road trip

Road Trip: San Francisco

Posted November 19, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 17: Eureka to San Francisco. Starting mileage: 37,127.

From the quiet majesty of the redwoods, we were now on our way to the hubbub of busy San Francisco. It was once again, a beautiful day for a drive. Remembering our Road Trip Lesson #1–“the road is the trip too”–we took our time. We drove south down US-101, stopping at Redcrest’s tiny post office, Humboldt Redwoods State Park for a few walks along the Avenue of the Giants, and in Willets for a diner lunch at a place called Lumberjack’s. Besides abiding by Road Trip Lesson #6 to always opt to eat at a local diner, who could resist a place with an ax-carrying mannequin out front?

Sweet little bridge. Between Eureka and San Francisco, CA. — *Sweet little bridge. Somewhere between Eureka and San Francisco, CA.*

Tunnel to "ta-da"...San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. — *Tunnel to…”ta-da”…San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge!*

Staying in San Francisco

We got our first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge as we passed out of a tunnel, almost at golden hour. The sun’s setting light tinged everything with warmth and welcome. US-101 is the road that goes over the Golden Gate Bridge, and after that and a dramatic left turn through the Presidio, we arrived at our centrally-located hotel, right there on the old highway. So many fantastic old hotel signs, remnants of another era.

In the big cities, I’d looked for hotels where we could park the car, and take public transportation and/or walk. This one was perfectly located, and though not the poshest hotel, it was clean and cozy. And from the balcony, we could see the Golden Gate Bridge…just to the right of a massive billboard touting the coming-soon Apple iPhone X.

November 18: Lombard Street

Lucky us! Our hotel was on US-101, which also turns out to be Lombard Street. After a few blocks walk–or should I say, CLIMB up Lombard–we arrived at the top of the hill. One side is pin-straight, all the way back past the old highway’s hotels. On the other side, Lombard Street becomes the crookedest street in America.

The story goes that this block, with its 27% grade, was just too steep for cars. As a result, property values were lower for residents. Eventually, someone thought of terracing and in 1922, Lombard Street got its curved switchbacks. Originally a two-way street, it became one way, down hill, in 1939. Over the years, hydrangeas were planted to ease erosion. Sometime during the late 1950s-early 1960s, a photograph of a blooming, colorful Lombard Street became popular and was printed on a postcard. Today, it is estimated that more than 300 cars per hour make their way down the narrow turns, and gobs of tourists hoof it down the block’s 250 steps. No wonder the houses have so many gates, ivy, and hedges! As we took our time walking down, we tried not to gawk into resident’s “front yards”, but we did admire their gardening, and their parking skills.

Walking down Lombard Street, San Francisco, CA. — *Follow the red-brick road. Walking down the curviest street…Lombard Street…in San Francisco, CA. Read more about this street and see old photos of its construction.*

*Gates and hedges along Lombard Street, San Francisco, CA.*

*Peek-a-boo window near Lombard Street in hilly San Francisco.*

The San Francisco version of kudzu...ivy blankets on a hilly garage. Near Lombard Street. — *The San Francisco version of kudzu? Ivy blankets a hilly garage near Lombard Street.*

Mama Lucy sits for a rest on the way up the hill to see Lombard Street's crooked other side. San Francisco. — *Mama Lucy sits for a rest on the way up the hill to see Lombard Street’s crooked other side. San Francisco.*

Cable Cars!

Next, we headed for the cable cars. We’d heard the clanging bells and had waved back at the people hanging off the sides, waving and laughing. Our destination was the Powell-Hyde Cable Car turnaround spot in Ghirardelli Square. From there, we’d go to the Powell St. Station at Market Street.

It is said that the San Francisco cable car system came from Andrew Smith Hallidie, who witnessed a horrible accident in 1869. A horse-drawn carriage slipped on the steep-graded, wet, cobblestone street and slid backwards. The heavy vehicle dragged five horses down the hill to their deaths. Hallidie was inspired to do something about it–using wire rope to design a method to pull these cable cars. They were tested and rolled out in 1873.

We were the first riders on the next Powell-Hyde cable car. At this early hour, it wasn’t yet crowded. We marveled at the hills, the clanging of the bell as we passed through intersections, and the pushing/pulling of the conductor’s controls. It was too quick a ride and we were soon at Market Street.

Cable Car, Streetcar, Trolley, or Muni?

Now, who knows the difference between all the trolley cars, cable cars, streetcars, light rail, and subway cars? I find it ridiculously confusing…which made it tricky to figure out how to get the MUNI to go out to see friends and meet their dogs. We got a lot of coaching from friends over text and phone calls, and from some kind strangers in the MUNI station and on the bus…or trolley…or in Chicagoan, “the el”…maybe?

Here’s what I learned:

Cable cars run on steel rails with a slot between the tracks where an underground cable runs at a continuous nine miles per hour. To move forward, the conductor operates what are essentially pliers to grip, or let go of, the moving cable.
Streetcars also run on steel rails, but with no slot between the tracks, and no underground cable. The streetcars have onboard electric motors and require a trolley pole to draw power from an overhead wire. They are sometimes called trolley cars.
Some trolleys have rubber tires and no steel rails, but they are electric and draw power from overhead wires. These are called trolley coaches or trolley buses.
There’s also the Muni Metro Light rail. To this Chicagoan, this resembles a short subway train, but on the ground and attached to overhead wires.
And finally, there’s BART–Bay Area Rapid Transit–which is a traditional elevated and subway rail system all over the Bay area.

Confusing, no?

San Francisco's Muni lines. — *San Francisco’s Muni lines.*

Quick visits with good friends

In any case, we found our way out to my friends’ house. It was a nice ride out, through a Saturday afternoon in typical San Francisco neighborhoods. Road Trip Lesson #4 is to seize the moments, so we crammed in this super quick visit. We had a rambunctious welcome from two wiggle-butt mutts and big hugs from good friends. After a short visit, with some much-needed puppy playtime, and a sandwich lunch, we had to be on our way. We got a ride back into town past the Painted Ladies, said our goodbyes, and got in line for another cable car ride back to our neighborhood to meet another friend. Life is short! Make it work!

A row of Victorian Houses, The Painted Ladies. San Francisco. — *“Postcard Row”: The Painted Ladies, Victorian Houses at Alamo Square park. The houses were built between 1892 and 1896. San Francisco.*

Another cable car ride, another friend, and another diner

The cable cars were much busier now. Our wait was about an hour. Finally, we boarded–Mama Lucy sitting, and me hanging off the side. What a ride! We stopped in the middle of an intersection for a shift change and traded one loquacious conductor for another. We were told to watch our heels so they didn’t drag on street pylons, and tuck in our butts in traffic. !!! Up and over, up and over. Hills came and went. The bells clanged. People chased the cable car wanting to board and the conductor roared “Next Car!” like a lion song. We were giddy by the time we got back to Ghirardelli Square.

Ghiradrdelli sign at Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco. — *Ghirardelli Square in the Fisherman’s Wharf area, San Francisco.*

Here, we’d meet another friend for a bit of site-seeing in her car, and later a diner dinner at Mel’s. Genuine chocolate malts and dancing in the booth to YMCA by the Village People at Mel’s, followed by a glass of wine later near the Wharf wrapped up our time in San Francisco. Such great friends, and such a beautiful place to live.

November 19: San Francisco to Yosemite. Starting mileage: 37,495.

We woke the car up early, loading her up to get out of town before San Francisco got busy. According to Road Trip Lesson #5, we asked Siri for help getting out of the city and she directed us calmly across town and out over the Bay Bridge.

Thanks for a great visit San Francisco! Hope to see y’all again soon!

The Bay Bridge. Lower level going East. During the 1989 earthquake, a bit of the upper section collapsed onto this bottom section. It was repaired. In the 1990s, the decision was made to replace the Eastern span of the bridge. A completely new bridge was constructed beside the old one. The new one opened in 2013, and the old one was carefully taken down in 2016-17. San Francisco.

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Road Trip: The Redwoods

Posted November 17, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 15: Portland to the California Redwoods. Starting mileage: 36,776.

We left Portland in a heavy rain. Today, we were headed for the coastal redwood trees in California. I couldn’t wait to see those giant, ancient beings–straight and tall–lining our road.

As we drove along, we saw fields of crops–labeled for city people like us. We called out the names on the signs and admired the plants as we passed: broccoli, hazelnuts, clover, forage, fescue, rye grass, and winter wheat.

Welcome to California

After a little while, we came upon a “Welcome to California” sign, followed by an Agricultural Inspection Point with a sign reading “All vehicles must stop”. We pulled over, and were quickly waved through by the ranger, “Have a good afternoon ladies!” Soon, there was a tunnel, and not long after, the first redwood. Unmistakable…the presence of those surely sentient trees, waiting along the road, welcoming or watching. We were in the Redwood National and State Parks.

fog tree tops redwood trees national park california — Just a photo from behind the steering wheel as we drove into the first in the string of Redwood National and State Parks. My skin tingles every time I get a first glimpse of the Redwoods. There is no comparison! I was excited for Mama Lucy to see them. Redwood National Park.

November 16: Crescent City to Eureka, California. Starting mileage: 37,113

The next morning, we started out early. We’d drive slowly south, weaving around and through the various parks that make up the Redwood National and State Parks system. What a moody day as we drove into a deep fog cloud, then a misting rain, and a hard rain–driving among the giants.

*About to enter the fog cloud, California.*

Seeing the redwoods in the rain and fog...it's like driving into an ancient fairy tale. — *Seeing the redwoods in the rain and fog…it’s like driving into an ancient fairy tale.*

Fog in the Redwood trees. Jedediah Smith Redwoods National Park, California. — *Fog in the Redwoods. Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, California.*

Mama Lucy dwarfed by a Redwood tree Rain in Forest. Redwood National Park, California. — *Mama Lucy dwarfed in the Redwood Forest. Redwood National Park, California.*

About the Redwood Tree

Coastal Redwoods are some of the oldest living things on earth, 1,200–1,800 years or more, with one estimated to be 2,200 years old. They are tall–the tallest living things on earth at 375+ feet. Coast redwoods can reproduce from tiny seed cones or by sprouting from a root crown, stump, or even fallen redwoods. Despite their great height, the roots only extend down six to twelve feet. But the roots can extend up to 100 feet from the tree’s base, intertwining with the roots of others, all holding on to each other, which greatly increases their stability. These groves are like families, and for this reason, redwoods are often in a line or fairy-ring circle.

*A fallen giant redwood spouts ferns, moss, and other trees. Redwood National Park.*

Redwood trees often sprout from fallen trees. Redwood National Park. — *Fallen redwoods often sprout other trees. Redwood National Park.*

Sequoia sempervirens (redwoods) are only found on the Pacific coast, from southern Oregon through central California. They can not live more than 50 miles inland because they need the fog and precipitation from the incoming moisture off the ocean. The tallest and oldest trees are found in deep valleys and gullies, where rainfall is high, year-round streams flow, and fog is regular. The redwoods drink fog: ~40% of their water intake is condensed fog.

Walking in the rain in the Redwoods National Park. — *Walking in the rain in the Redwood National Park. Fog and rain suit these forests.*

*Moss grows on a Redwood. Coastal Redwoods in Northern California.*

*Mama Lucy walking through the redwood forest.*

John Steinbeck’s Redwood Encounter in Travels with Charley

“The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It’s not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time.

They carry their own light and shade. The vainest, most slap-happy and irreverent of men, in the presence of redwoods, goes under a spell of wonder and respect…. One feels the need to bow to unquestioned sovereigns. There’s a cathedral hush here. Perhaps the thick soft bark absorbs sound and creates a silence. The trees rise straight up to zenith; there is no horizon…. The green fernlike foliage so far up strains the sunlight to a green gold and distributes it in shafts or rather in stripes of light and shade. To me, there’s a remote and cloistered feeling here. One holds back speech for fear of disturbing something–what?

