Jack & Sue's 2010 Road Trip

Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 1

Well, here we go again.  The Dallas entourage of two is back on the road.  After six weeks of planning and an exhaustive consultation with Google Maps, MapQuest, Bing Maps, Garmin Maps and Triple A’s Trip-Tik we found the easiest way out of Florida is northbound on the Florida Turnpike.  All that planning paid off as we successfully made it all the way to Gainesville.

I drove the first half of the day through heavy traffic, torrential downpours of Florida’s Liquid Sunshine, rude drivers and managed to get us through Dade, Broward and Palm Beach counties.  Since we like to evenly share the driving, Sue will now have to drive the rest of the trip.

As this is the first day of our adventure there is not much trip to talk about.  Florida is a boring state whose main claim to fame seems to be that it is deceptively long.  Someone bent it at an angle just north of Gainesville.  If it were straightened out and rolled like a “fatty” it would be the longest funny looking state in the Union.

The planning for this trip was exciting.  I had a near death experience with a Rottweiler and I found Osama bin Laden.  As I was walking the neighborhood getting in shape for the trip I came across a local abuela walking a black and brown Volkswagen.  It was really a Rottweiler but to me it looked like a small car.  To him, I must have looked like a pork chop because he immediately started to drag the abuela to my side of the street.  Luckily for me she was able to grab a small palm tree which, if planted more than a week later would surely have pulled out of the ground.  She managed to get a hitch with the leash around the tree to spare my life.

The second part of the planning involved my Internet access.  It was here I found Osama.  He runs a call center in Punjab, India for AT&T.  He calls himself Don, but I know it was him.  After 46 calls to the support desk I found that all call center supervisors are called Don.  That’s why we can’t find him.

He is still in the business of annoying Americans.  I know this because he promised to have my Internet “unplanned outage” problem solved on each of the nine days before our trip and each time he would either miss the deadline or would only bring it up for 15 or 20 minutes at a time.

I desperately needed to carefully plan this trip because anyone knows you can’t get out of Florida by jumping in a car and heading north.  This trip is being made with more electronic gadgetry than NASA used to put Neil Armstrong on the moon.  We have our laptop, Garmin GPS system, AAA Trip-Tiks as electronic PDFs and a new iPhone4.  This latter addition became necessary when I couldn’t get Internet access at home.  So, adding to the irony and salt-in-the-wound of it all, I purchased the new data access device from….drumroll here…..AT&T.  Anyone who remembers the plot of the comic send-up of the James Bond series called Our Man Flint will know how art imitates life.  (In this movie the arch villain turns out to be the “phone company”.)

We head out Wednesday for Pensacola.  One observation I have made so far is gleaned from reading the billboards along the north Florida highways.  That is that, the entire northern end of our stated is inhabited by old retired people who play golf, shop at outlet stores, get their entertainment at We- Bare-it-All bars and are still sexually active as may be deduced from the anti-abortion signs.

More later, bye for now.

To be removed from this mailing list call 1-888-321-2375 ask for Osama...I mean Don.

Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 2

We escaped from Gainesville.  Sue offended an armadillo at a Texas Roadhouse assuming it was a Gator and we almost didn’t make it.  You know you are in a fine dining establishment when they have a larger than life-size animal replica walking the aisles.  I have to say this restaurant mascot did look a lot like a pale gator.  I mentioned that I had never seen an armadillo without tire treads across the midsection.  He didn’t seem amused. 

We made the big left turn onto Interstate 10 and headed west past our state capitol.   Our state capital is Tallahassee which is a Seminole Indian word meaning ‘Good Old Boys’.  The most important piece of legislation recently passed here was the removal of the Mockingbird as the state bird.  It was replaced by a more worthy resident of the Florida skies, the love-bug.   I managed to kill 10,384 of these delightful creatures, by my last count, and didn’t make a dent in the population.   My love-bug kill estimate is based on a scientific process similar to the Neilson Ratings where I count splat marks on a given section of the windshield and extrapolate from this based on the front surface area of a Honda CRV.

We arrived in Pensacola, named after the popular soft drink, in the early afternoon aided by the time change that almost offset our late departure.  As it was my birthday we decided to celebrate at an Irish Pub run by a couple of Jewish fellows.  The bar was called McGuire’s Irish Pub.  The owners, Abe and Sheldon O’Brian inherited the pub from a very distant relative, Levi McGuire.   The food was great.  At least I think it was great as my taste buds didn’t survive the double shots of Old Bushmills Irish Whiskey chased by their home-brewed Porter. 

The following day we left Pensacola and headed for the Big Easy.  We continued on Interstate 10 which drops you off right in New Orleans.  Thank God for our GPS that told us to stay on I-10 and not turn off on one of those tempting secondary roads.  We arrived at the Hotel Monteleone which is French for Hotel Monteleone.   We quickly made it to our room with the aid of Ken our bellman.  Ken told us of the hotel’s amenities which were the elevator to our room and the location of the world famous Carousel Bar.  Ken didn’t lose any of our bags in the 3 minute trip from the garage to the third floor room 371 so he was handsomely rewarded. 

The Carousel Bar was our next stop where the bar is spinning around before you have your first drink.  We drank until the bar stopped spinning and decided that some food might be a good idea.  We joined up with some of Sue’s friends who had found a restaurant, Jacques-Imo’s.  It had to be good as it involved a 40 minute trolley ride and a brisk walk on sidewalks that hadn’t been repaired since Huey-The-Kingfish-Long was an honest politician.  I say brisk walk as we wanted to move fast enough so it didn’t have time to register with the folks hanging out on the street that a bunch of well-heeled tourists ripe for the picking were strolling in the dark.

Jacques-Imo’s advertised “Real Nawlins Food”.   Which is local-speak for we will fry anything. We entered from the street and were in the bar.  We were then led up a flight of stairs, through the kitchen where we had to squeeze between the chefs manning the 3 grills and the 114 deep fat fryers, down another flight of stairs, around a few tables, made a U turn through a doorway where we had a private room.  We at first thought a private room was a privilege but then noticed that we had been led outside the building and were now in the side yard.  It had 4 walls, a floor and roof but the wall next to me used to be the outside wall to a house.  I had the Godzilla which was fried green tomatoes with fried soft shell crab and fried-fried.  This last ingredient is what I believe to be the bits and pieces of other fried meals that is cleaned from the bottom of the deep fat fryer and added as a delectable topping.

