weather hotter and stickier, and then I was in Columbia, MO, at a nice little campground just off the freeway. Suddenly, it seemed, I was in the Central time zone, so it was an hour earlier (nice!). I keep wondering when the terrain will be as flat as if it had been ironed that way. Except for road work slowdowns, zipping along I-70 is easy driving, much less tiring than negotiating the back roads of Pennsylvania, but the going is much less interesting on many counts. I remember being exhausted at Dingman's campground in the Delaware Water Gap after a day of following obscure roads from Lancaster, PA, and through the Poconos, but also bowled over by how beautiful it was.
I have a fly in this van, a fly that needs some serious killing. No, it's 3 flies. In my enthusiasm for nailing one, I also killed an innocent piece of black fluff on the floor. Fly No. 3 is proving tough: How is it that these infinitesimal pieces of protoplasm can instantly see me coming with the swatter and escape my righteous wrath? I like that, so I'm going to write it again: Righteous Wrath. The beggars woke me this morning before 6, as it got light and warm, and they went exploring on my arms and shoulders.
Here's another burst of creativity: Games for the Solo RV Driver! (1) Flying Coffee: See how far coffee can go when you leave a cup on the counter, forget it, and take off fast at a green light. Here's a Personal Best: kitchen sink to dashboard. Fun for nobody! (2) Pretzel, Pretzel: Imagine where all those pretzel sticks go after you drop the open bag you were munching on while driving! Your guesses will be compared to the actuality if you ever find them all. (3) Love That Kitty: Spend the rest of your life rousting bits of kitty litter out of remote corners of the van because the goddamn bag tipped over while you were rolling, and it wasn't sealed. Just a little moisture cements it permanently to any handy surface! A very similar game can be had with Random Dry Cat Kibbles.
Beyond Columbia, I finally crossed two broad channels plus some islands of the mighty Missouri River. The scenery grew much more open, rural, and appealing. Suddenly: Kansas City and then a Welcome to Kansas sign! What was I in for now?
And here is the day's Monster Surprise: I like the landscape of Kansas very much! I think it's beautiful! Its long, low, rolling "hills" are still velvety green, and between the hills lie -- ravines? gullies? little valleys? -- all of the preceding, often full of lovely trees, little dark-green gems in an emerald landscape that has long, long views. No more smothering trees eating up the roadsides. The few higher hills seem all the more dramatic in this very gentle terrain. However, the weather is relentlessly hot and humid, and after 2 nights of heat and sweat, when even wearing just underpants seemed to be overdressing, I am ready for an air-conditioned Motel 6 here in Junction City, KS.
The landscape grew flatter, the weather hotter and stickier, and then I was in Columbia, MO, at a nice little campground just off the freeway. Suddenly, it seemed, I was in the Central time zone, so it was an hour earlier (nice!). I keep wondering when the terrain will be as flat as if it had been ironed that way. Except for road work slowdowns, zipping along I-70 is easy driving, much less tiring than negotiating the back roads of Pennsylvania, but the going is much less interesting on many counts. I remember being exhausted at Dingman's campground in the Delaware Water Gap after a day of following obscure roads from Lancaster, PA, and through the Poconos, but also bowled over by how beautiful it was.
I have a fly in this van, a fly that needs some serious killing. No, it's 3 flies. In my enthusiasm for nailing one, I also killed an innocent piece of black fluff on the floor. Fly No. 3 is proving tough: How is it that these infinitesimal pieces of protoplasm can instantly see me coming with the swatter and escape my righteous wrath? I like that, so I'm going to write it again: Righteous Wrath. The beggars woke me this morning before 6, as it got light and warm, and they went exploring on my arms and shoulders.
Here's another burst of creativity: Games for the Solo RV Driver! (1) Flying Coffee: See how far coffee can go when you leave a cup on the counter, forget it, and take off fast at a green light. Here's a Personal Best: kitchen sink to dashboard. Fun for nobody! (2) Pretzel, Pretzel: Imagine where all those pretzel sticks go after you drop the open bag you were munching on while driving! Your guesses will be compared to the actuality if you ever find them all. (3) Love That Kitty: Spend the rest of your life rousting bits of kitty litter out of remote corners of the van because the goddamn bag tipped over while you were rolling, and it wasn't sealed. Just a little moisture cements it permanently to any handy surface! A very similar game can be had with Random Dry Cat Kibbles.
Beyond Columbia, I finally crossed two broad channels plus some islands of the mighty Missouri River. The scenery grew much more open, rural, and appealing. Suddenly: Kansas City and then a Welcome to Kansas sign! What was I in for now?
And here is the day's Monster Surprise: I like the landscape of Kansas very much! I think it's beautiful! Its long, low, rolling "hills" are still velvety green, and between the hills lie -- ravines? gullies? little valleys? -- all of the preceding, often full of lovely trees, little dark-green gems in an emerald landscape that has long, long views. No more smothering trees eating up the roadsides. The few higher hills seem all the more dramatic in this very gentle terrain. However, the weather is relentlessly hot and humid, and after 2 nights of heat and sweat, when even wearing just underpants seemed to be overdressing, I am ready for an air-conditioned Motel 6 here in Junction City, KS.
Monday, June 24, 2013
6/24/13: Monday, June 24, The Big Flat and Flatter Day: I've finally got round to downloading all the photos I have on that Canon camera that have been accumulating for about 2 years. While there are a number of photos of this trip, I CAN'T BELIEVE I TOOK NONE IN CONNECTICUT! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE NO PIX OF THOSE FABULOUS DOGWOODS THAT WOWED ME SO! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THE COUSINS AND OF MY ADVENTURES WITH LISA!
What was I thinking of? Not much, apparently. Guess I was having too good a time with Lisa!
So here I am, in a pretty KOA in Terre Haute, IN, just getting ready to launch myself across Illinois and into Missouri tomorrow. Here in Indiana, I'm really starting to see the cornfields, though the plants are not much more than a foot high so far. There are also lots of pretty, blue, roadside flowers that I suspect are chicory. There are two kinds of lilies at this campground, two varieties of daylily, orange and yellow, and also a beautiful orange fritillary. The people managing the park have no idea which is which.
I'm wrong about the lilies: I don't know what the non-daylily is, but it's not a fritillary. The bells of fritillaries hang down in a cluster below the topmost leaves. These don't: they are upturned and above the topmost leaves. Another trillium?!
And my odometer says I've gone over 5,000 miles so far.
I felt sick to my stomach most of the day till I had a BLT at one p.m.; then I had a salad and soft-serve ice cream (apricot and blackberry) for dessert. Shot the diet to hell, just after I had bagged all that Medifast food in Lancaster, PA. But I feel much better. I hope I don't have leg cramps tonight as badly as I had them last night. I need some sleep, and I need to get up earlier to get going in order to beat the heat and humidity.
It's still a great adventure, and I'm right near the fabled Wabash River: "Oh, the moonlight's fair tonight along the Wabash/From the fields there comes a breath of new-mown hay/Through the sycamores the candlelights are gleaming/On the banks of the Wabash, far away." So pretty, so sad (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_Kkei933TA). Terre Haute was the composer-lyricist's boyhood home (Paul Dresser, brother of Theodore Dreiser).
And yes, Indiana along I-70 is very flat, except when it isn't.
What was I thinking of? Not much, apparently. Guess I was having too good a time with Lisa!
So here I am, in a pretty KOA in Terre Haute, IN, just getting ready to launch myself across Illinois and into Missouri tomorrow. Here in Indiana, I'm really starting to see the cornfields, though the plants are not much more than a foot high so far. There are also lots of pretty, blue, roadside flowers that I suspect are chicory. There are two kinds of lilies at this campground, two varieties of daylily, orange and yellow, and also a beautiful orange fritillary. The people managing the park have no idea which is which.
I'm wrong about the lilies: I don't know what the non-daylily is, but it's not a fritillary. The bells of fritillaries hang down in a cluster below the topmost leaves. These don't: they are upturned and above the topmost leaves. Another trillium?!
And my odometer says I've gone over 5,000 miles so far.
I felt sick to my stomach most of the day till I had a BLT at one p.m.; then I had a salad and soft-serve ice cream (apricot and blackberry) for dessert. Shot the diet to hell, just after I had bagged all that Medifast food in Lancaster, PA. But I feel much better. I hope I don't have leg cramps tonight as badly as I had them last night. I need some sleep, and I need to get up earlier to get going in order to beat the heat and humidity.
It's still a great adventure, and I'm right near the fabled Wabash River: "Oh, the moonlight's fair tonight along the Wabash/From the fields there comes a breath of new-mown hay/Through the sycamores the candlelights are gleaming/On the banks of the Wabash, far away." So pretty, so sad (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_Kkei933TA). Terre Haute was the composer-lyricist's boyhood home (Paul Dresser, brother of Theodore Dreiser).
And yes, Indiana along I-70 is very flat, except when it isn't.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
6/23/13: Sunday, June 23: 'Cross the Wide Ohio: This has been a strange day of intensely muggy heat, when sweat dripped off my face and hair in fat, plentiful drops as I readied Maybelline for travel from southwestern Pennsylvania to southwestern Ohio. (Actually, it did last night, too.)
After a brief run through the last of southwestern Pennsylvania, a large sign over the highway welcomed travelers to West Virginia. But the segment of road actually in that state was so short that I whisked out of it and into Ohio without noticing anything but the immense Ohio River, once a highway to settling a West so far east that it is hard to imagine its ever having been "the West." If there was a welcome sign for Ohio, I never saw it.
The terrain grew less and less hilly, till here, at the Brookville KOA near Dayton, there are not even rolling hills left. It's still green, and there are quite a few trees, but it's mostly fields and towns along I-70. No Clamtowns; no HF, G&GRH; now I'm starting to miss them.
This campground is very well-shaded, and here I am, parked in their shelter. There was a severe thunderstorm to the north, and loud thunder shook the campground for a while in the early evening. The storm brought only a brief spattering of rain here, but it was apparently bad enough elsewhere to evoke emergency warnings over the radio.
And that's today's big excitement.
After a brief run through the last of southwestern Pennsylvania, a large sign over the highway welcomed travelers to West Virginia. But the segment of road actually in that state was so short that I whisked out of it and into Ohio without noticing anything but the immense Ohio River, once a highway to settling a West so far east that it is hard to imagine its ever having been "the West." If there was a welcome sign for Ohio, I never saw it.
The terrain grew less and less hilly, till here, at the Brookville KOA near Dayton, there are not even rolling hills left. It's still green, and there are quite a few trees, but it's mostly fields and towns along I-70. No Clamtowns; no HF, G&GRH; now I'm starting to miss them.
This campground is very well-shaded, and here I am, parked in their shelter. There was a severe thunderstorm to the north, and loud thunder shook the campground for a while in the early evening. The storm brought only a brief spattering of rain here, but it was apparently bad enough elsewhere to evoke emergency warnings over the radio.
And that's today's big excitement.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
6/22/13: Saturday, June 22: And I Made It to Medifast! Thank goodness.
I forgot yesterday to mention how grateful I am that Lyons Auto really aligned the van. That awful traffic jam in New York yesterday called for several sudden, hard stops, and Maybelline did not pull to the right at all, just kept on, digging her claws in, straight ahead, thank goodness.
(Did I mention that I stayed in a motel on Cape Cod because of the rain, and in a hotel in West Hartford because there are no campgrounds at all near West Hartford? And by "near," I mean, "including neighboring towns."
(It hasn't rained on me for 3 or 4 days in a row! I may be spoiled!)
Around 9 AM this morning, I was startled by a huge noise that I thought might be the Blue Angels buzzing the campground. I popped my head outside to see a large, open, blue-painted structure that looked like a roller coaster in the adjacent amusement park, Dutch World or something like that. (This was "Pennsylvania Dutch" country.) Sure enough, it was the morning load test of the roller coaster. A little later, there was the jingling of bells, and a horse pulling an Amish-style buggy walked by, possibly with someone peddling hot, soft pretzels or something like that. Either that, or the horse was doing all the business -- try to stiff its absent owner, and it bites you. Luckily for me, I detest pretzels.
After stops at Medifast and two Rite Aids (the first didn't have the med I needed, so they called another, very nearby Rite Aid and transferred the prescription! Such nice people!), I had a word with the GPS unit about why it was sending me on these crazy routes through tiny towns, such as Clamtown, PA: two narrow, winding lanes; streets very skinny; homes right on the rural highway -- I felt I was a lurching monster on the verge of scraping off all the facades. Clamtown is lucky to still be there. If it is.
Turns out that I had specified to the GPS unit "no toll roads," and most of the oughta-be-freeways in Pennsylvania ain't. I canceled that setting, and, lo and behold!, beetled through the Pennsylvania countryside for over 100 miles and $17.25 on I76 with nary a Clamtown to scrape through. There were plenty of "work" stretches, though. I think Pennsylvania has the worst road surfaces I've ever been on: potholes, cracks, tar-filled seams that have sagged down -- a real mess. But I76 was better.
Now I'm off of I70, which really is free, at least for a while. I'm ready to pay whatever they want to stay the hell out of any Clamtowns, but I'll have to hit a BofA ATM to be sure I have enough cash. It's cash or FastPass only at these toll plazas, and today's nearly cleaned me out.
My route today crossed several rivers, including the immense Susquehanna and the wide Monongohela -- both are probably navigable. The East's huge rivers continue to amaze me! You could count the navigable rivers of California on the fingers of one finger: the Sacramento, and that not very damn far -- to Sacramento or Stockton, I think.
The rolling countryside I find myself in tonight are part of the Allegheny Plateau, dissected into ridges and valleys. Earlier today, I must have passed through the last gasp westward of the Appalachian Mountains, of which the Allegheny Mountains are a lower, western part (that last gasp westward).
What I've seen of southern Pennsylvania seems lush, but not nearly as lush as Massachusetts and Connecticut.
I forgot yesterday to mention how grateful I am that Lyons Auto really aligned the van. That awful traffic jam in New York yesterday called for several sudden, hard stops, and Maybelline did not pull to the right at all, just kept on, digging her claws in, straight ahead, thank goodness.
(Did I mention that I stayed in a motel on Cape Cod because of the rain, and in a hotel in West Hartford because there are no campgrounds at all near West Hartford? And by "near," I mean, "including neighboring towns."
(It hasn't rained on me for 3 or 4 days in a row! I may be spoiled!)
