oregonman

Been Awhile

2011-07-14T13:55:00.000-07:00

All to familiar terrain Portland, I have been back for almost 4 years, writing only on paper, maybe time to post stories, poetry, & my silly mind.

A recent thought: "Little steps should not be discounted, for they will add to be so much more". 7/11

Past Posts from my trip starting in May 2006, you will find that I went back and re-posted for editing purposes only, I have left all posts the origanal & re-post, sorry I am too lazy to change them.

see ya' soon!

Donna Marie 1954-2005

2007-12-18T19:59:00.000-08:00

My younger sister died of cancer at 51 years young.
Long may her spirit live on.................
Dec.18th, 2005

My remembrance of you
will never be altered
no matter how long
I'm left here alone
I'm left here alone
to live out my days
still full of your grace
and my remembrance of you
Time fades a picture
and changes a season
never to pass
the same way again
the same way again
until the day when
I meet you in heaven
my beautiful friend

Lyrics be Diana Jones

Dear Huck, do we over protect our kids today?

2007-12-12T10:57:00.000-08:00

After watching Ken Burn’s PBS special on Sam Clemmons life, writings and his insights.
I wonder what would happen in today’s world to the characters.
Would Huck’s parents be put in jail for child neglect, would Huck by put into a foster home, and Jim arrested for kidnapping and blamed for who knows what else?
My childhood memories included some fun, adventurous and sometime dangerous times, my brother and I and our BB guns explored the wild south Texas landscape.
Skinny dippin in crawdad ponds, sometimes we would have to take turns because one needed to keep an eye out for water moccasins.
Do we over protect for the common good?
Yet we allow our children to use a violent video games for their adventure.
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) by Mark Twain is commonly accounted as one of the first Great American Novels. It was also one of the first major American novels ever written using Local Color Realism or the vernacular, or common speech, being told in the first person by the eponymous Huckleberry "Huck" Finn, best friend of Tom Sawyer (hero of three other Mark Twain books). The book was first published in 1884.
The book is noted for its innocent young protagonist, its colorful description of people and places along the Mississippi River, and its sober and often scathing look at entrenched attitudes, particularly racism, of the time. The drifting journey of Huckleberry Finn and his friend Jim, a runaway slave, down the Mississippi River on their raft may be one of the most enduring images of escape and freedom in all of American literature.

Kettle Chips, the early years

2007-11-26T09:25:00.000-08:00

25 years ago the Kettle Chip was born.
As their success grows, they are now moving out of Oregon.
I have gotten very little or many acknowledgement of my early work with the company.
In 1981 bringing a single dry roaster to Salem, as the first production employee, and one of the founders, I have had many frustrations with the founder Cameron Healy's (Nirbhoa Khalsa)story.

a letter written to Jim Green, Company Spokesperson 2/07

Hello, 25 years ago I was asked to make a potato chip for Kettle Foods, as a founding member of the company I feel that the company has shown me nothing but lack of respect.
Back then we would cook potatoes on top of peanuts for snacks, our founder Cameron, after a vacation in Hawaii, one of many, asked me if I could make a potato chip product, I did, by myself in the peanut roasting fryer, I came up with the recipe, like other recipes I developed: nuts, nut mixes, trail mixes, nut butters, what ever was needed, I feel I did my best for the company. It was a time on constant growth, non-stop, learning as needed to set the foundation for future success. Hiring many of the key people for the company, believing in the future, I was always positive about our future.
At first I set up an evening crew to product chips, one that I supervised, after our peanut production in the morning, we set aside evenings for potato chips, I modified our vacuum sealer to seal 6 bags at a time,(we turned off the vacuum) I think we produced 20 cases the first night, Cameron did not package the first bag as stated. He did show up for a photo shoot.
On a leave of absence in 1983 to visit my ailing mother-in-law back east, I was able to visit potato chip plants, one in Ohio that Michael Season's out of Chicago asked me to visit, they shared with me the right fryer and set-up, as well as slicer and draining info, and packaging, even were to get the potato rack. Although we also used filbert racks at first.
Other information came from old-timers, folks that had made chips like ours years before. Al food has been done before, as a chef I know this.
I shared this knowledge with our company and worked with local engineers to set-up the a ladger plant, this lead to a very strong foundation for the company's success 1984-1988.
I was asked by you (Jim Green), my foreman’s David Eyers and Randy Cleays years later, "why did you leave", because I was asked to.
This was not right after all the hard work to set the foundation that has lead to your, Cameron's' and the company's success, that's not believing in People, if the person that developed the recipe can not be acknowledged. That’s Shameful. By the way, it's not the same recipe. We used cold-pressed Safflower oil then and local Willamette potatoes.
I also picked the potato that I enjoyed off the shelves, then visited with the local farmer, Tony Amstad from Sherwood, learned from him about caramelizing the sugars, how to store as well. The company states having selected the potato after testing 200varieties, it says it on the bag, I feel that’s not true.
I was recycling our oil from day one, food scraps to the local pig farmer, bartering with for juice for employers and hot soaks up in the mountains for them, too.
I support your green efforts, always have.
I was able to have a vision, the Green Onion and Yogurt, New Cheddar were developed by me though the Baltimore Spice Company, Funnoodles (local fried noodle product) were able to create a base from my work.
I share my vision with Cameron, Smaller bags, Tortilla Chips, always wanted to do the ridged chip, one without pepper.
My vision for favors is not the same now, but why give you that. The New Seasons profile of Cameron say he "Made" the chip, not sure about that comment, either. Not once did the man work with me on the recipe.
The little guy in your history is me, you have created a myth, reads to me like a rags to riches story, the broken van, driving products up and down I-5, I never saw a broken down van, even in my Golden Temple Bakery days 1978-80, when Brian Miller would pickup roasted nuts in a semi-truck.
I also enjoy the pictures of the softball team I put together on the website.
The best to you for your green efforts, your history is not accurate.
I would have enjoyed growing with the company, promises made but not keep.
Michael Slocum
ps, please do not have your hired hands contact me.

my 2000 Honda Insight named Skate

2007-09-26T16:56:00.000-07:00

Skate & Oregonman’s Journey
Here’s Skate & I mileage report and gas purchases, more number crunching needs to be done, Skate, a 2000 Honda Insight performed beautifully, tire pressure, regular oil changes and the switch to synthetic oil later in the trip helped and sometimes the need for a higher octane gas had an effect on miles per gallon (mpg), as well as the wind, hills or mountains, how fast we had to drive on certain routes, the weather, and rain does lessen mpg. Skate over-heated in the mountains of California due to my blocking of the air vent that helps cool off the batteries, without the electric assist the car still ran and continued to achieve great gas mileage, some worry on my part during our 400 miles push across Nevada with the engine light on to find a dealer, and than at an Immigration stop in White Sands, N.M. when the temperature was 103 degrees sitting for 30 minutes. We do not have AC, in the South it would help with cooling down the batteries and in storms when we could not roll down the windows, AC would help defog windows.
The Batteries at 130K are wearing down, yet still working, someday they will need to be changed, not sure of the cost for replacement. Honda has discontinued this model, and it’s a perfect 2-seater for the road, not sure why. Skate, its look and gas mileage have excited many folks around the country about the potential gas savings to be had, will it take a big diesel pick-up hybrid to help turn America’s head?
Skate performs best at about 58 mph, 2500 rpm, 3rd and 4th gear were the best use of energy, we used 5th gear above 62 mpg, although this did not seem to be the best use of gas, but enabled us to keep up.
Skate is a perfect blue highways vehicle, a small two-lane blacktop car if ever made.

Buxton, Oregon to Bainbridge Island, Washington
63.2 mpg/ 264.6 miles
5.4 Gal @ $2.89 = $15.50
Bainbridge Island to South Bend, Washington
60.3 mpg, 390.6 miles
South Bend to George Washburn State Park
N. of Florence,Oregon
63.4 mpg, 241 miles
9.5 Gal @ $2.96 = $20
Florence to Del Norte State Park
S. of Crescent City, California
63.9 mpg, 209.9 miles
4.79 Gal @ $3.09= $14.81
Del Norte to Arcata
55.6 mpg, 56.5 miles
Arcata to Napa
61.3 mpg, 277 miles
Napa to Yosemite
58.5 mpg, 272 miles
7.25 Gal. @$3.64= $26.43
Yosemite, California to Tonopah, Nevada
60.3 mpg, 449.3 miles
9.5 Gal@ $3.95= $37.50
Tonopah to Zion National Park, Utah
63.9 mpg, 351.4 miles
5.79 Gal.@ $3.14= $18.26
Zion to Bryce Canyon to St. George, Utah
65.8 mpg, 363.5 miles
8.56 Gal @ $2.96= $25.41
St. George, Utah to Lee’s Ferry, Arizona
66.0 mpg/ 280 miles
Lee’s Ferry to Slow Low, Arizona
65.8 mpg/ 407.2 miles
8.23 Gal @ $3.16= $26.01
Slow Low to Silver City, New Mexico
67.9 mpg/ 284.4 miles
Silver City to Gila Hot Springs
54.0 mpg/ 141.1 miles
9.27 Gal @ $2.90= $26.87
Gila Hot Springs to Roswell, New Mexico
66.5 mpg/ 369.8 miles
Roswell to Guadalupe State Park, Texas
58.0 mpg/ 165.7 miles
7.11 Gal @ $2.79= $19.89
Guadalupe to San Angelo
66.5 MPG, 368.6 miles

San Angelo to Kerrville
Kerrville Folk Festival
54.2 MPG, 242.1 miles
7.56 Gal @ $2.68= $20.24
Kerrville to Austin
55.6 MPG/ 214 miles
6.04 Gal @ $2.80= $16.91
Austin, Texas to Sulphur, Louisiana
55.9 MPG/ 365.3 miles
7.8 Gal @ $2.80= $21.83
Sulphur to Lafayette to Natchez, Mississippi
59.6 mpg/ 276.2 miles
4.34 Gal @ $2.66= $11.57
Natchez, Mississippi to Waynesboro, Tennessee
62.9mph/520.8 miles
6.22 Gal @ $2.80= $17.41
Waynesboro to Franklin, North Carolina
60.3 mpg/ 381.2 miles
9.22 Gal @ $2.72= $25.00

Franklin to Dunn
61.5 mpg/ 353 miles
6.77 Gal @ $2.80= $18.95
Dunn to Nag’s Head
60.1 mpg/ 251.6 miles
8.86 Gal @ $2.83= $28.29
Nag’s Head to Beauford to Durham
62.0mpg/328 miles

Durham
52.4 mpg/ 60.3 miles
Durham, North Carolina to Natural Bridge, Virginia
59.9/ 209.4 miles
8.89 Gal @ $2.87= $25.52
Natural Bridge to Front Royal, Virginia
59.9 mpg/ 244.3 miles
Front Royal, Virginia to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
58.5 mpg/ 120.7 miles
6.99 Gal @ $2.86= $20
Gettysburg, Pa. to Tabernacle, New Jersey
60.1 mpg/215.8 miles
Visiting Jersey Relatives
54.O mpg/ 151.4 miles
Tabernacle to Ancramdale, New York
Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival
59.2mpg/ 233.7 miles
6.47 Gal @ $3.09= $20
Grey Fox to Greenfield, Massachusetts
60.1/133.1 miles
6.7 Gal @ $2.99= $20
Greenfield to Pantuckaway State Park. New Hampshire
(near Raymond)
61.5/ 142.2 miles

