Party's (almost) over

We've come to our senses and are high-tailing it home. 529 miles today-- clean through Utah in one swoop. Blanding> Moab> Green River> Price> Spanish Fork> Provo> Salt Lake City> Ogden> Brigham City> Snowville> and Rupert, Idaho (where my Gonzaga roommate lived in the Minadoka County Fire Station with her Fire Chief Dad and the rest of her family) > Twin Falls.

Quick glimpse of the beginnings of the impressive Snake River Gorge, as we zipped towards town tonight.
First rain we've seen in 23 days (if we don't count a couple 20-minute dramatic and obligatory thunderstorms.) More serious wet stuff tomorrow, according to the local Southern Idaho crack meteorologist.

479 miles tomorrow. . .  from here in Twin Falls (our last motel!) to our cabin on High Prairie in good old Klickitat County (Washington!). Then the final 70-mile leg Saturday  morning.

'Nough said tonight. Sleep well, everyone. We will.

With Apologies to Julie Andrews. . .

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens aside, I've been thinking about a few of my fav-o-rite-things that we've encountered along this road. (Note that this list is in addition to the stuff I've already blogged about. .  . and that these are favorite things-- a couple favorite people come later.)

> Howard's Pharmacy in Lakeview

> Cousin Mary Lou's infectious gotta-love-her laugh

> Navajo Tacos at the Mobile gas station in Lee Vining CA.

> Turkey & cranberry chutney sandwiches at KC's Saloon & Sandwich Shop in Beatty NV

> The Charlie-friendly soccer field at the U of Utah campus in St George

> The Willow Canyon (formerly Willow Creek) Bookstore in Kanab

> KGHR FM 91.3-- Navajo Public Radio

> Other Bonnie's green chile quiche

> Highway sign outside Florence AZ, home of the Arizona State Prison: "Do not pick up hitchhikers."

> Kim & Jerry's lovely--and loving--home at the foot of the Catalinas

> Jerry Lundeen's latest backyard work-in-progress
> The Palace "walk-in" on the main street of Marfa
> Pistachio-coated fried steak with jalapeno gravy at Jett's Grill
> Mammatus clouds adorning the Texan sky after a thunderstorm
> ocotillo in bloom
> sotol in bloom
> ocotillo in fences

> Sleeping Lion Rock, guarding Fort Davis

> Every restaurant that's welcomed the three of us on their patio

> Huge New Mexican dog-leg lightening--- from a distance

> Socorro's Mission San Miguel--c 1598.

> The Flying Saucer's hueavos rancheros

To be continued. . . . but while I'm on a roll, I'll slip-in a few of my not-so-faves:

> Motel coffee. (After several mornings of pathetic swill, I've finally figured out I need to use two packets of coffee and half the water prescribed for one. . . while G runs to the nearest neighborhood barista.)

> Laundromats without a/c (and their dryers that eat quarters w/o delivering the heat.)