Around 9 AM this morning, I was startled by a huge noise that I thought might be the Blue Angels buzzing the campground. I popped my head outside to see a large, open, blue-painted structure that looked like a roller coaster in the adjacent amusement park, Dutch World or something like that. (This was "Pennsylvania Dutch" country.) Sure enough, it was the morning load test of the roller coaster. A little later, there was the jingling of bells, and a horse pulling an Amish-style buggy walked by, possibly with someone peddling hot, soft pretzels or something like that. Either that, or the horse was doing all the business -- try to stiff its absent owner, and it bites you. Luckily for me, I detest pretzels.
After stops at Medifast and two Rite Aids (the first didn't have the med I needed, so they called another, very nearby Rite Aid and transferred the prescription! Such nice people!), I had a word with the GPS unit about why it was sending me on these crazy routes through tiny towns, such as Clamtown, PA: two narrow, winding lanes; streets very skinny; homes right on the rural highway -- I felt I was a lurching monster on the verge of scraping off all the facades. Clamtown is lucky to still be there. If it is.
Turns out that I had specified to the GPS unit "no toll roads," and most of the oughta-be-freeways in Pennsylvania ain't. I canceled that setting, and, lo and behold!, beetled through the Pennsylvania countryside for over 100 miles and $17.25 on I76 with nary a Clamtown to scrape through. There were plenty of "work" stretches, though. I think Pennsylvania has the worst road surfaces I've ever been on: potholes, cracks, tar-filled seams that have sagged down -- a real mess. But I76 was better.
Now I'm off of I70, which really is free, at least for a while. I'm ready to pay whatever they want to stay the hell out of any Clamtowns, but I'll have to hit a BofA ATM to be sure I have enough cash. It's cash or FastPass only at these toll plazas, and today's nearly cleaned me out.
My route today crossed several rivers, including the immense Susquehanna and the wide Monongohela -- both are probably navigable. The East's huge rivers continue to amaze me! You could count the navigable rivers of California on the fingers of one finger: the Sacramento, and that not very damn far -- to Sacramento or Stockton, I think.
The rolling countryside I find myself in tonight are part of the Allegheny Plateau, dissected into ridges and valleys. Earlier today, I must have passed through the last gasp westward of the Appalachian Mountains, of which the Allegheny Mountains are a lower, western part (that last gasp westward).
What I've seen of southern Pennsylvania seems lush, but not nearly as lush as Massachusetts and Connecticut.
6/21/13: Friday, June 21: The Big Day for Cicadas and the Summer Solstice!! I got away from the hotel before noon, at least, and stayed in town long enough to get a prescription filled at a local Rite Aid and then to see some cicadas, following the instructions of Terri [sic?] at the hotel's front desk.
This is a very special cicada event, the hatching of the 17-year cicadas, and these dudes have truly not been seen or heard from for 17 years. They've been underground in larval form, eating and growing, for 17 years. Suddenly they realize they are hormone-crazed adolescents, dig themselves out, fly around and find mates, lay their eggs, and then die. The aboveground lives of the whole hatch is only a couple of months, and then they are gone for another 17 years.
They are fairly large bugs, the body brown and about an inch long and quite rotund, the wings large and of a transparent brown tint. I didn't see but certainly heard live cicadas at Terri's site, but having scrambled up a very steep little slope, I found dozens upon dozens of their transparent brown first molts clinging to the trees and leaves. The chirping of the live ones could be heard easily in spite of the traffic! I called Terri to thank her.
For an event so rare, I figured the risk of poison ivy was worth it. No one yet knows why some cicadas are periodic like this. It certainly doesn't help them escape predators, as there are fungi and wasps attuned to their cycles and which prey on them.
"Thanks" to a massive, hours-long traffic jam on I84 that extended through New York from the Taconic Bridge to the Hamilton Fish Newburgh Beacon Bridge [sic?], a jam I was part of, I got to hear cicadas chirping loudly enough to be heard over the crowd of idling cars and big trucks around me, and I also got to see the cicadas flying. So I got to see the live adults in action!
If these cicadas are behaving according to Wikipedia, they are the East Coast brood that last emerged in 1996 and after this hatch won't be seen again until 2030. Periodic cicadas occur in broods local to particular regions, and each brood has its own schedule. Also, there are periodic cicadas with shorter cycles (e.g., 13 years), but apparently none longer than 17 years. Some cicadas are annual. It looks as if none occur west of a certain line that probably represents enough trees and moisture for them.
So here I am, at last, back in Lancaster, PA. Medifast, here I come!
This is a very special cicada event, the hatching of the 17-year cicadas, and these dudes have truly not been seen or heard from for 17 years. They've been underground in larval form, eating and growing, for 17 years. Suddenly they realize they are hormone-crazed adolescents, dig themselves out, fly around and find mates, lay their eggs, and then die. The aboveground lives of the whole hatch is only a couple of months, and then they are gone for another 17 years.
They are fairly large bugs, the body brown and about an inch long and quite rotund, the wings large and of a transparent brown tint. I didn't see but certainly heard live cicadas at Terri's site, but having scrambled up a very steep little slope, I found dozens upon dozens of their transparent brown first molts clinging to the trees and leaves. The chirping of the live ones could be heard easily in spite of the traffic! I called Terri to thank her.
For an event so rare, I figured the risk of poison ivy was worth it. No one yet knows why some cicadas are periodic like this. It certainly doesn't help them escape predators, as there are fungi and wasps attuned to their cycles and which prey on them.
"Thanks" to a massive, hours-long traffic jam on I84 that extended through New York from the Taconic Bridge to the Hamilton Fish Newburgh Beacon Bridge [sic?], a jam I was part of, I got to hear cicadas chirping loudly enough to be heard over the crowd of idling cars and big trucks around me, and I also got to see the cicadas flying. So I got to see the live adults in action!
If these cicadas are behaving according to Wikipedia, they are the East Coast brood that last emerged in 1996 and after this hatch won't be seen again until 2030. Periodic cicadas occur in broods local to particular regions, and each brood has its own schedule. Also, there are periodic cicadas with shorter cycles (e.g., 13 years), but apparently none longer than 17 years. Some cicadas are annual. It looks as if none occur west of a certain line that probably represents enough trees and moisture for them.
So here I am, at last, back in Lancaster, PA. Medifast, here I come!
Thursday, June 20, 2013
6/17-20/13: June 17-20, Monday-Thursday, So Pretty, So Much Fun! So here I am, seeing the cousins in West Hartford, CT, which is such a pretty town. The cousins are well, I've met Daniel's girlfriend, Nina, who is heading back to Germany today after having done a cross-U.S. tour from Houston to Las Vegas to SEKI and Yosemite and then a long visit here, staying with Lisa and Jim. She's a very bright, well-mannered young woman who speaks English so flawlessly you can hardly detect an accent. During the school year, she was part of a teacher-exchange between her university in Gottigen and Amherst; she taught German at Amherst last year, which is apparently how she and Daniel met.
Personal Notes: Roots getting longer than arms. Must prune caterpillars (eyebrows) before obscure vision. Birthday suit: Age + weight loss = Doesn't fit well any more, isn't permanent-press, can't be ironed. DAMN!
I sent out my westbound itinerary yesterday; my brother, Chris, asked why I'd fallen in love with Cape Cod. I wrote the poor guy a veritable essay, which I'd like to repeat here so I don't lose it:
"Following up on your question, I believe Cape Cod, which is vastly larger than I could have imagined, reminded me of the ways in which I remember the Southern California coast from years ago, especially in having open spaces. Now, I grant you, the clean-up of Tin Can Beach is a great blessing. But pus-filled boils of development have ruined most open spaces: the Long Beach Marina replaces a large saltwater marsh; Huntington Harbor -- sorry about this one -- is no improvement over the former salt marshes; the excrescence that's now Dana Point: capital punishment is too good for its developers. The cliffs, getting down to them, and tide pooling there were great joys, experiences in the "wild side" of Southern California that can't be replaced. You should have seen our father springing from rock to rock like a mountain goat as we roamed that shoreline! I have never gone into the new town of Dana Point, because I can't bear to. I hope its developers roast painfully in the hell I don't believe in.
"If it weren't for Camp Pendleton, the Southern California coast would be a totally bleak disaster area.
"But Cape Cod, possibly because its development took place in a far less mechanized and industrialized world, still has great stretches of roadside greenery, rolling dunes crowned with low thickets of magenta and white rugosa roses, and charming little towns with pretty, old buildings and NO -- I repeat that, NO -- high rises. Yes, there are stretches of freeway, and they are unlovely but well-hidden in the foliage. If there's a high rise, it's probably a 3-story Victorian house. There is, especially compared to Southern California, a sense of space and peace and room to breathe. You can see the sky, the sea, the strand, all in a glance.
"Of course, all this changes from, say, Santa Barbara north, as the California coast grows rugged and dangerous; the water ever colder and rougher; where just inland small mountain ranges thrust straight up from the sea, as if scorning our attempts to maintain roads and villages; and there is light, space, and room to breathe.
"May all the gods there aren't bless the Coastal Commission! Rarely have California voters shown such a convulsion of good sense!
"There'll be a pop quiz on this when I get back."
THURSDAY, 6/20: Bless her heart, Lisa took me to pick up Maybelline today. Maybelline's engine sounds great and her handling is much improved, all for a very reasonable price -- about a third of what I had feared it might be. I think they didn't get around to fixing the door, but that's minor compared to having her aligned and one of her serpentine belts replaced.
Today I finally saw "Man of Steel" -- much more fun than the new Star Trek bore-fest. Henry Cavill is gorgeous. I want him, dipped in caramel, for my birthday.
I've had such a wonderful time here in West Hartford with the cousins that I'm sad to leave, but then, I can look forward to coming back. Spent the evening at their house; I worry that I've been a burden to two extremely busy people. Lisa and Jim have been so hospitable! One of the greatest pleasures of this trip has been getting to know Lisa and Nancy so much better. A person couldn't wish for better and "funnier" friends!
Tomorrow: Westward ho!
Personal Notes: Roots getting longer than arms. Must prune caterpillars (eyebrows) before obscure vision. Birthday suit: Age + weight loss = Doesn't fit well any more, isn't permanent-press, can't be ironed. DAMN!
I sent out my westbound itinerary yesterday; my brother, Chris, asked why I'd fallen in love with Cape Cod. I wrote the poor guy a veritable essay, which I'd like to repeat here so I don't lose it:
"Following up on your question, I believe Cape Cod, which is vastly larger than I could have imagined, reminded me of the ways in which I remember the Southern California coast from years ago, especially in having open spaces. Now, I grant you, the clean-up of Tin Can Beach is a great blessing. But pus-filled boils of development have ruined most open spaces: the Long Beach Marina replaces a large saltwater marsh; Huntington Harbor -- sorry about this one -- is no improvement over the former salt marshes; the excrescence that's now Dana Point: capital punishment is too good for its developers. The cliffs, getting down to them, and tide pooling there were great joys, experiences in the "wild side" of Southern California that can't be replaced. You should have seen our father springing from rock to rock like a mountain goat as we roamed that shoreline! I have never gone into the new town of Dana Point, because I can't bear to. I hope its developers roast painfully in the hell I don't believe in.
"If it weren't for Camp Pendleton, the Southern California coast would be a totally bleak disaster area.
"But Cape Cod, possibly because its development took place in a far less mechanized and industrialized world, still has great stretches of roadside greenery, rolling dunes crowned with low thickets of magenta and white rugosa roses, and charming little towns with pretty, old buildings and NO -- I repeat that, NO -- high rises. Yes, there are stretches of freeway, and they are unlovely but well-hidden in the foliage. If there's a high rise, it's probably a 3-story Victorian house. There is, especially compared to Southern California, a sense of space and peace and room to breathe. You can see the sky, the sea, the strand, all in a glance.
"Of course, all this changes from, say, Santa Barbara north, as the California coast grows rugged and dangerous; the water ever colder and rougher; where just inland small mountain ranges thrust straight up from the sea, as if scorning our attempts to maintain roads and villages; and there is light, space, and room to breathe.
"May all the gods there aren't bless the Coastal Commission! Rarely have California voters shown such a convulsion of good sense!
"There'll be a pop quiz on this when I get back."
THURSDAY, 6/20: Bless her heart, Lisa took me to pick up Maybelline today. Maybelline's engine sounds great and her handling is much improved, all for a very reasonable price -- about a third of what I had feared it might be. I think they didn't get around to fixing the door, but that's minor compared to having her aligned and one of her serpentine belts replaced.
Today I finally saw "Man of Steel" -- much more fun than the new Star Trek bore-fest. Henry Cavill is gorgeous. I want him, dipped in caramel, for my birthday.
I've had such a wonderful time here in West Hartford with the cousins that I'm sad to leave, but then, I can look forward to coming back. Spent the evening at their house; I worry that I've been a burden to two extremely busy people. Lisa and Jim have been so hospitable! One of the greatest pleasures of this trip has been getting to know Lisa and Nancy so much better. A person couldn't wish for better and "funnier" friends!
Tomorrow: Westward ho!
Sunday, June 16, 2013
6/15-16/13: Saturday and Sunday, June 15 and 16: Cape Cod, Wow! Saturday was a gorgeous, clear, brilliantly sunny day on Cape Cod, and I was feeling up to sightseeing. It was so beautiful! After a visit to the Salt Pond Visitor Center for the Cape Cod National Seashore, I went to Wellfleet to Mac's Shack, one of Lisa's recommendations, for a Caesar salad with lobster -- my first taste of real, Atlantic lobster. After I ate one of the anchovies, I picked the others off, and the rest of the salad was very good. But I'll never knock myself out to get lobster.
Then I walked to Mac's Market -- yes, a related business -- for ice cream, which I ate while walking out onto the pier and then the beach. After that, I walked along the bayside road and ventured onto the sand to see some real horseshoe crabs. Or ex-horseshoe crabs: they were, alas, dead. They're much bigger than I had thought, and just as strange as I'd imagined (what DO they think of us?!). The roads were lined with charming homes that made me want to sign on the dotted line.