The Godzilla with Fried-Fried

With a gut filled with the finest grease Nawlins had to offer we decided to press our luck even further with a trip to Vaughn’s.  Vaughn’s is located on the corner of Dauphine and Lessens in a neighborhood with no reported crime problem.  Not that they don’t have crime, it’s just not reported.     This bar/jazz club is known for its beer, jazz and unprecedented run of 4 days since its last knife fight.  I have it on good authority that this is the spot where Frankie shot Johnny.  Nellie Bly still bartends here.  The jazz was good, or so I was told.  You see we arrived when the band decided to take a break.  The break was so long that when they returned they were all white.  During the break I decided to go against one of my cardinal rules of drinking.  That rule is to never eat free bar food.  There was a large pot of red beans with some sort of meat in it.  I’m not sure what the meat was but it tasted a bit like armadillo.  Served on rice with a little hot sauce and it was a meal fit for well, anyone who paid the ten dollar cover charge.  Whenever you are in New Orleans you really can’t go wrong with the red beans.

Friday morning several of us took a narrated carriage ride around the French Quarter.  Big John was our guide and he must have been part Irish as he was definitely blessed with the gift of the Blarney.  He took us briefly beyond the French Quarter to visit one of the above ground cemeteries.  We visited the tomb of Marie Laveau a famous practitioner of voodoo.  At her final  place of residence we performed the traditional ritual of marking three X’s on the face of the tomb and turning around three times.  You can imagine how freaked out I became when her powers were made clear to me.  In a shocking moment of voodoo realization I noticed that my hands were covered in blood.  It was all over my camera too.

Not to worry though good friends.  You were worried weren’t you?  It turned out that the red stuff wasn’t blood after all.  Apparently someone had previously marked on the tomb with red lipstick and a glob of the waxy stuff had found its way to my hand and managed to spread all over my camera.  A Kleenex was located and I cleaned up rather nicely.  This is my story and I’m sticking to it.  There is no such thing as voodoo.  To play it safe however I later stopped by a local voodoo shop and purchased a small vial containing the foot of a three toed frog killed on June 22nd (St. John’s Eve).   The foot is suspended in a liquid that smells like 409. The shop’s owner assures me this is guaranteed to remove future lipstick stains acquired in graveyards.

Friday afternoon I took a brief walking tour of Bourbon Street.  The sounds of jazz and rock and roll reverberated into the street from open windows.  This mixed in the 90 degree heat with the smells of the previous evening’s regurgitation.  In the doorways of the strip clubs stood “entertainers” whose allure was perhaps better appreciated in a very dark room.

Friday evening was the rehearsal dinner.  We rehearsed the drinking of alcoholic beverages so we would know how to do it the next day at the wedding.   The rehearsal dinner was held at Mardi Gras World, MGW.  Three large busses picked up the revelers near the hotel.  The MGW venue is filled with Mardi Gras float parts that give it all a surreal look.  Inside the main room we stepped into a movie set that looked like a small city complete with a twilight sky, streets, trees and storefronts.  There was a live jazz band, the Pinstripes, and food stations were everywhere.  Sue wanted me to dance so the required quantity of scotch was consumed to improve my coordination and perceived grace.  I got so perceptively graceful that I suffered mightily the next day.

Saturday we were in recovery mode.  Muscles ached.  Bones ached.   Eyelashes ached.  All of this was due, no doubt, to the excessive dancing.  It therefore was a relief to jump into a fully lined wool suit so I could sit in a beautiful outdoor garden for the wedding.  A balmy 90 degree breeze whipped through the garden at a record setting .0009 MPH.  The groom must have felt the same elation as he fainted when he got ready to exchange his vows.  A bottle of water and an ice pack revived the groom so he could continue with the service.  The bride and groom expressed their feelings for one another.  A quick glance around the audience saw that most of the women were brought to tears.  Most of the men were looking to see where the bar was being set up in the reception hall behind us.

The Groom Recovers

The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch.  A great jazz band played and good food was consumed in mass quantities.  Since Sue literally danced her tootsies off the previous evening I got a reprieve from being forced to drink more scotch.

On Sunday a group of us took a van tour with Christus Fernando who claimed Spanish heritage.  He looked to be of Indian or Pakistani decent and spoke with a heavy accent from that region.  He turned out to be a very friendly guy who seemed to know a lot about New Orleans.  We couldn’t understand him but he spoke with such authority he must have been knowledgeable.  He did however get lost looking for an address and were glad that I brought my GPS.

On our tour we went looking for a house that the son of one of our group had helped build through Habitat for Humanity.  We found the house but the poor blind man was not ready to open his door for seven strangers.  Go figure.  His across the street neighbor however was able to be more gracious.  Betty turned out to be a marvelous woman who wanted to tell her story of survival.  She invited us into her home and related her journey through years of living in the aftermath of Katrina.  Her story has a happy ending evidenced by her beautiful new home built on the property that had been destroyed.  Insurance that she carried helped her rebuild.  She plans to sell however to be next to her grandchildren who had moved away.  Her new home is only one of three on the block that had been rebuilt.

Betty (center) Poses With Our Group

We also saw, strewn in with the absolute poverty of the area, a number of the houses that were built by an architect who must have designed Goony Golf locations.  Parked in front of one of the more bizarre dwellings stood two Cadillac Escalades with oversized chrome wheels mounted on low profile tires.  The home itself had a large twisted metal shutter that skewed from the roofline and swept down across the façade.

At some point during the weekend, I’m not sure which day; we went to a greasy spoon recommended by Big John.  Its main claim to fame is the fact that they prepare hamburgers grilled under an “American Hubcap”.  No imported hubcaps here.  Several of us ordered the burgers with an assortment of toppings.  Mine came with grilled onions, pickles and a lug-nut from a ’62 Ford Fairlane. The service was slow and the floor was filthy.  The waiter was rude and the girl bussing tables “had issues”.  With all of that said, the burgers were great.