Pantuckaway N.H. to Portland, Maine
59.2/ 126.8 miles
8.48 Gal @ $2.96= $25.10
Portland to Acadia
57.8 mpg/ 159.3 miles
3.38 Gallons @ $25= $10
Acadia to Cobscook
Cobscook to Baxter
58.2 mpg/ 123.8 miles
8.6 Gal @ $2.95= $25.50
Baxter to Banger, Maine
61.5 mpg/ 142.3 miles
Banger, Maine to Crawford Notch State Park
Mt. Washington, New Hampshire
62.9 mpg/ 199.3 miles
8.61 Gal @ $2.90= $24.94

Mt. Washington to Little River State Park
Waterford, Vermont
56.6 mpg/ 217.4 miles
Waterford to Grand Isle on Lake Champlain
Burlington, Vermont
59.4 mpg/113.5 miles
9.58 Gal @ $2.94= $28.17
around Burlington and the Isles
59.4 mpg/207.9 miles
Lake Champlain, Vermont to Fish Pond State Park, New York
58.7mpg/ 155.5 miles
Fish Pond to Utica
59.6 mpg/ 173.4 miles
Utica to Niagara Falls, New York
60.1 mpg/ 303.9 miles
10.03 Gal @ $3.03= $30.51
Niagara Falls to Allegany Mountains, Pennsylvania
to Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio
61.2mpg/ 332.8 miles
Geneva-on-the-Lake to Detroit, Michigan
62.9 mpg/ 249.5 miles
9.14 Gal @ $2.99= $27.41
Detroit to to Sleepy Hollow State Park
Laingsburg, Michigan
60.3 mpg/ 112 miles
Sleepy Hollow to Sleeping Bear Dunes
Michigan
60.1/ 339.5 miles
8.87 Gal @ $3.18= $28.28
Sleeping Bear to Tahquamenon Falls
Paradise, Michigan
61.1 mpg/ 234.1 miles
8.62 Gal @ $3.16= $27.24
Tahquamenon Falls to Whitefish & back
64.3 mpg/ 56.7 miles
Paradise to Houghton, Michigan
65mpg/ 255.7 miles
Houghton to Hibbing, Minnesota
63.9mpg/ 449.1 miles
9.08 Gal @ $3.11= $28.33
Hibbing to Lake Bemidji
59.6 mpg/ 188.1 miles
Bemidji to Fargo, North Dakota
65.6mpg/ 197.3 miles
Fargo to Lake Sakakawea State Park,
Pick City, ND
62.9mpg/ 325.9 miles
9.03 Gal @ $3.10= $28
Pick City to Williston
59.9mpg/ 326.7 miles
8.39 Gal @ $3.15= $26.42

Williston, North Dakota to Shelby, Montana
60.1 mpg/ 428.0 miles
Shelby to Rising Sun Campsite
Glacier National Park
62.5 mpg/ 166.7 miles
8.54 Gal @ $3.23= $27.68
Rising Sun to Avalanche, and over Logan Pass
68.1 mpg/ 112.7 miles
Avalanche up Logan’s Pass and back
63.9 mpg/ 81.6 miles
Glacier to Colville, Washington
71.6 mpg/ 358.9 miles
8.69 Gal @ $3.36= $29.21
Colville to the Cascades
61.8 mpg/ 242.4 miles
North Cascades to Mt. Baker to Bellingham
60.1mpg/ 251.8 miles
8.5 Gal @ $3.49= $29.76
Bellingham to Bainbridge Island
61.8 mpg/ 122.2 miles
Bainbridge Island to Buxton, Oregon
59.9mpg/ 252.2 miles

Special thanks to the Honda folks that helped maintain Skate during the trip and our McMinnville dealer that maintained the car when home in Oregon.
Moving back to Portland after 10 years in the countryside of Oregon for the winter, hoping to save Skate for another ride by using mass transit at home.
Skate my trusty side-kick & I will ride into a town near you on another day, soon!

Right know we are in Texas on a small side trip, heading back to Oregon later this week.
More on this trip, as well as a couple of slide shows.
Oregonman will be blogging about politics, people, food and Oregon this Autumn & Winter, hoping to get back on the road in the Spring.
See you on the blue highway of life!

Home Sweet Home!

2007-09-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

Home-Trying the Knot
Bainbridge Island to Buxton, Oregon
59.9mpg/ 252.2 miles traveled
Start mileage: 112,968
Finish mileage: 131,706
Miles Traveled: 18,738.2 miles traveled
Interstate Hwy: 240 miles
Blue Hwy: 18,498.2 miles

Bainbridge to Buxton: Rt. 305N to Rt. 3S to Shelton, Rt.101S, then Rt. 108W, Rt.12W, Rt.107S to Rt.101S to Rt.4E to Cathlamet, Rt.409 to the Ferry across the Columbia River to Westport, Oregon, then Rt.30E to Hwy. 47S to Buxton, Oregon
The final leg, after a leisurely morning on the island, then helping Tom & Maureen with moving of some large rocks, it was time to journey home, the final leg of this journey to Jeff & Kim’s house in Buxton for a week of catching up, then the annual Labor Day BBQ weekend.
A perfect NW late summer day, 80 degrees cloudless sky, pass all the familiar sights of the first day of my journey, I am not stopping today, most pictures are from the car as I race southward to Oregon, this day is different in feeling, not looking for the unknown or discovery, yet a new meaning on travel is in me, I must not forget those feelings of traveling alone on back roads, side roads, some dirt, some very narrow, up steep mountain sides in low gear, then coasting down them with just enough brake not to fly off in a Thelma & Louise moment, driving a hybrid car gives one perspective of how a car works, what’s mileage on the way up, and can I make it up going down, how can I get 71mpg one day, then 59 mpg the next, in years past a wrong turn meant frustration, not anymore, just wait then read ajust to ones error, are mistakes’ mistakes, we are told not to make them, we cover them up, don’t admit them, we shame ourselves for them, we keep them secret, if we have a destiny our mistakes will help take us there, a past lover told me the time we spent together was a lost time, I disagree, it’s part of the process, gleam what you can, learn for those mistakes and grow them into a better truth, give praise and thanks to struggle, a year ago I would have said bull, my struggle was 23 months long, thousands of dollars for a lawyer, two jobs, sometimes not enough money to pay even the parking meter at my second job, drinking a 40oz of PBR was my quality of life, yet I survived and am a better man for it, no past regrets, yes it could have been done some things better, yet as a collected group of people we influence each other, as a solo flyer we much adjust to our own medicine and decisions, so choose wisely, back to heading home, down the road to views of the Pacific, a burger in Cosmopolis, to the ferry to cross into Oregon, missed the 8pm, thoughts of racing to the bridge, wait 30 minutes it will be OK, then standing on the front of the ferry like George Washington crossing the Delaware, the sun has set, the moon over the water I am guiding this vessel to the shore, I kiss the ground, my home of 30 years Oregon, then Rt.30 to Hwy 47, my home for the last 10 years, up the Devil’s Spine, a bit dangerous with large elk about at night, around hairpin curves upward to Vernonia, buy some good Oregon beer, then down the hill like water looking flowind towards the sea, into a gravel driveway late at night to spend time with friends, my family, Home Sweet Home!

Home is place where a person or family lives, perhaps spends much of their time, or where a person is comfortable being. While a house (or other residential dwelling) is often referred to as a home, the concept of "home" is broader than a physical dwelling. Home is often a place of refuge and safety, where worldly cares fade and the things and people that one loves becomes the focus.
“Welcome Home” Kerrville Folk Festival greeting
"Home is where you hang your hat."
"Home follows the family."
"Home is where the heart is."
"Home is where you make it"
"Love makes a house a home."
"There's no place like home"
"You can't go home again."
"An Englishman's home is his castle."
"I'm only at home when I'm away."
"Everybody wants to go home."
"Make yourself at home."
"Home is where the hurt is."
"Give a dog a home."
"Home Sweet Home."
"Charity begins at Home".
"A home is in all hearts"

Journey can refer to:
Journey (band), an American rock band.
Journey (album), their 1975 debut album.
Journey (video game), an arcade game which featured the band.
Journey: The Quest Begins, a 1989 computer game.
Journey (book) (2000), by Danielle Steel.
Travel, the transport of people.