And only these few are left—a stunning memory of what the world was like once long ago. Can it be that we do not love to be reminded that we are very young and callow in a world that was old when we came into it?

― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America, 1962

A few photos to try and show the magic:

Such a magical place of fog, rain, and these kind, sentient giants. Redwoods National Forest. — *Such a magical place of fog, rain, and these kind, sentient giants. Redwood National Forest.*

At the foot of a redwood. — *The soft, cushy forest floor at the foot of a redwood.*

Their one-foot thick, soft fibrous bark makes them extremely fire-resistant. They are also extremely resistant to insects and rot. Indeed, it is said that their number one enemy is humankind. Redwoods are listed as endangered because of declining populations due to urban development and logging. Since logging began in the 1850s, 95 percent of old-growth coast redwoods have been cut down (source: Sempervirens Fund). Today, the four parks in the Redwood National and State Parks system, together, protect only 45% of all remaining redwood old-growth forests, totaling about 39,000 acres. Redwoods are listed as Endangered on the IUCN Red List because of decreasing populations.

Lumber facility along the coast near the Redwoods National Park. — *Lumber facility along the coast near the Redwood National Park. Redwoods are endangered because of urban development and logging.*

*Wild Elk warning. Animals thrive in the redwood forests.*

Reverence

I am not religious. But I do believe in something greater, a spirit bigger than our individual selves. These trees embody that. The stillness, the rain, the very presence of the trees, inspire an awe and reverence that I cannot articulate. We are here now, among these divine spirits. How patient they are with the often greedy, cruel humans who are just a moment in their long lives.

I’m drawn to them, and could happily lose myself walking among their trunks in the fog and rain. We walked in silence around them, on a path through a quiet forest with only the sound of dripping rain. I held one of their tiny seed cones, less than one-inch long. And they held me in their midst, among their groves. I took some silence, some calm, some hope with me that day.

Thank you sweet redwoods.

See my Etsy site for a print of The Avenue of the Giants, Redwood National and State Parks.

Road Trip: Seattle, the Pacific Ocean, and Portland

Posted November 15, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 12: Roslyn, Washington to Seattle. Starting mileage: 36,363.

Today, we began a three-night whirlwind across the Pacific Northwest. We left Roslyn for one night in Seattle, one night at the Pacific Ocean, and one night in Portland. Despite the overcast skies and the frequent rain squalls, it was not enough time in any one of these places.

Over the Snoqualmie Pass to Seattle

We drove out of Northern Exposure’s Cicely heading west over the Cascade Mountain Range, and passed over Snoqualmie Pass just before a snow storm. First, we would spend a day in Seattle with my step-brother seeing the views from Columbia Center Tower and the Space Needle, riding the Light Rail and Monorail, and catching up over a couple of meals.

snow snoqualmie pass washington — *Passing through precipitation in Snoqualmie Pass, Washington. We loved these vistas of water, trees, and the snowy, fog-covered mountains.*

Trees road snow mountains washington snoqualmie pass — *Trees hug the road as we passed through Snoqualmie Pass, Washington.*

Elliott Bay Puget Sound from Columbia Center Tower Seattle Washington — *Looking West into Elliott Bay and Puget Sound from Columbia Center Tower. Seattle, Washington.*

Space needle puget sound columbia Center tower seattle Washington — *Looking North at the Space Needle and Puget Sound from Columbia Center Tower. Seattle, Washington.*

East at I-90's floating bridge across Lake Washington to Mercer Island. From Columbia Center Tower, Seattle, Washington. — *Looking East at I-90’s floating bridge across Lake Washington to Mercer Island. From Columbia Center Tower, Seattle, Washington.*

*Mama Lucy walking the hills of downtown Seattle, Washington.*

*Mama Lucy at the Space Needle, Seattle, WA.*

*Neon Monorail sign. Seattle WA. Neon looks extra special in this grey, rainy, foggy environment. More NEON Seattle! More NEON! 🙂*

Walrus Arctic Club Seattle Washington — *Walruses decorate the Arctic Club Building, in Seattle, Washington. It was built in 1916 for the Arctic Club, a social group for those who gained wealth in Alaska’s Klondike Gold Rush.*

Seattle, Washington's Light Rail tunnel — *Seattle, Washington’s Light Rail tunnel.*

November 13: Seattle to Ocean Shores, Washington. Starting mileage: 36,445.

Early the next morning, Mama Lucy and I stopped by Pike’s Place Market for a walk around and a stash of food: savory potato and cheese pirogies from Piroshky Piroshky, light, fluffy and yummy chocolate croissants from Le Panier, and hot coffee from the very first Starbucks. It’s no wonder Starbucks sprouted in Seattle. Hot coffee tastes extra special in that rainy, foggy environment.

Cargo containers in Seattle, Washington. — Cargo containers lined the side of the interstates around Seattle. Washington. Fascinating to see so many of those cargo ships coming/going from Seattle’s port. Seattle imports furniture parts, aircraft parts, and car parts and exports civilian aircraft, soybeans, and corn. The top three trade partners of Seattle Port are China, Canada, and South Korea (according to USTradeNumbers.com).

Neon inside Pike's Place Market. Seattle, WA. — *Neon inside Pike’s Place Market. Seattle, WA.*

Mama Lucy at Public Market / Farmers Market - Pike's Place Seattle, WA. — *Mama Lucy at Public Market – Farmers Market – Pike’s Place as the sun tries to come out. Seattle, WA.*

Public Market Neon in the Sky at Pike's Place. Seattle, WA — *At last, blue skies! Public Market neon sign in a nearly-clear sky at Pike’s Place. Seattle, WA.*

We left a partly sunny Seattle. Next, we planned to stay an afternoon and night at the Pacific Ocean. I’d researched carefully to find a hotel as close to the ocean as possible so that we could enjoy a walk on the beach and the sounds of the Pacific at night. However, weather reports told us we were driving into a storm.

Ocean Shores and an angry Pacific Ocean

The further west we drove, the darker the skies became. Soon, the wind and the rain came. By the time we reached the northern peninsula separating Gray’s Harbor from the ocean, the wind gusts were punching the car. We marveled at how much the trees lining the road could bend, and drove cautiously past blue signs noting this was a “Tsunami Hazard Area”, and we were on a “Tsunami Evacuation Route”. The Pacific, sometimes visible between houses and forests, was angry, tossing waves high and hard into the shoreline. We pulled in to an empty parking lot at the Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn. The wind nearly blew the door off the car when we got out. Thankfully, we were able to check in early and we tucked in to our cozy room to watch the storm.

Wind swept the grasses; white caps were visible in the fog and mist. This was not a pacified Pacific, but a wide, wild expanse of fury. We sat in our little living room, picnicking on our Pike’s Place market pirogies and croissants. Despite the storm charge in the air, it was a quiet, relaxing afternoon. We read, did laundry, journaled, talked, and daydreamed. We were two of just eighteen guests at the hotel that day. Later, I’d dreamed of waves and flying over mountains like a bird.

Trees and rain, driving from Seattle to Ocean Shores, WA. — *Trees and rain, driving into the storm from Seattle to Ocean Shores, WA.*

*Pouring rain at the Pacific Ocean at Ocean Shores, WA.*

November 14: Ocean Shores, WA to Portland, OR. Starting mileage: 36,596.

*Bad road to an angry Pacific Ocean. Ocean Shores, WA.*

The next morning, the rain seemed to have tapered, but the wind was still raging. Regardless, I walked to the beach to pay respects to the Pacific Ocean…and to thank it for not coming for us during the night. The waves were syncopated, nearly constant and loud. The sand skidded and swirled across the beach. Seagulls sat in forlorn groups near dunes, soaked and caked in muddy sand. I took photos and tried to avoid the sand blasting my eyes and my camera. Sand stung my cheeks, stuck to my hair, and blew into my mouth. The seagulls came closer–one in particular looked like he was asking for help. I wished I’d brought bread. As I took a photo of him with our hotel in the background, the rain returned. There was lightning. I couldn’t hear the thunder for the roar of the Pacific. Turning my back on the wind (but not the ocean!), I pushed my camera into a bag and said “Goodbye” to the Pacific and “Good Luck” to the seagull. I was soaked to the skin by the time I got back to the room.

*An angry Pacific Ocean. Ocean Shores, WA.*

Soaking wet seagull at the Pacific Ocean in Ocean Shores, Washington. — *Soaking wet seagull at the Pacific Ocean. Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn in the background. Ocean Shores, Washington.*

Storm at the Pacific Ocean

Turns out, this windstorm was extremely powerful. Winds were sustained at 30-40 mph and gusted to 60 mph. There was a high surf advisory and “significant beach erosion and wave run-up was possible”. Trees were falling. Power lines were coming down. Heavy rain was coming. We didn’t know all that at the time, and went about packing up and loading out. Mama went down for the luggage cart while I changed into dry clothes. And then, the power went out. A pop, a flicker, then silence.

Oh no, Mama would be in the elevator by now! I grabbed the key and ran out of the room towards the elevator, yelling for her. The place was eerily quiet. I heard no other guests, just the wind whipping the flags and the windows. The hallways were lit only by window light. Doors were closed in places I had not even noticed had doors. The stairwell emergency light was on. Just as I hit the darkened lobby, Mama walked out of the elevator. She’d been stuck in the dark elevator for about two minutes. Thankfully, she’d rung the bell and the receptionist got her out on the ground floor right away. They told us that the power was out because of a lightning strike, and just how bad this storm was. Fortunately, the power was out for only about 30 minutes.

Power outage in the storm at Best Western Lighthouse Suites at Ocean Shores, WA. — *Lobby lit by the windows and an emergency lantern during the power outage. Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn at Ocean Shores, WA.*

On the road to Portland, Oregon

As we drove out of Ocean Shores, we marveled at the raw power of nature, and the fine line this community lived on there next to the powerful Pacific Ocean.

This area of the country has such a fragrant, fresh, stunning beauty because of the trees, mountains, and the rain. However, the logging of trees provides income to the residents. As a result, it is common to see fresh-cut tree logs piled high on semi-trucks, and logs and lumber stacked high at roadside factories. I wondered if the trees along the roads mourned their fallen kin.

Driving from Ocean Shores, Washington to Portland, Oregon — *Fresh air and forests line the drive from Ocean Shores, WA to Portland, OR.*

Log carrying truck in Oregon Washington Pacific Northwest logging — *Alas, this frequent sight, a log-carrying truck in Oregon.*

Logging facility in Oregon. — *…And, a logging facility in Oregon.*

*Hairnets for the mountains. Portland, OR.*

Finally, we were in Portland for one big reason…to see our friend Tonya and eat at her pizza place, Via Chicago. She makes the pizzas from scratch. If you’re in Portland, you won’t regret stopping by for a tasty Chicago pizza pie.

Tonya Mayhew at Via Chicago. Portland, OR. — *Tonya at Via Chicago. Portland, OR.*

Road Trip: Northern Exposure

Posted November 12, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 10: Nampa, Idaho to Rosyln, Washington. Starting mileage: 35,946.

We trekked across the northeastern corner of Oregon and north into Washington in a misty fog and rainy snow. We passed Christmas tree farms, wind turbines, signs warning of “Severe Sidewinds Ahead”, and so many trucks carrying logs. This is the Great Pacific Northwest or Cascadia–an area known for environmentalism, coffee drinking, grunge music, and weather-induced depression.

We were headed for a mythical town: Cicely, Alaska from Northern Exposure.