Then I was off for Provincetown at last, stopping to take in Race Point and dip my finger into the real, live Atlantic. I had to make three circles of the relevant part of U.S. Highway 6 to get a photo of the "End of the highway" sign going into Provincetown. I thought I'd see Provincetown by visiting a grocery store, and the GPS unit took me down a street so narrow there was parking -- barely -- on one side only. The street was also full of people, who must assume, rightly, that only a fool or a tourist would venture down there in a vehicle, especially a van. For a while, I thought I WAS going to encounter the mob of incensed Easterners chanting, "California, go home!!" The grocery store was closed.
Lots of charming buildings, but I was definitely out of place. The van needed Spanx* in order to get around in Provincetown, so I extracted myself and then, on the way out of town, found a real, accessible supermarket and got my shopping done, hooray!
Finally leaving Provincetown altogether, I had to stop and photograph the "Bishop, CA 3205 Miles" sign (only took me two go-rounds for that one). Then, on the way back to Eastham, I stopped at the Marconi Site, where Guliegmo Marconi built his wireless telegraphy station to send the first wireless telegraph to England, in then-president Theodore Roosevelt's name. King Edward promptly replied! It was a triumph! Time, erosion, and deliberate demolition have erased most traces of the construction, alas.
While I was there, I admired anew the rugosa roses that grow on the cape in such profusion, mostly ones with single, magenta-pink flowers, like Hansa, but also ones with single, white flowers, like Snowy Owl. The harsh environment keeps them very low-growing, but they sport the usual, enormous, cherry-tomato-sized hips. And the blossoms are very fragrant.
I stopped at Catch of the Day for a takeout order of seafood cakes and a small Caesar salad for an evening meal (sorry, Medifast!), tootled back to the motel, and ta da! Stretched out in the chair I'd been wanting to try, as I munched and read.
I had expected Cape Cod to be something on the order of the Peninsula in Long Beach which separates the ocean from Alamitos Bay. It's a -- to my childhood senses -- long, thin sandspit barely wide enough for a few homes on each side of its main street. But Cape Cod is ENORMOUS, a world in itself, and so forested at its southern end that I couldn't see the ocean or the bay at all! It's all created by the glaciers of the last ice age, principally as moraines, and is covered with those kettle ponds that are left when great lumps of ice melt in place and leave holes below the waterline. If you want to see kettles in California, you need to see the High Sierra. Tioga Road passes lots of them in Dana Meadows, although they are much smaller than Cape Cod's kettle ponds.
Sunday, it was sunny and lovely again, and I hated to leave beautiful Cape Cod, especially for the west. My "eastward-ing" is done: now I am sad for it, for I don't know if I'll ever see it again, and it has been so lovely.
And also it grew increasingly overcast as I forged west across Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut -- oddly, no markers at the states' borders which I could see. I'm now in the West Hartford Inn in West Hartford, CT, to see the cousins. It's a hotel, they have only underground parking, and I'm on the fourth floor. I wish I were somewhere else!
When I took my shoes off in the hotel room today, I found Cape Cod sand in them!
*All Spanx need are garters to be real, old-fashioned panty girdles.
Then I walked to Mac's Market -- yes, a related business -- for ice cream, which I ate while walking out onto the pier and then the beach. After that, I walked along the bayside road and ventured onto the sand to see some real horseshoe crabs. Or ex-horseshoe crabs: they were, alas, dead. They're much bigger than I had thought, and just as strange as I'd imagined (what DO they think of us?!). The roads were lined with charming homes that made me want to sign on the dotted line.
Then I was off for Provincetown at last, stopping to take in Race Point and dip my finger into the real, live Atlantic. I had to make three circles of the relevant part of U.S. Highway 6 to get a photo of the "End of the highway" sign going into Provincetown. I thought I'd see Provincetown by visiting a grocery store, and the GPS unit took me down a street so narrow there was parking -- barely -- on one side only. The street was also full of people, who must assume, rightly, that only a fool or a tourist would venture down there in a vehicle, especially a van. For a while, I thought I WAS going to encounter the mob of incensed Easterners chanting, "California, go home!!" The grocery store was closed.
Lots of charming buildings, but I was definitely out of place. The van needed Spanx* in order to get around in Provincetown, so I extracted myself and then, on the way out of town, found a real, accessible supermarket and got my shopping done, hooray!
Finally leaving Provincetown altogether, I had to stop and photograph the "Bishop, CA 3205 Miles" sign (only took me two go-rounds for that one). Then, on the way back to Eastham, I stopped at the Marconi Site, where Guliegmo Marconi built his wireless telegraphy station to send the first wireless telegraph to England, in then-president Theodore Roosevelt's name. King Edward promptly replied! It was a triumph! Time, erosion, and deliberate demolition have erased most traces of the construction, alas.
While I was there, I admired anew the rugosa roses that grow on the cape in such profusion, mostly ones with single, magenta-pink flowers, like Hansa, but also ones with single, white flowers, like Snowy Owl. The harsh environment keeps them very low-growing, but they sport the usual, enormous, cherry-tomato-sized hips. And the blossoms are very fragrant.
I stopped at Catch of the Day for a takeout order of seafood cakes and a small Caesar salad for an evening meal (sorry, Medifast!), tootled back to the motel, and ta da! Stretched out in the chair I'd been wanting to try, as I munched and read.
I had expected Cape Cod to be something on the order of the Peninsula in Long Beach which separates the ocean from Alamitos Bay. It's a -- to my childhood senses -- long, thin sandspit barely wide enough for a few homes on each side of its main street. But Cape Cod is ENORMOUS, a world in itself, and so forested at its southern end that I couldn't see the ocean or the bay at all! It's all created by the glaciers of the last ice age, principally as moraines, and is covered with those kettle ponds that are left when great lumps of ice melt in place and leave holes below the waterline. If you want to see kettles in California, you need to see the High Sierra. Tioga Road passes lots of them in Dana Meadows, although they are much smaller than Cape Cod's kettle ponds.
Sunday, it was sunny and lovely again, and I hated to leave beautiful Cape Cod, especially for the west. My "eastward-ing" is done: now I am sad for it, for I don't know if I'll ever see it again, and it has been so lovely.
And also it grew increasingly overcast as I forged west across Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut -- oddly, no markers at the states' borders which I could see. I'm now in the West Hartford Inn in West Hartford, CT, to see the cousins. It's a hotel, they have only underground parking, and I'm on the fourth floor. I wish I were somewhere else!
When I took my shoes off in the hotel room today, I found Cape Cod sand in them!
*All Spanx need are garters to be real, old-fashioned panty girdles.
Friday, June 14, 2013
6/14/13: Friday, June 14: Diner's Revenge Day! Thanks to what I believe is a combination of my own bad choices -- a heavy diner meal, too much caffeine, and too many sugar alcohols -- I was up most of last night with Diner's Revenge, until I took a couple of Lomotil. Thank god for Big L!
9 PM: It has turned out to be a day of recovering from what, effectively, was food poisoning, I think by having eaten too much very rich and oily food from which the Medifast diet has mercifully weaned me. Anyway, everything that didn't exit one way exited the other.
Oh, well, it was a rainy and overcast day anyway, I think. I spent it in bed, recovering. I'm staying another night and shall see Wellfleet and Provincetown tomorrow.
9 PM: It has turned out to be a day of recovering from what, effectively, was food poisoning, I think by having eaten too much very rich and oily food from which the Medifast diet has mercifully weaned me. Anyway, everything that didn't exit one way exited the other.
Oh, well, it was a rainy and overcast day anyway, I think. I spent it in bed, recovering. I'm staying another night and shall see Wellfleet and Provincetown tomorrow.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
6/13/13: Thursday, June 13: Eastham on Cape Cod, and the Diet Is Busted! I turned the trip odometer over to 4,000+ miles today.
Stayed up way late last night -- just couldn't sleep. Struggled up around 8:30 AM to do laundry -- so many things soaked with sweat and rain.
On Wednesday night, with a good internet connection at the Warwick Motel 6, I had reserved a room in Eastham, MA, about halfway out on Cape Cod to Provincetown. Provincetown was too expensive, campgrounds and motels alike; there's no camping in the national seashore; and, as I said before, I'm sick of camping in the rain. The van's door that gives primary access to the living space won't open in the rain. Why, I don't know. I've fed it lots of WD-40, but once it rains a little, the door doesn't respond at all to the inside or outside door handles.
I can get into the living area via the driver's seat, so I'm not shut out, but that entails actually sitting on the seat and scooting over it to get my legs into the living area's aisle. Nerts!
And I'm frustrated that I have indeed left all the Medifast centers far to the west. Getting to them on the way back may be too late, as I'm left with, of course, just the foods I have learned to dislike a whole lot. There seem to be no fatties like me in the New England; they're all slim, trim, and lovely like Lisa. In Pennsylvania, where the nearest centers are, WHOOEE, are there fatties. Lots of guys there have bigger titties than I do! Bring on the Bro (or the Manzier)!
So to revenge myself on Medifast, I had my "lean and green" at a local diner: corned beef hash, an egg over hard, and English muffins on the grill. The order showed up with some cottage fries, too. One of the all-female staff told me I couldn't leave unless I finished everything, so I did, and then she gave me a sample of Grandma's Special Pudding as a reward: a lovely sort of Yankee flan, with a crust of Grape-Nuts, and a spritz of whipped cream. I'm busted. The diet is busted. It was great!
Back at the diner, having finished up like a good girl, I lurched out the door into a light rain that followed me to the Massachusetts border, where it tapered off and then gave up. Before hitting the big road, I refilled a prescription at the Warwick Rite Aid (I love it when they don't bat an eye at another Rite Aid's prescription!) and decided to supplement my Medifast-I-Hate with some South Beach Diet bars.
After an hour or so, I began driving out onto Cape Cod, which amazed me by being pretty much HF, G&GRH, although with lower relief than the mainland. The one thing I hardly saw was the sea! Guess that'll be tomorrow when I drive to Provincetown.
But I'm comfy in this room, dry and snug, so why question tomorrow or its weather? Onward, I say, onward!
Stayed up way late last night -- just couldn't sleep. Struggled up around 8:30 AM to do laundry -- so many things soaked with sweat and rain.
On Wednesday night, with a good internet connection at the Warwick Motel 6, I had reserved a room in Eastham, MA, about halfway out on Cape Cod to Provincetown. Provincetown was too expensive, campgrounds and motels alike; there's no camping in the national seashore; and, as I said before, I'm sick of camping in the rain. The van's door that gives primary access to the living space won't open in the rain. Why, I don't know. I've fed it lots of WD-40, but once it rains a little, the door doesn't respond at all to the inside or outside door handles.
I can get into the living area via the driver's seat, so I'm not shut out, but that entails actually sitting on the seat and scooting over it to get my legs into the living area's aisle. Nerts!
And I'm frustrated that I have indeed left all the Medifast centers far to the west. Getting to them on the way back may be too late, as I'm left with, of course, just the foods I have learned to dislike a whole lot. There seem to be no fatties like me in the New England; they're all slim, trim, and lovely like Lisa. In Pennsylvania, where the nearest centers are, WHOOEE, are there fatties. Lots of guys there have bigger titties than I do! Bring on the Bro (or the Manzier)!
So to revenge myself on Medifast, I had my "lean and green" at a local diner: corned beef hash, an egg over hard, and English muffins on the grill. The order showed up with some cottage fries, too. One of the all-female staff told me I couldn't leave unless I finished everything, so I did, and then she gave me a sample of Grandma's Special Pudding as a reward: a lovely sort of Yankee flan, with a crust of Grape-Nuts, and a spritz of whipped cream. I'm busted. The diet is busted. It was great!
Back at the diner, having finished up like a good girl, I lurched out the door into a light rain that followed me to the Massachusetts border, where it tapered off and then gave up. Before hitting the big road, I refilled a prescription at the Warwick Rite Aid (I love it when they don't bat an eye at another Rite Aid's prescription!) and decided to supplement my Medifast-I-Hate with some South Beach Diet bars.
After an hour or so, I began driving out onto Cape Cod, which amazed me by being pretty much HF, G&GRH, although with lower relief than the mainland. The one thing I hardly saw was the sea! Guess that'll be tomorrow when I drive to Provincetown.
But I'm comfy in this room, dry and snug, so why question tomorrow or its weather? Onward, I say, onward!
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
6/12/13: Wednesday, June 12: A Big Day for Weird! The weirdness started as I left the campground after telling my GPS unit to take me to Providence, RI. Now, picture this: I'm almost at the border with New York. I can almost spit eastward onto yesterday's planned destination, Port Jervis, NY. So naturally the GPS unit tries to vector me west to Scranton, PA.
This is when you turn balky electronics off, pull the power entirely, and just let it think things over in the dark. Never underestimate the animosity of inanimate objects.
I stopped at a nearby Walmart in Milford, PA, and spent 2 hours tracking down the few things on my list along with the zillion I'd wished I'd had as I rolled along on this trip.
Ah, then, I motored across New York, where there were heavily forested, green and gently rolling hills (HF, G&GRH) and on into Connecticut pretty much at Danbury, where I met…Quitting Time and some of the heaviest, slowest traffic I've ever encountered. A jam on the 405 moves faster than these guys did. Stopped for a potty break in Danbury and, having crept to Waterbury (10 miles?) by 2 hours later, made an emergency McDonald's run. Such fun.
The scenery, though: HF, G&GRH!
Getting darker now, with sunset colors on the horizon behind me. I cross into Rhode Island where it's HF, G&GRH again. I have been feeling claustrophobic for some time now in the crowding by and sometimes the positive overwhelming of the HF, G&GRH. I need my weedy, brown California roadsides!
My Motel 6 at last! Only 10 PM! And the parking lot is full of police cars! Two more police cars pull up, one with a K9 unit barking like it needs a fresh leg off someone. What's going on? Dare I check in, or are they raiding the joint for mature Californians? No, an officer waves me into the lobby where…
...The bank NOW decides to reject my Visa because I'm too far from home. What happened to the half-hour I spent explaining to them why my card would be showing up eastward across the country and then westward? I've gone nearly 3,900 miles and NOW they complain?! But eventually the motel accepts my card. The manager is a gentleman and comps my wireless connection, bless him.
Now to eat at least 2 of the Medifast meals I haven't yet got round to today. I use my coffeemaker to heat water for a chicken noodle soup (spiked with no-sodium chicken bouillon powder). But I forgot to bring in a spoon! So the tail of my comb serves both to stir the concoction and then, after it sits for 20 minutes or so, to help me eat it. Not bad. I could never get used to this, but it'll do for now. (The other meal was a strawberry shake with a packet of Sweet 'n' Low.)