My journey was to explore the smaller roads across America, it will take a little longer, it’s not a straight line, there are stop signs and lights in most towns, there are school zones with small town cops to make sure you do it right, on the record I was never stopped, yet one day after being back in Oregon, I got pulled over in Forest Grove, I showed him my route on the map, no ticket, my journey was a general direction with decisions made daily, occasionally I pushed past a point on the map had I known better, on to an unknown, be patient it works out, on a long journey one loses the date, the day of the week, the newspaper was seldom read, yet the news stayed the same, then I look at the big map to realize why Canadian radio is on, the weather can be dealt with without the weather channel, just let me know if something big is coming, dirt roads have pot holes, and please take time to talk to the locals and listen to their stories, our stories.
The other aspect of this trip was rural politics, America is a great country, our people are real, and our Government has too much power, so remember you are the America, stand up, and look pass the bull, we as a free society that stands for something bigger, we will pay the price for true freedom, that is our cost, not killing innocent people and bad ones too, that Gods job, local is better, local is America, treat the rest of the world like your neighbor, stay out of their yard, unless you want to mow the grass, speak kindly to all, if offended quietly walk-on, share what you can with others less fortunate, this journey has taking me to a lot of door steps and backyards, forests, mountains, deserts, valleys, towns and cities.
Most small towns across this country struggle with economic needs, social pressure to keep their communities intact as they are told to be patriot, and that freedom is killing folks in other countries, at home schools struggle to teach our children basic skills, health care for the poor and young people does not exist, hunger is an on going problem, we dump the mentally ill on the streets, the local church tells people support the troops, I do support anyone that kills in Gods or Jesus or Muhammad’s name, many small towns are empty with the big box stores with low prices down at the crossroads, that’s all of our responsibility, is it a lack of knowledge, we must support small local business, pay a dollar more, we do for gas, and why are all goods made in China, our debt both individually and nationally is astounding, we all owe, can we not take care of ourselves, all people need good leadership, democracy is were everyone listens and we come up with a plan for the people, the corporations will get theirs, but let’s be real, on the morality issue, let anyone who loves another do it, the modern family should be diverse, damage done in shame, guilt and persecution is not right. We need to get back to common sense and have honest talk with our neighbors.
Food: lots of good to great eateries out there, in Orick, California at the Palm Café, a great greasy spoon, delightful creamy cheese at Cypress Grove Creamery in Arcata, in Utah, always good food, it’s in their blood, wholesome comfort food, in Panguitch great smoked turkey and peach cobbler at the Cowboy Café, at the Flying M the worlds’ largest Cinnamon roll, two days of eating, then to Springdale outside of Zion, the Spotted Dog for world class in the country food, BBQ Ribs to die for at the Lee Ferry Lodge on Hwy 89a around Marble Canyon, Arizona, then in the Gila Wilderness, NM at the Wilderness Lodge B&B for Dean’s wonderful breakfast and hot springs to boot, on to Texas for lots of great BBQ, folks know their smokers there, the County Line (Austin) for the best BBQ beef ribs and in Fort Stockton for Mexican at Mi Casita for my best lunch, enchiladas from heaven, back in Austin, Churra’s with most unique salsas like toasted Pumpkin and great Tamales, in Dime Box at the general store for a $2.25 pulled Pork Sandwich, farther down the road in Cleveland great Brisket and an excellent chef telling me has sauce recipes and sharing chef/food stories, into Louisiana for Cajun, BBQ Shrimp it’s a different type of BBQ, and dancing to work it off, on to Mississippi were good food dots the map in Natchez for Mr. Smith’s freshly smoked pork butt and sauce at 8am to the Blue Levee in Rosedale for a great plate special on to Clarksdale, the home of the Blues and another Pulled Pork Sandwich at Abe’s, since 1924 at the crossroads, on into the south, Tennessee for grits and smoked ham for breakfast, North Carolina for Vinegar based BBQ sauce in the western part of the state to the east for smokery sweet, and biscuits all the time in the south, then on the coast for steamed crab and shrimp, good enough to quiet the whole family sucking the sweet meat out of the shell, back into the interior for more good BBQ and Fried Chicken, and soul food if you look in the right places, Pennsylvania around the Amish for food that sticks to the bones and warms the tummy, oh yeah, pies, from Utah to Texas and the whole South, Fruit Pies, yummy, on into Jersey for great Pizza and Cheese steaks, Pretzels and Tastycakes, on to NY for great Italian Food, and great Garlic Knots, then there’s Submarine Sandwiches for a meal that a single man can live on, into Maine for Lobster everywhere, every nook along Rt. 1, Lobster Rolls for lunch, steamed whole lobster for dinner, into Vermont for Ben & Jerry’s and great cheeses, a wonderful organic movement here with farmers supplying the local chefs and wonderful downtown of Burlington, Vermont,
back though NY for more great Italian, wonderful thin pizza, just enough cheese and a little sauce to make me smile, into Michigan for a downtown celebration in Detroit and BBQ, so good, folks wait in line for hours,
more great fruit pies in the north, all types of fish from the Great Lakes to be had, Up State for home-made jams and jellies and Pasties for a hungry miner or a passing tourist like me, on to Hibbing, Minnesota for a good healthy portion breakfast on a rainy Sunday morning without Bob, further west Wild Rice and Walleye Pike dot the menu, Mayville, North Dakota for a counter-top lunch $5.99 for beef, mashed potatoes and Gravy with a cup of soup, topped off by homemade pie and coffee, salt of the earth folks here need good food, into Montana for more great pies, Huckleberry anyone, back into the NW for our great seafood, oysters, an excellent meal at the Boundary Bay Brewing in Bellingham, then back to Bainbridge and Seattle for more of the same, and of course NW coffee, my fav, a 4-shot Latte in a 12oz cup, read the blog for more details.
Beer nationally is better, almost every state has a local micro-brewery, always good, some great beer full-bodied ones too, read the blog for more insight about food and beer, and I am fixing to put together a slide show of the trip and a separate one of food.

Quest, a voyage towards a higher goalA knight-errant is a figure of medieval chivalric romance literature.
"Errant" meaning wandering or roving indicates how the knight-errant would typically wander the land in search of adventures to prove himself as a knight, such as in a pas d'Armes. Many knights-errant fit the ideal of the "knight in shining armor". A knight-errant performed all his deeds in the name of a lady, and invoked her name before performing an exploit.
In the romances, his adventures frequently included greater foes than other knights, including giants, enchantresses, or dragons. They may also gain help that is out of ordinary; Sir Ywain assisted a lion against a serpent, and was thereafter accompanied by it, becoming the Knight of the Lion. Other knight-errants have been assisted by wild men of the woods, as in Valentine and Orson, or, like Guillaume de Palerme, by wolves that were, in fact, enchanted princes.

When driving the road less traveled often one takes a wrong turn, part of a journey is to do just that, then let the unknown reach out to you, and enjoy a new found discovery, William Least Heat-Moon writes in blue highways about the word error, it comes from a Middle English word, erren, which means “to wander about,” as in the knight errant. The word evolved to mean “going astray” and that evolved to mean “mistake.” As for mistake, it derives from Old Norse and once meant “to take wrongly”, he explains he had been mistaken and in error, taking one wrong road after another, as a result he had come to a place of clear beauty.

My quest was to allow myself to be the best of me, to learn to be better for me and others, to wander, to find home in other places, to give thanks to all places
and to find peace in my thoughts and actions, and clarity for the each day and I have found faith in my process and my spirit to find truth in my actions and deeds.

Thanks to my friends in Oregon, I value you all, to all the folks that let me ask questions and gave me their time, even thanks to those that don’t know their own neighborhood, if you work in the service industry learn your surroundings and please do a better job waiting on me, I am blessed to have many great new friends all over the country, special thanks to all the musicians,

both live and the ones that showed up in my car, a sincere thanks to my family, our reunion was healing, one without my sister Donna who passed away in December, her memory lives on, Bless You, and my kids Abraham & Anna with new grandchild Gianna,
and to those that followed me around this great country on this blog.

We lock ourselves into a life to survive, and create a space of comfort, work, pay bills, raise children, see friends, use our small bits left to find rest, our mind may wander, our body ages, open the roadmap that is tucked away somewhere in the car, go ahead open it up, pick a spot and go, a good day is one where you don’t go back, explore a curious thought, drive down that dirt road, talk to your fellow wanderer, look at a new wonder, don’t let your dream stay stuck in your head, life is too short, approach everyday as your last, it may be, go ahead and live your dream. Paradise can be found!

a special thanks to William Least Heat-Moon and his book 'blue highways', an excellent read and inspiration for me on my journey.

Completing a Loop, Knot not yet Tied

2007-09-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

Completing a Loop, Knot not yet Tied
Bellingham to Bainbridge Island, Washington StateAfter an enjoyable night in Bellingham, having dinner at the Boundary Bay Brewing company, great Pulled Pork Tacos and Black beans, beer so good you can chew it, wonderful full bodied and the taste excellent, here's were there approach is to render excellent examples from classic styles. In some cases--such as with thier IPA, Imperial IPA and Imperial Oatmeal Stout--they push the envelope and make a very big and flavorful brew. Like a new kind of music, it may take a few samplings to build your palette but soon you will be coming back for more. Then later that night, I was to be taken by an employee to a party, these great young woman I meet sitting at the bar, take me to the outside patio area, it's Reggie night with Hula-hoops, most much fun.
Bellingham is far enough north of Seattle, and just under the Canadian border, with the Mountains to the East, and the Sound to the west, all the usual gray skies, cool evenings, breeze from the west, the relaxed feeling of a small hip western town, without the hype, must see more, yet I feel complete this trip.
Heading south to complete the loop, getting to Bainbridge will be a loop, still not yet home.
Head down Chuckanut Drive, leaving another Paridise then down Rt. 11S, beautiful views of the sound, salt-water, this is not a large lake, pass Larrabee State Park, down off the ridge overlooking the Sound to flat farmlands, with farms and nurseries, a great 4-shot Latte and muffin to start the day, lots of potato farms here, though Blanchard, then one mile of Interstate 5S to Rt.20W heading unto Whidbey Island, stopping at the Valley Café for breakfast, one of the best I have had, except the coffee, not NW coffee, just outside of Bayview, it’s worth the stop, then on to the Island pass Deception Pass.
History:
In the spring of 1792, Joseph Whidbey, master of the HMS Discovery and Captain Vancouver's chief navigator, sailed through the narrow passage that is now called Deception Pass and proved that it was not really a small bay as charted by the Spaniards (hence the name "Deception"), but a deep and turbulent channel that connects the Strait of Juan de Fuca with the Saratoga Passage, which separates the mainland from what they believed was a peninsula (actually Fidalgo Island and Whidbey Island).

In the early years of the 20th Century, travelers of the horse-and-buggy era used an unscheduled ferry to cross from Fidalgo Island to Whidbey Island. To call the ferry, they banged a saw with a mallet and then sat back to wait.
The bridge, one of the scenic wonders of the Pacific Northwest, is actually two spans, one over Canoe Pass to the north, and another over Deception Pass to the south. Construction began in August 1934, and the completed bridge was dedicated at noon on July 31, 1935. The Wallace Bridge and Structural Co. of Seattle, Washington provided 460 tons of steel for the 511-foot Canoe Pass arch and 1130 tons for the 976-foot Deception Pass span. The cost of construction was $482,000.
In September 1982, the bridge was declared a National Historic Monument.
Down though Ebey’s Landing where Isaac Ebey, a person significant in early territorial government and the first European-American settler to claim land on Central Whidbey Island before Washington became a state; the story of settlement under the Donation Land Claim Act between 1850 and 1855; the explorations of Captain George Vancouver in 1792; and the development and growth of the historic town of Coupeville.
Continue on Rt. 20 to Keystone, take the ferry across to Port Townsend,

a place I would have liked to have stopped at the beginning of my journey, a wonderful coastal town, an annual Wooden Boat Show brings folks from all over, a beautiful red brick buildings downtown, two breweries here, Port Townsend Brewing and Water Street Brewery, and a place called the Boiler Room, a safe place for youth, a place for well being , a coffee shop and then there a Writers’ Conference, for more than thirty years, writers from across the country have gathered at Centrum in a community devoted to the art of writing and the writer’s life. Centrum is a place that encourages exploration. Participants work closely with the distinguished faculty to open doors of perception, exploring new ways of communicating. The Port Townsend Writers' Conference is guided by Artistic Director Rebecca Brown.
Down Rt.20, pass the ship building and industrial side of town to Rt. 19S, turn left to Rt.3 over the Canal Bridge, look for submarine because they are down there, occasionally pulling down a small fishing boat, on land I think we are ok, the Rt. 305 to Bainbridge Island and the sanctuary of Tom and Maureen’s house and the Yankees are in town, a bad house guest I am to leave hours after arriving for a ride to Seattle on the ferry and a baseball game.I am Bad yet Good!
One more segment to publish, Home.

Tom and Maureen are helping me leave, is it time?
61.8 mpg/ 122.2 miles traveled.