In real life, the town is called Roslyn, Washington and it is where the TV series, Northern Exposure, was filmed from 1990-1995. The program was quirky, intelligent, kind, funny, full of special people with astute observations, and had so many wise and magical moments. There was Chris Stevens broadcasting from KBHR, Holling Vincouer and Shelly Tambo at the Brick, Indian filmmaker Ed Chigliak, out-of-place New Yorker Dr. Joel Fleishmann, pilot Maggie O’Connell, retired astronaut Maurice Minnifield, quiet Marilyn Whirlwind, level-headed Ruth-Anne Miller, bombastic Adam and Eve, mysterious One-Who-Waits, Chris’ twin Bernard, The Brick’s Dave, Ruth-Anne’s Walt… These people, their town, and their eccentric ways enchanted us. It was as if we knew them, spent an hour in Cicely with them every week. Even today, putting in a Northern Exposure DVD is like sitting down with dear, old friends. What a profound, exceptional, and beautiful place literally and figuratively. The town of Roslyn was Cicely. And the town exists.

Roslyn Cafe in Roslyn Washington. Northern Exposure's Cicely, AK. — *Roslyn Cafe in Roslyn, Washington, more often known as Northern Exposure’s Cicely, AK. Cue the music and the moose.*

Dr. Joel Fleischman's Office in Roslyn, WA Northern Exposure Cicely AK Northwestern Mining Co. — *Dr. Joel Fleischman’s office in Cicely, AK (Rosyln, WA).*

Evening on Roslyn's Main Street, Washington. Northern Exposure Cicely AK — *Mama Lucy heading down the hill into Roslyn’s Main Street.*

Pilgrimage

We arrived in the late afternoon and checked in to the Huckleberry House on the hill. It was a no frills room–in a no TV, no internet, no breakfast “Bed and Breakfast”. But there was a shared coffee maker and refrigerator and it was just a 3-minute walk to great breakfasts at Rosyln Cafe. We spent our time there walking around the buildings featured in the show. We had meals in the Brick and at Village Pizza. Mama Lucy wasn’t a Northern Exposure viewer and missed having a TV and the internet in the evenings. Regardless, we enjoyed the time to walk, reflect, and get some of that fresh mountain air.

*I expected to see Holling Vincoeur and Shelly Tambo behind the bar in the Brick. Rosyln, WA aka Cicely, AK.*

Ruth-Anne Miller's Grocery Store. Rosyln, WA aka Northern Exposure's Cicely, AK. — *Ruth-Anne Miller’s Grocery Store. Rosyln, WA aka Northern Exposure’s Cicely, AK.*

Playing Trivial Pursuit at Village Pizza on a Saturday night in Roslyn WA, aka Northern Exposure's Cicely, AK. — *Playing Trivial Pursuit at Village Pizza on a Saturday night in Roslyn WA, aka Northern Exposure’s Cicely, AK.*

Let go of that cow, and fling something

As I walked around Cicely/Roslyn, I imagined seeing Chris sitting in the KBHR booth, or that I’d see Shelly running across the street to Ruth-Anne’s, or maybe Ed would come around the corner with a smile. And I fell in love with the cozy colorful homes, with the plumes of smoke coming from chimneys over tin roofs. I imagined tucking in to a sweet little house with books and a dog or two. Maybe things would be different here. More creatively stimulating. More thoughtful. More there in the moment. Maybe just more life.
It’s been such a strange few years. We’ve felt a little lost. And while some changes may be good for us, some changes just suck. There is no map to figure it out, to see how long the bad roads will last, or which way to go to smooth it out. We wander around until we wander out. Or maybe I just need to fling something.

The Fling…From the episode “Burning Down the House”

Chris: “I’ve been here now for some days, groping my way along, trying to realize my vision here. I started concentrating so hard on my vision that I lost sight. I’ve come to find out that it’s not the vision, it’s not the vision at all. It’s the groping. It’s the groping, it’s the yearning, it’s the moving forward. I was so fixated on that flying cow that when Ed told me Monty Python already painted that picture, I thought I was through. I had to let go of that cow so I could see all the other possibilities.

Anyway, I want to thank Maurice for helping me to let go of that cow. Thank you Maurice for playing Apollo to my Dionysus in art’s Cartesian dialectic. And thanks to you, Ed, cause the truth shall set us free! And Maggie, thank you for sharing in the destruction of your house so that today we could have something to fling.

I think Kierkegaard said it oh so well, ‘The self is only that which it’s in the process of becoming.’ Art? Same thing. James Joyce had something to say about it too. ‘Welcome, Oh Life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience, and to forge in the smythe of my soul the uncreated conscious of my race.’

We’re here today to fling something that bubbled up from the collective unconsciousness of our community. Ed, you about ready? The thing I learned folks, this is absolutely key: It’s not the thing you fling. It’s the fling itself. Let’s fling something, Cicely! ”

Northern Exposure's KBHR radio station. Rosyln, WA. AKA Cicely, AK — *Northern Exposure’s KBHR radio station. Cicely, AK (Rosyln, WA).*

Cicely AK Northern Exposure Totem Pole in Roslyn, WA — *The Totem Pole in Roslyn, WA*

"Explosives", church, and horses. Roslyn WA. — *“Explosives”, church, and horses. Roslyn WA.*

If you are a Northern Exposure fan, you’ll probably like these links.

First, put on some music. Because of music rights issues, the original tunes didn’t always make it to the DVDs. But some good soul has pulled together a lot of the music into a Spotify Playlist.

Read more about each episode at Moosechick. Really, a fantastic resource.

Also, there’s recent news that a return to Cicely is in the works. Will they really reboot it? Will it be great, like the original?

Northern Exposure Cicely Alaska little pink shotgun house in Roslyn, Washington. — *A little pink shotgun house in Roslyn, Washington.*

*Fall in Cascadia. A house in Rosyln, WA.*

*Green House, Red Tin Roof, Picket Fence. Rosyln, WA.*

*Pink House, Red Trim, Lace Curtains. Roslyn, WA*

Chimney smoke, red tin roof, porch lights November cozy in Roslyn, WA. — *November cozy in Roslyn, WA.*

*November cozy in the mustard yellow house with chimney smoke, Roslyn WA.*

*Snow on the roof and a wooden fence. Rosyln WA.*

Huckleberries on the ground at Huckleberry House in Roslyn WA, aka Northern Exposure's Cicely AK. — *Huckleberries on the ground at Huckleberry House in Roslyn WA, aka Northern Exposure’s Cicely AK.*

Elk or deer seen from the road on the drive out of Roslyn Washington. — *Seen from the road on the drive out of Roslyn Washington.*

Finally, you can see more of our travels on my blog. And some select photos are available on my Etsy site.
Thanks for reading!

Bon hiver y’all! 🙂

Road Trip: High Desert to Cascadia

Posted November 10, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

My mom and I were on a seven-week road trip across the USA. We were now headed north from the desolate, high desert of Utah, and west into the lush area known as Cascadia and the Pacific Northwest.

November 8: Moab to Ogden, Utah. Starting mileage: 35,334.

When we left our brand new hotel in Moab, workers were finally hanging the sign. It was windy, and red sand scattered across the road like snow. We were so happy about seeing Arches National Park yesterday. And though the poor car was still a dusty mess, we were leaving Moab with clean clothes and great memories.

Today, the plan was to drive north, mosey through Salt Lake City, and then drive over the seven-mile causeway out to Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake for a meal before going to our hotel in Ogden.

Leaving Moab’s Desert

The day started on a high desert, two-lane road with frequent turn-outs near Arches and Canyonlands National Parks. Red cliffs surrounded us on this otherwise empty desert plateau. We saw a raven dive down and carry off what looked like a squirrel. We started keeping a weather eye open for cows on the road after seeing a sign warning drivers of “Free Range Cattle”. And when we saw a sign that Green River would be the last services for 110 miles, we pulled over there for gas.

Red hills blue sky driving on 191 Moab, Utah. — *Red hills and blue sky as we drove North on 191 out of Moab, Utah.*

Americana in the Book Cliffs

The landscape became scrub grass on hills, sometimes with mountains like wrinkled grey elephant legs standing in the background. Empty land stretched for miles, with a high ridge of cliffs running beside the road. In a few hours, we passed through Wellington. The 50 & 6 Diner was closed, a school bus sat “for sale” on the roadside, several shops had “for rent” signs, service stations were boarded up, and ragged houses sat close to the road like they were about to thumb rides out of town.

Later we’d pass through Helper, Utah: a railroad / mining town with modest little houses stuffed into the land between the railroad tracks and the road. The traditional main street was empty. The playground was empty. Stores were closed. Old-fashioned Christmas decorations hung from light poles on Main Street. Were they recently hung, or had they been hanging for since the 1950s? A town fading into a ghost town. Or was it? The delightfully-named Pick and Rail Supermarket was open. What must it be like to live in this small, old town? How I’d love to spend some time in these old towns, exploring the buildings, the history, and what once was.

LaSalle Hotel and Fine Food on Main Street in Helper, Utah. — *LaSalle Hotel and Fine Food Family Restuarant. Classic Americana found on the empty streets of a railroad town called Helper, Utah.*

Snow on the mountains just south of Salt Lake City, Utah. — We saw many grey houses with yellow trim, and grey horses with black manes and tails. Maybe they mimicked the colors of the grey mountains and the black cows hidden in yellow sage grass along the roads. Just south of Salt Lake City, Utah.

Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake

Our plan was to do a slow, scenic drive through Salt Lake City before having a late lunch at a restaurant on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake. We drove around Temple Square and the Mormon Tabernacle, the Utah State Capitol, and stumbled upon the Family History Library where FamilySearch.org lives. I’ve done a good bit of family research, and this is another place I would love to park for a few days to explore.

The Great Salt Lake is big…75 miles by 35 miles. I’ve seen it from the air, an awesome size, at the foot of the mountains and outlined in white and green brine. The lake is similar to the Dead Sea, so salty that swimming is like floating. While fish can’t live in the lake, the surrounding wetlands support thousands of migratory and nesting birds. We wanted to stand on the shores of the lake and see it’s expanse. Antelope Island was the place to do that.

We turned left at Syracuse, and headed towards the causeway out to the island. Antelope Island State Park has dry, native grasses that support herds of bison and bighorn sheep. The island has limited facilities, and is accessible via a seven-mile causeway into the lake. We were the only car on the road to the toll booth, and learned that “everything out there is closed for the season.” Before paying the $10 toll or park entrance fee, we pulled over to consider our options. We were hungry. While we had a few snacks in the car, we were running low on water. It would be at least a two, maybe three, hour excursion–driving out there, site-seeing around the deserted and desolate island, and driving back. We decided to skip it in favor of getting to our Ogden hotel before dark.

Buffalo statue at the entrance to Antelope Island, Great Salt Lake, Utah. — *Buffalo statue at the entrance to the Causeway out to Antelope Island, Great Salt Lake, Utah.*

November 9: Ogden, Utah to Nampa, Idaho. Starting mileage: 35,623.

In the morning, we drove out of Ogden, Utah past the top part of the Great Salt Lake. Today’s road would take us kitty-corner across the bottom of Idaho’s L towards Boise. It was a day of driving through land that looked uninhabited. But the roadside signs suggested times could get interesting around here:

“Dust storm area”
“Game Crossing”
“Deer Migration Area”
“Report Wildfire”
“Frequent High Winds”
“Blinding Blowing Snow”
“Drowsy drivers – Pull off ahead”

The Great Salt Lake as seen from I-15 North in Utah. — *The Great Salt Lake as seen from I-15 North.*

*Clear skies and an old barn in North Utah.*

Tall blonde grass and wide blue skies. Utah. — *Sometimes we’d see black cows nearly hidden in the miles of tall blonde grass under wide blue skies. Utah.*

Clouds hay barn near border of Utah and Idaho — *Near the border of Utah and Idaho, clouds gathered over fields and hay barns.*

Desolate road idaho blacktop telephone poles — *We watched for potato fields along the desolate roads in Idaho.*

Hey Idaho, where are the taters?!

Now, I’m a big fan of potatoes–perhaps their biggest cheerleader. I love potatoes any way they’re prepared and swear I could eat them day-in and day-out, morning, noon, and night. Add a little cheese and a cup of coffee, and well, that’s about all I need to survive. So I was pretty excited about having a few potato dishes when we passed through Idaho. Unbelievably, this was not to be.