Hey, we Morey girls are real improvisers!
Tomorrow: Provincetown, MA, or bust!
(Thursday: Oops, Danbury and Waterbury are 25 miles apart.)
This is when you turn balky electronics off, pull the power entirely, and just let it think things over in the dark. Never underestimate the animosity of inanimate objects.
I stopped at a nearby Walmart in Milford, PA, and spent 2 hours tracking down the few things on my list along with the zillion I'd wished I'd had as I rolled along on this trip.
Ah, then, I motored across New York, where there were heavily forested, green and gently rolling hills (HF, G&GRH) and on into Connecticut pretty much at Danbury, where I met…Quitting Time and some of the heaviest, slowest traffic I've ever encountered. A jam on the 405 moves faster than these guys did. Stopped for a potty break in Danbury and, having crept to Waterbury (10 miles?) by 2 hours later, made an emergency McDonald's run. Such fun.
The scenery, though: HF, G&GRH!
Getting darker now, with sunset colors on the horizon behind me. I cross into Rhode Island where it's HF, G&GRH again. I have been feeling claustrophobic for some time now in the crowding by and sometimes the positive overwhelming of the HF, G&GRH. I need my weedy, brown California roadsides!
My Motel 6 at last! Only 10 PM! And the parking lot is full of police cars! Two more police cars pull up, one with a K9 unit barking like it needs a fresh leg off someone. What's going on? Dare I check in, or are they raiding the joint for mature Californians? No, an officer waves me into the lobby where…
...The bank NOW decides to reject my Visa because I'm too far from home. What happened to the half-hour I spent explaining to them why my card would be showing up eastward across the country and then westward? I've gone nearly 3,900 miles and NOW they complain?! But eventually the motel accepts my card. The manager is a gentleman and comps my wireless connection, bless him.
Now to eat at least 2 of the Medifast meals I haven't yet got round to today. I use my coffeemaker to heat water for a chicken noodle soup (spiked with no-sodium chicken bouillon powder). But I forgot to bring in a spoon! So the tail of my comb serves both to stir the concoction and then, after it sits for 20 minutes or so, to help me eat it. Not bad. I could never get used to this, but it'll do for now. (The other meal was a strawberry shake with a packet of Sweet 'n' Low.)
Hey, we Morey girls are real improvisers!
Tomorrow: Provincetown, MA, or bust!
(Thursday: Oops, Danbury and Waterbury are 25 miles apart.)
6/11/13: Tuesday, June 11: The Big "Lemme Get Outta This Rain!" Day. What started as a sunny day has by 11 AM deteriorated to cloudy with occasional light showers, dammit. I may just "motel" it this evening. I need a bath before I kill everything that smells me, but last night I was unwilling to wade through the rain to the showers and too chicken to stand naked under the downpour.
I just started reading James McPherson's The Battle Cry of Freedom, a book about the conditions leading to the Civil War and about the Civil War itself, highly recommended by stories-tour guide Wes. I think this is going to be a really good read! Tim recommended a book by Coddington; must read next.
Doped off till 1 PM in the Gettysburg KOA (checkout time is 2 PM there). It turned out to be a nearly dry day all the way, though not all the way to Port Jervis, NY. I've fetched up a little shy of there, in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains (pretty little beggars) at an NPS campground in the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area. Hot diggity! I didn't expect to see either the Poconos or the Delaware Water Gap, so I'm thrilled!
It was getting on to 8 PM and getting a bit dim, and I had seen two road-killed deer. I didn't want to be the next person to hit a deer. Out here, both deer and driver typically get killed. So when I saw the Campground sign on the highway -- US Highway 209 -- I flipped on the turn signal. (It's a private campground within the national recreation area.)
I just evicted a June bug from my quilt. Poor thing is probably wandering around in the dark, looking for its Gettysburg home. New bugs are pinging off my lights, and there are a couple of funny little bugs that travel by flipping themselves over very effectively, like giant fleas.
I just started reading James McPherson's The Battle Cry of Freedom, a book about the conditions leading to the Civil War and about the Civil War itself, highly recommended by stories-tour guide Wes. I think this is going to be a really good read! Tim recommended a book by Coddington; must read next.
Doped off till 1 PM in the Gettysburg KOA (checkout time is 2 PM there). It turned out to be a nearly dry day all the way, though not all the way to Port Jervis, NY. I've fetched up a little shy of there, in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains (pretty little beggars) at an NPS campground in the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area. Hot diggity! I didn't expect to see either the Poconos or the Delaware Water Gap, so I'm thrilled!
It was getting on to 8 PM and getting a bit dim, and I had seen two road-killed deer. I didn't want to be the next person to hit a deer. Out here, both deer and driver typically get killed. So when I saw the Campground sign on the highway -- US Highway 209 -- I flipped on the turn signal. (It's a private campground within the national recreation area.)
I just evicted a June bug from my quilt. Poor thing is probably wandering around in the dark, looking for its Gettysburg home. New bugs are pinging off my lights, and there are a couple of funny little bugs that travel by flipping themselves over very effectively, like giant fleas.
Monday, June 10, 2013
6/9-10/13: Sunday-Monday, June 9-10: So This Is Gettysburg. Yesterday's drive (Sunday) started out with the GPS unit, which I had set to take me to the KOA in Gettysburg, PA, sending me around in circles back to the KOA in Willamsport, MD. After the second pass by the KOA turnoff in 5 minutes, I turned the GPS unit off so it could chill out till I was nearer Gettysburg.
Once I was off the interstate, I had to follow the kinds of roads that had scared me so in North Carolina and Virginia: tiny, winding, next-to-no-shoulder, about the size and shape of a sweat duct, but posted for 55 mph. "These Easterners are freaking NUTS," thought I, until I realized that they are horse-and-buggy roads designed for 150 years ago and speeds of 8 mph tops. Giddyup, horse! Now, that would have made sense.
I'm in Gettysburg, PA, now (Monday), getting ready to take a couple of tours of the battlefield today, one for the major sites of the battle and a second for human-interest stories of the battle. I don't quite understand why Gettysburg suddenly has such a pull for me; maybe I'm finally realizing that of all our wars, THIS is the great American tragic war and battle. Almost all the participants were so young; so many lives that might have been full were instead never finished. The winter at Valley Forge; Pearl Harbor; 9/11 -- all tragic, but never was the slaughter so great. Causes? I keep thinking, Stubborn old men, sure, but at least in the South, headstrong young men longing to prove themselves and young women egging them on for the reflected glory. Was our Civil War really necessary? I'm reading a novel related to the Trojan War now, and it made me reflect on the ancient Greek ideals of mortal fame, glory and booty in battle being the principal ones. One hundred fifty years ago, many young men must have received classical educations including Latin and Greek, must have read the Iliad and the Odyssey in the original Greek, imbibing those ideals along the way, and reached their first years of manhood just itching to claim their own battle fame.
My eyes got puddly driving past the national cemetery yesterday, seeing headstone after headstone after headstone. Lucky me, it's raining today and is supposed to rain all day long. Oh, well, the soldiers of our Civil War endured worse.
MONDAY: And it rained all day today, too, so I wore my rain gear over my regular clothes.
Took two amazing tours of Gettysburg, one of the battlefield and battle sites and the other of human interest stories about the people involved in the battle. "Classic Gettysburg Battlefield Tours" (http://www.historictourcompany.com/): don't know how they compare to others, but I can truly say I found both tours fascinating, well worth the time and money -- more than worth it. I was the only person on the 5 PM "Stories" tour, billed at a little over an hour long, and enjoyed two hours' worth of exciting, sad, heartwarming, and even funny stories with visits to the locations where they took place, thanks to tour guide Wes.
I was surprised at how modest the area's relief was -- Cemetery Ridge and Seminary Ridge hardly worthy of the names, I thought, and Little Round Top perhaps 50 feet high at the most. (Wikipedia says 63 feet above the low saddle connecting it to [Big] Round Top. Standing at Little Round Top's summit near General Warren's statue and looking down into, among other things, the Devil's Den, I finally saw how even this modest an eminence could be very advantageous to whoever commanded it, and a difficult obstacle for those attempting to take it.
Between tours, I enjoyed lunch at a local place recommended by Tim, the 10 AM Battlefield Tour Guide, then crossed the street for a huge scoop of wonderful ice cream homemade at a small, local ice cream and candy parlor, and finally walked through part of the National Cemetery.
As I left the tour headquarters to go back to the KOA, the sky cracked open and spilt great sheets of rain. It took me 5 or 6 tries to get Maybelline back into her space; I thought for sure I'd fetch up on a rock, because in addition to the soaking rain, it had got quite dark by nearly 8 pm. At least I didn't back her into a ditch.
In spite of the rain, it's actually quite warm, and I have the fan going. Moving near-liquid air is more comfortable than still, smothering, humid air. I don't know why, but I'm very tired tonight. I think I'll sleep well!
Once I was off the interstate, I had to follow the kinds of roads that had scared me so in North Carolina and Virginia: tiny, winding, next-to-no-shoulder, about the size and shape of a sweat duct, but posted for 55 mph. "These Easterners are freaking NUTS," thought I, until I realized that they are horse-and-buggy roads designed for 150 years ago and speeds of 8 mph tops. Giddyup, horse! Now, that would have made sense.
I'm in Gettysburg, PA, now (Monday), getting ready to take a couple of tours of the battlefield today, one for the major sites of the battle and a second for human-interest stories of the battle. I don't quite understand why Gettysburg suddenly has such a pull for me; maybe I'm finally realizing that of all our wars, THIS is the great American tragic war and battle. Almost all the participants were so young; so many lives that might have been full were instead never finished. The winter at Valley Forge; Pearl Harbor; 9/11 -- all tragic, but never was the slaughter so great. Causes? I keep thinking, Stubborn old men, sure, but at least in the South, headstrong young men longing to prove themselves and young women egging them on for the reflected glory. Was our Civil War really necessary? I'm reading a novel related to the Trojan War now, and it made me reflect on the ancient Greek ideals of mortal fame, glory and booty in battle being the principal ones. One hundred fifty years ago, many young men must have received classical educations including Latin and Greek, must have read the Iliad and the Odyssey in the original Greek, imbibing those ideals along the way, and reached their first years of manhood just itching to claim their own battle fame.
My eyes got puddly driving past the national cemetery yesterday, seeing headstone after headstone after headstone. Lucky me, it's raining today and is supposed to rain all day long. Oh, well, the soldiers of our Civil War endured worse.
MONDAY: And it rained all day today, too, so I wore my rain gear over my regular clothes.
Took two amazing tours of Gettysburg, one of the battlefield and battle sites and the other of human interest stories about the people involved in the battle. "Classic Gettysburg Battlefield Tours" (http://www.historictourcompany.com/): don't know how they compare to others, but I can truly say I found both tours fascinating, well worth the time and money -- more than worth it. I was the only person on the 5 PM "Stories" tour, billed at a little over an hour long, and enjoyed two hours' worth of exciting, sad, heartwarming, and even funny stories with visits to the locations where they took place, thanks to tour guide Wes.
I was surprised at how modest the area's relief was -- Cemetery Ridge and Seminary Ridge hardly worthy of the names, I thought, and Little Round Top perhaps 50 feet high at the most. (Wikipedia says 63 feet above the low saddle connecting it to [Big] Round Top. Standing at Little Round Top's summit near General Warren's statue and looking down into, among other things, the Devil's Den, I finally saw how even this modest an eminence could be very advantageous to whoever commanded it, and a difficult obstacle for those attempting to take it.
Between tours, I enjoyed lunch at a local place recommended by Tim, the 10 AM Battlefield Tour Guide, then crossed the street for a huge scoop of wonderful ice cream homemade at a small, local ice cream and candy parlor, and finally walked through part of the National Cemetery.
As I left the tour headquarters to go back to the KOA, the sky cracked open and spilt great sheets of rain. It took me 5 or 6 tries to get Maybelline back into her space; I thought for sure I'd fetch up on a rock, because in addition to the soaking rain, it had got quite dark by nearly 8 pm. At least I didn't back her into a ditch.
In spite of the rain, it's actually quite warm, and I have the fan going. Moving near-liquid air is more comfortable than still, smothering, humid air. I don't know why, but I'm very tired tonight. I think I'll sleep well!
Saturday, June 8, 2013
6/8/13: Saturday, June 8: Hey, Wait a Minute!! I'm brewing cups of tea with the Super 8 room's handy little coffeemaker.
After yesterday's drive on old U.S. Highway 221, I'm seriously questioning whether I can return home in just 10 days by taking U.S. Highway 6. I had imagined that even if two-lane, it would be more like U.S. Hwy. 395: lots of four-lane sections, freeway-fast, straight and often flat for long stretches. Not so 221, which was more like a rotini noodle. It took me 3 hours to get from Boone to just southwest of I-81, a distance more like 90 some tortuous miles, with getting lost 2-3 times. Beautful, but…. Even U.S. Hwy. 6 was fast and relatively flat from Bishop through Nevada and Utah.
Oops, must find faster route home!
Oh, well, that's a Tomorrow Worry.
LATER: Holy Cow! I'm near Hagerstown, MD, and even went through a bit of West Virginia on my way! Favorite state for scenery so far: North Carolina. Sunny, hot, and muggy today, but I'm grateful for the good weather. It looked cloudy over the peaks to the east, though I was somewhat tempted to try to get back on the parkway. But i've had enough for a while of narrow, winding, wet, foggy roads.
Tomorrow, Gettysburg for a couple of days and a couple of guided tours, I hope. I can't hope to see or understand this immense series of battles by wandering around by myself. Why the Battle of Gettysburg strikes me to the heart puzzles me: 46,000-51,000 dead and wounded over those three days. Why? Why? I do not truly understand. Does anyone?
After yesterday's drive on old U.S. Highway 221, I'm seriously questioning whether I can return home in just 10 days by taking U.S. Highway 6. I had imagined that even if two-lane, it would be more like U.S. Hwy. 395: lots of four-lane sections, freeway-fast, straight and often flat for long stretches. Not so 221, which was more like a rotini noodle. It took me 3 hours to get from Boone to just southwest of I-81, a distance more like 90 some tortuous miles, with getting lost 2-3 times. Beautful, but…. Even U.S. Hwy. 6 was fast and relatively flat from Bishop through Nevada and Utah.