It had been many years since I was last in the Big Easy.  With the exception of the area still devastated by Katrina not much has changed.  The music is great.  Some food is outstanding but much could be described as overrated.   I think I saw one of the restaurant reviewers outside our hotel.  She was holding up the outside wall of the building to keep it from falling over and yelled, “I’m ready for some more shots”.   With refined taste buds such as these all food should taste good.  I highly recommend the red beans.  Everybody here has a recipe for red beans.  The good part about eating red beans in N.O. is that you never suffer the after effects normally associated with beans.  At least with the loud music and other prevalent odors, nobody would notice.

On to Shreveport…more later.

Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 3

For those of you who haven’t driven the road between New Orleans and Shreveport you have missed, well, almost nothing.  Driving vacations through the central part of the US aren’t nearly as exciting as the drive say from Juarez to Chihuahua.  Suffice it to say our Big Easy to Shreveport to Oklahoma City leg was uneventful.  We made it from Louisiana through Texas and into Oklahoma and only have one exciting thing to report.  This is really big and I wanted to share it with everyone I know.  This was perhaps the cheapest thrill and most exciting thing to happen on an otherwise boring drive.  It involves the previously mentioned iPhone.  While driving along a long desolate road in Oklahoma with miles and miles of more miles and miles, and after a nice repast at a Subway, I began to feel the effects of my large diet soft drink.  As the ads say, there’s an app for that.  While Sue drove I downloaded and now have the $0.99 app “All Stops Rest Stops” that shows every bathroom along the various Interstates in the nation.  It details all the exits and provides information on rest stop locations, distance from the Interstate and handicap accessibility.  It plots each location on a Google Map and shows your “blue dot” position as you move closer and closer to relief.  Future promised upgrades will include other important information such as 1 ply or 2 ply, current fly count and the year last cleaned.  I highly recommend this app to all Interstate travelers.  I give it my full bladder rating.

I am writing this section at a Hampton Inn in Shawnee, OK.  We just returned from dinner at Frateli’s Italian Restaurant where we had perhaps our best meal since we left Miami.  When we returned to the hotel the desk clerk, Kim, had saved us 4 oatmeal raisin cookies.  She felt sorry for us as we gave her our “very sad look” when we saw the hot cookie platter had but a few crumbs left when we went out to dinner.  She also went back to the kitchen and got us two glasses of skim milk.  This is why I send Sue in to do her magic when we check in.

Now we are in Kansas.  We left Shawnee and drove west and north to hunt for Dorothy and the Tin Man.  Actually this drive was quite pleasant with rolling hills featuring cattle ranches and farms.  The farms were planted with corn, wheat, sorghum, oil wells and wind generators.  We were supposed to make it to Hayes, KS, but when we saw that Russell, KS was the home of Bob Dole and Arlen Spector we changed our plans and pulled over early.  Actually we were tired, it was getting really windy and we needed gas so Russell got two votes. 

We had dinner that night at Meridy’s Restaurant & Barney’s Lounge featuring the “Best Ribeyes in the Midwest”.  Actually we had dinner in Barney’s Lounge which is just a left turn inside the door instead of a right turn.  We had the ribeyes of course.  They had 3 sizes of steak wee, not so wee and friggin’ huge.  On the menu these were listed as breakfast size (12oz.), small (20oz.) and medium (26oz.).  Sue and I had the breakfast size that seemed much larger than 12oz.  It was about an inch and a half thick and filled a normal size dinner plate.  We then knew why, earlier, the ambulance that was pulling out of the parking lot asked if we needed help.  We hadn’t even entered the place and they were sizing us up for gurneys.

Meridy's Restaurant & Barney's Lounge

When we left the restaurant we were glad we had eaten as much as we did because the wind was now really picking up.  Lighter eaters end up being sucked up to Oz.  We are in the heart of tornado alley.  Our room had a printed advisory on what to do in the event of a tornado.  It basically directed all patrons to go to the first floor hallway which had been determined to be the safest part of the building.  Lucky for us we were on the first floor so we didn’t have far to run.  Further instructions covered what to do in a car.  Basically it advised that you pull your car over and run to the nearest ditch where you are to wait until a cow, your car or a silo lands on you.  After that you are safe.

[time passes, cue the violins]
  We are now in Limon, Colorado.  The trip here was deceptive.  We drove across flat land but ended up at over 5,000 feet.  Oxygen molecules here are about a foot and a half apart.  I got on the elevator with a six foot five 285 pounder, probably named Tiny.  I asked him how things were going and his reply was, “Just livin’ the dream”.

Our next stop is Estes Park and the Rocky Mountains National Park.  More when we can.

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 4

Normally we don’t make reservations.  Mostly because we don’t know where we are, don’t know where we are going and don’t know when we will get there.  Wherever “there” happens to be.  As we had fallen short on a couple of legs of the trip we were now approaching the weekend in Estes Park (tourist town outside the east entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park).  As the local news in Limon was raving that this was the weekend to see fall color in the park, it seemed prudent to make reservations.  Using my last high speed Internet connection at the hotel prior to going the electronic black hole of the park I began my search.

Things were beginning to look bleak when we found the Ponderosa Lodge.  Built in the 50’s, the place ended up surprising us both.  Perched on a small running rapids stream it was surprisingly clean and spacious. 

Before we had left Limon, CO., however, we stopped off at a local True Value Hardware store.  We didn’t need hardware but they had a full pharmacy, grocery and liquor store inside.  I told the cashier I couldn’t wait to drink my fine California wine from the True Value Hardware paper bag in which it was packed.

We arrived in Estes Park.  Why were things so crowded in Estes Park?  It turns out that, not only was it the peak of the color season for the park, the Parks Service decided that Saturday was a free day.  Additionally the town was sponsoring a Harvest Gold crafts festival.  We had hit the trifecta the hard way.  The traffic in the downtown area of this little burg would rival the rush hour of many a large city.  The normal population is 5,413.  This weekend it looks like the 554,636 folks in Denver have been added along with Sue and I for a new total of: 560,051.

On our first day we drove up to the longest/highest continuously paved road in the US.  The café and visitor’s center was at 11,796 feet.  The walk from my car to the café seemed like I had just run a marathon.  The wind was blowing but I don’t know how since there is no air.  I saw an oxygen molecule fly by and tried to retrieve it without luck.  It got sucked into the fuel injection system of a passing Jeep.