We pulled over for a diner lunch after seeing a sign for the Fudge Factory Cafe in Glenn’s Ferry. My mouth was already watering, as my brain vividly imagined a homemade cheesy hash brown casserole or a twice-baked potato loaded with cheese and veggies. This was another of those quiet, ghosted little towns sitting along railroad tracks. We drove around empty streets until we found the Fudge Factory Cafe, which also looked eerily empty. Nope. We kept moving.

Old building Glenn's Ferry near Boise Idaho. — *Old building in Glenn’s Ferry, Idaho.*

Just about an hour later, we pulled into the Black Bear Diner in Boise, Idaho for a late lunch. Would you believe they didn’t serve baked potatoes until after 5 p.m.? In IDAHO?! We sadly went to bed that night…potato-less…in Idaho.

November 10: Nampa, Idaho, through the northeast corner of Oregon, and on to Washington state. Starting mileage: 35,946.

We got back on the road in the morning in a dense fog, or maybe it was smog from the Ore-Ida factory near the border of Oregon. Silly me, only then did I realize where the frozen hash brown king gets the name! On this 39 degree morning, four people sat smoking on a front porch of a tumbling down house near the border, a tiny neighborhood street stuck there amidst the factory setting. Like so many places we’d see on this trip, we relished seeing the different landscapes–sometimes empty land for miles with hard rocks and ridges for textures, or soft, colorful fields cloaking the hillsides and valleys. And sprinkled throughout, these old houses and old Main Streets sit, with old ways of life slowly fading away.

Hills somewhere in Eastern Oregon. — *Hills and valleys of Oregon and the Pacific Time Zone.*

Mama Lucy writing travel notes in Oregon — *We crossed the 45th Parallel just after the quaint little town of Baker City, Oregon. We were halfway between the Equator and the North Pole.*

Oregon from above at the Deadman Pass Look-out area. Those are clouds below in the valley. — *Blonde grass in Oregon at the Cabbage Hill / Deadman Pass Lookout area. Those are clouds *below* us, covering the valley.*

Grass, rocks, and clouds in the valley below. At Deadman Pass Lookout, Oregon. — Grass, rocks, and clouds in the valley below. At Cabbage Hill / Deadman Pass Lookout, Oregon. Our road continued down through those clouds and into a fertile valley of corn and hay, and into Washington State.

Soon, we’d pass through a beautiful pass with blonde grass in Oregon, high above the valley and high above the clouds. We could have stayed up there for hours watching the wind ruffle the grass and listening to the silence.

For more about our road trip across the big USA, please see my blog. Select photos are also available for sale. Please email me or check out my Etsy site.

Road Trip: The Rocky Mountains

Posted November 6, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 5: The Rocky Mountains. Starting mileage 34,885.

Seeing friends in Denver

We arrived in Denver in a fever, desperate to get the oil changed before the Chevy dealer closed for the weekend. And we did. The car was happy and cared for. We, on the other hand, were still a little antsy from the worry adrenaline when we met up with Denver friends. As we told the story, we started laughing about it–the oil warning light fright, the speedy three hours of driving, and the unexpected encounter with wild-west tumbleweeds. Our first telling was over a home-cooked dinner at Denice’s house, then a late-night evening and breakfast at Lew and Ann’s, and followed by telling the tale over a mid-morning coffee with Jen before we left town,

Snowing on the roads ahead / Change of plans

With our friends, we also highlighted our travels so far and discussed plans to head north to South Dakota’s Badlands before turning west through Wyoming’s Yellowstone, and on to the Pacific coast. We had a National Parks Annual Pass burning a hole in its envelope, just waiting to be used.

I’d been checking the weather. It was snowing in both South Dakota and Wyoming. The forecast called for more snow too. Despite all my destination and route planning, I had not planned on snow. I brought this up with my Colorado friends. Should we try it or re-route?

“Wyoming is 80 mph and usually clear enough…well, except that stretch around Cheyenne.”

“Up there, it’s the wind you have to worry about. But they’ll close the roads if conditions get too bad.”

“You should be ok when you put on chains. You have chains, right?”

Chains!? Mama and I are Southern girls by birth and I have to say I hadn’t ever even considered the need for tire chains. Sure, I live in Chicago now, but I don’t own a car and it’s flat land anyway. As our Denver hours passed, I grew more nervous as another realization sunk in. Crap. Not only do we have to cut out The Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, and Yellowstone, we have to cross the Rockies…in November, maybe in snow. THE Rocky Mountains. The Continental Divide. IN NOVEMBER. What was I thinking?

Making new plans

By the time we met Jen for coffee, a re-route was firming up. The first step was getting over the Rockies. Today. In Colorado. We shouldn’t wait any longer, or go any further north before crossing. I made a reservation at a hotel in Grand Junction, Colorado. It was about four hours away, on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains. Once we got there, we’d assess our options.

After a milky, hot coffee at a jam-packed, nook-and-cranny-cozy Stella’s Coffee Haus, we walked slowly back to the car. It was still fall here. Orange, red, and yellow leaves dotted the ground and were still clinging to the trees in this delightful old neighborhood. The sun was out. “It’s going to be a fine day for crossing the Rocky Mountains”, I repeated to myself, “Just fine.”

Getting over the Rockies

We headed out of Denver on I-70 West just before noon. After a little way, we stopped to fuel up in Georgetown. The air was a bit cooler, the trees more of the evergreen variety here. And some clouds were gathering in front of us.

3-German Shepherds in a truck Rocky Mountains Colorado — *Three German Shepherds waiting in a truck in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado. I took this as a good omen.*

Near Loveland Pass (elevation 11,990) we passed through the mountains. The Eisenhower Tunnel (elevation 11,158) is nearly two miles of unnerving white concrete and freaky yellow lights entered through a mouse hole. When we exited, the clouds were dense and low, and snow patched the mountainsides around us. Skiers were on the mountain slopes.

It started spitting snow and sleet. We saw signs cautioning “Icy Roads”, and just before Silverthorne, one sign read “Trucks, you are not down yet. One more mile of steep grade.” Runaway truck ramps appeared frequently.

We stopped for a scenic overlook after Frisco. Actually, it was a pull-out place designated for putting on tire chains. But it was pretty here by a creek in the cool, fresh alpine air. The road curved onwards around and under mountains. We saw signs for ski towns–Vail (elevation 10,666), Breckenridge, Steamboat Springs, and Independence Pass. Towns included their elevation. The snow sprinkled down, sometimes turning parts of the road white as it blew across. Slow and steady, slow and steady.

Uh oh, a little snow in the Rockies. — *Uh oh, a little snow in the Rocky Mountains. Between Frisco and Copper Mountain, Colorado.*

And then, the road plateaued. The snow became drizzling rain. We breathed again, and I loosened my grip on the steering wheel. We just crossed the Rockies, in November!

The Rocky Mountains’ Western Slopes

We stopped for lunch in Eagle, Colorado, elevation 6,600. In keeping with our road trip lessons, we went for diner food. The Eagle Diner was warm and welcoming with its pink and blue 1950s-themed decor, and the rock-around-the-clock music pumping into the parking lot. Tasty comfort food grilled cheese and tuna-melt sandwiches go so well with hot fries and relief and joy! We’d made it over the Rocky Mountains!

Lucy at eagle diner eagle colorado — *Just after passing over the Rocky Mountains and the Continental Divide, we stopped for lunch at the Eagle Diner in Eagle, CO. Road Trip Lesson #6: Whenever possible, eat at the local diner.*

Back on the westbound road, towns’ elevations were in the 5,000-6,000 range now. Still a mile high, but the threat of poor weather started to fall away. Mama got back to making notes in our travel log as we passed through more tunnels, and saw an exit called “No Name.” As it neared the hour of sunset, we entered Glenwood Canyon as I-70 ran alongside the Colorado River. In the dimming light of a cloudy day, this mighty canyon land was spectacular to see. What beautiful country the mountains are.

Somewhere after crossing the Rockies, the sun came back out for a few minutes. — *Somewhere after crossing the Rocky Mountains, the sun came back out for a few minutes.*

near Glenwood Canyon, Colorado the clouds returned. — *And as we neared Glenwood Canyon, the clouds returned.*

In Glenwood Canyon, Colorado — *In Glenwood Canyon, Rocky Mountains, Colorado.*

Small car ahead, Big Mountain ahead. Colorado. — *Small car and big mountain ahead. Rocky Mountains, Colorado.*

Reassessing in Grand Junction

We arrived not long after dark to our hotel, Springhill Suites in Grand Junction. Our plan was to take a little time to re-plan the next few days. And really, we needed time to just slow down. I think we both slept like babies that night in our comfy, quiet room.

Mama Lucy's make-up bag, parked on the sink in our spacious and lovely Springhill Suites room in Grand Junction, CO. — *Mama Lucy’s make-up bag, parked on the sink in our spacious and lovely Springhill Suites room in Grand Junction, CO.*

November 6: Grand Junction, CO to Moab, UT. Starting mileage 35,144.

The next morning, we enjoyed the free breakfast buffet at the hotel. Great coffee, and Mama’s favorite–a waffle machine! We ate our fill, and took coffee refills back to relax in our suite. Unlike most days on our trip, we weren’t in a hurry to hit the road today. Mama settled in with her iPad and I got busy making some new plans online. We liked our hotel so much, that we stayed until the noon check-out time, and booked another Springhill Suites in our new, next destination: Moab, Utah.

*The road, the clouds, and a view for miles. Western Colorado.*

Utah…Life Elevated!

And we headed out into a beautiful, crisp day. This Colorado-into-Utah part of I-70 is big sky country. Clouds look painted into the bluest-of-blue skies. Roads go on forever. Desolate land. Big land. Roadrunner beep-beep land. This was going to be all right after all.

And thus, Road Trip Lesson #9: Changes happen. Don’t stress, just adjust and go. Every road has something to see.

Our new plan was to break-in the National Parks Annual Pass at Arches National Park. A previously unplanned stop. But hey, we were in the neighborhood. We were over the Rockies. And life is good.

Welcome to Utah sign, clouds — *Welcome to Utah. Life Elevated.*

*What a gorgeous view at a rest stop in Utah.*

Wow Utah. Speed limit 80. — *Wow Utah. Speed Limit 80. Why the hurry?*

*The road is long and stretches out before us. Utah.*

Clouds and cliffs, Utah. — *Clouds, sky, and cliffs, Utah.*

Interested in reading more about this trip? Check out these blog posts about our crazy ride into Denver, about Elvis and our road trip playlist, and about our decision to GO!

Select photos are available on Etsy.

If you are interested in joining the mailing list, please message me.
Thanks for reading! Safe travels!

Road Trip: NOLA to Dallas to Denver with Sassy Siri, Grackles & Tumbleweeds

Posted November 5, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

November 2: New Orleans to Dallas. Starting mileage 33,391.

Today, our plan was to drive across Louisiana into Texas, and spend the night near Dallas. We pulled out of New Orleans just before 9 a.m., weaving our way out of the city past the SuperDome, Lake Ponchartrain, and into a landscape of bayou swamps punctuated with stick trees. By the time we turned off I-10 West onto I-49 North the view had changed to pine trees and miles and miles of sugarcane fields.

Any day beginning with Cafe du Monde’s fresh hot beignets and coffee in New Orleans is a good day. Add a lunch stop for Louisiana home-cooked veggies and pie, and well, it’s a grand day! In keeping with our Road Trip lesson #6, we wanted a diner lunch. Now, this is not always easy to do when traveling on the U.S. interstate system. Sure, Cracker Barrels and McDonalds are everywhere. But how often do you find a local diner when on the interstate? Lucky for us, as we were nearing Alexandria, we saw Lea’s Diner listed on one of those blue services sign. The exit took us far into a rural area. Was the sign old? Was Lea’s gone? Just as we were thinking of turning back, we saw Lea’s–a large white building with a huge–and nearly full–parking lot. Turns out that Lea’s in Lecompte is “The Pie Capital of Louisiana”. So, in addition to a wholesomely delicious vegetable-plate lunch, we left with two pieces of pecan pie to go.