One of my many joys has been listening to DIANA JONES, notes from her website and a short poem inspired by her work: Finding the roots of her raising.
HER VOICE sounds like the smoke from a hand rolled cigarette, the day’s sweat clinging to sun-baked flesh and the exhaustion of working in a sharecropper’s dusty fields. It is old-time, perhaps even out-of-time, and it draws you in with its musky, dusky tone and emotional nuances that glow like dying coals. It is not a voice that Diana Jones found easily, but it has served her well.
A resonant vintage folk/bluegrass bender, My Remembrance haunts with its tales of displaced people, the brutality of the world, and the irrepressibility of the human spirit.
“I found my voice," she acknowledges. “Literally, found out what my voice was supposed to do - and it was in these songs, finding the stories that really resonated and felt connected to someplace deeper. And it’s funny, once I got to the truth, it was easier to write about than anything else. Not just the songwriting, either, but knowing myself in a deeper way. Once I found it, once I wrote those first few songs, they just kept coming and pouring out.”

THEY CANNOT DAM THE SKY
My name is Horse, My name is Deer, My name is Moon, My name is Fear.
What they could not take with bullets, They took with the red blankets, Scaling the skin, Boiling our blood.
When they weren't strong enough To strip the mountains of men, The white eyes Brought the brown liquid fire.
When the mountains Still held up the sky, They did the worst That can ever be done: They took our young.
Torn from their hogans, Given pirate names, Put in Jesus schools, Pounded by foreign rules.
The evil isn’t strong enough, Distance isn’t long enough, To reach behind the eyes, To make the Spirit die.
There are always the mountains and the sky. There will always be the mountains and the sky. For all the dispossessed across the world
For all the dispossessed across the world. David Matthew August 2006

The Beauty

2007-09-17T10:43:00.001-07:00

The Beauty
North Cascades to Bellingham
“Here is a place where the clouds are made…where the ice melts into whispering rivulets which form dashing cascades, these flowing into lakes of wondrous beauty, where exquisitely beautiful landscapes of never ending variety meet… the wondering gaze from every direction, where mountains meet the sky”, Martin J. Elrod

Leaving Winthrop, up the grade for views of the mountains on the eastside of the Cascades, Douglas Fir and Lodgepole Pine, the smell of pine in the cool evening air as the sun settles to it’s western home, snowberry, ocean spray, Manzanita, wild roses and bracken ferns all about, moving up the mountain were the forest patches of sub-alpine Larch and White Pine dot wildflower meadows, interspersed with shrubby plant communities, grasses and sedges.

To camp in the night cool air of the piney forest, where fire cools my heels and mind.

The Park Service is comemorating the 50th anniversary of Jack Kerouac’s Sojourn at Desolation, he was on fire look out here from July 5th-Sept. 6th, 1956, Jack Kerouac spent 63 days during the summer as a fire lookout on Desolation Peak, in North Cascades National Park. He wrote about his experiences in the books "The Dharma Bums" and "Desolation Angels". The lookout is a 14' x 14' structure built in 1933 and remains active under the National Park Service.

The trail to the lookout is 7 miles one way from Ross Lake. You can either hike 13 miles to the trail head or arrange for boat transportation from the Ross Lake Resort.

"There she is!" yelled Happy and in the swirled-across top-of-the-world fog I saw a funny little peaked almost Chinese cabin among the little pointy firs and boulders standing on a bald rock top surrounded by snow banks and patches of wet grass with tiny flowers.
I gulped. It was too dark and dismal to like it. "This will be my home and resting place all summer?"
In the afternoon the marshmallow roof of clouds blew away in patches and Ross Lake was open to my sight, a beautiful cerulean pool far below with tiny toy boats of vacationists, the boats themselves too far to see, just the pitiful little tracks they left rilling in the mirror lake.
Hozomeen, Hozomeen, most beautiful mountain I ever seen ... but what a horror when I first saw that void the first night of my staying on Desolation Peak waking up from deep fogs of 20 hours to a starlit night suddenly loomed by Hozomeen with his two sharp points, right in my window black... Over 70 days I had to stare at it.
When I get to the top of Desolation Peak and everybody leaves on mules and I'm alone I will come face to face with God or Tathagata and find once and for all what is the meaning of all this existence and suffering and going to and fro in vain" but instead I'd come face to face with myself....
At night at my desk in the shack I see the reflection of myself in the black window, a rugged faced man in a dirty ragged shirt, need-a-shave, frowny, ...
Those afternoons, those lazy afternoons, when I used to sit, or lie down, on Desolation Peak, sometimes on the alpine grass, hundreds of miles of snowcovered rock all around, looming Mount Hozomeen on my north, vast snowy Jack to the south, the encharmed picture of the lake below to the west and the snowy hump of Mt. Baker beyond, and to the east the rilled and ridged monstrosities humping to the Cascade Ridge, and after that first time suddenly realizing "It's me that's changed and done all this and come and gone and complained and hurt and joyed and yelled, not the Void" ...
...as I was hiking down the mountain with my pack I turned and knelt on the trail and said "Thank you, shack." Then I added "Blah", with a little grin, because I knew that that shack and that mountain would understand what that meant, and turned and went on down the trail back to this world.” Snippets of Jack’s work.

I find the Park Service to be bold at times, confronting our pass and future, at Harper’s Ferry there’s John Brown, at Glacier, Native voices about the Lewis & Clark travels into their lands and the following of the settlers, and now.
Yet I look deeper, my need to understand, the modern world, this time about signage, I ask a young park employee about the bi-lingual signs on bird migration, both English and Spanish, the birds do go there and return, then she says “well there is good Mexican food in Sedro Woolley down the road”, ok, I have seen very few if any Latinos in the Parks in my travels, later there was a film about Cascade Park, from the early Native Americans perspective, or Indians meeting the first White Trappers, not sure if the Japanese tourists in the back understood the movie, it was in English, I have seen signs in the big Western Parks in many languages, and lots of German, Japanese, and other global travelers all about, now back to the movie, they also say Freedom & Freeland brought folks here, first the miners, then the loggers on the Skagit River, really the only folks there were here first in the US and Mexico were the indigenous peoples, Spain created the modern Mexico and its people, so if we all have to be immigrants lets understand we can’t all go back, we could all go to Africa to our true source of origin. This area is still known by its aboriginal name “Stehekin”, meaning the way though.

What do you call Yourself?As a kid I would say I was English, Irish and German, now I am a Pink Man, not White, not Caucasian.
When will we be people that understand the proper labeling is different in different areas, in the South, folks say Black or White, here in the NW its African- American, but what am I?

After my Park Information tour, on to the back roads with my trusty companion Skate, down to Marblemount for breakfast, a neat little tiny church for a moment of thanks, head up Rt.530 pass Buck Creek for a great ride, it’s dirt for about 20 miles with big potholes, Skate & I stayed out of them. It’s well worth the trip, under the glaciers, with the clouds covering and uncovering in moments, with wildflowers blossoms in Alpine meadows, the Cascade mountain crest cools and wrings moisture from the Pacific Ocean air, most of the snow and rainfall on the Westside creating a dry “rain shadow” to the east.
Western Larch, White Pine wooly pussy toes and beargrass also greet you, “greet the sun…pulsing with the energy of life”, and the birds Sharp-shinned Hawks, Western Tanager, Thrush, Bulluck’s Oriole, Warblers, Blk-heaed Grosbeak and Rufous Humming birds find home here.
In the western Hemlock Forest there is also Western Red Cedar, Douglas fir dominating this dense ancient forest, many of these giant trees are over 1000 years old. The lush, dark and moist under story of shrubs, ferns, mosses, fungi help promote the greatest Plant and animal diversity in these Northern Cascade forest.
Heading out of this spectacular park, down Rt. 20W to SR-9 it largely parallels Interstate 5 to the west, crossing the Snohomish, Skagit, Stillaguamish and Nooksack rivers, and coming within about 17 miles of Mount Baker, then Rt. 642E to some of the greatest views around.
Mostly in the clouds with the smell of cold snow in my nose, the brisk air, the clouds playfully dances on mountain peaks, a NW day, I make the most of what the day brings.
Then down the mountain pass the Northfolk Beer-Shine, great IPA, very good pizza, too. Want to get married?
Make a right at Deming on Rt. 542W to Bellingham for more surprises and the feeling of being happy in my home, not to mention Hula-hoop Reggie night at the Boundary Bay Brewery. Most Fun!!!

the North Cascades to Mt. Baker to Bellingham, Washington
60.1mpg/ 251.8 miles traveled

Correction: Renata Chlumska website is AroundAmericaAdventure.com, no s on the end of Adventure, she is almost home to Seattle as well. Another journey near it’s end.
“the universe call outs…change is nature’s constant” unknown author

A calming poem: ee cummings: i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Over Hill & Dale