If our Honda CRV had been an airplane the oxygen masks would certainly have already dropped from the overhead.  As peak color goes it was beautiful, as long as you like yellow.  They only have one tree that turns in the fall here, the Aspen.  Actually I have to amend that the evergreens are turning up here too.  They are turning brown due to the pine bark beetle.  Our pictures are filled with green, yellow and brown. I think Photoshop has a feature that can change a single color to an alternate.  What would you say to a red evergreen?

Actually the pine bark beetle has been the subject of much debate.  Some advocate letting nature take its course and others promote intervention.  On the intervention side scientists have taken an infested tree back to the lab and made recordings of the sounds they make, the beetles not the scientists.  They then played back the sounds really loud and the noise really bugged the beetles. (pun intended)  Male beetles became vicious and attacked and killed the females.  Steve Jobs is now trying to get the contract to supply millions of miniaturized iPhones for the beetles to help control the population.  Another fact is that the bark beetles are party animals.  They love ethanol.  If we could only teach them to drive we could certainly thin the population.

On our way back to our lodging we stopped off at a Safeway grocery and bought a bagged salad.  Since Sue never made it through her steak back in Russell, KS., we added that to our dinner menu.  For desert we had apple and lemon pies left over from our goodie-bag from the wedding in New Orleans.

Our second day in RMNP found us wakened to the sounds of quacking ducks from the iPhone alarm at 5:00 a.m., aka Oh-Dark-Thirty.  We grabbed a quick breakfast whipped up by the gourmet road chef, Sue.  We were on the road by 6:30 a.m., a personal best.  We arrived at the trailhead at 7:20 a.m.  The hike was to be just 1.5 miles.  We arrived at Dream Lake (so named because you are still dreaming when you arrive) at around 8:30 a.m.  We had missed the golden hour for photography by about two hours. We didn’t allow for the facts that (a) we were over 9,000 feet in the air and (b) the 1.5 mile walk involved an elevation gain of almost 500 feet.  This latter figure may not sound like much but picture a 50 story building with no elevators.  You are on the ground floor and must now climb the staircase.  Easy, right?  Now suck all of the oxygen out of the staircase, replace the stairs with rocks, sand, tree roots, pine cones and old hikers that never made it.  Now make some of the stairs go down in the middle so you have to make up what you just lost by going up and down and back up again.  I’m not done yet.  Now make one of the hikers 65 and load him down with what will feel like 328 lbs. of photographic gear.  Now you know why it took almost an hour to hike just 1.5 miles.  We missed the golden glow of the sunrise on Dream Lake so I’ll be spending more time in Photoshop.  That certainly beats getting up at 3:00 a.m.

A brief observation on our National Parks System; I don’t know what they did with the $10 I spent on my lifetime Senior Pass but, they certainly didn’t put it to making the public toilets sweet smelling.  It was nice that there were no flies but then I realized that flies need air to fly and there is no air here.  Parks designers have determined that you need one toilet for every 4,000 tourists you plan to have on any single day.  This ratio was certainly created by a man with other men in mind.  If only men visited the park you wouldn’t need but maybe one toilet as long as there were enough trees.  Women now frequent our parks and that number needs to be updated.  It seems that they now build the two or three facilities and then manage to have at least one posted as “Out Of Order”.  If male bark beetles end up dominating the parks the current toilet to visitor ratio may be adequate.

Another observation on the Parks System is that the wildlife don’t seem to be able to afford the $20 a carload entry fee as we have seen almost no animals here save the two legged variety.  We have pictures of squirrels, chipmunks, birds and a couple of wayward elk in town for a convention.  I was trying to get a picture of a bark beetle but at only 5 millimeters they have proven elusive.  The color brochures of RMNP show all sorts of animals.  I think these are merely head-shots of out of work animal actors.

We finished up our hiking for the day, grabbed a Sunday brunch at a local restaurant on a lake and used their facilities.  The National Parks Service could use a few tips from this restaurant if it is only to have classical music piped in.

Back at our humble abode for the day it is now nap time.  Sue is napping as I write this and I will join her now.  More later.  ZZZZZZ

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 5

We solved the problem from the previous day where we were exhausted after the walk from the parking lot to the trailhead.  This morning we arose to the quacking of the ducks and headed out under the cover of darkness.  We arrived at Sprague Lake which involves a half mile loop that is wheelchair accessible.  We didn’t bring a wheelchair so decided to walk.  This time we saw some wildlife.  That is if you consider ducks to be wildlife.  There is only one variety of duck here and we now have 4,328 photos of ducks swimming, walking, eating and basically just being ducks.

We learned the proper stalking techniques for getting close to wild ducks for the best photo opportunities.  Basically this involved getting near to the water without going in.  Later, we went back to the parking lot and moved our picnic gear to a table nearby.  Those same elusive ducks came out of the water and walked under our table.  We noticed one duck that walked with a decided limp.  We felt sorry for the one we named “lame duck” and risked the stiff fines and fed the poor waif some crackers, apple and tuna.  This must have been just what he needed since when he made his trip back to the lake he no longer showed any signs of a limp.

We took our shots at the “wild” ducks however when they were getting a bit annoying.  They started pecking around my ankles to get my attention.  I whipped out my iPhone and played my duck sound wake up call.  They looked around, got nervous and headed for the water . I don’t speak duck so I don’t know what duck variety they used for our wake-up call or what the ducks are saying but these ducks didn’t like it one bit.  I guess this confirms my suspicions that the wild animal pictures in the RMNP brochures are all head shots of out of work animal actors.  I suspect that lame duck won’t be out of work for long.  Before he left I got his email address and plan to put him in touch with some folks at Disney.  They are doing an animated re-make of Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times and I think Lame Duck would be perfect for the lead as The Tramp.

The sunrise shots of Sprague Lake exceeded the pictures from Dream Lake which was supposed to be the “numero uno” photo location.  This gives credibility to the photographic adage that “no good photo location can be more than 100 yards from the parking lot.”

Sprague Lake

In addition to the lack of oxygen up here we’ve come to realize that there is no humidity.  Now I have it on good authority that a minimum of 80% humidity is necessary to support life.  This figure comes from a group of scientists who work at the Miami Chamber of Commerce.  Here in RMNP the average is around 19%.  I have to believe the people who live here aren’t human but are an advance team from saucers landed at Area 51 in southern Nevada back in 1967.  Real humans would turn into raisins after a few days.  I for one am blowing things out of my nose I haven’t seen since the third grade.  I’m pretty sure I recognized a burnt sienna Crayola.