Guest Check Lea's Diner Louisiana pie slices checked floor — *We were full from the healthy servings of vegetables at Lea’s Diner. But at the Pie Capital of Louisiana, one has to order the pie. So…pecan pie to go please! Yum!*

Mama Lucy with pie, at Lea's in Lecompte, LA. — *In keeping with our Road Trip lesson #6, we ventured off the highway for a diner lunch. Lucky us that we found Lea’s.*

Texas, sassy Siri, and the Grackles

We crossed into Texas around 3 p.m. Everyone knows that Texas is a big state, but we were a little overwhelmed to see an exit numbered 635!

Sassy Siri

Since Washington D.C., we’d been using Siri for directions. Always a reserved travel companion, her calm voice gave us 10-mile and 2-mile exit reminders, and advised us on the lane we’d need to be in to make needed turns. About the time we were thinking of stopping for gas, she suggested a detour off the highway because of an unnamed hazard ahead, helpfully telling us the alternate route would save us six minutes. We took it.

We were driving along a back road, chatting about who-knows-what, when Siri interrupted with a sharper-than-normal voice, “I don’t know who your mother is. In fact, I don’t know who you are.” Well. Hello Siri! Mama and I laughed until we cried, amused and shocked that she had chimed into our conversation with such sass!

Only in Texas

We pulled over at an Exxon near Longview, to dry our eyes and fuel up. I stepped out of the car, surprised by the number of black birds walking around the busy fuel pump area. My chosen pump was broken and I had to go inside to prepay. Waiting in line, I noticed a tiger posed in a display case–dead and stuffed. Other majestic wild animals–now dead and stuffed–ringed the room. Sickened, and filled with growing fury that someone had hunted and killed these animals, it was, all of a sudden, my turn at the counter. I was not going to spend a penny to support this place. Nearly tongue-tied with sadness and anger, I think I said something along the lines of “Nevermind. I’m not shopping here because of the dead animals,” and left.

Great Tail Grackle on the hood of the car in Texas. — *These moments in Texas were some of the strangest of our trip with Sassy Siri and the Grackles. Sounds like a pop-rock band.*

Grackles

Back in the parking lot, more black birds had gathered. They flocked around the cars, hopping between the pumps and making the strangest, loudest sounds I’ve ever heard from birds. Two sat by the driver-side door as I came around. They stared without moving–maybe they were looking to see what they could grab out of my hands, or how easy it would be to peck my eyes out. They–and their parking-lot gang–sounded off like slide whistles or car alarms as I jumped in the car slamming the door. One bold and steely-eyed bird flew up to stand on the hood of the car as I put the key in the ignition. I didn’t want to run over his friends who might follow me now, and possibly into the afterlife, so I started moving very, very slowly. He sat there on the hood, staring back at me as if I was car-jacking his ride. It was only when I reached the street that he flew away, thankfully leaving us with the windshield wiper.

Later in the safety of our hotel room, I did a little research and found out these brazen birds are Great Tail Grackles, notorious for their array of “songs” and likelihood to be found hanging out at restaurants and convenience stores.

Until the cows come home?

We drove and drove and drove that day, through a surreal Texas landscape of smiling brown cows in fields, oil derricks shading picnic tables, and a sad truck carrying live chickens. A truck blew a tire right beside us. The sun went down and we were still on the road. Siri once again advised a detour to save three minutes. We declined, and ended up waiting in traffic to pass through an accident area with multiple fire truck and police car lights. Policemen motioned a single file of cars to drive with care through a mass of gravel on the highway. As we neared our hotel for the night, Siri took us off the highway onto backroads lit by the moon and bordered by golden fields and cows still grazing. Apparently, the cows don’t come home at night.

November 3: Dallas to Kansas. Starting mileage 33,911.

We were up early for the hotel’s free breakfast buffet and drove into Dallas just after the Friday morning rush hour.

Dealey Plaza

Back in D.C., we had visited John F. Kennedy’s grave. Today, our first stop was Dealey Plaza, where JFK was assassinated in November 1963. Like 9/11 or Pearl Harbor, “the day Kennedy was shot” is one of those days people remember. They remember exactly where they were, and what they were doing when they heard the news that he’d been shot in Dallas and had died. And today, almost 54 years later, we were standing at the scene of the crime.

There it all was, just like we’ve seen in movies and in the Zapruder film–the grassy knoll, the book depository, the turn on to Elm Street, the overpass. A green X on Elm Street marks the spot where Kennedy was hit. Signs tell us where Zapruder stood to make his infamous film, and where witnesses heard noises and saw smoke. Anyone can stand in that plaza and look at the X, and the 6th-floor window of the Book Depository behind it, and see for themselves what an impossibility it was. Plus, Zapruder’s film shows Kennedy’s head going back–as if a bullet had come from in front of his car, from the grassy knoll. Call it what you will. But having stood there, there’s no way there was just one shooter. I’m not the only non-believer. Other people were there too, most photographing, and one measuring and making notes. Mama and I walked around slowly, looking more than talking. Absorbing.

Dealey Plaza, the turn from Houston to Elm, the Book Depository in the upper left. — *Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Where John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. The turn from Houston to Elm and the Book Depository in the upper left.*

*Fencing on the Grassy Knoll, Dealey Plaza, Dallas TX.*

Green X on Elm St. Dallas, TX. — *A green X on Elm St. in Dallas, TX marks the place where a shot hit John F. Kennedy.*

Oklahoma

We drove north out of Dallas, headed through Oklahoma to see Alex in Kansas. Wind farms, cows, birds gathered on bleachers and wires, and flat land for miles. Later, fog. Siri took us off the interstate as the sun was going down. We drove backroads that changed names, directions, and included a 3-mile stretch of gravel before returning to streets that, at least, looked inhabited. We found Alex’s house just inside the Kansas state line and enjoyed dinner with him.

November 4: Kansas to Denver. Starting mileage: 34,308.

There’s nothing like a thick fog to start a day of driving. And my-oh-my what a day this one would turn out to be. After breakfast at the hotel, we wound our way north on little roads until we caught up with I-35 just before Wichita. The fog was heavy for a long while. There still wasn’t much to see when it lifted beyond Kansas’ crop fields, windmills, cows, and an occasional flock of birds murmuring.

flock birds murmuration making in-flight designs in Kansas — *A million birds making in-flight designs in Kansas.*

Warning Light

Hours later, somewhere around Colby, Kansas, the change oil light came on. We’d driven the car 5,000 miles in just over two-weeks. Of course, it deserved an oil change. We pulled into a truck service station and they kindly told us they could change it for us, but we’d have to go to another place to buy the filter and oil. At the other place, they told us that if a Chevy dealer didn’t change the oil, it could void Mama Lucy’s warranty. I searched on the phone. The nearest dealer was in Denver. It was Saturday and the dealer would close at 4 p.m. MST. It was 1 p.m. MST now, and we were three hours from Denver. The race was on.

Mama called ahead. “Of course we can change your oil if you arrive by 4 p.m.,” the dealer in Denver said. Meanwhile, I drove fast–let’s just say it was a little over the speed limit. The interstate was practically empty, and though it was getting windy, the sun had come out.

It was a fine day for a drive….until the tumbleweeds

We were humming along. A little tense, but confident we’d make it to Denver in time. The Kansas fields were golden, cows grazed by windmills–bucolic, pastoral, bread-basket land. Around the Kansas/Colorado state line, I began noticing tufts of straw balls gathered in little piles along the road side fences. “Ah! They must be tumbleweeds that got stopped by the fences,” I said as I noted to myself that the piles seemed to be stacking higher. And then…crossing the road just in front of us was a tumbleweed on the move! It was about the size of a basketball and bounced across the road and off to the shoulder to join others in the fence pile. We chuckled that we’d gotten to see a real, live tumbleweed. Neat! They’re not just in Texas or Arizona or where the Westerns and the ghost towns are!

And then, here comes another one. This one was closer, and more like the size of a suitcase. We missed it. And another one, two, three backpack-sized ones–now tumbling diagonally across the road toward the car. We hit one and heard the sound of brittle sticks breaking beneath the car. A minute later, a large one–about the size of an ottoman–rolled right between the wheels. We heard dings and scraping just before the stick-breaking sounds. This went on for several miles. I felt like I was in a video game–trying to avoid the tumbleweed obstacles, while staying in my lane with my swerving and the wind pushing, and still hauling because of the time limit.

*The clouds were clearing as we neared the Colorado border, just before the tumbleweeds started.*

Denver and the Oil Change

This story has a happy ending. We arrived at Bozarth Chevrolet in Aurora right at 4 p.m. It was the whitest, cleanest mechanic shop I’ve ever seen. They welcomed us and got started. A mere 25-minutes later, they had finished changing the oil. We barely had time to use their facilities and got some snacks in the waiting room. I think they even gave Mama’s Chevy a car wash and must have picked the tumbleweed straws out of the grill. Lesson #8 of the trip: Always take care of your ride.

*The car getting an oil change and spa treatment in Denver.*

There’s more to read about this 7-week road trip with my mom: New Orleans, Washington D.C., and Going Old.

Road Trip: Louisiana Plantations and New Orleans

Posted November 2, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

October 30: Memphis to Tupelo and Louisiana. Starting mileage 32,852.

On the Natchez Trace

We left Tupelo on the Natchez Trace, a 444-mile highway that follows old Indian trails from Nashville, TN to the Mississippi River in Natchez, MS. Since we are Nashvillians, we know about Natchez Trace. Years ago, my father was obsessed with the building of its bridge over Highway 96 at Birdsong Hollow. And I’ve had many meals at the Loveless Cafe not far from where Natchez Trace starts. I’ve driven short distances on the two-lane road, always feeling reluctant to exit it, and wondering if I might still see Indians or settlers passing by in the thick woods along the road. It is protected land: a living history of what the American “West” looked like in the early 1800s. You’ll see no gas stations, McDonalds, Walgreens, or strip malls on it.

High Cotton

Instead, Mama and I saw deer, and a coyote. Cedar, cypress and pine trees lined the quiet road, and in the distance, fields of cotton stretched for miles. We left Natchez Trace to get fuel and cut over to I-55 via a small road through farms and acres of high cotton. White bits of fluffy cotton balls lined the road. When we pulled over for photos, I picked up a bit of cotton from the road. Mama and I sat in the car for a few minutes feeling the incredible softness of this little piece of cotton, amazed that ages ago someone, somehow, figured out how to take this little miracle from a puff, to thread, to clothing.

October 31: LaPlace to New Orleans. Starting Mileage 33,303.

After a night in LaPlace, Louisiana, we were ready to go see some plantations before driving into New Orleans for a two-night stay. These Louisiana parishes are known for growing sugarcane. In its heyday, The Mississippi River used to be a grand boulevard through here, when more than 300 plantations radiated out from every bit of river shoreline from Baton Rouge all the way down to New Orleans. Today, few of the grand old houses remain. Many of those that survived are open to tours and/or have restaurants and bed and breakfast accommodations. But for me, this was all about those magnificent trees.

Louisiana Plantations: Oak Alley

For years, I’ve seen photos of the ancient oaks at Oak Alley Plantation and it was our first stop. As we drove down River Road, we heard the church bells of St. James Parish. Suddenly, there they were, 28 massive oak trees partnered as if for a reel and lined up back to a big house.

unknown French settler 28 oak seedlings two evenly spaced rows down to the river.trees continued to grow. In 1837, a French sugar planter, Jacques Roman, built a mansion at the end of the allée of oaks Civil War, Reconstruction. restored, trust for preservation. — In the early 1700s, an unknown French settler placed 28 oak seedlings in two evenly spaced rows from his modest house down to the river. The settler eventually left and his house fell into ruins, but the trees continued to grow. In 1837, a French sugar planter, Jacques Roman, built a mansion at the end of the allée of oaks where the original house had stood.