> The lush mile-long Carlsbad city park that has signs posted every few feet saying "Animals prohibited in Park." (Huh? "Animals" in a city park should be leashed and picked-up after, of course, but prohibited? I suspect your and our dogs are better behaved than some of the 2-legged critters that use that space,

~~~~~~~~~~ 

We're relaxing in Albuquerque now until Tuesday. Hillary the Highlander's been insisting since Tularosa that she needs her oil changed, and we're not about to argue with her this far from home. We'll take her by Karl Malone Toyota Tues morning.  Looking fwd to saying "hey" to The Mailman if I bump into him.

A Tale of Two Towns

Marfa and Fort Davis form the north and SW points of a triangle on the Farwest Texas map. Each side of the triangle is about 20 miles long. (Alpine is the largest third point, but not much to say about it--it's a typical Walgreen's-and-WalMart town, with all the necessities you don't find in the other two.)

We've enjoyed our time in both Marfa and Fort Davis.There's plenty of good eating, playing, and relaxing to be had in both, even tho neither is any bigger than Pilot Rock (where Gale grew up so fine, in Eastern OR.) Both are dependent on us tourists, and they go out of their way to lather-on their Texas hospitality. But I've been talkin' to folks around town (no surprise). Turns out, true Texans in Fort Davis (who're willing to open-up and say) have issues with their sister-town down the road. They get downright prickly about it, if encouraged. When we mentioned we'd just come from Marfa, our gentlemanly Fort D hotel nextdoor neighbor (Clifford Swift from Waco) leaned back in his porch chair, folded his arms across his chest, cocked an eyebrow and said, "So whadaya think about Marfa?" I know a loaded question when I hear one.

Marfa, it seems--as charming and pleasant as it is--has been pretty-much taken-over by aliens. Folks with some high-falutin' ideas and enough money to implement them have arrived from New York, New England, even Europe. And they've not been shy. Donald Judd, a very famous artist (whom I've never heard of) was one of the first to come. An "influential minimalist," he constructed an exhibit of concrete sculptures out in the desert south of town. Others are buying-up old, neglected buildings in town and "improving" them in ways that suit their east-coast tastes. One highly-acclaimed restaurant is operated by a Rhode Island woman trained at the CIA (Culinary Institute--not the spy guys.) Galleries, up-scale gift-shops, jazz and film festivals, and the rising price of local fixer-upper homes complete the picture. None of this is inherently evil, of course. It's no doubt contributed mightily to Marfa's economic health. And the aliens we chatted with seemed quite normal. (Most of 'em only had one head, from what I could tell.) But that said, you might imagine that some of the ranchers and other well-rooted townspeople are not taking all-that-kindly to this "elitist" take-over of their town.

Fort Davis, on the other hand, has escaped this phenomenon-- for better or for worse. We think "for better." Its charm is immersed in its history that dates back to the 1840s, when the military Fort Davis was a major watering hole along the San Anton-Santa Fe trail. As historic monuments go, the nearby Fort replica rivals our own Fort Vancouver. We've stayed the last two nights at the 100+-yr-old Hotel Limpia-- a lovely, green-&-shady place that Charlie, especially, has enjoyed. The woman who checked us in had to come from behind the desk to give him a kiss on the top of his head, b/c he's "so cuuuute." (We're also grateful to the fine veterinary clinic here in town--Dr. David Taylor in particular--who've been helping us nurse our pup past the some-sort-of-bug he's picked up along the road. )

I'm in the Ft D library now-- in the very building that was the commercial heart of the town, in the late 1800s. Proprieters O.M. Keesey and George Gaither sold "clothing, groceries, cradles, guns, whiskey, coffins, tobacco, spitoons, wagon wheels and harnesses, and did private banking," says the sign on the wall outside the entrance. The store also operated the first telephone in the county, via barbed-wire lines running to the ranches in the area. Like the Deming museum that used to be an armory, I can think of no better use for this tough, weathered ediface than housing the Jeff Davis County Library. Instead of barbed-wire, as a means of communicating with you, I'm taking advantage of their wireless hospitality.

It's time to turn around. We're moving back into New Mexico today. Carlsbad, Socorro, and parts beyond . Looking forward to exploring what lies ahead, on the Road from Texas. Looking forward to sleeping in our own bed, too.

Big Bend - Big Day