Oops, must find faster route home!
Oh, well, that's a Tomorrow Worry.
LATER: Holy Cow! I'm near Hagerstown, MD, and even went through a bit of West Virginia on my way! Favorite state for scenery so far: North Carolina. Sunny, hot, and muggy today, but I'm grateful for the good weather. It looked cloudy over the peaks to the east, though I was somewhat tempted to try to get back on the parkway. But i've had enough for a while of narrow, winding, wet, foggy roads.
Tomorrow, Gettysburg for a couple of days and a couple of guided tours, I hope. I can't hope to see or understand this immense series of battles by wandering around by myself. Why the Battle of Gettysburg strikes me to the heart puzzles me: 46,000-51,000 dead and wounded over those three days. Why? Why? I do not truly understand. Does anyone?
Friday, June 7, 2013
6/7/13: Friday, June 7: And…We're Rolling Again! I had to give up on my baby-wipe baths briefly as I couldn't get the danged wipes out of the package. Then I discovered that most of the package had frozen solid. The temperature gradient from the front to the back of this tiny, 1.5 cu ft Dometic fridge is pretty steep! Cold wipes were great in sizzling Texas, Arkansas, and Tennessee, but in this chilly, rainy weather near the Blue Ridge, I might as well keep the wipes where they can't freeze at all.
Funny thing: All of a sudden about a week ago, I lost my taste for coffee. The very thought of it made me queasy. I switched to black tea, and that first cup of tea, with cream and sweetener, was pure ambrosia. I'm still drinking tea! I wonder why that happened?
LATER, 5:58 PM: It looks as if the weather, thanks to post-tropical storm Andrea, will continue rainy into Tuesday, dammit. Andrea, how could you do this to me?!
The GPS unit led me uphill and down, around curve after curve, on wet two-lane highways often designated for 55 mph. The lanes were narrow -- looking like a pair of long, black shoelaces -- the shoulders frequently non-existent. I could only hope I was headed for I81, as I generally had no idea where I was, though it was quite green and pretty. But I kept my speed down to what Maybelline and I could handle, which meant checking the rear-view mirror often to see if there was someone else's windshield there, a windshield with a display of one to three angry faces. When I could, I pulled over to let them pass.
Now, looking at the AAA state map, I see it took me on old U.S. Hwy. 221 through North Carolina's West Jefferson and Jefferson (apparently Thomas Jefferson's father, Peter Jefferson, was part of the party that surveyed the area around Boone) to Virginia's Independence. From there I continued (unwittingly) on U.S. 221 and 58 to State Route 94, and on 94 through Fries and Ivanhoe to I81 just west of Fort Chiswell. I followed 81 to a turnoff in Roanoke that was accompanied by a heavy shower and choked with traffic due to a 3-car accident, sad to say. And here I are!
So I'm in a Super 8 motel in Roanoke, VA, tonight (no Motel 6s around this area). After having set up camp and then broken it down in the rain in Boone, I couldn't face that again, especially the mud. Mr. Su's leveling blocks work better than the plastic ones I bought, but his are wood, and now they're soggy and muddy. Maybe I'll be braver tomorrow -- I'll see.
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! According to their weather statistics, these places (the U.S. Far East) not only get a lot of rain, but per month, THEY GET MORE IN THE SUMMER THAN IN SPRING, FALL, AND WINTER. This is so upside-down!
Funny thing: All of a sudden about a week ago, I lost my taste for coffee. The very thought of it made me queasy. I switched to black tea, and that first cup of tea, with cream and sweetener, was pure ambrosia. I'm still drinking tea! I wonder why that happened?
LATER, 5:58 PM: It looks as if the weather, thanks to post-tropical storm Andrea, will continue rainy into Tuesday, dammit. Andrea, how could you do this to me?!
The GPS unit led me uphill and down, around curve after curve, on wet two-lane highways often designated for 55 mph. The lanes were narrow -- looking like a pair of long, black shoelaces -- the shoulders frequently non-existent. I could only hope I was headed for I81, as I generally had no idea where I was, though it was quite green and pretty. But I kept my speed down to what Maybelline and I could handle, which meant checking the rear-view mirror often to see if there was someone else's windshield there, a windshield with a display of one to three angry faces. When I could, I pulled over to let them pass.
Now, looking at the AAA state map, I see it took me on old U.S. Hwy. 221 through North Carolina's West Jefferson and Jefferson (apparently Thomas Jefferson's father, Peter Jefferson, was part of the party that surveyed the area around Boone) to Virginia's Independence. From there I continued (unwittingly) on U.S. 221 and 58 to State Route 94, and on 94 through Fries and Ivanhoe to I81 just west of Fort Chiswell. I followed 81 to a turnoff in Roanoke that was accompanied by a heavy shower and choked with traffic due to a 3-car accident, sad to say. And here I are!
So I'm in a Super 8 motel in Roanoke, VA, tonight (no Motel 6s around this area). After having set up camp and then broken it down in the rain in Boone, I couldn't face that again, especially the mud. Mr. Su's leveling blocks work better than the plastic ones I bought, but his are wood, and now they're soggy and muddy. Maybe I'll be braver tomorrow -- I'll see.
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! According to their weather statistics, these places (the U.S. Far East) not only get a lot of rain, but per month, THEY GET MORE IN THE SUMMER THAN IN SPRING, FALL, AND WINTER. This is so upside-down!
Thursday, June 6, 2013
6/6/13: Thursday, June 6: What Am I Doing in Boone, NC?! Increasingly long patches of dense fog drove me off the Blue Ridge Parkway yesterday evening, so I holed up at the KOA in Boone, NC. Even down here (3,333 ft.), it got very foggy at night, and then the fog turned to rain. It seems to have dried up for now, but I can see that the clouds are still dark and thick over the mountaintops. I'm staying here a second night and shall leave Friday.
I was up till after 3 AM trying to figure out what to do -- to make a new plan. Didn't get to bed till 4 AM+ but did wake up with a new plan: Instead of trying to get back on the parkway, which given the current and predicted weather is a lost cause, I'll head west to pick up I81 in Tennessee and take it northeast through Virginia.
The weather will still be bad in the mountains Friday, but I81 roughly parallels the Blue Ridge, though much lower down and to the west. It's marked as "scenic," which is surprising for a freeway. It's 236 miles from Boone to Roanoke, VA, and maybe I can catch the last 120 miles or so of the Blue Ridge Parkway beginning Saturday, when the sunshine comes back!
Uh-oh, 10:30 PM and it's raining again. Gotta go to bed. THESE are the nights for which Dalmane was made!
I was up till after 3 AM trying to figure out what to do -- to make a new plan. Didn't get to bed till 4 AM+ but did wake up with a new plan: Instead of trying to get back on the parkway, which given the current and predicted weather is a lost cause, I'll head west to pick up I81 in Tennessee and take it northeast through Virginia.
The weather will still be bad in the mountains Friday, but I81 roughly parallels the Blue Ridge, though much lower down and to the west. It's marked as "scenic," which is surprising for a freeway. It's 236 miles from Boone to Roanoke, VA, and maybe I can catch the last 120 miles or so of the Blue Ridge Parkway beginning Saturday, when the sunshine comes back!
Uh-oh, 10:30 PM and it's raining again. Gotta go to bed. THESE are the nights for which Dalmane was made!
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
6/5/13, Wednesday, June 5: Back to the Blue Ridge Parkway, Day 2, Weather Permitting: I forgot to note that I discovered belatedly that yesterday on the Waterrock Knob Trail, I saw a trillium! Sorry, this is real down-home country here: I seen a trillium!
Why so excited? When I was little, the Golden Book nature guide to U.S. wildflowers listed almost exclusively Eastern flowers, as the great majority of Americans then lived east of the Mississippi. In fact, it seemed to me that California must have NO wildflowers except for mustard and wild radish. Nothing with a classy name like "trillium."
I thought it was a wild ginger, because it had 3 brown petals and 3 green petals or sepals, arranged radially symmetrically, but it lacked a couple wild-ginger signs: the flowers were above the leaves (ginger flowers are below), and the leaves were in 3s (ginger has 2 leaves above the flower).
I tried to tell myself that it was some other variety of ginger than that pictured in my wildflower guides, but there were just too many differences. Was it (gasp!) the treasured trillium? It was! It was a Wake Robin Trillium, to boot!
In the real world, this morning I filled a prescription at a nearby Rite Aid (!), shopped for groceries, and got onto the Blue Ridge Parkway pretty late -- around 3 PM. It was overcast, but the deeper greens of the trees contrasted even more with the pinks and whites of the azaleas and mountain laurels, the cascading white roses, the vivid magenta rhododendrons, and the amazing bluets. Bluets are pretty minor individually, but they grow in masses, and the clumps and patches glowed like blue neon against the grasses.
LATER: WEATHER DOES NOT PERMIT: I encountered patchy, thick fog, even creeping along at 15 mph with my flashers on, but by 6 PM, the fog was so bad, I turned off the parkway and tried to get to my night's destination, Glendale Springs, on lower and presumably less foggy roads. It wasn't to be: as I tried to tack back, I encountered the same, impenetrable fog.
And it looks as if the next 2 days will continue rainy and therefore dicey for getting back on the parkway. I'm not sure what to do, but I'll think of something. If nothing else, I can hunker down here in the Boone KOA till Saturday, as the nasty weather seems to cover the rest of North Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. Rats!
(The grocery store I went to this morning was called Ingles: een-GLAYSS to me. But with a big sign out front saying "American Owned." Go figure. Turns out Ingles is ING-gulls. Just never can tell with these gringos.)
Why so excited? When I was little, the Golden Book nature guide to U.S. wildflowers listed almost exclusively Eastern flowers, as the great majority of Americans then lived east of the Mississippi. In fact, it seemed to me that California must have NO wildflowers except for mustard and wild radish. Nothing with a classy name like "trillium."
I thought it was a wild ginger, because it had 3 brown petals and 3 green petals or sepals, arranged radially symmetrically, but it lacked a couple wild-ginger signs: the flowers were above the leaves (ginger flowers are below), and the leaves were in 3s (ginger has 2 leaves above the flower).
I tried to tell myself that it was some other variety of ginger than that pictured in my wildflower guides, but there were just too many differences. Was it (gasp!) the treasured trillium? It was! It was a Wake Robin Trillium, to boot!
In the real world, this morning I filled a prescription at a nearby Rite Aid (!), shopped for groceries, and got onto the Blue Ridge Parkway pretty late -- around 3 PM. It was overcast, but the deeper greens of the trees contrasted even more with the pinks and whites of the azaleas and mountain laurels, the cascading white roses, the vivid magenta rhododendrons, and the amazing bluets. Bluets are pretty minor individually, but they grow in masses, and the clumps and patches glowed like blue neon against the grasses.
LATER: WEATHER DOES NOT PERMIT: I encountered patchy, thick fog, even creeping along at 15 mph with my flashers on, but by 6 PM, the fog was so bad, I turned off the parkway and tried to get to my night's destination, Glendale Springs, on lower and presumably less foggy roads. It wasn't to be: as I tried to tack back, I encountered the same, impenetrable fog.
And it looks as if the next 2 days will continue rainy and therefore dicey for getting back on the parkway. I'm not sure what to do, but I'll think of something. If nothing else, I can hunker down here in the Boone KOA till Saturday, as the nasty weather seems to cover the rest of North Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. Rats!
(The grocery store I went to this morning was called Ingles: een-GLAYSS to me. But with a big sign out front saying "American Owned." Go figure. Turns out Ingles is ING-gulls. Just never can tell with these gringos.)
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
6/4/13: Tuesday, June 4: This is the Blue Ridge Parkway, Day 1! What a glorious treat! As much as I hated to leave the Smokies, this road is really beautiful. I stopped to get some nature guides at the visitor center at the foot of Waterrock Knob and then hiked the short but very steep trail up the knob to great views.
The road is so well-laid-out, with numerous pull-outs for viewpoints, though it is very winding. I think someone actually mows the grass on the shoulders! Lucky me, the traffic was light enough that I judged I could get away with doing 35 mph tops instead of the limit, 45 mph. With all the pull-outs, I was able to get out of others' way when I needed to.
Now I'm in the KOA in Swannanoa, NC (it calls itself "Asheville East"), enjoying the convenience of hookups and wifi. Oh, I do love hookups and wifi, but I wouldn't have missed those nights in the Smokies for anything!
Tomorrow, back on the Blue Ridge Parkway. It's long: 469 miles that I hope to finish on Friday. I am so lucky to be able to do this!
The road is so well-laid-out, with numerous pull-outs for viewpoints, though it is very winding. I think someone actually mows the grass on the shoulders! Lucky me, the traffic was light enough that I judged I could get away with doing 35 mph tops instead of the limit, 45 mph. With all the pull-outs, I was able to get out of others' way when I needed to.
Now I'm in the KOA in Swannanoa, NC (it calls itself "Asheville East"), enjoying the convenience of hookups and wifi. Oh, I do love hookups and wifi, but I wouldn't have missed those nights in the Smokies for anything!
Tomorrow, back on the Blue Ridge Parkway. It's long: 469 miles that I hope to finish on Friday. I am so lucky to be able to do this!
6/1-3/13, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, June 1-3: These are the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina, and I'm agog at how beautiful they are. Driving from Nashville toward the Smokies, I was astonished at how impressive these mountains seem. I'd expected they'd look like rolling hills, but they're much more like the front range of the San Gabriels. Wow, something breaks this flat, flat landscape at last!
But first….
The manager at the Pigeon Forge KOA put me in a site immediately backing onto Patriot Park, where there was some kind of country music festival going on…and on…and on….At least until midnight, when I gave up waiting for them to SHUT THE F--- UP, took a sleeping pill, and stuck in the earplugs. Rest at last!
If I thought Pigeon Forge was tacky, Gatlinburg was tacky cubed. And crowded? You could hardly see the storefronts for the mobs of people. But the minute I passed into the national park, where I still am now, the crowds vanished and a deep green peace settled over the landscape. Yes, there was a bit of a crowd at the Sugarlands Visitor Center, where I stopped for information, but it was of a different quality. The visitor center had a wonderful film about the Great Smokies that left me dabbing a tear away. Dan Haun, my acupuncturist, is right: here, people say, "AppaLATCHian."