Oak Alley Plantation, line of trees from the road by the Mississippi River. — *Oak Alley Plantation, as seen from River Road. In the old steamboat days, seeing this allée of oaks from the river meant you were halfway between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.*

The Oaks of Oak Alley Plantation have lightning rods and are well-maintained with liquid fertilizer and trimmings. — Naturally, the giant oaks at Oak Alley Plantation are the stars here. These trees have lightning rods to protect them during storms, and are well-maintained with liquid fertilizer and regular trimmings.

Oak Alley Plantation, Louisiana. Spared during the Civil War, the house was unable to avoid disrepair during Reconstruction. In 1925, the property was purchased and restored, and in the 1970s put into a trust for preservation. Only a handful of plantations remain. Most have been knocked down–too broken to repair, too costly to maintain, and no longer income-generating. Instead, mostly chemical and oil refinery plants line the Mississippi River now.

Southern Hospitality

At Oak Alley Plantation, LA: A pineapple on a guest's bed at breakfast meant it was time to go, as in "you've overstayed your welcome. Here's a pineapple for your trip home." — At Oak Alley Plantation, we learned that a pineapple served whole on a guest’s breakfast tray meant it was time to go, as in: “You’ve overstayed your welcome. Here’s a pineapple for your trip home.”

We had lunch at Oak Alley, an old four-square building with one fireplace in the center of the building and shared via corner openings into each room. Genius design. They served a delicious Po-boy fish sandwich with rice and beans, and sweet mint tea, made even better by the location among those old oaks.

The Mississippi River Levee

Later, we walked over to see the Mississippi River from atop the levee. These levees were built after the 1927 floods, and are nothing more than ridges topped with dirt and concrete. I don’t know what I expected of a levee, but this wasn’t it. We did enjoy a few minutes of breezes at that height and the view of the wide, muddy Mississippi.

Oak Alley looking towards the Mississippi River. — On the porch at Oak Alley Plantation, looking towards the Mississippi River. At the end of the walk, past the little gate and the River Road, is the shore of the river. Today the levee is built high enough to protect the area from catastrophic flooding. And though all the antebellum homes face the river, their view of the water is obstructed.

The levee blocks the view from the Mississippi River. No one can see the remaining plantations from the river. — *The levee blocks the view of the Mississippi River. The remaining plantations cannot be seen from the river.*

*Mama Lucy on the Mississippi River levee.*

Louisiana Plantations: Evergreen

Next, we stopped at Evergreen Plantation, about 15 minutes from Oak Alley, towards New Orleans. This Creole farmhouse was built in 1790 before the Louisiana Purchase brought them and their land into the USA. It is the most intact plantation in the South with 37 buildings (including 22 slave cabins) on the National Register of Historic Places, and also holds landmark status for its agricultural acreage. Today, Evergreen Plantation is still a privately-owned, working sugarcane plantation. In fact, trucks were busy harvesting and trucking cane from the fields while we visited.

Evergreen Plantation, a Creole plantation that continues to be a working farm. — *Evergreen Plantation, a Creole plantation built in 1790, renovated in 1832, it continues to be a working sugarcane farm.*

Evergreen Plantation continues to grow sugar cane. This is the front yard of the plantation, and across the street sugar cane is being harvested. — *Even today, Evergreen Plantation continues to grow sugarcane. This is the front yard of the plantation. Across the street, trucks harvest sugarcane. This Mississippi River is beyond the tree line.*

*Spanish Moss drips from trees on the Evergreen Plantation grounds. Louisiana.*

Evergreen Plantation has 22 preserved slave cabins that were used until 1947 to house sugar cane workers. The cabins are in an allée of 82 live oaks. — *Also, Evergreen Plantation has 22 former slave cabins, later used up until 1947 to house sugarcane workers. They are in an allée of 82 live oaks leading down to the fields.*

Evergreen Plantation's 102 oaks lining a red dirt road to the sugar cane fields behind the house. — *Evergreen Plantation’s 102 oaks lining a red dirt road to the sugarcane fields behind the house.*

Sugar cane grows beneath a puffs of clouds in Louisiana. — *Sugarcane grows beneath a puffs of clouds in Louisiana.*

October 31 – November 2: New Orleans, Louisiana.

After the plantations, we spent two days in extraordinary New Orleans, mostly wandering the French Quarter and eating–Po-boy sandwiches with seasoned fries, beignets and chicory coffee at Cafe du Monde, and red beans and rice and a Pimm’s Cup at the Napoleon House. We saw the Mississippi River at Jackson Square, mules in horses’ harnesses, saxophone players on the streets, wrought iron balconies dripping with ferns and decked out for Halloween (or Mardi Gras?). Of course, we saw beads in trees, beads on balconies, beads on the streets.

Beads & Fern on the sidewalk, New Orleans, Louisiana — *Beads & a fern on the sidewalk. New Orleans, Louisiana.*

*Beignets and coffee. Cafe du Monde. French Quarter. New Orleans, LA.*

*New Orleans sign for Hotel Monteleone.*

Old and New. New Orleans. — *New Orleans. Old and New.*

The Royal Pharmacy. Haunted? I just liked the neon. New Orleans, LA. — *The Royal Pharmacy. Haunted? Maybe! I liked the neon. New Orleans, LA.*

Old door. New Orleans, LA. — *Old door detail. New Orleans, LA.*

Shotgun house for rent. NOLA. — *Sassy little shotgun house for rent. NOLA.*

*Stay Puft Marshmellow Man and a Hearse. Only in New Orleans, LA.*

Traveling is eye-opening. We learn, we are vulnerable, we change. Read more about our reasons for going. Also, some of these photos will be available on Etsy.
Finally, a big THANK YOU for following along.

Road Trip: Palisades, Pilgrimage, and Niagara Falls

Posted October 27, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

October 25: Autumn drive across New York to Niagara Falls. Starting mileage: 31,117.

You have to wonder about a weekday that starts with a drive through Manhattan at 8:00 a.m. But we were following Siri to Niagara Falls, and that’s what she said we should do.

We eased out of the skinny Best Western parking spot and hit the streets of New York. Our hotel was in Long Island City, Queens, and we could see the crowns of the Queensboro Bridge from our room. Thankfully though, Siri guided us to the hidden foothills of the bridge. We passed over the East River with a herd of food trucks and entered Manhattan at the Silver Cup Studio sign. As we drove north on FDR Drive, through Harlem and the Bronx, and past Yankee Stadium, Siri told us about detours and the lanes we needed to be in. Eventually, we crossed over the Hudson and into New Jersey on the George Washington Bridge.

The Palisades

We drove north with the Hudson to our right. The trees were in full autumn blaze and we stopped for a stroll in the Palisades Scenic Overlook. The wide Hudson River shined below, and Yonkers looked so far away across the water. We walked separately, and together–basking in the fresh air and the flaming reds and oranges of the trees. It was a surprisingly peaceful place for being so close to the chaos of the city.

Autumn trees and a stone fence in the Palisades Interstate Park. — *Autumn trees and a stone fence in the Palisades Interstate Park, New Jersey.*

*Fall colors on trees along the winding road in the Palisades Interstate Park, New Jersey. Steep cliffs down to the Hudson River are just to the left of the road.*

Pilgrimage: Finding Mark Twain in Elmira

Somewhere along the way, we entered New York again and were now headed northwest across the state. As we skirted past the colorful Catskills, we stopped for lunch at the Roscoe Diner. Lesson #6 of our trip…whenever possible, eat at a local diner. For the next couple of hours, we rode near the Pennsylvania border, passing in and out of New York until we curved north towards Elmira.

*Yellow tree in a rest area in Hancock NY, at the Pennsylvania border.*

Back when we were plotting the trip, I realized we would pass through Elmira, a little town that was so special to Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain. And since he’s special to me, we paused there to find traces of the man who dreamed up Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.

Mark Twain’s Study

First, we found his study on the campus of Elmira College. His in-laws built this cozy room for him on their Quarry Farm hill overlooking Elmira in 1874. Samuel and Olivia and their girls came to visit her sister here every summer and this was where Twain went to write. I’ve seen pictures of him at the window of this study when it was covered in summer vines. Now, here it was–alone in the midst of a busy campus.

I believe he would have mocked the “progress” that necessitated moving his study here among young adults, today with noses glued to cell phones. I smiled, imagining what sardonic thing he’d say about cell phones. The building was closed, so I just held the door knob and peeked in at the small room. A stone fireplace, wooden floor, and walls of windows surrounded a round table. I tried to imagine him sitting and writing, but instead a fleeting image of him pacing and pipe puffing crossed my mind.

In 1874, Mark Twain's in-laws built a study for him to write at Quarry Farm. The octagon-shaped room sat on the top of a knoll overlooking Elmira and is where he wrote major pieces including Life on the Mississippi, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. The study was moved to this spot at Elmira College in 1952. — In 1874, Mark Twain’s in-laws built a study for him to write at Quarry Farm. The octagon-shaped room sat on the top of a knoll overlooking Elmira and is where he wrote major pieces including Life on the Mississippi, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. The study was moved to this spot at Elmira College in 1952.

The door knob to Mark Twain's study. — *The door knob to Mark Twain’s study.*

Mark Twain’s Grave

Within fifteen minutes of touching his study’s doorknob, I was standing at Samuel Clemens’ grave in Woodlawn Cemetery. Mama walked with me as I read and made photographs of each grave, and then she returned to the car for a rest.

Meanwhile, I sat down on the cold stone stoop at Mark Twain’s headstone. I thanked him for writing by hand the stories that mean so much and for taking the time to find the right word to give us lightning and not a lightning bug. You know that game about who you’d have at an imaginary dinner party? After family, he’s always my first invitation. I told him that too.

Mark Twain's grave in Woodlawn Cemetery, Elmira NY. Someone put autumn mums on his grave, but no one has added an epitaph to his stone. — *Mark Twain’s grave in Woodlawn Cemetery, Elmira NY. Someone put autumn mums on his grave, but no one has added an epitaph to his stone.*

An old dime laid on his grave among acorn bits and leaves and twigs. I picked up a maple’s “helicopter” to keep. I thought of his sarcastic tales of souvenir seekers in The Innocents Abroad and how many bits of “the one true cross” there must be. Of course, he would have laughed at me. And I would have hugged him.

On Mark Twain's grave: an old dime and leaves. — *On Mark Twain’s grave: an old dime and leaves.*

October 25-26: Niagara Falls

We drove into the rain and the dark. As we neared the town of Niagara, Siri rerouted us because of an accident. We checked in to the Quality Hotel well after sunset, not realizing just how close we were to Niagara Falls.

A lot of people have described Niagara Falls. I should have been prepared. I was not. Mama Lucy and I were shocked and wowed by Niagara Falls…by the scale of it, the mighty sound, the urgent rushing river, the new clouds, the soaking mist, so many rainbows, precarious islands, and those massive falls that drop the river down, down, down. We spent the day there, walking and sitting–taking photos, getting soaked in mist, and admiring the rainbows.

A bird watches us at the Niagara River before the Falls. — *From Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, the Niagara River races to the Falls.*

*Three waterfalls at Niagara Falls, NY.*

*The mighty Niagara Falls as seen from the Observation Tower.*

*Niagara Falls on a sunny day means rainbows over rainbows!*

From an island in Niagara River, at the falls. — *From an island in the Niagara River, at the falls. The Observation Tower in the top right, and the Rainbow Bridge to Canada in the background.*

*Niagara Falls creates mist and its own clouds.*

Walking up the path puts you beside and below the thundering, misting Niagara Falls. — *Walking up the path puts you beside (and below!) the thundering, misting Niagara Falls.*

*The Observation Tower above Niagara Falls.*

*Mama Lucy photographing Niagara Falls from the Observation Tower.*

*Watching the Maid of the Mist approach Niagara Falls for a shower.*

Finally, it was on this day that we began making souvenir pennies. Let’s just call that the 7th lesson of the trip: Always stop at the penny press machine!