2007-09-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

Over Hill & Dale
Montana, Idaho, Washington State
Leaving Glacier on a fine cloudless day, stopped at Eddie’s restaurant for some road food, and to say good-bye to Eddie the Grizzly, my new drinking buddy, got to view a great puppet show about ecology before leaving, the show is geared for the education of youngsters, nothing like a stuffed Moose to start your day. I did pick-up a book on Blackfoot called Mythology of the Blackfoot Indians.
Out of the park on Rt. 2 on the Westside of the Continental divide, by the Huckleberry Patch, since 1949, thinking about the day and the next blog, a quote, sure someone has said this,” the revolution will not be televised, it will be blogged” if no one has said this, then I lay claim to it. TM!I am getting closer to the Northwest, I spy a Coffee cart, then a Les Schwab Tire Shop, our tire store out west, great service, and free beef, too. Into Kalispell, for an oil change, a town of Cowboy hats and Cadillac’s, four wheelers like to come up close to Skate, over sized, small penis rednecks, the theme for this day, What’s with the Size and Might Thing in America?, don’t they know, that the Chinese own the title to their truck and land.
on NPR, today in history is: the Lincoln /Douglas debates, Lincoln said “a house divided will not stand”, our house is divided, and yes we should stand united if it meant truly having an America without someone's greedy agendas and a democracy of diffences heard.
I need to read Charlie Russell’s work for a laugh, passing Little Bitterroot Lake, then the Flathead Nation Forest, pass Marion, home of Skydiver Blonde, the Lang Creek Brewery, the smell of mountain pine trees as the day warms, lots of lakes, fishing in the northern states everywhere, our way of life, pass the Kickin’ Horse Saloon, Extreme Fire Danger now in the Renewable forest, cut or burn then replant, thoughts ‘I want a large one-room log cabin’, on this stretch of road. 26 crosses, 5 since the park , then 3 more before Libby, that’s 34 total souls to die on this road, the Kootenai Forest and Falls,
too, and a swinging bridge, has I go for a look, a bunch of motorcycles, there is a man there resting by himself, I comment on the colors of the bikes, one bright orange, one bright yellow, and a three-wheeler, and the man, both arms gone, not sure about the rest of him, or how, Hooks is has name, he is out of Lake Havasu, we talk about great drives, the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Natchez Trace, he has been on most of the roads we talk about and some that I need to go on, I find courage and admiration in this man, I shyly ask to take a picture, thirty-one years ago about this time of year, my brother John lost his life on a motorcycle, a late ride at night, my family told me recently my Mom had a bad feeling that day, John was to sell the bike the next day, the last ride killed him, John was the baby of the family, ten years younger, now I carry his Bible with me, Mom died two years later, the lose of a child must be pain I hope not to experience, yet in my country we love the Children, and then we drop bombs on families in other places in the name of peace and democracy and them.
Into Idaho, a state bordering my own, Ponderosa Pines stand tall, pass Moyer Springs, into Bonner’s Ferry, Chevron, my gas company, have not seen one since Virginia, only in the parks, they have a pet project, conservation, good debate there, they seem to be in the west mostly, or around National Parks.
I make a left at Rt.95S, listening to Bill Hearn’s singing about Charlie Russell, pass the Wild Horse Trail, no skinheads, unless I look in the mirror, but I am not angry about pre-destiny of the white folks, the world is of many colors, I was told by a redneck once that I must think in Rainbow colors, I am not that PC anymore, I need to express myself with the restraint. The right and the left have too much Dogma for me.
Pass Samuels, the Western Pleasure Ranch, now were talking, into Sandpoint, just franchise stores cluttering the town, curious about where those white guys are, and why they are so quiet, some feel that they want to take the country over, that the Freeman have a right to, and they have guns, still wondering where they are, another time to study the local wildlife.
Back on Rt. 2W, this is Panhandle Country, folks swimming on a warm day, away from the Rockies, along the Priest River, folks with some extra cash for a summer home, where’s Bruce Willis to fight off the bad guys, I may need your help.
Into Washington on Rt.20W, I am going to ride this road across Washington State, pass a huge paper mill, the smell is one of damp musk, once you know it, it stays, at the Jct. of Rt.2 and Rt. 20W, I go north along the Pend Oreille River, towards Canada to Tiger
Then up the a steep grade into the Colville National forest, I am passing a large truck with a dozer going about 15mph, I wave an honest thank you, then drive on, up the steep grade then down, right behind me the truck with a trailer and dozer, 15 feet to my back bumper going about 50 mph, he’s pressing me, he is right there, back up the grade and he is still too close, what’s his problem, how did I piss kim off, this continues for 20 miles, no room to pull over on this small two-lane blacktop, finally I see an opening barely getting off the road, I DO flip him off, it's not like me, yet endangering my life, then he stops quickly, as I sit there, he jumps out of his truck as I slowly move around him, then he goes for a pipe or something, to do what with, I get by, and go on, not creating any more tension, is the thought of a Honda Insight passing you, piss you off, ain’t saving gas patriot, I go on to the next town, get a room after a long day in Colville, will Skate be ok outside.
I meet a women getting off a Triumph motorcycle, she is tall,and has dark brown hair, gap teeth kinda’ like mine, and pretty too, she is driving in from Bellingham, and works doing something out here, I am too tired to ask more or to engage, we talked about time of drive, just a little small talk, it’s harder for a man traveling solo to get the story of a woman on the road, yet I wanted to know more, a few times on this trip, there have been women I have wanted to know better, I like people and their stories, and this trip is not about that, yet, when I am in a coupled thing, I find talking to a single woman to be easier, on to the next morning I got up early, looked out the window for the day’s weather, she was packing and getting ready to leave, it would be strange to try get her story now, I wish to live everyday like there is a story, the unknown of our life’s experience to learn, to listen, to share.
End of an interesting day no less, the trucker and a call from my son, with a question and some worry on my mind.
Maybe a dream, was the trucker pushing me, the best gas mileage of the trip, not sure why?
Glacier to Colville, Washington
71.6 mpg/ 358.9 miles

Waking to a hazy morning, with wildfires in the area and all though the west, on though Kettle Falls, over the Columbia River, looking forward to crossing it back to Oregon, pass the Little Gallera Café and Sandy’ Drive-in café, into the mountains and the trees, the Colville National Forest, western law, if there are more than 5 vehicles behind you, it’s a law to pull over, there are lots, sometimes of slow lanes to do this, though an forest recovering from a burn some twenty years ago, up the grade to Sherman Pass 5575’, pass Republic, the Thrifty Food store is closed and 4 sale, stopping at a saloon for a burger and iced tea, talked to an older man at the bar, talk of panning for gold, Canada and the independent rural Western points of view, the feeling that money does buys it way out of trouble, then another fellow comes in saying things are wrong, in Iraq they were hiding things, that's why we are there, I said “put the shoe on the other foot” and how would we feel, Come on with me, and ride on the mysterious roads, though the restless wind, Glory Hallelujah, out of the mountains to high plateau, dry juniper and sage to Tonasket, turn left on Rt.97S/ 20W to Omak, the hills on fire to my right in Okanogan, apples and orchards, it’s harvest time, in years past in the early 70’s, while I was a young man wandering and hitching the country, this was once a place a young hippie and his new young lover wanted to go, to work the apple harvest, see the country, and wander some.
Viable Speed next 19 miles the sign says, climbing up and west another small pass, a day of small climbs, locals have concerns, fire danger is everywhere over Loup Loup Pass 4020’., dry ground over these big Ponderosa pines, the Cascades are in sight, over Beaver Creek, Twisp, then the Twist River brewery, a sign say Cannon Beach North, my beach is in Oregon, then into Winthrop, where tourist and families that in all the western sights, this town is the old west with new west kinda’ folks, shops, boutiques, lots of feel good West Coast vibes, this folks like to stroll and gaze, even the elderly lady at the Historical center knows, this is not the West of her past, some culture shock for me, yet it reminders of the NW, my home.
Notes from my journal that night as I camp in the Cascades: sitting here, in the woods, campfire, reading, drinking a beer, I was getting uptight late in the day, yesterday the impact of the trucker and how the feeling in me after driving 350 miles, then mindlessly watching baseball, then to bed, early for me, then I wake early, laying there, was life waiting, now, a little waiting, then get the f..k out of bed, 7:30am, coffee and a warm bagel, then blog about Glacier. Then here in Western Washington, dangerously dry, you don’t hear much about this area, unless the Mayor of Spokane has your phone number. Driving West, my purpose, wild fires all around, visible as I drive though, when I left it was wet and rainy, now dry as a bone. Extreme Fire Danger.
Then into Winthrop, first sign of the affluence of the coastal West after 3000 miles up north of people just getting by, Wintrop a western town with all the fixin’s, like Seattle, a yuppie Disneyland,

for those wanting to get out of their trappings, is this the New West, it starts after leaving Glacier, the familiar clues, coffee shacks on the roadside , Les Schwab tires, I love a good 4-shot latte in a 12oz cup, here I too can get what I need, but Winthrop, I had the biggest laugh of my drive, is this the West, the progressive left, the left coast, have I changed, I am shocked and my blood is rising, yet I am in the Northern Cascades camping, I have always wanted to be here, an drive excellent with many views, small hikes, the need to camp, my battery clock is sometimes slow, tonight I realize by an hour, wander into the park, the office dark, a friend calls, bad signal, just choppy talk, I look for a phone, too piled on this day, a building tension, one phone it's miles away, it’s not a pay phone, very few of those any more, I meet some good folk to ease the tension and frustration of being so close and far away with the need to use technology, I limp back, have the beer, read, a fire, yet the need to connect, I am there for folks is my thoughts, always doing for others, thoughts of my son's call, I worry about him, out of the Navy , money for school, he needs to use it. He called with a question?
Then looking at the stars and watching the fire turn to coal, a warm soul glow, amber orange, hot, blistering if in too close, the flame opens the soul, the coal puts it in it’s place, I am ok, I have adopted a thirst for the road, my old normal self, an old path with new pebbles.

Adding to my day, in the last store before the mountains, in Mazama, a girl eating Kettle Chips, a new flavor, I feel free enough now to tell my story.
Am I the mad fool all by myself, did I say mad fool, did I not.
In the spirit of the road I am thankful.
You know your f..ked up when you put the flashlight in the icebox.
Now it’s cool, mountain style, breathing she exhales.
Find out what you are seeking and call it home, the song says.
Better as I mediate on a tree in the glow of the fire.
Colville to the Cascades
61.8 mpg/ 242.4 miles traveled

Next:
The Northern Cascades to Bellingham
A drive down to Bainbridge to complete a loop
The drive home to tie the knot.

the Crown of the Continent

2007-08-23T15:29:00.000-07:00

The Crown of the Continent
Waterton-Glacier National Park, International Peace Park World Heritage Site
“Far away in Northwestern Montana hidden from view by clustering mountain peaks, lies an unmapped corner, the Crown of the Continent” George Grinnell, 1901

“In a world beset by conflict and division, peace is one of the cornerstones of the future. Peace parks are a building block in this process not only in our region, but the potentiality in the entire world” Nelson Mandela

“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe” John Muir 1890

“Few places in the world are more dangerous than home. Fear not, therefore, to try the mountains passes. They kill care, save you from clearly apathy, and call for the every faculty into vigorous, enthusiastic action” John Muir