I begin to understand more of the park's organization, with only one major road going through it, U.S. Hwy. 441, and a number of subordinate roads penetrating it from the edges, the one to Cade's Cove going the farthest it. I40 skirts the northeast edge of the park but doesn't enter it.
Exhausted as I was, I didn't pause at Newfound Gap, the road's high point and apparently on the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. I was delighted to find a pleasant spot in Smokemont Campground, except that it is, alas, not level. I used one of the leveling bricks, but I think I need two. Should I leave well enough alone?
Sunday I slept nearly all day long. In fact, Saturday, having set up (no hookups), I set up my chair and table on the tent pad and tried to read, but I kept falling asleep. I gave up a little before 6 PM, lay down under Cammy's yellow popcorn blanket, and slept till nearly 11 PM! By 2 AM, I was more than ready to crawl back in bed, and I slept till about noon on Sunday. Eventually, I hauled myself up and dressed enough to open the doors at sit reading in the captain's chair till bedtime again, around 10:30 PM. My excuse, if one is necessary: It had rained, often very hard, from about midnight Saturday-Sunday and all through Sunday till 4:30 PM. Shades of San Antonio! Lots of people bailed out of the campground, and those who remained were pretty soggy!
Today, I'm finally up and out. It's intermittently sunny and hot and then clouded over. The rich, decaying and growing smell of this Appalachian spring is intoxicating! A tiny red mite has developed a fondness for exploring my Good Sam RV Travel Guide; it's too fast for me to catch and explain to it that its quest is fruitless.
This afternoon, I'll hike the Smokemont Nature Trail and all through the campground for my exercise. I must be the luckiest person in the world!
Later: The Smokemont Nature Trail was great! I enjoyed it enormously. There is some kind of spindly, low tree with big, puffy clusters of 5-petaled (largely joined), dotted white blossoms with a little spur near the base of each petal. Must find out what they are; sorry I didn't buy the tree-identifying book, as trees are much more dominant here, and there are so many different kinds, all of which are strange to me, almost all broadleaf species, with one evergreen, possibly a spruce.
Can't get over how beautiful this all is!
My time here is up; it's Tuesday, and I'm ready to move again. My deep-cycle battery appears to be kaput. No cell signal, much less wireless signal, here. It's been ever so peaceful, though everything cloth and paper seems to have that thick, damp feel to it. Asheville, NC, KOA tonight?
But first….
The manager at the Pigeon Forge KOA put me in a site immediately backing onto Patriot Park, where there was some kind of country music festival going on…and on…and on….At least until midnight, when I gave up waiting for them to SHUT THE F--- UP, took a sleeping pill, and stuck in the earplugs. Rest at last!
If I thought Pigeon Forge was tacky, Gatlinburg was tacky cubed. And crowded? You could hardly see the storefronts for the mobs of people. But the minute I passed into the national park, where I still am now, the crowds vanished and a deep green peace settled over the landscape. Yes, there was a bit of a crowd at the Sugarlands Visitor Center, where I stopped for information, but it was of a different quality. The visitor center had a wonderful film about the Great Smokies that left me dabbing a tear away. Dan Haun, my acupuncturist, is right: here, people say, "AppaLATCHian."
I begin to understand more of the park's organization, with only one major road going through it, U.S. Hwy. 441, and a number of subordinate roads penetrating it from the edges, the one to Cade's Cove going the farthest it. I40 skirts the northeast edge of the park but doesn't enter it.
Exhausted as I was, I didn't pause at Newfound Gap, the road's high point and apparently on the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. I was delighted to find a pleasant spot in Smokemont Campground, except that it is, alas, not level. I used one of the leveling bricks, but I think I need two. Should I leave well enough alone?
Sunday I slept nearly all day long. In fact, Saturday, having set up (no hookups), I set up my chair and table on the tent pad and tried to read, but I kept falling asleep. I gave up a little before 6 PM, lay down under Cammy's yellow popcorn blanket, and slept till nearly 11 PM! By 2 AM, I was more than ready to crawl back in bed, and I slept till about noon on Sunday. Eventually, I hauled myself up and dressed enough to open the doors at sit reading in the captain's chair till bedtime again, around 10:30 PM. My excuse, if one is necessary: It had rained, often very hard, from about midnight Saturday-Sunday and all through Sunday till 4:30 PM. Shades of San Antonio! Lots of people bailed out of the campground, and those who remained were pretty soggy!
Today, I'm finally up and out. It's intermittently sunny and hot and then clouded over. The rich, decaying and growing smell of this Appalachian spring is intoxicating! A tiny red mite has developed a fondness for exploring my Good Sam RV Travel Guide; it's too fast for me to catch and explain to it that its quest is fruitless.
This afternoon, I'll hike the Smokemont Nature Trail and all through the campground for my exercise. I must be the luckiest person in the world!
Later: The Smokemont Nature Trail was great! I enjoyed it enormously. There is some kind of spindly, low tree with big, puffy clusters of 5-petaled (largely joined), dotted white blossoms with a little spur near the base of each petal. Must find out what they are; sorry I didn't buy the tree-identifying book, as trees are much more dominant here, and there are so many different kinds, all of which are strange to me, almost all broadleaf species, with one evergreen, possibly a spruce.
Can't get over how beautiful this all is!
My time here is up; it's Tuesday, and I'm ready to move again. My deep-cycle battery appears to be kaput. No cell signal, much less wireless signal, here. It's been ever so peaceful, though everything cloth and paper seems to have that thick, damp feel to it. Asheville, NC, KOA tonight?
Saturday, June 1, 2013
5/31/13, Friday, May 31: This is the carny strip, Pigeon Forge, TN: Bob Lamia warned me that the entrance to Great Smoky Mountains National Park was a crazy commercial zone I just wouldn't believe, and he was right. It reminds me of Anaheim right around Disneyland. This condition is also due to Dollywood and Dolly's Splash Park, and the place is JAMMED. It's almost embarrassing. What must people from other countries think? ("What will the neighbors think?!")
I'm feeling a deep tiredness that calls for a few days in one spot and lots of sleeping. Yesterday, driving between Nashville and Pigeon Forge, I suddenly felt a wave of homesickness for my sun-scorched hills, California's weedy, brown roadsides, and for the smell of juniper and sagebrush. I was sick of green, green, green -- I must say, though, that I thought Arkansas was greener and prettier than Tennessee as far as the very little I could see. I miss Da Boyz, their shedding fur, their reeking letterbox. I wanted to call Cammy and beg her to "magic" me home. (Alas, she's in Georgia or Oklahoma.)
In a way, it reminds me of the strange "divide" I felt going from Van Horn, TX, to Sonora, TX. My skin had told me that the climate was getting drier and drier as far as Van Horn; my face felt as if it would crack into hexagonal plates like a desiccating mud flat. Guadalupe Mountains National Park was completely parched. Then, suddenly, I had a sense, a real, physical feeling, that this was no longer true, that moisture had returned to the air, that my skin was beginning to heal. And it was so: the climate grew steadily more humid. Curious!
Although I had planned to venture farther on Friday, actually into the mountains and the park, my body and spirit were just out of gas. Tomorrow will be soon enough for a couple of days in a campground -- Smokemont? -- in the Great Smokies.
I'm feeling a deep tiredness that calls for a few days in one spot and lots of sleeping. Yesterday, driving between Nashville and Pigeon Forge, I suddenly felt a wave of homesickness for my sun-scorched hills, California's weedy, brown roadsides, and for the smell of juniper and sagebrush. I was sick of green, green, green -- I must say, though, that I thought Arkansas was greener and prettier than Tennessee as far as the very little I could see. I miss Da Boyz, their shedding fur, their reeking letterbox. I wanted to call Cammy and beg her to "magic" me home. (Alas, she's in Georgia or Oklahoma.)
In a way, it reminds me of the strange "divide" I felt going from Van Horn, TX, to Sonora, TX. My skin had told me that the climate was getting drier and drier as far as Van Horn; my face felt as if it would crack into hexagonal plates like a desiccating mud flat. Guadalupe Mountains National Park was completely parched. Then, suddenly, I had a sense, a real, physical feeling, that this was no longer true, that moisture had returned to the air, that my skin was beginning to heal. And it was so: the climate grew steadily more humid. Curious!
Although I had planned to venture farther on Friday, actually into the mountains and the park, my body and spirit were just out of gas. Tomorrow will be soon enough for a couple of days in a campground -- Smokemont? -- in the Great Smokies.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
5/30/13, Thursday, May 30: Tonight if all goes well, I get into the city of Nashville, TN: I've been thinking since Texarkana, TX, that I managed to cross the great state of…without seeing a single longhorn cow or bull and without seeing a single armadillo, unless it was unrecognizable flattened fauna.
I've been kicking myself that I didn't print out my itinerary before I left home, but it's changed so much as I've gone along that it would be almost unrecognizable now.
My new best friends are settings on the van's climate controls: NORM A/C and MAX A/C, especially Norm.
Tootling along through Tennessee, I suddenly felt quite disoriented: What am I doing so far east? Where are the Sierra? Where's the Pacific Ocean? What are all these rolling green hills? Help, where am I?! This is what I call being out of my comfort zone!
Crossing from Arkansas into Tennessee: My gosh, the Mississippi is big! So are all these rivers! The farther east I went, the hillier Tennessee got. This must be how I wound up in the Nashville KOA in the midst of country-music attractions galore. I have little or no idea who these artists are.
I've been kicking myself that I didn't print out my itinerary before I left home, but it's changed so much as I've gone along that it would be almost unrecognizable now.
My new best friends are settings on the van's climate controls: NORM A/C and MAX A/C, especially Norm.
Tootling along through Tennessee, I suddenly felt quite disoriented: What am I doing so far east? Where are the Sierra? Where's the Pacific Ocean? What are all these rolling green hills? Help, where am I?! This is what I call being out of my comfort zone!
Crossing from Arkansas into Tennessee: My gosh, the Mississippi is big! So are all these rivers! The farther east I went, the hillier Tennessee got. This must be how I wound up in the Nashville KOA in the midst of country-music attractions galore. I have little or no idea who these artists are.
5/29/13, Wednesday, This is the not-city, Village Creek State Park, AR: Site 36. Just outside Wynne, AR, which is off on a winding country road from Forrest City and I40, which I've been on since Little Rock, AR.
( WAAAAAH! The people in the next site here at the Texarkana KOA just drove off and took their lovely cat with them! Bring it back!!)
On the way to Village Creek SP, I saw a bumper sticker worth noting: EAT RICE/Potatoes Make Your Butt Bigger. I can do "bigger butt" on rice just as well.
Again, beautiful, lush countryside. What we call a river hardly counts as a creek here. However, behind some of the well-forested facades, I could see clearcuts. Lots of evergreens as well as deciduous trees. Very humid with nose-filling and pleasant vegetation fragrance. It reminds me so much of Hilo!
Village Creek SP is especially lush, with its many deciduous trees that include liquidambars. The campground is very lovely, and I have neighbors who have a tiny, teacup Chihuahua and a very young and adorable kitten. It began to thunder and get quite windy, so I went over to help them nail their stuff down, and I had a chance to pat the dog and cuddle the kitten. Poor little things were frightened and bewildered.
It rained a very little. I wonder if that's that? According to the radio, if it rains, it will reduce the humidity (a relief it sounds as if they'll really appreciate). I'm tucked into a shady site with water and electricity; what more could I want?!
( WAAAAAH! The people in the next site here at the Texarkana KOA just drove off and took their lovely cat with them! Bring it back!!)
On the way to Village Creek SP, I saw a bumper sticker worth noting: EAT RICE/Potatoes Make Your Butt Bigger. I can do "bigger butt" on rice just as well.
Again, beautiful, lush countryside. What we call a river hardly counts as a creek here. However, behind some of the well-forested facades, I could see clearcuts. Lots of evergreens as well as deciduous trees. Very humid with nose-filling and pleasant vegetation fragrance. It reminds me so much of Hilo!
Village Creek SP is especially lush, with its many deciduous trees that include liquidambars. The campground is very lovely, and I have neighbors who have a tiny, teacup Chihuahua and a very young and adorable kitten. It began to thunder and get quite windy, so I went over to help them nail their stuff down, and I had a chance to pat the dog and cuddle the kitten. Poor little things were frightened and bewildered.
It rained a very little. I wonder if that's that? According to the radio, if it rains, it will reduce the humidity (a relief it sounds as if they'll really appreciate). I'm tucked into a shady site with water and electricity; what more could I want?!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
5/28/13, Tuesday: The Short and Very Pretty: What with getting into East Jesus so late last night, getting set up and ready for bed by…MIDNIGHT!, I slept in and, after refilling with propane and gasoline, got a very late start. It had been a pleasant night, enlivened by having all my doors and windows open and attracting several June bugs who seemed miffed at being put out. One got stuck inside overnight and was royally cheesed off by the morning!
It was a windy day, but the drive out of Dallas just got prettier and prettier, with a rolling, green, wooded landscape and improving weather as I went west. There was a big lake the freeway crossed on the way out of Dallas, Lake Ray Hubbard (a reservoir) with beachside places and marinas -- for a minute, I thought I'd made a wrong turn and gone to the Gulf Coast. I'm really enjoying this! Today made me so glad I'm making this trip!
I actually left Texas for Arkansas at Texarkana, which straddles the state line, but then decided to turn back at the Arkansas Visitors Welcome Center about 10 miles over the border. It was already 6 PM, and I just didn't want to drive any more. The hell with it. Only 177 miles today. So?
So I'm back in Texas, barely, at the Texarkana KOA, a really lovely campground, all hooked up and ready to to call it a night around 10 or 11 PM. The sites here are surrounded by grass and big trees, and I already have one June bug hanging out with me. Gosh, the exciting company I attract!
It was a windy day, but the drive out of Dallas just got prettier and prettier, with a rolling, green, wooded landscape and improving weather as I went west. There was a big lake the freeway crossed on the way out of Dallas, Lake Ray Hubbard (a reservoir) with beachside places and marinas -- for a minute, I thought I'd made a wrong turn and gone to the Gulf Coast. I'm really enjoying this! Today made me so glad I'm making this trip!
I actually left Texas for Arkansas at Texarkana, which straddles the state line, but then decided to turn back at the Arkansas Visitors Welcome Center about 10 miles over the border. It was already 6 PM, and I just didn't want to drive any more. The hell with it. Only 177 miles today. So?