Gale here. We spent all day May 25 going to and through the Big Bend National Park. South from Marfa we followed Texas 67 to Presidio, then along 170 to Study Butte and into the park. We saw the western third of the park (it’s Texas big) and waded, ok stepped lightly, into the Rio Grande at Santa Elena Canyon. Highlight for me was the geology. Many lava flows like the Northwest but over several exposed layers of sedimentary rock. What intrigued me most was the clarity of the volcanic dikes making their way through the sedimentary rock to the surface. We stopped at the Soltol Vista overlook and had it been a clearer day I think we could have seen Mexico City. Santa Elena Canyon is carved by the Rio Grande. The red walls reminded us of the Grand Canyon. For most of time we followed the river as it meanders and braids itself through a flat valley floor. It was humbling to see how productive it had been in its youth.  We drove out of the park to Alpine through a serious thunderstorm, thankful to be off of the park roads vulnerable to flash flooding.

A brief aside.

Vacation n. A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation.

As of today--Day 15--this is becoming the longest such "period of time" we've shared in our nearly 30 years of marital togetherness. (Global  trekkers we're not.) As the road ahead of us continues, we're becoming less engaged in what's REALLY going on. Disasters (read oil, twisters, and Orlando losing) continue without our input. Iraq and Afghanistan will no doubt still be a big mess when we finally surface for a look around. And we're definitely missing out on some good news and fun on the homefront too, while we're away. My point is. . . we don't care. At least, not enough to turn around yet and start to re-engage.

The places we've been and have still to go. The people we've met and exchanged a few minutes--or several hours --of good energy with, along the road. The conversations we've had with each other--both serious and silly. (Giggled like 3rd graders at the Shell Station yesterday as we filled Hillary with "El Paso gas.") This is a journey of inward and outward discovery that I could not have predicted as we pulled out of our driveway on May 11th.

My next posts may be about (1) Linda and Jerry Lundeen-- a couple of Las Cruces wonders who have gifted us with some new dreams, (2) some of the best food we've encountered so far, and (3) Marfa --the biggest little town in Far West Texas (aka the trans-Pecos.)

Meanwhile, both of my road companions are threatening to leave w/o me, this morning, if I don't close this soon. We're heading to Big Bend Nat'l Park for the day, and will return for a second night in the Hotel Paisano in Amazing Marfa.

Thanks for all your comments! They provide us welcome connections to and reminders of home.

Fooling Around & Falling in Love. . .

. . . with New Mexico! And we're still on the south end--not even to what the tourbooks say are the "good" parts up north.  We've been dragging our feet a bit on this Road to Texas, as a result. . . reluctant to leave. Sure--our rose-colored glasses are no doubt obscuring the truth of actually living here, but the places we've seen and been so far feel good. And the people we've talked to seem content with their lives--and are more than willing to share. Check the map to see where I'm talking about. . . in the past 3 days we've been to Willcox, Deming, Silver City, and now I'm sitting in Truth or Consequences, taking advantage of the wi-fi cloud surrounding it. T or C (as the locals call it) is on record as the only town in the world named after a game show. We'll be checking out the famous Ralph Edwards Museum before we leave this afternoon.

Re-wind a bit:  Deming NM, we thought, was just a convenient stop along the R to TX. But a fine dinner at Si Senor, Fri evening, followed by a stroll around the historic district (while listening to the loudspeaker over at the high school stadium proclaim the graduates' names as they received their diplomas) persuaded us to stick around a little on Sat. (Many a rear window on various pick-ups and jeeps around town kept us mindful that the DHS Class of 2010 ROCKS!)