Mama Lucy pressing the first souvenir penny at Niagara Falls. — *Mama Lucy pressing the first of our souvenir pennies at Niagara Falls.*

Mama Lucy surprised me climbing up into this giant chair after our comfort-food dinner at Niagara Falls. What a day of surprises. — Mama Lucy surprised me climbing up into this giant chair after our comfort-food dinner at Niagara Falls. What a day of surprises!

Mama Lucy with rainbow and sunshine at Niagara Falls. — *Mama Lucy with rainbow and sunshine at Niagara Falls on a brisk Autumn day.*

Our route from NYC to Niagara Falls

Map of route from Long Island City Queens through Manhattan and north along the Hudson. — *Our route from Long Island City Queens through Manhattan and north along the Hudson.*

*Map of our route from NYC around the Catskills in NY.*

The map of our route across New York state to Elmira and Niagara. — *Our route across New York state to Elmira and Niagara.*

You can read more about our decision to take this trip here. Select photos will be available on Etsy soon.

Thanks for reading!

Road Trip: Washington D.C. to New York City

Posted October 25, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

October 23. Washington D.C. to New York City. Starting Mileage 30,757.

We woke up to a dense D.C. fog. After a light breakfast, we loaded the car, and hit the road for New York City. We had the handy-dandy road atlas, but stillgot tangled in the rainy, foggy morning traffic out of D.C. Even a pull-over for a longer look at the map didn’t help us. Unless you know where you are, it’s difficult to get where you want to go.

Mama’s car was equipped with OnStar and she buzzed them for help. But even they had trouble locating us. While on hold, I opened my iPhone maps and immediately saw where we were, and the road we needed to be on. Duh! The phone! Why hadn’t we been using this all along?! I typed in the address of our next destination, saw the options for directions, chose one, and hit go. And calm, cool, collected Ms. Siri joined us as navigator. Siri did not disappoint–her directions were accurate, and included ample warning for upcoming exits, and even which lanes to use. We learned over the next few days that she was also psychic–knowing where there were hazards, accidents, and traffic and offering us go-around options on the fly. Lesson #5 of this trip: Trust Siri.

It was a day of tunnels, bridges, turnpikes, tolls, and checking off new states. We drove through Maryland eating clementines, and passed under Chesapeake Bay in a long tunnel. After a few short pit-stops / photo-opps in Maryland and Delaware, we entered Pennsylvania and the outskirts of Philadelphia.

A Philly Cheese Steak in South Philly

Several places fell so close to our route that it would be stupid not to go. The first one was the home of the Philly Cheese Steak in Philadelphia.

Mama Lucy loves getting a Philly Cheese Steak at the mall. So, why not stop and get a genuine cheese steak in Philly? We’d read that the inventor of the “cheesesteak”, Pat’s King of Steaks, and their chief competitor, Geno’s Steaks, were close together in a working-class South Philly neighborhood. Thanks to Siri, we drove through Passyunk, where the boxy, row house doors came out onto the sidewalks without stairs or porch accessories, and straight to the scissor-X corner of Pat’s and Geno’s. It was a busy corner. Both places are open 24/7, famous, and popular. We found street parking, the overhead menu, and two windows to order in a time-honored Philly ritual.

At the first window, a tall man leaned down to talk to us. An army of young men were behind him in a cloud of steam, churning out meat sandwiches and fries–the only things on the menu.

“Wit or wit-out?” he asked (for onions).
“Whiz?” (for the cheese choice).
“Just one?” he asked.
“Yes, but two fries and two cokes please.”
“Second window,” he nodded to his right, “$11. Cash only.”

Stepping over three feet to the second window, we ordered two fries and two cokes.”$12, cash.” Done. We waited only a moment and took our tray to the end of an enamel-red picnic table. Mama Lucy said it was the best Philly Cheese Steak ever.

Stopping at Pat's King of Steaks in South Philly to get Mama Lucy a genuine Philly Cheese Steak. — *Stopping at Pat’s King of Steaks in South Philly to get Mama Lucy a genuine Philly Cheese Steak.*

Philly Cheese Steak corner in Philadelphia: Geno's and Pat's face each other on a crazy busy corner. — *Philly Cheese Steak corner in Philadelphia: Geno’s and Pat’s face each other on a crazy busy corner.*

A Philadelphia neighborhood. — *The Philadelphia neighborhood, Passyunk.*

The Atlantic Ocean and the Atlantic City Boardwalk

We took a hard right in Philadelphia, heading out I-76 to the Atlantic City Expressway, and southeast to the Atlantic Ocean. In just a couple of hours, we were standing in front of the Atlantic Ocean. The ocean called to come closer. We walked off the Boardwalk, out across the dry sand, to the wet sand, to where the birds were sifting around in the surf. And there she was, the great Atlantic Ocean on a windy, cloudy day, roaring and splashing and gray.

When we returned to the Boardwalk, the wind eased up. Miles of the wooden boards stretched ahead of us. I had imagined the Boardwalk as it must have looked in its heyday, with a Zoltar to tell me “your wish is granted.” Instead, like so many places around the world, the old is not treasured, taken care of, or protected. Progress plunders on. Development happens. Casinos and modern strip malls replaced many of the beautiful old buildings. These days, rows of cheap souvenir shops and lackluster ice cream parlors line up on the Boardwalk, facing off against the ocean and the beach for tourists’ attention.

Lucy at the Atlantic Ocean at Atlantic City. — *There she is, Ms. Mama Lucy at the Atlantic Ocean in Atlantic City, NJ.*

The Atlantic City Boardwalk. — *The Atlantic City Boardwalk, New Jersey.*

Into New York City

Our agreement for this road trip was that Mama Lucy put in her car, I paid for the hotels, and we split gas and food. I wanted to take care of her car–who, along with Siri, was becoming a major character in our story. I’d searched and searched for the unicorn hotel–a clean, safe place in the budgeted price range, with parking, and close enough to public transportation for a 79-year-old to walk. This is no easy set of criteria. I struck gold in New York with the Best Western Long Island City in Queens. I’d called to confirm there was parking and the hotel clerk had advised me to call on the morning we’d be arriving and they would make sure one of the eight spaces was saved for us. They were true to their word, and after a long day of driving, some shocking toll tallies, and a tense twilight drive on busy, narrow lanes into New York City, we pulled into the hotel’s last skinny parking spot. I think I heard the car and Siri exhale their relief.

The trusty car, in a tight valuable parking space in New York. — *The trusty car, 2nd from the right, parked in a tight valuable space at our New York hotel.*

Lucy in the NYC subway — *With a little help from the hotel desk clerk, we figured out the NYC subway lines.*

October 23-25. New York City.

First, we took the F train from 21st Street Queens Bridge station to W. 4th at Washington Square where we switched to the E train and to the last stop near the World Trade Center.

The 9/11 Memorial

The morning was brisk, but sunny. We walked around the footprints of the twin towers, now a memorial of waterfalls into waterfalls into a black abyss. Wind sprayed water. White roses graced the engraved names of those victims who would have celebrated a birthday today. We touched the cold marble of the 9/11 memorial, tracing a few names with our fingers. Sixteen years before, this space had been under a heap of debris and disbelief. Today, it was quiet, powerful and peaceful.

*Inside the Oculus, New York City. The modern transit hub near the World Trade Center looks like ribs, though others have described it (as seen from the outside) as the clipped wings of a dove.*

Waterfall Ground Zero, World Trade Center memorial NYC — *The water falls and falls, down into an abyss where no bottom can be seen. Ground Zero, World Trade Center memorial.*

Times Square in the Rain

Later in the morning, it began to rain. We stumbled into a cozy little Italian Place for a comfort food lunch before catching a train uptown. The rain may have dampened the day, but it made the lights of Times Square glow. Leave it to Mama Lucy to find an empty folding chair under a construction awning in Times Square during the hardest rain. Huddled there with other tourists and locals, we once again enjoyed an unexpected break–this time under the bright lights, with the big city views.

*Lucy at Radio City Music Hall. At 5’8″, she’s the perfect height to be a Rockette!*

*Lucy hurrying to get out of the rain in Times Square.*

Click to read more about our decision to make this trip, the first stop, and the second leg of our road trip.

Maps and Legends

Finally, some maps of our route from Washington D.C. through Maryland and Delaware to Philadelphia PA, Atlantic City NJ, and into New York City.

Map of our route from Washington D.C. through Maryland. — *Route from Washington D.C. through Maryland.*

Map of our route through Maryland and Delaware. — *Mapped route through Maryland and Delaware.*

Map of our route into Philadelphia. — *The route into Philadelphia.*

Map of our route from Philadelphia PA to Atlantic City NJ and north to NYC. — *After Philadelphia PA–we headed southeast to Atlantic City NJ, and then north to NYC.*

Map of our route into New York City...a $39.25-toll day. — *Last, our route into New York City…a $39.25-toll day.*

Road Trip: Washington D.C.

Posted October 23, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

October 20. Cherokee, NC to Washington D.C. Starting Mileage 30,238.

We drove all day on October 20. From Cherokee, it was a northeasterly route, through ridges and gaps in North Carolina, cutting across the pointing-finger-tip of Tennessee, and following the valleys between the Appalachians, Shenandoah, and Blue Ridge Mountains up through Virginia, and on into Washington D.C. We’d drive over 500 miles this day. First lesson of this adventure: the road is the trip too.

Because of our dilly-dallying in Cherokee in the morning, and a few picturesque stops long the route, we ended up driving in the dark and not arriving at our hotel until after 8 p.m.

In Cherokee, I’d hauled our many bags into the hotel room two-by-two. Same thing loading out. When we arrived into our DC-area hotel, I pulled up out front to unload the bags into the lobby. Mama would wait there with the bags while I parked the car in the garage. When I came up from the garage–dreading, but ready to make at least three trips back and forth to get our bags to our 8th floor room–a nice man behind the counter smiled and said, “Luggage carts are right around that corner.”

What?! Luggage Carts?!?

I sleepwalked around that corner, and saw four of the most beautiful objects parked in front of me–LUGGAGE CARTS! Thick brass arches with hooks across the top for hanging garment bags, wide carpeted flat-beds that would fit at least three bags, and wheels that spun around for amateur maneuvers. I almost skateboarded my chosen one back into the lobby! We stacked ALL of the bags onto the magic luggage cart and drove it like drunks to the elevators.

Dizzy tired and hungry, and giddy about the ease of loading in, I forgot to take a picture of that blessed thing. I should have taken a portrait of each and every one of the magic wheel carts we used for the next seven weeks. Lesson #2 of this trip: Always look for a magic luggage cart and appreciate the invention of wheels.

October 21-23. Washington D.C.

During our days in D.C., we took a tour of the Capitol, saw the Library of Congress, sat on the columns on the porch of the closed Supreme Court, walked the length of the Mall to the Washington Monument one day, and to the Lincoln Memorial and World War II and Vietnam Veterans Memorials the next. We walked and walked and walked. And talked, explored, and learned.

*A bridal party crosses in front of the Capitol Building.*

looking up to the windows of the USA Capitol dome — Detail inside the Capitol Dome. We had arranged for a tour of the Capitol with our Senator’s office. When we arrived, we were asked if we were all there. Mama and I looked at each other and said “uh, yes…” The guy at the desk looked around us and smiled, “I take it you ladies are NOT a party of 40, like this says?”

looking up into the ceiling of the Capitol dome — Looking up in the Capitol Building’s dome. The Capitol Building’s 2nd dome, this cast iron structure was begun in 1855. Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated beneath a half-completed dome in 1861. When the Civil War started, dome construction sat idle for awhile. But Lincoln pressed on and it was completed in 1866–during the Civil War–in a promise that “the Union will go on.”