We returned to our lodge and regrouped.   We had a bottle of wine and two bags of chips from our goodie-bag from the wedding.  We felt rejuvenated.  This is mostly due to the fact that both bags of chips were now at 7280 feet and swollen and ready to pop.  We opened them and what did we discover,  New Orleans air complete with the normal 21% oxygen.  The chips were fine but the air was delightful.   Later we went to dinner at Nicky’s Steak House, established in 1967.  Now where have we heard that date before?  Believe me, I wrote the paragraph above before we had dinner.  I saw the sign when we left. 

On the menu at Nicky’s was the house specialty, roasted duck.  I was tempted but didn’t have the heart to eat one of the little rascals we had fed earlier in the day.  I couldn’t bear the thought that I could be eating Lame Duck.  I had the Greek steak that came with a Greek salad and some Greek wine.  The meat was an all American cow.  They claimed that the steak was marinated in Greek spices but I only tasted the meat.  Since I had only seen cows from a distance on this trip it wasn’t a problem.  Sue had Chicken Marcela.  We haven’t seen a chicken on the whole trip. 

Today is Tuesday, September 28, 2010.  We are due to leave the Ponderosa by 10:00 a.m.  or they might get mad.  We have been at the Ponderosa for 4 days now and have not seen Little Joe, Hoss, Adam or Ben.  I think I spotted Hop Sing in the park on Sunday but he was busy taking pictures.  Today we drive across the Continental Divide on our way to Grand Lake.  The Continental Divide is the drainage dividing line for the whole country.  Basically this means that toilets flushed on this side all drain toward Washington D.C.  This might explain a few things.  We already know how drainage from the other side has affected the people in California.

More later from the other side in Part 6.  I know you can’t wait to hear what adventures your wandering retired friends are up to. Bye for now.

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 6

Well, we crossed the great divide and made it to the other side.  We checked in at Grand Lake and planned later to try to see some wildlife.  The first order of business was food.  We went to the Sagebrush Café for “linner” which is a combination of lunch and dinner.  This was one of those peanut shells thrown on the floor places which seemed to have vanished in litigious Miami after the first slip-and-fall of a woman allergic to peanuts.  Here in Colorado however this type of establishment still flourishes.  At “linner” we got an unexpected wildlife surprise.  A resident chipmunk scampered across the floor going through the debris looking for the left behind nut and to gather nesting material for his home just outside the door to the restaurant.  As there is no AC here, and they are experiencing 80 degree temperatures during the day, the door is left open.

Sagebrush Café

The first wildlife location recommended by the Park Rangers turned out to be a bust.  They should have referred us to the restaurant where we would have seen more wildlife.  Adams Falls involved hiking a trail with more ups and downs than last year’s Dow Industrial Average.  The only wildlife here was a three year old kid who didn’t want to hike.  His parents picked him up and, like most kids, he screamed louder.  As this was the most action we had seen in quite a while I was tempted to take a few pictures but decided against it.

We drove into the park and stopped because we saw that everyone else in the park, all 45 carloads of us, had also stopped at this one location.  A quick scan in the direction everyone was looking and we saw elk.  Elk have a nice social structure, that is if you are a bull elk.  One bull maintains a harem of females.  I say maintains when all he actually does is allow them to eat the grass and stands around and brags about how many females he has.  If this sounds too familiar you are in a strange relationship.  The bull elk does his bragging by bugling to other males about his virility.  I am assuming what he was saying because it seems logical.  He only had the one tune.  As I only know a few bugle tunes, I couldn’t put in any requests.  Of the ones I can think of Taps, Reveille and Mess Call, the last one is the only one I ever liked.  

Happy Bull Elk

The elk posed for a bit before it started getting too dark for photography.  The elk seemed to sense this as they departed into the woods.  We marked the location on our GPS and planned a return the next day.  We set the ducks for 5:00 a.m. and went to bed.

At 5:00 a.m. sharp the ducks sounded Reveille and we were off in under an hour, another personal best.  We made the 2 mile drive from our lodging to the previous night’s location and waited for dawn to break.  Dawn broke at around 6:30 a.m. followed closely at 7:00 a.m. by sunrise.  This predawn period was spent listening to bull elk bugling in the distance.  We enjoyed the 28 degree temperature and the 12% humidity.  When there was enough light to see all we saw was a single elk in the distance at the edge of a tree line and he appeared to be laughing.  He obviously found humor in the fact that some dumb tourists would leave their warm living quarters at this early hour to just get a gander at the likes of him.  I laughed back at him since he was all alone and had no harem.

We finally gave up our prime viewing spot featuring views of empty prairie grassland and headed deeper into the park.  We were really hoping to see moose.  We should have sensed something amiss in the moose sighting department when we saw a color snapshot of a moose prominently displayed at a ranger station with a date.  The rangers were proud of the fact that someone had finally seen a moose in their park.  We never did.  We finally made our way to the Colorado River Trailhead where we were to turn around and head back for breakfast when we spotted three elk.  One was a large bull and he was traveling with two other smaller males.  The large bull posed for a few pictures but obviously had better things to do.  It is hard to start up a harem when you are hanging out with the guys.  It took me years to finally figure out why a single girl wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to jump into a car filled with drooling guys.

The remaining elk grazed next to the roadway and then sensing our planned departure after only taking a few thousand pictures decided to put on a show.  They playfully locked horns and wrestled for a while.  I shot a few thousand frames more and finally went back to the car for the video camera.  I shot video of the event and the elk seemed satisfied that their story would finally be told.  Since you are reading this, they were right.

The rest of the day was spent doing travel stuff.  You know eating and laundry.  Later that day we made another run into the park.  We went back to the spot of our first elk sighting marked cleverly in our GPS as ELK.  The elk had not made an appearance.  We then went to the second location marked Fighting Elk and, as before, no elk.   On our return trip we finally spotted a huge bull elk with a harem of 14 females.  He was the happiest elk I had ever seen.  He appeared to be trying to get his menagerie across the road.  We parked our little Honda at the roadside and were quickly joined by dozens of other vehicles.  The bull moved his harem back and forth looking for an opening.  While he was busy watching the tourists another small bull elk snuck into the harem and started getting frisky.  When he was finally spotted by the large bull his amorous intentions were quickly turned to fight or flight.  He stood his ground for a nanosecond and then pulled off a life-saving “exit stage right”.