The highlight of our explorations on Sat was hands-down the Deming Luna Mimbres Musuem. Luna=the County.  Mimbres= the ancient natives who populated these parts quite successfully for a little longer than we new-comers have, until they went the mysterious way of the Hohokum and the Anasazi further north. The museum has an amazing collection of their beautiful pottery. Its delicate designs include the various birds, fish, and four-footed creatures that were obviously significant to them. Many of these pots were buried with their dead, which accounts for their remarkably well-preserved condition. I was puzzled by the holes in the bottom of many pots, until I learned that they were put there on purpose as part of the burial ritual. Your guess why is as good as mine. I could go on about the other exhibits there. . . including its braille copy of an old edition of Playboy. Suffice it to say this all-volunteer-staffed, free-admission place of discovery may be The Best Museum on the R to TX.   http://deminglunamimbresmuseum.com/   Well OK-- just one more observation: This territory was part of Mexico, of course, until the late 1840s (exact date of the Mex-American War escapes me). And, based on the displays about the town itself--incorporated in 1885-- I suspect many of the local Hispanic families have been here that long. Names like Flores, Baca, and Maynes figure significantly in Deming history, along with the Mergenthalluses and the Norehouses.

From Deming we drove to Silver City--home of the Western University of New Mexico. It's beautiful white-stuccoed/red tile-roofed campus spreads across a hill above town. (Note mosaic in the center of one of the plazas on campus.) After a make-shift picnic lunch in the city park, we moved on towards T or C. No one  warned us about the road ahead of us. . .  and what a delightful surprise it was. Some of the most astounding mountain scenery I've ever seen (and that's coming from a seasoned PNW chauvinist, when it comes to mountain beauty.) As we maneuvered our way over Emery Pass--around 32 miles of 2-lane hairpins and switchbacks--we quickly understood why our faithful Garmin (aka "Gretta") told us it would take 2+ hours to cover the 53 miles to T or C. We spent last night at the Elephant Butt--oops--I mean Elephant BUTTE Inn. A nice enough place on the shore of a major reservoir-- which we can thank, I guess, for how much greener Southern New Mex seems than Southern AZ. But the place was a mecca for the fishing and boating crowd. Guys in muscle tanktops, tatoo-covered arms, and too-short cut-offs abounded. (Not all of them are there to fish, apparently. One woman proudly announced to the rest of us in the bar last night that she doesn't fish--she "just drinks like one.") And the "free" wi-fi sucked.

Heading to Las Cruces next. And then perhaps on to Texas. . .  El Paso for starters. Meanwhile, HAPPY BIRTHDAYs to Amandalei, Janice Irene, Chuck, Bob and Dominic. . . all of you my dear fellow Geminis. Sorry we'll miss your party, Bob and Dom.

Roadtrip Tapestry #1

Black cows in a churchyard. "No Smoking" painted on the side of a fire-engine-red barn. Roasted-almond sandstone layered with vanilla coconino stripes. Caramel-clay Hohokum pit houses baking in the sun for 1000 years. Charlie's pink tongue attesting to the heat. Tall sajuaros crowned with frilly yellow bonnets, striking their "touchdown!" poses. Gale's new floral swim trunks from the Tucson Target. Watercolor pastels splashed above the Catalinas at first light. A solitaire Venus-diamond in the darkening evening sky.

A rewarding lesson

The Navajo Nation covers 27,000 square miles across Northeast AZ, Northwest New Mexico and some of Southern Utah. It seems that the Navajo people have worked hard to remain culturally distinct in this age of blurred boundaries. While driving past the Vermillion Cliffs and through the Grand Staircase Escalante  Nat'l Monument towards the Reservation, Gale read to me about Navajo etiquette. (This is not a new tradition, btw. Wherever we go, I can count on him to brief me on ways of minimizing foot-in-mouth moments that have embarrassment potential for him and me.)

The Navajo are generally reserved and private people. . . esp with strangers, of course, and even more especially with white strangers. Of all the points of etiquette Gale reviewed with me, the one I was most glad for later was this: When they listen, it's an important gesture of respect to listen in silence---to not insert a bunch of verbal markers like "uh-huh" and "gotcha" to let the speaker know you're hanging in with them--- and to wait quietly for a while before grabbing the ball after they've finished.

Fast forward to a roadside stand along the highway running west from Cameron AZ to the South Rim of the Grand. We had many of these makeshift markets to choose from, but we pulled into this one b/c it was located at the head of a short trail to the rim of the canyon formed by the Little Colorado River as it flows towards its confluence with the mother Colorado in the Grand Canyon. It was windy. (See photo.)