The Library of Congress lobby — *The Library of Congress’ Great Hall. Established in 1800, the LOC is the oldest federal cultural institution in the United States.*

Library of Congress Reading Room from above — *The Library of Congress Reading Room. The LOC has the largest library collection in the world with more than 167 million items.*

Mama sitting on a column on the Supreme Court porch. — *Mama resting on the Supreme Court porch.*

The importance of parking

It was important during the trip planning to find a hotel with safe parking for the car and close to public transportation so that we could get around with ease. Lucy is nearly 80. And though she gets around good, I didn’t want to wear her out. We walked a lot in Washington D.C. And we also took frequent little breaks–sitting on the Mall, resting by the Kilroy was Here graffiti, and lingering under a tree in Autumn yellow leaves near the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. What peace in those sitting-to-rest times. Lesson #3 of this trip: Sit for a spell. Rest and observe. There was no where else we needed to be, but right there together.

Lucy sitting on a bench on the Mall, washington monument in the background — *We stopped a few times for bench-sitting along the Mall from the Capitol to the Washington Monument.*

Some of the 4,048 stars at the World War II Memorial Washington DC — *Each of the 4,048 golden stars represent 100 Americans who died in World War II.*

Kilroy was Here, graffiti at the World War II Memorial. — *Kilroy was Here. This was popular and familiar graffiti during the 1940s. We found both of the Kilroys, tucked away in the World War II Memorial.*

*Looking back at the reflecting pool towards the Washington Monument from near the Lincoln Memorial.*

Lucy--after climbing the stairs to the Lincoln Memorial, and back down again. — *Lucy–after climbing the stairs to the Lincoln Memorial, and back down again.*

Shadows at the corner in the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. — *Shadows at the corner of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.*

Arlington National Cemetery

On the final day of our stay in D.C., I was studying the map, and suddenly figured out that we had just enough time to visit Arlington National Cemetery on our way back to the hotel. We hustled, made our connecting train, and made it there in time for the last trolley tour, and the last changing of the guard at the grave of the Unknown Soldier. Silence but for the clicking of heels walking back and forth, standing watch over those soldiers “Known but to God”. And later, we walked in silence up the knoll to the eternal flame and graves of John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. Poignant places in our nation’s capital. Lesson #4: Life is short. Seize the moments. Cram it in and go, go, go.

The eternal flame at JFK's grave, Arlington National Cemetery. — *The eternal flame at JFK’s grave, Arlington National Cemetery.*

Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Arlington National Cemetery. — At the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Arlington National Cemetery. Guards follow a meticulous routine when watching over the graves: 1) Marches 21 steps south down the 63′ long black mat laid across the Tomb. 2) Turns and faces east, toward the Tomb, for 21 seconds. 3) Turns and faces north, changes weapon to outside shoulder, and waits 21 seconds. 4) Marches 21 steps down the mat. 5) Turns and faces east for 21 seconds. 6) Turns and faces south, changes weapon to outside shoulder, and waits 21 seconds. 7) Repeats the routine until relieved of duty at the Changing of the Guard. During summer/open hours, the guard is changed every 30 minutes. In winter, every hour. After hours, every 2 hours. The mat has to be changed twice a year.

Click these links for more about the start of our road trip, and the merits of going old.

Our route to Washington D.C.

Map of our route from Cherokee NC, north through TN into VA — *Map of our route from Cherokee NC, north through the corner of TN, into VA*

Map of our route through VA, to D.C. — *Map of our route through the valleys of VA, to D.C.*

Road trip: Nashville to Cherokee

Posted October 20, 2017 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

THE day was here. Breakfast dishes were done and the house was locked up. The car packed and the rearview mirror arranged. Seat belts on. It was time. We snapped a selfie, posted it to Instagram, and backed out of the driveway. It was 7:20 a.m. on Thursday, October 19, and my mother and I were on our way. It was Day One of our seven-week USA road trip.

*Lucy & Carol in the car, just a moment before our 7:20 a.m. departure. October 19, 2017.*

October 19. Starting mileage: 29,950.

The plan was to go South on backroads down to Estill Springs and then cut East on more backroads, turning North into North Carolina for the Smoky Mountains and Cherokee where we had a reservation for the night.

It was a perfect day for a drive with a Tennessee October-crisp temperature and brilliant sunshine. And it was the perfect time to take a trip. For the last few months, we’d debated, dreamed, deliberated, and finally decided to do it. My last day at work had been an auspicious Friday, October 13 and just a few days after, I’d flown to Tennessee to make final preparations with my mom, Lucy. And now, here we were, on the route. High hopes, nervous energy, a few nagging worries about costs and routes and places to stay, and an awakening feeling of release and relief. We were on our way!

First, Estill Springs

Estill Springs was our first stop. It had to be. It was the place the two of us used to go on annual vacations when money was tight. Years ago, friends of my mom lived there in a nice house surrounded by woods. I have no idea where in Estill Springs their house was. But it felt remote, exotic. Mama and I would always sleep in their attic guest bedroom, eat delicious home-cooked meals in the screened-in porch, and walk among those tall pines. They had a dog, and a boy a little younger than me. We’d play in the woods, ride bikes, and set up little towns to drive Matchbox cars around. I’m not sure how long we stayed on these trips–could have been a long weekend, or a week. Time seemed to relax and spread out a little. Estill Springs is not that far from Nashville. But just like those old vacations, it took a while to get there. We arrived to nothing that looked familiar, and snapped a few shots in front of the only thing we could find that said Estill Springs, the City Hall. And unlike those old vacations, today we kept going.

Onward

I’d gone old school for this trip. The very day Lucy said, “Ok, I’ll go,” I walked to the local travel garb store and bought an oversized Road Atlas, complete with special entries for all the National Parks. In the six weeks from “Ok, I’ll go” to “GO!”, I’d been plotting our course, studying the map, and jotting notes for backroads to other backroads to landmarks and destinations. I intended to bypass the bland major highways as much as possible–though I realized that the interstates were necessary time savers. So, after a few hours of driving old Tennessee roads past fields and cows, and getting twisted up from my written directions, we got on I-24 going southeast. By then, it was time for lunch. And we weren’t even one-third of the way to Cherokee.

Fields & Power Lines, Tennessee — *Fields and power lines, Tennessee.*

As moms will do, Lucy had packed lunch. We stopped at the Nickajack Reservoir – Ladds Rest Area for a picnic. I’ve never seen a prettier rest stop. It was a little island, peaceful. We took our time, letting it all soak in–the warm October sunshine, the reservoir view, the homemade pimento cheese, and the fact that we were on the trip of a lifetime. Even now, that hour at the rest stop is one of my most vivid memories of the trip.

At Ladds Rest Area, Nickajack Reservoir, near Jasper, TN — *At Ladds Rest Area, an island in the Nickajack Reservoir, near Jasper, TN.*

Cherokee, NC

We drove on, and on, and on. Stopping here and there for photos…like at the Ocoee River. Mama knew how to say it–“o-CO-ee”. And when it rolled off her tongue, I remembered that I used to know that. I repeated it out loud and a hundred more times in my head. Just like the time she told me the Obey River near Celina is said “O-bee”–but that’s another story for another day.

Eventually we drove into North Carolina, and found our hotel in Cherokee just before dark.

This first night tested us. There was the checking in and getting a key that didn’t work. And then there was the unloading–lots of suitcases, a bag of food, and a cooler. We discovered we wanted to do different things. We both worried about the money. And we’d lost an hour of daylight moving from Central to Eastern time zone. Lucy wanted to see the casino. I wanted to go into the Smokies. But it was silly money to park at the casino and then there were no spaces. And it was too dark to drive up into the mountains. We were hungry and didn’t know where to go to eat–couldn’t even decide what we wanted. We settled on a cheap fast food dinner and early turn-in. Of all the nights for rambunctious kids to be anywhere near me, they were in the room above ours–jumping on their beds and screaming until we–at last–heard water running and their mom call “Bath time!” If playtime continued after bath time, I didn’t hear it.

October 20. Starting mileage 30,238.

The next morning after loading up, we stopped for a buffet breakfast with pancakes. Buoyed by the comfort food and a fresh day starting far from our routines, we idled around Cherokee. We wandered around an old stone church, noted that the street signs were in Cherokee and English, and poked around a few souvenir shops. Years and years ago, I remember coming to the Smoky Mountains with both Mama and Daddy. I don’t think the souvenir options have changed much in all that time–play tomahawks, tiny doll papooses, suede moccasins, and little hand-carved trinkets, alongside boiled peanuts, birdhouses, and mesmerizing spinning yard ornaments and wind chimes.

After a couple of hours dallying around Cherokee, we headed north for Washington D.C. Yes, we’d like more time in Cherokee–to see the old settlements in Cherokee Nation, play at the casino, and use the National Park pass to see the Smoky Mountains. But the sun was out, our worries lifted, and today’s long road stretched out before us.

November 17: Eureka to San Francisco. Starting mileage: 37,127.

Staying in San Francisco

November 18: Lombard Street

Cable Cars!

Cable Car, Streetcar, Trolley, or Muni?

Quick visits with good friends

Another cable car ride, another friend, and another diner

November 19: San Francisco to Yosemite. Starting mileage: 37,495.

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November 15: Portland to the California Redwoods. Starting mileage: 36,776.

Welcome to California

November 16: Crescent City to Eureka, California. Starting mileage: 37,113

About the Redwood Tree

John Steinbeck’s Redwood Encounter in Travels with Charley

A few photos to try and show the magic:

Reverence

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November 12: Roslyn, Washington to Seattle. Starting mileage: 36,363.

Over the Snoqualmie Pass to Seattle

November 13: Seattle to Ocean Shores, Washington. Starting mileage: 36,445.

Ocean Shores and an angry Pacific Ocean

November 14: Ocean Shores, WA to Portland, OR. Starting mileage: 36,596.

Storm at the Pacific Ocean

On the road to Portland, Oregon

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November 10: Nampa, Idaho to Rosyln, Washington. Starting mileage: 35,946.

We were headed for a mythical town: Cicely, Alaska from Northern Exposure.

Pilgrimage

Let go of that cow, and fling something

The Fling…From the episode “Burning Down the House”

If you are a Northern Exposure fan, you’ll probably like these links.

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November 8: Moab to Ogden, Utah. Starting mileage: 35,334.

Leaving Moab’s Desert

Americana in the Book Cliffs

Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake

November 9: Ogden, Utah to Nampa, Idaho. Starting mileage: 35,623.

Hey Idaho, where are the taters?!

November 10: Nampa, Idaho, through the northeast corner of Oregon, and on to Washington state. Starting mileage: 35,946.

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November 5: The Rocky Mountains. Starting mileage 34,885.

Seeing friends in Denver

Snowing on the roads ahead / Change of plans

Making new plans

Getting over the Rockies

The Rocky Mountains’ Western Slopes

Reassessing in Grand Junction

November 6: Grand Junction, CO to Moab, UT. Starting mileage 35,144.

Utah…Life Elevated!

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November 2: New Orleans to Dallas. Starting mileage 33,391.

Texas, sassy Siri, and the Grackles

Sassy Siri

Only in Texas

Grackles

Until the cows come home?

November 3: Dallas to Kansas. Starting mileage 33,911.

Dealey Plaza

Oklahoma

November 4: Kansas to Denver. Starting mileage: 34,308.

Warning Light

It was a fine day for a drive….until the tumbleweeds

Denver and the Oil Change

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October 30: Memphis to Tupelo and Louisiana. Starting mileage 32,852.

On the Natchez Trace

High Cotton

October 31: LaPlace to New Orleans. Starting Mileage 33,303.

Louisiana Plantations: Oak Alley

Southern Hospitality

The Mississippi River Levee

Louisiana Plantations: Evergreen

October 31 – November 2: New Orleans, Louisiana.

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October 25: Autumn drive across New York to Niagara Falls. Starting mileage: 31,117.

The Palisades

Pilgrimage: Finding Mark Twain in Elmira

Mark Twain’s Study

Mark Twain’s Grave

October 25-26: Niagara Falls