Heading west out of Shelby, out on Rt.2W into Glacier County, the landscape of oil and gas refineries, fresh cut wheat, now time to plant winter wheat after a dry summer here, into Cut Bank, the sign says millions of barrels of oil, billions barrels of gas, looking into the horizon, the mountains loom, I can see them in the distance drawing me in, pass Camp Disappointment, Lewis & Clark stayed here, says “Lewis: "…adieu to this place which I now call camp disappointment…"
History: On July 22, 1806, Lewis halted his northward exploration of the Marias River here. It was not the natural boundary for the Louisiana Purchase he had hoped for. He had also hoped to find an easy portage route between the Marias and Saskatchewan rivers. Such a route would have allowed America to divert Canadian fur trade into American territory at the Missouri River. It was not to be. Dreary weather and gloomy prospects gave this camp its name.
Lewis and three companions, George Drouillard and the Field brothers, Joseph and Reubin camped here for three days before beginning their return to the Missouri. It was a risky stay as they were deep in the land of the Blackfeet. In fact, the next day, they encountered eight Blackfeet warriors and shared a camp with them. Unfortunately, Lewis also shared the fact that Americans would trade with all the tribes in coming years, including enemies of the Blackfeet. The Blackfoot Confederacy was the most powerful coalition in Montana at the time. The prospect of American rifles in the hands of their enemies threatened their dominance of the area and their existence.
Early the next morning, Lewis woke to the sounds of struggle. The warriors and expedition members fought for possession of the Corps' rifles and horses. Two of the warriors were killed in the only fatal encounter of the expedition.
Lewis compounded the gravity of the situation:
"While the men were preparing the horses I put four shields and two bows and quivers of arrows…on the fire, with sundry other articles…I also retook the flag but left the medal about the neck of the dead man, that they might be informed who we were."
The other Blackfeet survived to return to their tribe, and it is thought that this encounter had lasting consequences. George Drouillard, present at this fight, was one of three expedition members to return west after the expedition only to die in later conflicts with the Blackfeet.
After leaving Cut Bank you are in the Blackfeet Reservation, wondering what they think about all the Lewis & Clark hoopla, into Browning to the Museum of the Plains Indian, displays of richly varied arts of the Northern Plains tribal peoples including the Blackfeet, Crow, northern Cheyenne, Sioux, Assinboine, Arapaho, Shoshone, Nez Pierce, Flathead, Chippewa and Cree, their historic clothing. horse gear, weapons, household goods highlight the exhibits, founded in 1941, it’s an excellent look at the lives of this nation of survivors, there are appoximattly 106,000 descendents on 16 reservations of Plains Indians.
I meet a Native artist, not thinking about spending money, his art work was so symbolic of the my experience in the Museum, that I purchased one of his paintings, Ernest Marceau Jr. a big man, gentle, lively and encaging, he reminded me of the Gary Farmer from Pow Wow Highway, an excellent movie of Native experience, a must see, Gary Farmer was the founder and Publisher of Aboriginal Voices Magazine, a magazine which was devoted to Native Canadian issues.
On to the park, wild fires, started in late July, speculation the Boy Scout started it, 30% of the timber resources for the Blackfeet were lost. The fire is still burning, and in other areas of the West. The haze gives a blue tint to the landscape.
Into the park taking Rt.49 on the southeastern corner working upward, witnessing the wildfire first hand, chars of tall trees, the smell of a day old campfire that has gotten wet, yet still along the roadside, white butterflies, thousands working their magic, then up the road, the views are shock and awe, magnificent land here, on to the St. Mary entrance on the East side, they have exhibits of Native artist works, all work about the Lewis and Clark experience, none too flattering, great to see, some artists to follow-up on: Corwin Clairmont, Damian Charette, Janeese Hilton and Ramon Murillo, one piece had these words, “When you had such a good guide, why is it that all I wanted is for you to get lost, get lost, get lost” by Gail Tremblay. As moving as the mountain these people once roamed, and have different names for then now.
Up to Many Glaciers, a great place to camp if you can get in, this fantastic valley with views 360, some they stay at the Hotel here, I am leaving to get a site at Rising Sun,
I stop at Two Sisters Café for a good Pulled Pork Sandwich, and great pies, Huckleberry, brave and bold.
Back to camp, where I meet Joe from Portland, a bus driver, Ralph Kramden would be proud, here, the most Oregon tags I have seen in a long time, I am in the West again, we talked about how to stay centered in this world today, he is going to Burning Man, I could make it, not this year, Oregonman Must Go Next Year, my pledge to the Cosmos. He owed me a book "This is Burning Man", I have started to read it, I have heard about this event, I shy away when things when they get popular, kinda like tattoos and piercing. Another great roadside conversation, have fun at Burning Man Joe!
Up over Logan Pass to camp at Sprague Lake, tents only, full, than back to Avalanche Creek, under a grand old cedar tree I be, I be. Skate is a mountaineer, up and down, holding his own with anyone, especially now there he is using Premium, he’s a monster.
I will not say much of the views the pictures should speak for themselves.
The Glaciers are shrinking, in 1850 there where 150, now 27, in 25 years, None will exist, also the Alpine habitat is changing. Dick you could have had your energy summit here, great views.
Another great place to eat on the Eastside is The Park Café, here since 1981, where pies are king, they have shakes too. On the Westside its Eddies, where I meet Eddie the Grizzly Bear, nice fellow, likes beer like me. At Eddies I read that Charlie Russell, the great Western painter and humorist worked and lived here.
Russell said” Two guides went out one morning to round up their horses and in crossing a strip of woodland, they meet a belligerent moose who made it necessary for them to seek cover with no delay. One of the guides slid into a convenient hole and the other climbed a tree while the moose just waited around. After a time, the man in the hole stuck out his head and asked “has he gone yet?”, and the man in the tree said “No”, after a few minutes, he raised up and asked again” hasn’t he gone yet?’. The man in the tree replied, in not too refined language, “No!! and he never go if you keep popping out of that hole”
“Well”, said the other fellow, “There is a bear in this hole”.

Campfire under the cedar trees, sky full of starts, no moon, hooting of an owl in a distant tree, the still night air, releasing the smell of the forest, sipping whiskey, finishing The Appalachians, a great book, about its people, culture, stories, songs and life, a place changed and unchanged, exploited and hidden, with knowledge of the forest path and its treasures, a story of greed and damage done, a story of hope, a story of history, its roots to our tribe, over water in a distant land, our voices the same.
At camp I meet an Australian man Ian, bought a motorbike to see the West and is riding this 650cc motorbike out of Seattle heading out into the mountains, then heading south to Utah, another great conversation around the fire, talks of our homes, politics, he says that their government wants to be a player in the big picture, yet is behind few years, tell George they are Willin’, Most folks want to smae thing, his people is like ours, they just want to have a Roasted Lamb on Sundays with family, and they Don’t drink Fosters, good, I never liked it anyway, people all around the world want the same thing, logical and responsible governments, of the people, for the people.
Drinking Sky Diver Blonde out of Marion, Montana, and Bayern St. Wilbur Weizen out of Missoula and some Knob Creek, wanted a sip for awhile, been looking at a bottle since I have been in the North Country
Next morning cool, said goodbye to Ian, broke camp. Westward!
Reading Rumi, “What color cloth you want, let the boy Jesus pull it out of the big dark dyeing vat”, Coleman Bark’s asking his son, “What is all this longing”?
His son left his Dad a note the next morning, “Maybe it’s because nobody has any brakes, We can’t stop. Whoooooooeeee”!
Shelby to Rising Sun
62.5 mpg/ 166.7 miles traveled
Rising Sun to Avalanche, and over Logan Pass
68.1 mpg/ 112.7 miles traveled
Avalanche to Logan’s Pass and back
63.9 mpg/ 81.6 miles traveled

the High Line Rt.2, Montana

2007-08-21T15:23:00.000-07:00

The High Line Rt.2, Montana
Route 2 starts in Houghton, Maine and goes to Everett, Washington, only cut in half by the Great Lakes, I have been on and off this road since July 24th

Leaving Williston, gaining an hour due to a time change, it’s an overcast Oregon gray day, cool too, only 5 miles till the cell phone will drop my call, this road is straight, it propels Skate to go faster & faster, at 58-60mph mileage Skate runs best, we go 65-68mph, slow down my little bronco, I swear the mile post entering Montana said 666, a gray sky ahead, needed rain for this country, drought across much of the Midwest and the Plains, as well as the SW and Texas, too much rain in the East & NW, go figure, into Culbertson, down Rt. 16S to look at the Missouri Breaks, spectacular views from the bridge, a Schwan’s’ truck passes, first one in months, delivery to your door, then back on Rt. 2, James Brown and coffee to start this day, more lighting ahead as the storm moves though, its eastward bound, we cross paths, Brockton, Home of the Warriors, what’s with the name, thought they were changing that, I wonder if being on Fort Peck Reservation has anything to do with that, Native peoples lived on a reservation named after the victors, like Iraq in a couple hundred years living on land called Camp Freedom.
I meet Lenny today in Poplar, he has a Blue Insight, we chat, he is from Wisconsin following the Lewis & Clark Trail, years earlier in his life, he traveled all lower 48 states on one trip, wander we must. We talked mileage, performance, he has more stuff in his car then me, we compared notes of people, their views, we are both concerned about our country and were these rightness ones are taking us.
Lenny travel well and be safe, my brother.
Pass Wolf Point, elevation 2000 feet, slowly climbing into the western mountains, cutting into a storm from the west, on the radio, Canadian Talk Radio, I forget at times where I am, most look on the map, out of Regina, sounds like another word, too surreal, a bicycle rider heading East, just pass Hinsdale I spy a bicycle with a kayak, gal fixing a flat, I wheel back, Renata Chlumska from Sweden, her website is AroundAmericaAdventures.com, she is trying to fix a flat, another old timer there too, he sees my shirt Luckenbach, he says” population 3”, yes, he leaves, she wants to move on, small talk, she has been on the road for over three years, heading back to Seattle.
Renata travel well and be safe, my sister.
Up ahead Sleeping Buffalo, two rocks that look like the name, someone has left 5 cigarettes as a gift, not sure, I want to remove them, but I need all the help I can get.
Then there’s Natural Hot Springs, $5 for a half hour soak & sweat in this rustic, kind of old place, it’s indoors, an older fellow soaking, then some tourist look and run, hope Renata stops here.
I look back down the road willing to spot a $5 gift for a fellow traveler, no sight of her. Take care.
Pass Frazer, home of the Bear Cubs, what kind of name for a football team is that? Road Construction for miles, dirt and mud, Skate loves to baja, lots of fun, feel bad for the bikers and Renata coming down this road, over the Milk River, pass Malta, lots of great history up here, lots of Western Outlaw stories, though Dobson, three folks sitting outside the Hi-way Bar, the Cowboy Bar closed and boarded up like the rest of the town, in the Fort Belknap reservation, The Belknap Reservation is home for both the Assiniboine and Gros Ventre tribes, which have different historical backgrounds. The Assiniboine were the northern most group of the seven divisions of Yanktonai Sioux that resided in the region between the Mississippi River and Lake Superior.

More gray skies and rain, a Bob Dylan festival in the car, watching rain slowly move across the windshield, farm reports of the radio, trains of four engines and a hundred plus cars, many of these, moving down the tracks, east and west, sign says contact the US Border Patrol if you see suspicious behavior, well Dick Cheney is up at Whitefish, telling folks, its no accident that 9-11 as not happened again, not sleeping or vacationing these time, there badge, Fear, using the latest propaganda of the British arrest, let’s see how bad we can make the world seem to be. I do feel that Muslins should do a better job, if you wish to go back to the Golden times, then go back and live in the desert and quit using modern device to hurt people, the same here in this country, if you wish for the World to end, sit on the porch naked, have a cold one and wait.
Though Havre,first stoplight in 321 miles , casinos, bars and Christian radio, over the Big Sandy River, pass Blackie’s Tavern, all fishing holes need a bar close by, more liquids, please, over Sage Creek, Rudyard, into Liberty County, Sweet Grass Hills, Spud’s Café, Bootlegger road,
Joplin with a great welcome sign, a local woman stops while I take a picture, we agree, great sign, I ask the population, she says”300 or so”.
On into Shelby, crossroads town Interstate 15 runs North and South, going to Alaska, turn right!
On the roadside are small crosses, I keep a running tab, on the whole trip, some states allow them, I am going to add-up when I get home, but today, 78, some groups of 7 twice, groups of 3 also, I ask if this is for roadside deaths, I am told yes, I try to acknowledge all passing of life to the spirit world, I am concerned, what does this mean for this state and the road, it has very little shoulder to it, I can see why, going off the road would be dangerous, not driving at night out here, my other concern is if one does not believe, or is Jewish, Buddhists or Muslin, no signs for those folks?
The local paper has an article along side the article of Cheney’s visit, Mr. Anti-Christ, saying that a Federal Judge rules against the government’s warrantless wire taps, Unconstitutional, the President is not above the law, and the court has done its duty!
Time for George to go sit on the porch naked.
While in Shelby, check out he O'Haire Monor, great rates, hot tub,too!
Williston, North Dakota to Shelby, Montana
60.1 mpg/ 428.0 miles traveled