The man at the stand seemed glad to see us as we drifted among his tables of silver bracelets and beaded earrings. He hailed us from the shadowed interior of his windbreak, and rose to talk. He was outgoing and more gregarious than we expected. No, his merchandise was not of his making--his wife and daughters did all the work. Yes, his prices were too low, but the Navajo Nation doesn't levy sales tax, so the money we gave him was all his. Gale and Charlie wandered off in a while (neither of them enjoy shopping as much as I). Left to my own devices, I couldn't deny this opportunity to learn more about this 60-something man. . . esp after I noticed his cap: "U.S. Airforce/ Vietnam Veteran."

"So you served in Vietnam?" I ventured. It was like a switch flipped. Instantly his demeanor changed. "Yes," came his one word response. His eyes downcast, he retreated to the back of his wind shelter again and began to work studiously on a necklace. Gale wasn't within ear range, so I continued. "I have several friends who were there-- it was no fun." I have such a knack for stating the obvious. "No," he said. I kept plodding. "We learned the other day that the Navajo language was used as code during WW II. . . and the Japanese never broke it." "That's right." he said. His tiny pliers continued to work. I thought, damn. I've completely blown this. I've overstepped-- gotten too close." Then I remembered what Gale'd read about listening. Be silent. Wait.

Many of you will find this impossible to believe, but I stood there in the shadows of Mr Kenneth Begay's shack full of semi-precious gemstone jewelry and I remained silent. I waited. And I was rewarded. After a few seconds that seemed like an hour to me, he began. . . without looking up from his work.

"Once we were flying over the DMZ--towards Cambodia--and we heard some talk on the radio. It wasn't Vietnamese. It wasn't Chinese. It wasn't Cambodian. It was strange. Another guy on the flight crew turned to me and said, 'Do you know what language this is?' I said 'Yes I do.' They were talking about some skirmishes down below and didn't want anyone else to know what they were saying, so they were talking in code." He looked up at me and smiled. "It was the first I knew," he said, "that my people's tongue was being used  in that war."

I was stunned. Not so much by his wonderful story as by the fact that he'd chosen to share it with me. In the nick of time, I'd been quiet and patient. I'd behaved in a way he saw as respectful. And I was rewarded for it in a way I'll never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a wonderful overnight visit with our friend Bonnie Anderson, we're on our way further south today--via some pueblo ruins and the Tom Mix Memorial--to Tucson. From there we'll turn east on this Road to Texas.

Where did Days 6 & 7 & 8 go?

Into the wilds of Southern Utah and Northern AZ. Fairly flaky phone & internet service, but oh do I have stories to tell. . . .

For now, I'm just happy to report-- after high-tailing it down I-17 from Flagstaff this afternoon-- we've arrived this evening in Phoenix/Sun Lakes for a long-overdue visit with our friend "Other Bonnie." Beautfiul home, lots of green grass, good fish tacos. . . and a comfy bed awaits us in her guestroom.

More in the morning. Sleep tight y'all.

Day 4: Yosemite!!!

So I'm not a world traveler, but I've seen enough "natural wonders" to know that my tested affinity for and personal history with the Grand Canyon will always ensure its place at the top of my list of Truly Awesome & Significant Places on Earth. But I wasn't at (or in) the GC yesterday. Yesterday I experienced Yosemite for the first time!

There are no better words to describe this incredible place than those of John Muir himself---the man who first made it knowable to the common man and woman. I'm thinking it's plenty-- that it will do justice to our wonderful day there yesterday with our personal tourguides Mary Lou and Bill--to simply share a few of Muir's comments about the place in this entry. (For the record, I've lifted these quotes from "The Meditations of John Muir" compiled by Chris Highland.) Say what you will about his tree-sitting eccentricities, the guy was a powerful writer and a political wizard, too. He was T. Roosevelt's personal tourguide on more than one trip into what is now the Nat'l Park. We have Mr. Muir's tireless focus on protecting that amazing place to thank for yesterday. Besides, he had to-die-for Paul Newman sky-blue eyes..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>> "Only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get to the heart of the wilderness.
       All other travel is mere dust and hotels and baggage and chatter.. . " from a letter to his wife Louisa,
       July 1888.

>> "Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal
      and give strength to the body and soul alike." from The Yosemite, 1912

>> "Few are altogether deaf to the preaching of pine trees. Their sermons on the mountains go to our