The next day we were on the road to Ouray/Telluride.  Our intermediate stopover was to be Glenwood Springs.  The drive through the Glenwood Gorge was so stunning we decided to stay here an extra day.  On that extra day we drove back to Vail for lunch and stopped at all the rest stops along the way.  Interstate 70 parallels a bike path for 17 miles and most rest stops have hiking trails.  The highway and bike path parallel the Colorado River.   The speed limit is 75 mph with more exciting curves than a rattlesnake.  I have been happily married for over 25 years so the more obvious curve analogy is beneath me.  As a Florida driver I am very comfortable doing 75 mph, in a straight line.  Doing 75 here around tight curves with sheer drop offs and locals doing 85 and 90 is exhilarating and will have you gasping for breath.  Add in the 8,000 to 9,000 foot elevation and the gasping for breath takes on a new dimension.

 Sue handled my driving in her usual calm fashion, which is to say she gripped the passenger roof strap and arm rest and “loudly suggested” that I slow down.  If you have an occasion to ride in Sue’s car you will easily see the indentations of her fingers.  Sue also has mastered the invisible brake pedal on the passenger side.

From Vail we took Highway 24 toward Leadville on a hunt for color.  In the little town of Minton we took a side road toward the local cemetery.  The cemetery is situated next to a small children’s playground.  The area sits on the Eagle River and was surrounded by Aspen in full yellow and yellow-orange.  In keeping with the tiny poor community ethos of Minton, nothing funny happened here.

Further down the road we took another side road through an abandoned mining area.  It had a warning sign obviously written by Stephen King’s legal department.  It read, Private Property, No Trespassing, Warning, Area Contains Both Hidden and Visible Dangers, Including Without Limitation, Hazards Associated With Abandoned Mining Works, Rough Terrain, Rocks, Cliffs, Steep Slopes, Unstable Geology, Fallen Timber and Water.  Risk Of Injury or Death, Authorized Personnel Only.   Since there were Aspens in full color we ignored the warnings and took pictures anyway.  As I continue my journey I can only hope Sue finds her way home.

Just kidding, Sue didn’t fall into an abandoned mine shaft or step on a blasting cap.  We stopped at a Safeway and picked up salad for dinner.  We hooked the laptop to the high definition television in the room and watched slide shows of our recent pictures.  When we get back to Miami we only have about three months of picture editing to do.

On to Ouray/Telluride, more later.

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 7

Our trip to Ouray, Colorado from Glenwood Springs was simple.  We stopped at a Subway in Montrose.  This quaint little town has beautiful median plantings with magnificent flower arrangements about every 100 feet.  When we stepped out of our car we perhaps discovered why the medians were so green and the flowers so tall.  The whole town smells of cow manure.  No matter where you were you smelled it.  I think I even grew just a bit smelling the air.  I know I was a little greener.

The people of Montrose were typical small town America.  That is to say they all looked and dressed alike and visited the same tattoo artist.  The local tattoo person was graphically challenged if I may be polite.  I also think he/she has a pay as you go plan as several of the tattoos appeared to be unfinished.  One tattoo of particular note seemed to have been homemade.  She probably used a mirror as the text was reversed.  I’m not sure what it said.  She should have dated BOB.

We checked into our spacious room in Ouray only to find limited electrical service.  I guess in the 50’s no one travelled with ten items that needed to be charged or directly plugged in at the same time  The one outlet behind the large cabinet was supporting the refrigerator, TV and two lamps. The grounding leg has been conveniently removed from the extension cord used for the lamps.  Since the power plant is but two blocks away I plan to hang my laptop plug out the window and hope for the best.

Ouray is named after Chief Ouray.  He was the head guy in the Ute Nation of Native Americans.  The Ute were named after the musical instrument made famous by Arthur Godfrey and Tiny Tim.  At about age 18, Ouray came to modern-day Colorado to be a member of the Tabeguache Ute band, where his father was already a leader.   He spent much of his youth working for Mexican sheepherders, but fought both the Kiowa and the Sioux while living among the Tabeguache.  With his father's death in 1860, he became chief of the band.  It was in this band that he learned to play the Ute later called the Uke.

We had dinner and cocktails at The Outlaw Restaurant in Ouray.  The Outlaw is famous as the home of the Duke’s Hat.  The Duke of course is John Wayne and his picture is prominently displayed throughout the bar/restaurant.  One picture has The Duke and the original owners of the place standing outside the restaurant.  His hat hangs over the bar.  We avoided the 45 minute wait for a table by sitting at the bar.  We finished our dinner of baby back ribs and a few cocktails.  They had a honky-tonk piano player to provide the atmosphere.  Sue tipped the piano man to play Maple Leaf Rag which he did just before we left.  Sue decided the night wouldn’t be complete without a picture of her with the piano player.  She posed for the picture and we left the place.  All eyes were focused on Sue.

When we stepped outside I handed Sue her small portable camera and asked her to show me how the picture turned out.  She found the picture and began laughing.  She then removed the large green napkin that was still tucked into her waist and hanging down to her knees.  The picture shows Sue, the piano man and one very large green napkin.

Sue with Honky-Tonk Piano Player and Green Napkin

This is Sunday and we plan to now make a trip over to Telluride.  It should be a one hour drive.  If we add in stops to take pictures we should be back to Ouray by Tuesday.

Our next venture will be to visit the Million Dollar Highway.  This 17 mile stretch is described as vertiginous.  I had to look that one up.  It means:  causing vertigo, esp. by being extremely high or steep.  I expect Sue to be speechless.  She should be losing her voice any time now.

We made it the whole way to Silverton along the $1,000,000 highway which has been marked down to $895,000 and priced for a quick sale.   This two lane blacktop has sheer drop-offs and no guard rails.  The most dangerous thing about the highway is the scenery.  Everywhere you look is gorgeous.  While you are watching the scenery the road is curving.  When you look back down you promise to never again look at the scenery. 

This whole area used to be used for mining gold and silver.  There are abandoned mines dotted along the way.  We tried a little off-roading with Sue’s CRV down Box Canyon to Camp Bird.  We hit a bit over 11,000’ at the high point on this compacted dirt road.  All off-roads are designed by the same guy who designed washboards.