News from the Bill of Rights Defense Committee
You’ve probably seen the headlines – Warrantless Wiretapping Unconstitutional. It actually gets better than that. US District Court Judge Anna Diggs Taylor also ruled that the NSA program must stop immediately. Though, later in the day, government lawyers were able to negotiate a stay of the injunction until the appeal, set for September 7.
Judge Anna Diggs Taylor has given us a clear interpretation of the Constitution and the limits of executive power:
“We must first note that the Office of the Chief Executive has itself been created, with its powers, by the Constitution. There are no hereditary Kings in America and no powers not created by the Constitution. So all ‘inherent powers’ must derive from that Constitution.”
Upholding the importance of the Bill of Rights:
“It was never the intent of the Framers to give the president such unfettered control, particularly where his actions blatantly disregard the parameters clearly enumerated in the Bill of Rights.”
Making clear the importance of a Separation of Powers:
"Our constitution was drafted by founders and ratified by a people who still held in vivid memory the image of King George III and his General Warrants. The concept that each form of governmental power should be separated was a well-developed one. James Madison wrote that: 'The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, self-appointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.'"
Rejecting the interpretation that the Authorization to Use Military Force (AUMF) grants the President power to wiretap at will:
"The AUMF resolution, if indeed it is construed as replacing FISA, gives no support to Defendants here. Even if that Resolution superseded all other statutory law, Defendants have violated the Constitutional rights of their citizens including the First Amendment, Fourth Amendment and the Separation of Powers doctrine."
Judge Diggs Taylor makes it clear that the President has violated FISA:
"In this case, the President has acted, undisputedly, as FISA forbids. FISA is the expressed statutory policy of our Congress. The presidential power, therefore, was exercised at its lowest ebb and cannot be sustained."
She states that the President violated the First and Fourth Amendments:
"The President of the United States, a creature of the same Constitution which gave us these Amendments, has undisputedly violated the Fourth in failing to procure judicial orders as required by FISA, and accordingly has violated the First Amendment Rights of these Plaintiffs as well."
Here are some of the most complete articles I’ve seen on the Internet so far:
Judge orders stop to warrantless phone wiretapping
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/08/17/MNGCLKKD2A4.DTL
Federal Judge Rules Domestic Spying Program Unconstitutional
http://jurist.law.pitt.edu/paperchase/2006/08/breaking-news-federal-judge-rules.php
White House Vows Fight for Wiretaps
http://newsblogs.chicagotribune.com/news_theswamp/2006/08/white_house_vow.html
Here is the White House Statement:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2006/08/20060817-2.html
Attorney General Gonzales News Conference Transcript:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/usnw/20060817/pl_usnw/remarks_of_attorney_general_gonzales_at_press_briefing_on_the_terrorist_surveillance_program_ruling311_xml
Judge Anna Diggs Taylor’s Ruling:
http://fl1.findlaw.com/news.findlaw.com/nytimes/docs/nsa/aclunsa81706opn.pdf
The Injunction:
http://www.mied.uscourts.gov/eGov/taylorpdf/06-10204Injunction.pdf
Government lawyers argued that Judge Diggs Taylor should not have heard the case at all, because national security would be at risk should they present a defense. But the judge denied that argument. It appears the reason she found that state secrets could not be invoked by the government is that the government already admitted to warrantless surveillance, so there was no state secret to protect. Similarly, she ruled that because Bush has not yet revealed the extent of the data-mining aspect of the program, that the government was able to use state secrets to stop that part of the case.

The Perfect Blue Highway Rt.200

2007-08-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

Rt.200, a Perfect Blue Highway
An evening in Fargo, no place like a motel to get in all the local fittings…......no, on to the next day, going out a ways on Rt. 10W to Casselton, north on Rt.18, farms, small towns, they all have banks, even the smallest of towns, farmers get paychecks from the government not to plant things here, John Deere is king in these parts, I spy in the distance, a 2063 foot straight line in the sky, the worlds’ tallest structure, the KVLY-TV Tower, beaming across the Plains, no cable needed here, just those old fashion rabbit ears, Mom you got any aluminum, and guide wires, not sure how those crop dusters get to spray around them, I would stay away.
Left on Rt. 200W, traveled it starting at the headwaters of the Mississippi, it starts off of Rt.2 around Floodwood, Minnesota, and goes to Missoula, Montana, I stop in Mayville for lunch, the best $5.99 special ever, Roast Beef, Mash Potatoes, Stuffing and Gravy, Watery Carrots with Soup, and for dessert Warm Bread Pudding with Pecan-Caramel Sauce, Yummy, full for the day, a great local haven, Paula’s Steakhouse, counter top with swivel stools, as a kid, I would spin and spin, and go around and around of these, and booths, too, there’s a regular dining room for others, my Waitress, a local gal Hilma Hovde, we talk local stuff, the other locals pay me no mind, and she says about Medora, ND there a restaurant the Pitchfork, they do fondue there, to these folks fondue is dipping large steaks in oil as well as other foods, and we talk about the Patriot Musical at the National Park, I am polite, not sure about the Musical, a mile away is Portland, population 100, no boats, yet the Goose River runs though here, while there check out the Rainbow Gardens, and the Delchar Movie House, there’s lots of community here.
Out of Portland, small farms, small lakes, migrating birds, a lonely pelican, this road straight and narrow, I feel like closing my eyes to see how far a can go.
My old joke was that if North Dakota was like South Dakota I have been there, its not as barren, the wind does not seem to blow as hard. On though Carrington, locals on riding mowers, like the farm, doing something, no idle hands, lots of large equipment on the road, and in the fields, sunflowers full with black seeds leaning over from the weight, a few more trees, small hills, big hay country, Texas over my left shoulder, Goodrich, seagulls?, Mercer, famous for Turtle Races, then Turtle Lake, I see now, then right on Rt. 83 for a few miles to Rt.1806, into Pick city, fishing, lures, bait, boats, here is the Lake Sakakawea Lake, an artificial lake on the Missouri River, on the Lewis & Clark Trail, I am sure they would not recognize the river now. Lewis and Clark met Sakakawea who led them to the West and on to the Pacific, along the Knife River were the Mandan and Hidatsa Indians lived, she was Shoshone, she was believed to have been captured at Three folks in Montana, she idenfied landmarks that led Lewis and Clark to the headwaters of the Missouri river, without her they may not have reached their goal, she also carried her baby son Jean Baptishe Charbonneau on the journey, there is little record of her life after 1806.
After setting up camp in the primitive campsite along the lake, by the dam, I am the only one here, no RV’s, just me, then out for an evening walk and drive to The Audubon Wildlife Refuge at Coleharbor, lots of birds, Hawks, Canadian Geese, small song birds, I spot a mommy deer and fawn, too. On the way back, the fields are being worked, a storm is coming, better get as much wheat in as possible.
Stopping to pee at the Honey Hole gas station/store, I asked the store owner where, he says “Westside”, I have a George Bush moment and pause, he says “W-E-S-T”, I have meet this man before, my Dad, instead of saying anything, I hold my need to pee, walk out, he is going my way outside, I am sure he knows what I was thinking, silently “A-S-S-H-O-L-E”.
62.9mpg/ 325.9 miles traveled

That night lighting and thunder, three hours in the car, too small to sleep in, back in the tent then more lighting, waking tired and exhausted, breaking camp. Did I mention the Black Helicoper Overhead,Hello!
Back onto Rt. 200W to Hazen for breakfast, not bad, chicken fried steak, eggs and hash browns, no chicken-fried steak like Texas, Sue’s Café, a nice waitress, a German-Russian Community here, in September it’s the Hazen Harvest Fest, soup & sandwich at the Lutheran Church, Brats, Quilt show, Chili & Bingo, an Ugly Pick-up Contest and Hazen’s Famous Turkey BBQ, and don’t forget Community Worship Service on Sunday, back on the road pass Beulah, then Zap, while taken pictures of a John Deere Hay Tractor, an old fellow, unshaven, local boy in an old dusty Chrysler turns left on this lonely road followed closely by a van, he stops, he's pissed, stops and tells me, "those bastards!!!", “I had my blinker on for a couple hundred feet”, “normally I have my 357, today I don’t, I would have blown out his back tires”, I listen, and tell him” hang in there, don’t let an asshole ruin your day”. Don't know who was luckier that day?
Called my brother George in Texas, not my biological brother, my real brother, he had been in Amsterdam, he had has coffee cup filled there, long delays to get home, they tock his toothpaste, eight hours of delays, Lets all fly naked. And the drum beats on!
Old Dutch Kettle Chips , been making them for 70 years here, and I made the first Kettle Chip in 1982, it’s all been done before, it’s the way you package and story today. Marketing, even if your story is not accurate, as long has they believe, it must be the true. Politics, Food, Life.
Into Mountain time, the Killdeer Battlefield, turn left on Rt.85, pass oil rigs, and Halliburton, I honk in protest, turn right on Interstate 94 to Medora, the Theodore Roosevelt National Park South Unit, great views, barren landscape, and prairie dogs, Teddy was an unknown public figure when he first came it the Little Missouri region in 1883, he became a rancher here, his conservation efforts are seen all around this nation today.
While viewing the museum, I spy a man dressed like revolutionary figure, I say” you look like you came out of a time machine”, he says “you do too”, after the film we talk, John Douglas Hall, is living James Madison’s life, the man that wrote the Bill of Rights, one of a kind, both of this men, in August of 1978, John began entertaining “as an 18th century Gentleman” at Gadsby’s Tavern in Alexandria, Virginia, he started to weave his life around a gentleman living back then, today he lives as James Madison in dress and voice, this is great man in American history, I was elated with his vision and passion to continue and educate folks of our early times and thoughts. For further inquiries contact him at jamesmadison@erols.com
This was a highlight for me on this day and of my journey, to meet this man with his conviction, his words and deeds.
Leaving with new found energy, back on Interstate 94 E to Rt.85 north, hoping to get to a place to stay, again bad weather approaching, up pass Grassy Butte, wanting to go to the North Unit of the Park, need rest, none found in Watford City, why, the oil business is booming, no luck securing a room here, tired and exhausted on Rt. 23W to Alexander, where the Ten Commandment greet you at the town’s entrance, no rooms here either, up to rt. 2E to Williston, the same story, I find a room, one of only two left in town, most motels are full, damn oil business. Back in Central Time Zone.
The good news, Jack & Jewels Bar-B-Que for some Beef Brisket, great Pinto Beans and moist Cornbread, back to the room to do nothing, 2 beers and bed.
59.9mpg/ 326.7 mile traveled today

North Country Cont....