So I'm back in Texas, barely, at the Texarkana KOA, a really lovely campground, all hooked up and ready to to call it a night around 10 or 11 PM. The sites here are surrounded by grass and big trees, and I already have one June bug hanging out with me. Gosh, the exciting company I attract!
5/27/13: Saturday, Sunday, and Monday (Memorial Day): The Big Whew! Nancy and I continued to have a great time in San Antonio. We waited till the rain let up at midday on Saturday before she collected me. Saturday, I picked up some groceries at her local Trader Joe's and more Medifast meals at a nearby Medifast center. We drove to downtown San Antonio and made a flying pass through the Alamo -- a must-see but nothing either of us was much interested in. The rain started again, but it was nothing like Friday's rain!
After that, we found a good place for lunch, went to the San Antonio Museum of Art especially for a Latin American folk art exhibit -- very interesting, and then had an early dinner at Luxury, which was very good but an even more basic place than a picnic table at a roadside rest! I had a "naked" hamburger: no bun.
Nancy and I talked about Cliff (such a great guy; a real loss, but she and he had 50 good years together, and how many among us can say that?) and about our friends from Stanford-in-Italy. I can't believe how long ago that was!
Sunday we had a relaxed, late start on our way to the San Antonio Botanical Gardens -- two thumbs up! I really enjoyed the plants, the scents, the huge and varied greenhouses, and some old pioneer houses of adobe and wood. Rain caught us, but we dried out a little in the greenhouses, in one of which they have a nice cycad collection. Nancy's daughter, Kathryn, joined us for lunch at a vegetarian place called Green, where we enjoyed a very good lunch. Lovely girl!
Nancy had a great suggestion: That we see some of the truly historic missions of San Antonio, where they lie roughly in a line, each 3 miles from the other, and all near the San Antonio River. I enjoyed walking in their grounds and seeing their interiors. There are 5 of them, but we saw only 2, the largest and the smallest. Much older than Oceanside's Mission San Luis Rey!
Then it was time for me to get back to the motel to rest, do laundry, and pack up, dammit.
Last night I spoke with Scott -- thank you, Scott, for having called -- and he suggested I plan to stay longer in Virginia to see colonial Williamsburg, Yorktown, etc. I completely overlooked Virginia's huge historical significance in my pursuit of its natural beauties and of Gettysburg!
Today, Monday, I was off to the Dallas-Fort Worth area -- Grand Prairie, actually, a little south of there. It was one heck of a miserable drive, with heavy traffic and LOTS of miserable road-work slowdowns between Austin and Dallas-Fort Worth. It took FOREVER to get to this Trader's RV Park, but I'm here safely at last. It's cooling off, and I'm airing the van out. It had got pretty stinky while rusting in the Motel 6 parking lot in San Antonio.
I have seldom seen a countryside as utterly devoid of interest as that between San Antonio and Grand Prairie -- almost as boring as California's Central Valley. (Even West Texas was more interesting and at least not as urbanized.) While the landscape wasn't perfectly flat, it had hardly any relief: just gently rolling, green, and occasionally wooded, with lots of ugly little communities that, from I35, looked very much like anywhere else. I could almost have gone from one McDonald's to another clear across that half of the state. In fact, I did: I'm learning the fine art of peeing at the next McDonald's without having the grace to buy anything (GUILT!).
But then the GPS unit vectored me off onto I35W and then onto some godforsaken web of roads that wound from one unmarked farm to another, till I had no idea where I was or where I was going. But, of course, I really had to pee. Desperate, I stopped at a turnout, pulled out the potty, and peed in full view of oncoming traffic. My god, the potty compartment stinks! I'll have to rip out the carpet there.
The joys of a half-gallon of water a day plus a diuretic. And I thought it was wet in San Antonio.
Just as I was sure the GPS had led me to East Jesus*, I found the RV park. It's next to the Grand Prairie Municipal Airport, so that will be interesting in the morning. I love to watch planes take off and land. But this place IS East Jesus!
*"East Jesus" is what my brother-in-law Craig calls any place that counts as no place at all.
After that, we found a good place for lunch, went to the San Antonio Museum of Art especially for a Latin American folk art exhibit -- very interesting, and then had an early dinner at Luxury, which was very good but an even more basic place than a picnic table at a roadside rest! I had a "naked" hamburger: no bun.
Nancy and I talked about Cliff (such a great guy; a real loss, but she and he had 50 good years together, and how many among us can say that?) and about our friends from Stanford-in-Italy. I can't believe how long ago that was!
Sunday we had a relaxed, late start on our way to the San Antonio Botanical Gardens -- two thumbs up! I really enjoyed the plants, the scents, the huge and varied greenhouses, and some old pioneer houses of adobe and wood. Rain caught us, but we dried out a little in the greenhouses, in one of which they have a nice cycad collection. Nancy's daughter, Kathryn, joined us for lunch at a vegetarian place called Green, where we enjoyed a very good lunch. Lovely girl!
Nancy had a great suggestion: That we see some of the truly historic missions of San Antonio, where they lie roughly in a line, each 3 miles from the other, and all near the San Antonio River. I enjoyed walking in their grounds and seeing their interiors. There are 5 of them, but we saw only 2, the largest and the smallest. Much older than Oceanside's Mission San Luis Rey!
Then it was time for me to get back to the motel to rest, do laundry, and pack up, dammit.
Last night I spoke with Scott -- thank you, Scott, for having called -- and he suggested I plan to stay longer in Virginia to see colonial Williamsburg, Yorktown, etc. I completely overlooked Virginia's huge historical significance in my pursuit of its natural beauties and of Gettysburg!
Today, Monday, I was off to the Dallas-Fort Worth area -- Grand Prairie, actually, a little south of there. It was one heck of a miserable drive, with heavy traffic and LOTS of miserable road-work slowdowns between Austin and Dallas-Fort Worth. It took FOREVER to get to this Trader's RV Park, but I'm here safely at last. It's cooling off, and I'm airing the van out. It had got pretty stinky while rusting in the Motel 6 parking lot in San Antonio.
I have seldom seen a countryside as utterly devoid of interest as that between San Antonio and Grand Prairie -- almost as boring as California's Central Valley. (Even West Texas was more interesting and at least not as urbanized.) While the landscape wasn't perfectly flat, it had hardly any relief: just gently rolling, green, and occasionally wooded, with lots of ugly little communities that, from I35, looked very much like anywhere else. I could almost have gone from one McDonald's to another clear across that half of the state. In fact, I did: I'm learning the fine art of peeing at the next McDonald's without having the grace to buy anything (GUILT!).
But then the GPS unit vectored me off onto I35W and then onto some godforsaken web of roads that wound from one unmarked farm to another, till I had no idea where I was or where I was going. But, of course, I really had to pee. Desperate, I stopped at a turnout, pulled out the potty, and peed in full view of oncoming traffic. My god, the potty compartment stinks! I'll have to rip out the carpet there.
The joys of a half-gallon of water a day plus a diuretic. And I thought it was wet in San Antonio.
Just as I was sure the GPS had led me to East Jesus*, I found the RV park. It's next to the Grand Prairie Municipal Airport, so that will be interesting in the morning. I love to watch planes take off and land. But this place IS East Jesus!
*"East Jesus" is what my brother-in-law Craig calls any place that counts as no place at all.
Friday, May 24, 2013
5/24/13: Friday, San Antonio, TX: The Big Thundershower: Today we had another stroll along the Riverwalk, this time through downtown San Antonio. For lunch, we stopped at a place her family used to go to when she was little. I had my first bowl of real Texas chili as we ate at the riverside, under an umbrella.
Rain hadn't been forecast, but it did start to rain as we were eating, and it soon rained very, very hard! Everyone is delighted; Texas has been in a terrible drought. We stuck it out but were pretty damp by the time we finished, so we dashed inside for a cup of hot tea before heading over to a store called the Five and Ten -- alas, $5 and $10! She bought a T-shirt for me and a poncho (accidentally) and umbrella for herself, and with the coverage of the latter two, we made it back to her car, soggy, somewhat weary, and very happy.
The Riverwalk is so much more varied and lovely than I had imagined! The vegetation in the downtown area is particularly lush and tropical -- quite enchanting. During the storm, water seemed to cascade everywhere from the walls down into the river. They'd posted off a section of the walk, even stationing an officer there, where the runoff fell so hard and with such a volume that anyone trying to go through it was likely to be washed away.
My feet are sore. What a wonderful day!
Rain hadn't been forecast, but it did start to rain as we were eating, and it soon rained very, very hard! Everyone is delighted; Texas has been in a terrible drought. We stuck it out but were pretty damp by the time we finished, so we dashed inside for a cup of hot tea before heading over to a store called the Five and Ten -- alas, $5 and $10! She bought a T-shirt for me and a poncho (accidentally) and umbrella for herself, and with the coverage of the latter two, we made it back to her car, soggy, somewhat weary, and very happy.
The Riverwalk is so much more varied and lovely than I had imagined! The vegetation in the downtown area is particularly lush and tropical -- quite enchanting. During the storm, water seemed to cascade everywhere from the walls down into the river. They'd posted off a section of the walk, even stationing an officer there, where the runoff fell so hard and with such a volume that anyone trying to go through it was likely to be washed away.
My feet are sore. What a wonderful day!
5/23/13: Thursday, San Antonio, TX: The Big Sultry Plus KK: Before I forget, I want to mention a great cat I met in Van Horn, TX, named KK. He belongs to the KOA managers, and they're lucky I didn't take him with me. He is like a dog when he wants to be patted: he sits up on his hindquarters and paws at your hand to recall you to your proper duty of scratching behind his ears, under his chin, at the base of his tail….
San Antonio is hot and humid; I worked up such a lather bringing the rest of my luggage upstairs that I took off my shirt and bra and hung them over the air conditioner to dry. They didn't.
I went to the bank and then to a movie theater to see the latest Star Trek film. What a yawner. Talk about a plot device that's been done to death and does not warrant resurrection! Of course, there were bigger and better chases, more and larger explosions, and showier and deadlier crashes, but they just went on and on and on….Truly a 13-year-old boy's dream world.
Nancy picked me up in the late afternoon, and we went for a delightful stroll on San Antonio's famed Riverwalk, followed by an excellent dinner at her favorite Mexican place, La Gloria. Last night, after I'd had a chance to rest, she had picked me up for another excellent supper at a cute Mexican place in the plaza/shopping area where she lives. Her apartment is really beautiful, and she enjoys being within easy walking distance of so many shops and restaurants, including Trader Joe's.
San Antonio is hot and humid; I worked up such a lather bringing the rest of my luggage upstairs that I took off my shirt and bra and hung them over the air conditioner to dry. They didn't.
I went to the bank and then to a movie theater to see the latest Star Trek film. What a yawner. Talk about a plot device that's been done to death and does not warrant resurrection! Of course, there were bigger and better chases, more and larger explosions, and showier and deadlier crashes, but they just went on and on and on….Truly a 13-year-old boy's dream world.
Nancy picked me up in the late afternoon, and we went for a delightful stroll on San Antonio's famed Riverwalk, followed by an excellent dinner at her favorite Mexican place, La Gloria. Last night, after I'd had a chance to rest, she had picked me up for another excellent supper at a cute Mexican place in the plaza/shopping area where she lives. Her apartment is really beautiful, and she enjoys being within easy walking distance of so many shops and restaurants, including Trader Joe's.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
5/22/13: Wednesday, The Big Wildflowers. Driving east from Sonora, TX, to San Antonio, TX, I saw the most amazing roadside displays of wildflowers in the median and on the shoulders. Delicate coneflowers, that mint with the blue-and-white spikes, yellow and orange "belly flowers," and others I couldn't identify without driving -- AAAAAACK! -- into a ditch.
The countryside grew more and more hilly as those big, layered tablelands of limestone became more frequent. I need a geology lesson here. These aren't reefs, and I presume caps of erosion-resistant materials as well as the carving actions of water and wind are responsible for the landscape relief-- but I'd like to know for sure.
I called Nancy Fix Anderson from a gas station in Sonora, and we'll get together for a late supper tonight. Don't anyone tell her I may sneak out to see the new Star Trek movie tomorrow while she's busy most of the day. At least I'll get to see her, unlike my bad luck at seeing Carol Robinson (DIDN'T get to -- my bad). Nancy and I were roommates at Stanford in Italy way back in 1960-61.
Now I'm deep in the wilderness of urban San Antonio -- AAAAAACK, the big city! Far and away the biggest since I left the San Diego area. The route to the motel -- a Motel 6 on Kenley Place -- was a looping, tangled, freeway-and-surface street maze that I navigated only thanks to the GPS unit, bless my little Garmin.
I have driven more than 1500 miles eastward and a little southward, and for more than 500 of those miles, I've been in Texas. If I'd gone northwestward, I could be in Bellingham, Washington, now. Jeez, this state IS big!
It's sultry here; I need a shower before I gas all the bugs and wildlife around here.
The countryside grew more and more hilly as those big, layered tablelands of limestone became more frequent. I need a geology lesson here. These aren't reefs, and I presume caps of erosion-resistant materials as well as the carving actions of water and wind are responsible for the landscape relief-- but I'd like to know for sure.
I called Nancy Fix Anderson from a gas station in Sonora, and we'll get together for a late supper tonight. Don't anyone tell her I may sneak out to see the new Star Trek movie tomorrow while she's busy most of the day. At least I'll get to see her, unlike my bad luck at seeing Carol Robinson (DIDN'T get to -- my bad). Nancy and I were roommates at Stanford in Italy way back in 1960-61.
Now I'm deep in the wilderness of urban San Antonio -- AAAAAACK, the big city! Far and away the biggest since I left the San Diego area. The route to the motel -- a Motel 6 on Kenley Place -- was a looping, tangled, freeway-and-surface street maze that I navigated only thanks to the GPS unit, bless my little Garmin.
I have driven more than 1500 miles eastward and a little southward, and for more than 500 of those miles, I've been in Texas. If I'd gone northwestward, I could be in Bellingham, Washington, now. Jeez, this state IS big!
It's sultry here; I need a shower before I gas all the bugs and wildlife around here.
5/21/13: Tuesday, Chasing the Big Sunrise. Driving eastward is chasing the sunrise.
Between Van Horn and Sonora, the country was at first nearly flat, with just a long, gentle roll very like long, low swells on a calm ocean. Very few mesas and tablelands visible from I10. How appropriate for an ancient seabed! I wonder what Permian treasures lie locked in its layers. But the landscape was also scorched brown, with little except small shrubs and grasses.