In Silverton we had lunch at Grumpy’s where the service is fast and rude.  The town is quaint but I’m sure it was more interesting “back in the day”.  When mining ruled these parts this town was wall-to-wall bars and brothels.  Today the big attraction is the train set.  They have a couple of steam locomotives that take tourists up into the mountains.  It is here the tourists find out the ticket they bought was one way.  It is a great revenue source.  Scammed tourists then get to work off the return ticket as wait staff at Grumpy’s.  That perhaps explains the attitude.

Back at our hotel we reassessed our return trip.  We were originally going to try to work in the Balloon Festival in Albuquerque.  After three weeks on the road we decided to pass on the hassle of the crowds and start our return through scenery and not crowds.  The weather predictions for the next few days there were also questionable.

In getting ready to leave Ouray Sue lost one eyepiece out of her glasses.  I began a casual hunt for the missing lens.  Then Sue told me if she couldn’t find the lens she wouldn’t be able to drive.  It was then I pulled the fire alarm and summoned the National Guard.  The lens was finally located hiding under a parked 4x4 truck in the parking lot.  Sue still doesn’t drive at night or on any road with a curve in it so it was a limited victory.  I will have relief when we hit I-40 in Texas.

We spent 5 hours driving the road to Pagosa Springs which should take a little over two hours.  Damned scenic drives.  We stopped in Durango at the Old Timer’s Café where Sue assumed she could trade in her slightly used Old Timer for a new one.  When that wasn’t possible we had lunch.

We arrived in Pagosa Springs and checked in to the Pagosa Lodge.  There are about 300 rooms and we were in one of six rooms rented.  The place has potential and was recently purchased with upgrading in mind.  The lobby is beautiful oak and copper with a ballroom off to one side.  The rooms are spacious but reflect the 1970’s architecture.  Electrical outlets were of the 2 prong variety with no ground.  Luckily I had my adapter and enough strength to move the heavy cabinet to allow me to plug in my extension cord.

Dinner was to be pizza and we found several places closed until ski season opens.  The final stop for dinner was at CJ’s Pizza and Ice Cream Parlor.  It was a throwback to the 50’s with a malt shop atmosphere.  A look around the room answered the question:  where does Jerry Springer find these people?   I, like you, don’t watch Jerry Springer, but have on occasion stopped while channel surfing to watch strangers air their dirty laundry.  The people here were nice but you could sense that they were about one jilted boyfriend away from a good hair-pulling.

We had a typical motel-breakfast in a dark room overlooking highway 160 and the mountains beyond.  We have to finalize packing and head in the general direction of Amarillo, Texas.  The drive is marked scenic so we may not get more than a few miles down the road before nightfall.

More later.

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 8

We left Pagosa Springs and headed east.  With a last name of Dallas we just had to stop for lunch in South Fork.  It turns out that the Southfork Ranch of TV fame is really in Plano, Texas and has no connection to South Fork, Colorado.  We then proceeded to disprove another traveller’s myth that police officers and truck drivers always know the best places to eat.  We had spotted a South Fork patrol car outside a “malt shop” that had burgers.  This was more of a stand than a real restaurant or shop.  The young patrolman was waiting on his burger order and couldn’t take his eye off of the concealed carry holster on my waist.  Since Colorado is a “red state” my permit was in order here and not an issue.  What was at issue, was the burgers.  It seems that you can’t just throw a meat patty on a stale bun with some lettuce and tomato and come up with a good tasting burger.  They were edible in the same fashion that boiled rawhide is edible.  We left the malt shop and whizzed through the town of South Fork at a blazing 24 mph in the same fashion the recently consumed burger was approaching my colon.  We spotted a tourist pulled over by the local constabulary who must have been attempting a 27 mph trip through town. 

We had already noticed that many small towns in Colorado have adopted 25 mph and 15 mph speed limits and installed traffic cameras.  These towns have fewer than 300 residents (the census here counts cattle and dogs as residents) and have a need for three traffic lights and twelve cameras to control the “rush hour”?  I smell small town revenue.

We say goodbye to Colorado today as we leave our 18 hour home of Walsenburg.  Where?  I never heard of it before either.  They have but one motel with a name we recognized so we spent the night at the new Best Western here.  We arrived after another “scenic drive” where we were stopping every ten minutes to take pictures.  We got in around 4 p.m. just before the sidewalks got rolled up.  Dinner was going to be a problem.  The closest place to get something to eat was a hybrid KFC/Taco Bell.  This was owned by Coronel Juan Sanders, Harland’s cousin.  I am woefully unfamiliar with the menu at either facility and had difficulty figuring out the offerings.  To the rescue was the helpful young woman behind the counter who spoke perfect Urdu and knew the English word “chicken”.

Jack:  I would like four pieces of grilled chicken.

Counter person:  “Iseecanhelpneeding” chicken “noforchikentwo” chicken, “holebuket” chicken ok “canhavbutnogrillunlesswait” chicken.  OK التو مُرغ۔ باڑے کے احاطہ کا عام پالتو مرغ

This interesting banter went on for several minutes when another individual who had been in the country for more than six weeks intervened and cleared up the matter and I learned that they only had two pieces of grilled chicken left.  Since freshness is of primary concern here they only grill chicken when someone who doesn’t like the fried chicken, that they sell in abundance, orders some.  Then there is a 20 minute wait.  This way they sell more fried chicken.  They say freshness I say Osama plot to clog the arteries of Americans.  After traveling across this great country for weeks at a time for the last few years I can truly say Osama is wasting his time.  We Americans are eating our way to a pulmonary infarction faster than he can say “duck, here comes another Predator drone”.

We ended up with a bucket of bacon-flavored green beans (over-cooked-southern-style), two pieces of grilled chicken and four pieces of fried chicken.  Luckily Sue had brought her famous “pink pills” to prevent heartburn.