      hearts; and if people in general could be got into the woods, even for once, to hear the trees speak for
      themselves, all difficulties in the way of forest preservation would vanish."  from Muir in The Sierra Club
      Bulletin, January 1896

and my favorite. . .

>> "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world."  from
     My First Summer in the Sierra, 1911

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We're in Bishop CA tonight. Charlie had a good run on the lawn at the middle school--Home of the Broncos. We're not sure where we're heading tomorrow. . . either thru Death Valley into Northern AZ or south to the Joshua Tree Monument  and then east clean to Phoenix. Both routes are on the Road to Texas.
Good night from the 3 of us.

Morning After a Surprising Day 2

Yesterday we left Lakeview at the crack of noon (that's another entry). Enough to say for now that that little town is a sweet friendly place. Once out of town, we rode Hillary long & hard: Lakeview> Alturas> Likely> Standish> Milford> the skirts of Reno at rush hour> Truckee> Tahoe Vista> S. Lake Tahoe> Placerville.

Surprise Valley stretches 20+ miles from the CA border. I'm sure there's a story involving a miner and his/her burro behind the name, but our biggest surprise was to realize we'd been there before--some 25 years ago on our way home from a Toastmaster convention in Reno. Same basque restaurant in Alturas.

                                      The "Surprise Valley Electrification Company"-- Alturas CA

Honey Lake. . . this aptly named dry lakebed goes on and on, and reminds me that such a counter-intuitive phenomenon (lake=arid & dusty) is surprisingly beautiful in its own right. Lake Tahoe surprised us in a not-so-pleasant way. The roadside view of this sapphire and emerald colored jewel is obliterated with nearly wall-to-wall upscale structures, at least along the west shore. Public access be damned. We found a couple blessed "viewpoints" that allowed us to actually see the lake as it was meant to be seen, but even they were heavily concreted, dog-on-leash, and sadly "improved."  A third surprise--after a long haul of nearly 300 miles on two-lane highways-- was that our BW room in Placerville was 3x the size of the one we had in Lakeview for the same price. Today will be a slower "poodle-doodle" day (as brother Sid would say.) Day 3 destination is the home of Cousins Mary Lou & Bill in Tuolumne. . . only 80 miles down this Road to Texas.

Day 1: Vancouver>Salem>Mill City>Bend>LaPine>Summer Lake>Lakeview

One of our themes on this journey is to go where we've not gone before. We left known territory yesterday afternoon, when we turned on to Oregon Hwy 31 just south of LaPine. "31" heads S/SE across magnificent outback . . . past placemarks such as Fort Rock and Christmas Valley. Straight-arrow highway slicing through a valley floor carpeted in sage, still gray and winter-brittle. Dirt and gravel side roads coming from across the prairie to meet us are named for the folks who drive them: Red House Lane. . . Hamlin Drive. . . .Weaver Road.

For maybe 80 miles, we were the only car going our direction, and we encountered few coming towards us. Not far from Lakeview-- where we had a room waiting for us at the dog-friendly Best Western--that golden time of late afternoon enveloped us and lulled us into our individual reveries. So easy to let our shiny white (rented) Toyota Highlander--aka Hillary--take her lead. We sat up straight, tho, when we passed a navy-blue car with yellow stripes hunkering in the bushes beside the highway. Oops.

G was only going 73 in a ridiculously low 55 zone. The polite young man who asked for our documents looked about 12, and he wore his spiffy blue uniform with endearing pride. He let us off with a warning, this time. "We love this place," I gushed. "It's so beautiful! Do you live around here?" He softened and smiled wide-- for a brief moment no longer just an Oregon State Policeman. "Yes I do. Third generation." I glanced at his namebadge on the front of his shirt. "Weaver," it said.

The Road to Texas: the Plan

Gale, Charlie and I left Vancouver yesterday morning, generally aiming for Texas. Why? Because we can! More specifically. . .why Texas? Other than that we like Lyle Lovett, there's no better reason than that there's plenty of room to make a u-turn when it's time to head home. What are we up to along the way?  Our intent is to keep our nose(s) to the ground-- sniffing out the possibilities wherever we are. This journal will provide some glimpses and snippets of what we see/do/learn/explore along the way. I'm sure we'll make a few wrong turns and  encounter our share of mishaps as we go. But we also have a talent for encountering serendipity in these kinds of adventures. Come along with us. We'll see.