Around Fort Stockton, the mesas became larger and more numerous, and the tablelands became more extensive. Burrowing eastward between road cuts, I could see that the sedimentary layers were as horizontal as layers in a cake made by Martha Stewart! Nothing as unmannerly as subduction or orogeny seems to have intruded here.
The farther east I got, the greener the countryside became -- for now, I suppose. Small trees began to appear and then grew more numerous the nearer I got to Sonora, until the landscape appeared almost lush compared to where I'd been. Patches and then carpets of yellow wildflowers brightened the median and shoulders.
Now I'm in the Caverns of Sonora RV Park -- very pretty and lively, with lots of oaks and sycamores, wildflowers, and domestic birds: guinea fowl, peacocks, maybe pheasants. Ed should be here to get the peacocks to sound off. A big, fat ground squirrel stopped to sit up and stare at me: "So, where's the handout for adorable moi?"
If there's wifi here, you could fool me. Probably just semaphore.
Between Van Horn and Sonora, the country was at first nearly flat, with just a long, gentle roll very like long, low swells on a calm ocean. Very few mesas and tablelands visible from I10. How appropriate for an ancient seabed! I wonder what Permian treasures lie locked in its layers. But the landscape was also scorched brown, with little except small shrubs and grasses.
Around Fort Stockton, the mesas became larger and more numerous, and the tablelands became more extensive. Burrowing eastward between road cuts, I could see that the sedimentary layers were as horizontal as layers in a cake made by Martha Stewart! Nothing as unmannerly as subduction or orogeny seems to have intruded here.
The farther east I got, the greener the countryside became -- for now, I suppose. Small trees began to appear and then grew more numerous the nearer I got to Sonora, until the landscape appeared almost lush compared to where I'd been. Patches and then carpets of yellow wildflowers brightened the median and shoulders.
Now I'm in the Caverns of Sonora RV Park -- very pretty and lively, with lots of oaks and sycamores, wildflowers, and domestic birds: guinea fowl, peacocks, maybe pheasants. Ed should be here to get the peacocks to sound off. A big, fat ground squirrel stopped to sit up and stare at me: "So, where's the handout for adorable moi?"
If there's wifi here, you could fool me. Probably just semaphore.
5/20/13: Monday, The Big Empty. Enjoyed the McKittrick Canyon Nature Loop very much, thanks to the abundant and interesting interpretive signs. Spent the night in the KOA in Van Horn, TX, a pretty town of 2,500. (Re: West Texas: Jeanette Walls's great-grandfather was right.)
In the morning, I went to shower and found the place stuffed with teenage girls, nice kids on a school trip. They'd used up all the hot water, but I got pretty clean anyway. The tent area was full of identical tents, tents that had been missing when I pulled in yesterday afternoon. Their excursion for the day was to Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Surprise!
In the morning, I went to shower and found the place stuffed with teenage girls, nice kids on a school trip. They'd used up all the hot water, but I got pretty clean anyway. The tent area was full of identical tents, tents that had been missing when I pulled in yesterday afternoon. Their excursion for the day was to Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Surprise!
5/19/13: Sunday, The Big Windy. Pine Springs Campground here in Guadalupe Mtns. NP is periodically wildly windy. It blew all night last night, and the van creaked, popped, and protested so I got almost no sleep. What little sleep I got was dogged by nightmares. I expected to hear the canvas rip and the roof fly away any minute.
I lowered the roof partway and later on added security to it with some bungee cords I had on hand. Tonight, I'll take a sleeping pill and possibly put in earplugs, and tomorrow I'll leave. Two nights of howling winds are enough. I don't feel like trying to like this place any more. I was hoping to hear the coyotes sing, but the wind drowned them out.
Shoot me Tuesday, but I can't take the wind another night.
I'll go up to see McKittrick Canyon first -- the park's riparian beauty spot -- no campground there -- and at least hike the nature trail there before heading south for nearby Van Horn, TX, just off I10, where there are 2 RV parks. Then I'll further alter my itinerary by going to Sonora instead of Ft. Stockton so as to be closer to San Antonio for the final push.
I spent most of the morning lazing abed, but I did walk to the Visitor Center around 4:30 PM. It was already closed, but the information displays let me identify a number of plants I'd been guessing at, like mountain mahogany.
I lowered the roof partway and later on added security to it with some bungee cords I had on hand. Tonight, I'll take a sleeping pill and possibly put in earplugs, and tomorrow I'll leave. Two nights of howling winds are enough. I don't feel like trying to like this place any more. I was hoping to hear the coyotes sing, but the wind drowned them out.
Shoot me Tuesday, but I can't take the wind another night.
I'll go up to see McKittrick Canyon first -- the park's riparian beauty spot -- no campground there -- and at least hike the nature trail there before heading south for nearby Van Horn, TX, just off I10, where there are 2 RV parks. Then I'll further alter my itinerary by going to Sonora instead of Ft. Stockton so as to be closer to San Antonio for the final push.
I spent most of the morning lazing abed, but I did walk to the Visitor Center around 4:30 PM. It was already closed, but the information displays let me identify a number of plants I'd been guessing at, like mountain mahogany.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
5/18/13: Saturday, The Biggest Peaks in Texas. This is Guadalupe Mountains National Park. These mountains are in large part the remnants of Permian-era reefs, not corals but sponges, algae, and other undersea life cemented together in great calcareous reefs beneath a long-vanished sea 270-260 million years ago. As far as we know, the extinction event we use to mark the end of the Permian about 250 million years ago is the greatest of the great extinctions. My beloved trilobites were finally extinguished then, though their numbers and variety had already suffered considerable diminution. There must be wonderful fossils here.
Now it's a high and very dry desert, part of the Chihuahuan desert. Low, scrubby vegetation carpets a landscape even less varied than the Mojave and the Great Basin. It's very arid. Up here there are some shrubs and small trees, like junipers, live oaks (succumbing to mistletoe), possibly jojoba, and many I don't recognize. Definitely a solanum with pretty purple flowers and a fruit on its dead stems that looks like apple of Sodom -- deadly nightshade?
Very windy tonight with a bright half-moon; getting chilly. I look forward to going to the Visitor Center tomorrow, but I'm starting to wish that I'd spent an extra day in the Catalinas instead of here. And that I'd not backed into a ditch and been scared out of the Catalinas by my own ineptitude.
Guadalupe Peak at 8749 feet is the highest peak in Texas, and it seems to be right above this campground, though not visible from it. I am too intimated by the barrenness of the place to come up with any Dragnet-style jibes tonight. The brochure calls it a magnificent desolation.
Leaving Deming this morning, I had to stop for another bowl of chili at El Mirador. I tried the green chili -- very good but I like the red better -- and got a bowl of the red chili to go. I suppose in the interest of truth, justice, and the American way, I shall have to try some Texas chili next. All I saw of El Paso was very little: part of it from I10 looked like old Hollywood off the 110, say around Vermont and Normandie, and then U.S. Hwy. 180 sent me east through suburbs that looked like Lancaster.
Now it's a high and very dry desert, part of the Chihuahuan desert. Low, scrubby vegetation carpets a landscape even less varied than the Mojave and the Great Basin. It's very arid. Up here there are some shrubs and small trees, like junipers, live oaks (succumbing to mistletoe), possibly jojoba, and many I don't recognize. Definitely a solanum with pretty purple flowers and a fruit on its dead stems that looks like apple of Sodom -- deadly nightshade?
Very windy tonight with a bright half-moon; getting chilly. I look forward to going to the Visitor Center tomorrow, but I'm starting to wish that I'd spent an extra day in the Catalinas instead of here. And that I'd not backed into a ditch and been scared out of the Catalinas by my own ineptitude.
Guadalupe Peak at 8749 feet is the highest peak in Texas, and it seems to be right above this campground, though not visible from it. I am too intimated by the barrenness of the place to come up with any Dragnet-style jibes tonight. The brochure calls it a magnificent desolation.
Leaving Deming this morning, I had to stop for another bowl of chili at El Mirador. I tried the green chili -- very good but I like the red better -- and got a bowl of the red chili to go. I suppose in the interest of truth, justice, and the American way, I shall have to try some Texas chili next. All I saw of El Paso was very little: part of it from I10 looked like old Hollywood off the 110, say around Vermont and Normandie, and then U.S. Hwy. 180 sent me east through suburbs that looked like Lancaster.
5/17/13, Friday, The Best-Ever Chili: Up at 6 AM again, loaded the van, and headed for New Mexico. This was the wrong time of year for desert wildflowers, and, if anything, western New Mexico was flatter and browner than eastern Arizona. Rolled into Deming, NM, around noon today, checked in at the Little Vineyard RV Park, and interrogated the ladies at the front desk as to where a good place in town was for chili. "Just the facts, ma'am." One of the two women volunteered "El Mirador" without asking for a lawyer.
(Boy, that's something I noticed in those old "Dragnet" episodes besides everyone smoking: No Miranda statement, and no stopping questioning when the suspect asks for a lawyer. How times have changed!)
And what an excellent recommendation! The El Mirador is a tiny restaurant, very plain and simple, and had the BEST chili I have ever tasted in my life! I hated to finish the bowl because I wanted to savor the chili longer. I ate a sopapilla for the first time, too, but didn't know I needed to put honey on it. Just as well: honey and I get along very -- blurp blurp blurp -- badly.
The Little Vineyard RV Park is quiet now that the snowbirds have migrated north, and its facilities are nice and clean.
So: Guadalupe Mountains National Park, TX, tomorrow!
(Boy, that's something I noticed in those old "Dragnet" episodes besides everyone smoking: No Miranda statement, and no stopping questioning when the suspect asks for a lawyer. How times have changed!)
And what an excellent recommendation! The El Mirador is a tiny restaurant, very plain and simple, and had the BEST chili I have ever tasted in my life! I hated to finish the bowl because I wanted to savor the chili longer. I ate a sopapilla for the first time, too, but didn't know I needed to put honey on it. Just as well: honey and I get along very -- blurp blurp blurp -- badly.
The Little Vineyard RV Park is quiet now that the snowbirds have migrated north, and its facilities are nice and clean.
So: Guadalupe Mountains National Park, TX, tomorrow!
Thursday, May 16, 2013
5/16/13, Thursday, The Big Mountains -- The Big Lesson: I rose at 6 AM today to get ready to meet Carol Robinson at 10 AM at the Palisades Visitor Center for a hike. So excited I…needed Lomotil today. I also decided to move to the adjacent campsite, as it looked more level. What a disaster. I moved, all right, but as I backed out of the new site to go meet Carol, I reversed a little too much and backed right into that deep hole in the ditch. My rear tires had no purchase; I was stuck. A couple of camp hosts came by and commiserated, expressing the hope that I hadn't damaged the van permanently. The tires looked hopelessly splayed out. I hadn't heard any terrible noises, but….Meanwhile, they offered me a ride to their site where there was a telephone I could use to call AAA.
A woman came down with a video camera to take footage of my van's awkward position. I could have done without the attention!
Thank goodness for AAA RV coverage! A tow truck was out in an hour or so and pulled me out. The mechanic and the camp host looked over and under the van and pronounced themselves astonished that there was no apparent damage!
I decided to go back down to find a cheap motel in town, where, if the tires subsequently deflated or the van shed enormous puddles of oil or transmission fluid, I'd at least be within limping distance of a service station or garage. So here I am, at a former Motel 6, now a Rodeway Inn, having napped and read the afternoon away. Now I'm about to shower and sleep. I called Carol when I got here to make my blushing apologies; I've not heard from her yet.
The van, perfectly level now, lets me open the main access door with no problem. I've cranked the refrigerator up so far, everything will probably freeze in both compartments.
Off to Deming, NM, tomorrow!
A woman came down with a video camera to take footage of my van's awkward position. I could have done without the attention!
Thank goodness for AAA RV coverage! A tow truck was out in an hour or so and pulled me out. The mechanic and the camp host looked over and under the van and pronounced themselves astonished that there was no apparent damage!
I decided to go back down to find a cheap motel in town, where, if the tires subsequently deflated or the van shed enormous puddles of oil or transmission fluid, I'd at least be within limping distance of a service station or garage. So here I am, at a former Motel 6, now a Rodeway Inn, having napped and read the afternoon away. Now I'm about to shower and sleep. I called Carol when I got here to make my blushing apologies; I've not heard from her yet.
The van, perfectly level now, lets me open the main access door with no problem. I've cranked the refrigerator up so far, everything will probably freeze in both compartments.
Off to Deming, NM, tomorrow!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
5/14/13: The Big Saguaro. This is the city: Tucson, Arizona. It's hot but still about 10 degrees cooler than El Centro. I'm stationed at the Rincon Country East RV Resort — very nice! It was a 300-mile drive. Got here around 8 PM, so I'm pretty tired.
Picacho Peak north of Tucson was, as always, a very striking sight, with its upper slopes so nearly vertical and that cusp between the peaks (Google "Picacho Peak photos"). I wanted to take it in for questioning, but Capt. Matilda pointed out that there wasn't room for it.
Got 13.87 miles/gallon between Oceanside and Yuma, but it was so hot on the road today that I had to use the air conditioning, which probably shot the mileage to blazes, ha ha. Also after El Centro, I had filled the fresh-water tank, so there's another 64 pounds to carry.
I'll shower in the morning but have a baby-wipe bath tonight. After El Centro, I'm keeping the baby wipes in the refrigerator.
This park has Tengo Internet, which I've used before, elsewhere. It has to be one of the worst providers, short of no provider at all.
Picacho Peak north of Tucson was, as always, a very striking sight, with its upper slopes so nearly vertical and that cusp between the peaks (Google "Picacho Peak photos"). I wanted to take it in for questioning, but Capt. Matilda pointed out that there wasn't room for it.
Got 13.87 miles/gallon between Oceanside and Yuma, but it was so hot on the road today that I had to use the air conditioning, which probably shot the mileage to blazes, ha ha. Also after El Centro, I had filled the fresh-water tank, so there's another 64 pounds to carry.
I'll shower in the morning but have a baby-wipe bath tonight. After El Centro, I'm keeping the baby wipes in the refrigerator.
This park has Tengo Internet, which I've used before, elsewhere. It has to be one of the worst providers, short of no provider at all.
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