We had our usual hotel breakfast of Raisin Bran, a hard-boiled egg and mystery dark bread. Now, on to Amarillo, Texas.  From high school Spanish I know that means yellow.  Now that we are here I don’t honestly see a connection with yellow.  What I do see is that Interstate 40 runs east and west through the middle of town.  The speed limit is 60 and the locals go at least 80.  With all the land in Texas you would think they could have allowed more than 25 feet for an on-ramp.  Getting off and on the Interstate is thrilling.  Amarillo isn’t that big.  If you jump on I-40 you can be across town in less than ten minutes as a tourist or 35 seconds if you are a local.  On the road here Sue got her first opportunity to drive and was forced to pass two semi-tractor trailers on a two lane blacktop.  She broke out in a sweat after coaxing her little four-cylinder CRV with pedal to the metal.  She had plenty of room but she is not comfortable passing.  The rest of our trip should be mainly Interstates so the two lane blacktop should be but a memory.

We had dinner at BL Bistro in Amarillo and had perhaps our best meal of the trip.  The place looks like they converted a small bank building into an eatery.  The salmon and Chilean sea bass were excellent.  I normally avoid the Chilean sea bass but overcame my trepidation after my first bite.  Later research shows that Chilean sea bass is not a bass and it is not native to Chile.  It is more properly named the Patagonian Toothfish.  The fish was ugly and had a funny name.  In a marketing coup they renamed the fish so it sounded better on the menu.  It is not endangered but classified as over-fished.  All I really now know is that the chef at the Bistro converts it to fish that is over-eaten.  With a coconut crust and mango salsa it was delightful.  I learned that this fish is also eaten in large quantities by sperm whales, Southern elephant seals, colossal squid and Jack.  Given the fact that it is so expensive and the inherent greed of individuals in the supply chain, I was probably eating mullet.

Chilean Sea Bass, aka Patagonian Tooth-fish or Funny Mullet

We are now well into our third week on the road.  Some observations are in order.  From north Florida throughout the rest of our trip we noticed that all television stations are locked on to FOX News.  Don’t even think about grabbing the remote.  As these were all “red states” I guess this shouldn’t be surprising.  All of these states believe that eating biscuits and gravy for breakfast is a healthy way to start your day.  As a tourist, Raisin Bran is your friend.  The American made pickup truck is a primary mode of transportation for much of the country.  There are a great many people across the US who haven’t travelled more than 100 miles in any direction from the town in which they were born.  99% of of these individuals are friendly and courteous.  If only this latter trait could be transferred to the metropolitan areas of the US.  Global warming is real and much of the US is in a drought.  The vast majority of US truckers are good drivers but there are a few idiots out there still driving the big rigs like they own the road.  Motel air conditioners were designed to freeze and cook room occupants at least six times in the course of a single night.  They also provide a noise cancelling hum right up to the time the drunks come back to their room.  Political advertising is ubiquitous and equally annoying wherever you are.  Motels prove you can survive in an environment lit by four lamps putting out the light equivalent of two wax candles.  Motel showers underline the fact that we are truly in a drought.

This morning at the hotel breakfast I noticed a small towheaded boy who had obviously just gotten out of bed.  His eyes looked sleepy and his hair resembled a rat’s nest.  A guy who knew the little boy made the observation, “Jake, I really like your hair.”  The little boy proudly answered, “Yeah, and I didn’t even comb it.”

Tomorrow we head in the direction of Oklahoma City.  We are on a mission to get to Atlanta and then home.

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Jack & Sue’s Road Trip Phase 9

We are now in the last phase of our trip.  We made it from Amarillo, Texas to Van Buren, Arkansas.  Interstate 40 could be renamed the Bible Beltway.  On the Texas portion we passed by the “Largest Cross in America”.  After careful research we find that they broke the 8^th commandment.  They lied, as this cross is the second largest cross in America.  The largest cross (198’) is really in Illinois.  The one in Texas is only 190’ tall.

Here in Van Buren we are surrounded by a huge Baptist church group on its way to Branson, MO.  At my early trip to the breakfast area to get coffee while Sue was getting ready, I happened to sit at a table that was occupied by a guy who was probably my age.  I quickly learned he was part of the bible group and was against alcohol, drugs and sin in general.  As this left me without anything to talk about I proceeded to listen to his life story.

He was a former Marine, industrial welder, worked on tanks, was injured on the job, has had 14 surgeries, is due for another surgery to fix his back, spent time in Hawaii where he went to a luau and was able to swap his alcohol laden beverage for a second helping of pork, is a landlord and was recently kidnapped by some drug crazed tenants where he was beaten and held for ransom.  This latter story had a much longer version where the perpetrators were tracked while using his cellphone and captured.  They are due to be sentenced and he expects they will get 20 to life.  During the three days he was being held in a motel room he was tied up, fed sleeping pills and beaten.  Fearing that he would die in their custody they rolled him out of his own truck a few blocks from his home.  The beating he suffered aggravated the original back injury.  That injury was also drug related as it was suffered when a co-worker left his tools scattered about the inside of the tank they were working on to go outside to smoke some “reefer”.  He tripped on one of the tools, fell and hurt his back.  He had to wait for about an hour for his drug crazed co-worker to return and summon help.  He reported the “reefer” incident and the co-worker got fired.  At least his story wasn't boring.

We got on the road by 9:20 a.m. and made it to Elvis’ birthplace, Tupalo, Ms.  We checked in to the local Hampton Inn [we looked for the Heartbreak Hotel and the GPS came back with “nothing found”] and asked where we could get a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich.  [insert blank stare here]  They honor Elvis but don’t know Elvis.

Elvis Presley's Grilled Peanut Butter
and Banana Sandwich

• 2 slices of white bread
• 2 tablespoons of smooth peanut butter
• 1 small ripe banana mashed
• 2 tablespoons butter

Spread the peanut butter on one slice of bread and the mashed banana on the other. Press the slices gently together. Melt the butter (or to be truly Elvis-like, melt bacon fat!), over low heat in a small frying pan. Place the sandwich in the pan and fry until golden brown on both sides. Eat it with a glass of buttermilk.

Please note: Elvis tended to eat 12-15 sandwiches a sitting! So belly up!

Pictures of Elvis during his Las Vegas years show the result of this diet.  He died at 42, so much for health food.  Not many know that Elvis was a twin, his brother was stillborn.  Elvis would be 75 today.

Elvis After His Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich Years

Elvis Before Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches

We are on to Atlanta tomorrow.  Two days in Hot-Lanta and we will be on the road to Miami.  Unless I meet a left-handed dwarf with a lisp in the motel parking lot with an interesting circus story, this may be my last report on this trip.