2007-08-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

North Country Cont…..
Hurley, Wisconsin to Fargo, North Dakota
Still on the road, leaving Houghton, a few side trips, still Fish Frys and Pasties country, though Bad River Reservation on Rt. 2, Ashland, then North on Rt.13 to see the Apostle Islands, Bayfield, another playground for summer folks, pass Big Top, missed David Bromberg by a day, Lake Superior Big Top Chautauqua (sha-ta-qwa) is a year round non-profit performing arts organization with a rich history. We operate an intimate 900-seat, all-canvas, state-of-the-art tent theater, producing and presenting a seventy-plus night summer season of concerts, plays, lectures, and a highly acclaimed professional local troupe which performs original multi-media musicals in the tent and on tour. Tent Show Radio, a weekly one hour program which showcases live performances from the Big Top Stage, is aired on public radio stations throughout the country. Upwards though Bayfield, population 600+, seems bigger than Gaston, maybe there is hope for the little town yet. Into wetland forest of hardwoods and pines, around the top, looking for views, missed something or a turn off, still lots of folks kayaking and camping everywhere, can’t see much of these islands without paddling out,still nice name for these islands. Wild landscapes in the greatest of the northern lakes. Land of pine and hemlock, eagle and bear. Ancestral home of the Ojibwe people. The nation's finest collection of historic lighthouses as well. Paradise for campers, boaters, and kayakers. ... The Apostle Islands.
On a roll to Duluth for the night, pass Red Wing, back into farm lands, Lutheran Churches, the Poplar River, even an old Dutch style windmill, cool sight, then though Wentworth, then Rt.53 to Duluth, Minnesota, they are having a Blues Festival, their 18th year, maybe the next day some music, first the wash, self maintenance being a lone cowboy, only one in the laundrymat today, nice chat with gal working, she says I have give her a need to clean. Time to call for a room, NONE available in the WHOLE town, none for miles and miles, oh well. My apologies to Wisconsin, need more time for this place, I have heard so much, it’s a view out a window of a car for me, it's not right or fair to there beatiful state. Oregonman will need to return.
Dark now, back on the road, Rt.53 North, I was thinking of going to Angle Inlet, Northern most point in Continual US, but would need to go though Canada, why do we have this land, not sure, too much Global security concerns this week, another drumming of fear and the War on Terror, who’s terrorizing who? I pass the Hellwig Creek, where someone crossed out one of the L’s. Pass the Whiteface River, then the Paleface River. True!
Up to Virginia, pass the Paul Wellstone Memorial, the Hockey Hall of Fame, no rooms here either, the next town Hibbing, one room left. Back down Rt.53, then Rt. 37 to Hibbing.
OK, I am done driving and really tired.
Houghton, Michigan to Hibbing, Minnesota
63.9mpg/ 449.1 miles traveled

Hibbing, Minnesota, home of Robert Zimmerman, a quiet rainy Sunday morning, off to breakfast at a local place, ashtray are there if needed, sitting at the counter, where’s Bob, no Bob. Facts about Hibbing: The Greyhound Lines bus company was started in Hibbing, but the corporate headquarters has long since left the region. Even the company's buses no longer stop in the city, although the Greyhound Bus Museum remains. The Hibbing Public Library houses a collection of Bob Dylan Memorabilia. Hibbing is the home of the Hull Rust Mahoning Mine, the world's largest open pit iron mine. Hibbing moved about a mile away from original location, so that the mines could reach the ore underneath. A triple watershed divide exists within the city limits of Hibbing on the property of the Hibbing Taconite iron mining location.
At this point, drainages for the Gulf of Mexico (via the Prairie River and the Mississippi River), the Atlantic Ocean (via the St. Louis River, the Great Lakes, and the St. Lawrence River), and the Arctic Ocean (via the Red River of the North and Hudson Bay) meet http://www.alternet.org/story/14399/ story about Wellstone crash and others. Not much happening today in town, the same old fellow keeps going up and down the street, crossing slowing at each crossing.
The Paul Wellstone Memorial is back off Rt. 53, very moving and well done, in the same area of the plane crash that killed him, his wife, daughter, staff and polits, they said pilot error, why do all the lefties die tragically? Check out his life at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Wellstone.
He was the kind of inspiration and leadership this country needs.
"As the rescue crews were approaching the crash site,
eagles were sighted soaring above…the eagles circle in a ceremony…
To guide their kind friends’ home.
Though our time here is brief, an ancient truth circles with the eagles.
That spirits never die.
They stay alive, in love, in hope, in Eagles’ wings touching the sky,
In people extending hands to one another,
to circle like an eagle and bring everyone home."
Writing by LeAnn Littlewolf
Sheila Wellstone said, “It’s time that we tell the secret, time that we all come together to work towards ending domestic violence. It’s no longer an issue just for women, it’s an issue for men, and it’s an issue for children, an entire community’s issue." Each year 1.5 million woman are victims of Domestic Violence.
Paul and Sheila’s life live on, their son’s Mark and David having founded the Wellstone Legacy.
Paul wrote: “We need a new kind of citizenship, so that people earn the rank of patriot because involvement in their community affairs. We as a society need to encourage people to focus not just on individual wants but on serving the larger community.”Long Live Paul and Shelia Wellsone!!!
A very moving memorial, two circles of paths with large stones of the area, the Iron Range, the inner circle stones for the dead, the outer circle, words and deeds of remembrance, in respect the place they died, one can be at that spot, where the Eagles took their friends home.
I leave with sadness, hope, anger, then inspiration and tears.
On to Iron World, up Rt. 53, pass the Hockey Hall again to Rt. 169S to Chisholm, wide streets, National Curling Champs from here, bars are full at 1pm Sunday, it’s pouring rain, after the Wellstone Memorial, stories about Iron Mining are hard to grasp, yet like life, it keeps going on, the Polka Hall of Fame is here, there is a God plenty of accordions and music, even a group from Pennsasylia with song, music and dance of the old country playing here today live.
It’s too wet, so back though Hibbing, Rt. 169W to Grand Rapids, Rt. 2, crossing the Mississippi River, and many lakes, the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, there is a drought here and the rest of the Midwest, as well as the Southwest, its hard to fathom with all this water, Skate & I wheel into Bemidji for the night, Paul Bunjan and the Blue Ox live here, will have to see hello.
59.6 mpg/ 188.1 miles traveled

It’s a nice town on Lake Bemidji, up Rt. 21 there is a nice park close by with a bog walk, though Jack Pine, they date back 50.000 years, not much use commercially, and ther is also trembling aspen, thought they grow only in higher elevations, lots of wildlife: horsetail, blue-flag iris, fragent bed straw and pitcher plants, white-throated sparrows, Paula Warblers, Osprey, Goshawks and Copper Hawks can be seen here, too, very pleasant, very peaceful start this day.
Don’t forget to go to Moose-a-Brew for coffee and Wi-Fi, there is an active culture of old and new here, told a lady I could not understand her words because of her accent, she said “you are the one with the accent”, my foot in my mouth, again.
There is also the Concordia Language Village, an internationally recognized and respected language school and cultural immersion program preparing young people for global citizenship since 1961.
This area is also known for its wild rice and fishing, too. Lots of both here.
Off in source of the headwaters of the Mighty Mississippi River, take Rt.2W to Clearwater County Rt.2S, climbing up slowly, farms, tree farms and small ranches to Itasca State Park, will I be the first one to discover this place, maybe. Not.
After the Revolutionary war, lands under British rule were acquired by the US, though the Paris Peace Treaty of 1783. at the time the Mississippi was the Western Boundary of the US, because of its importance we needed to know its true location. It took until 1888, Jacob V. Brown finally confirms that Lake Itasca is the true source. It’s the forth longest at 2348 miles, the Nile is 4147 miles long. Beautiful lakes were bald eagles live and nest, large pine trees surround the lake.
A nice tribute to the headwaters, a sculpture by Jeff Savage, it’s called Heartwaters Caretake Women,
in Anishinabe (Ojbwe), their belief is the women who are the care takers. In this sculpture, a women leaning over, releasing a clutch of small turtles from a basket, renewing the seasons and continuing the waters of life. Her flowing hair is like that of flowing water. The turtles, strong water symbols, also symbolize the universal cycles of life. The turtle’s roundshell represents the earth, moon, sun and seasonal cycles. The legs of the turtle point in four directions, his head points up to honor Grandfather Sun and his tail point down to mother earth. Turtles show us all directions of life, they live in the water, walk on the land and breathe air.
The Mighty Mississippi starts 1475 feet above the ocean, begins here, traveling on its windy way to the Gulf of Mexico.
It’s late again, taking a very small straight forever road Rt. 200W, over the Wild Rice River, I almost go though a stop sign in a blank road wary mindset. I go into the Mahnomen reservation there are farms, wild rice growing along the lakes, for miles it seems, then left on Rt.75S, farmland, grain elevation, crop-duster spraying, ticking the tops of the corn he is so low, then raising a the last moment before the tree line, taking Rt. 10w at Moorhead on the Fargo, North Dakota.By the way Fargo, the movie was filmed elsewhere.
In my life I have been now to all the states in this great country, before starting the trip, Vermont, Michigan and North Dakota.
Off to camp in the Teddy Roosevelt Nation Park today.
Bemidji to Fargo
65.6mpg/ 197.3 miles traveled

The North Country

2007-08-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

The North Country
The Upper Peninsula, Michigan, Wisconsin, and into Minnesota
This woods, hills and lakes are a special place of study communities, old families with roots from old stock, here because of its similarity to their Northern Homelands in Europe, they came to work the land, some to farms, and raise families, some worked the woods and mines to scratch out a living, they drive rusting cars and trucks, some trucks even have an extra set of headlights mounted high to get though 200+ inches of snow a year, they have relied on little help from the outside, taking care of their own, ain’t this the family values some folks are talking about?
They get together, coats in hand, don’t be like me and leave your coat behind, come prepared to talk, share, dance, even sip on some of the hard stuff, then some get up for church on Sunday, some like me, feel that is church everyday, God is in all things, and we don’t own them, things!
Recently Congress was able to offer a high minimum wage for folks, a $2.10 increase over three years, making a whopping $7.25 by 2009, now that some real money, and add-ons including capitol gains on timber, rural devopment incentives and a program to clean up abandoned coal mines. Yet the Republican can’t give the American people the help they need unless it eases the burden on the rich, Senator Frisk, where’s your Hand of Hope Now?
As a visitor and a tourist, folks up here rely on my dollar, even Maine, says on its license tag, The Tourist State, on the radio, 70% of up state visitors are Trolls from down state, this year people are traveling less, even in there own state. Without real leadership in this country to know what it is really like survive in rural America, they will wither away, their kids will run away to places like Portland, Silver City, Austin, no righteous believes will save them.
Not when we continue to spend our nations money foolessly on the Crusades, pushing to end the world, one in which the people, all peoples wish to live in a community and be left to live their culture, their morality, dance and drink and still believe, can we believe again?
My mind is shifting, heading west, starting to have thoughts of friends, work, my social commitments, I am trying to not think of this things, yet, as I inch forward on the big map, I am headed home. To wander this great country has been a privedge, an honor, to be able to see, hear, smell, taste and breathe the same air as the people and land I visit. Yet these areas can not survive on tourists alone, we need long range plans, not every distance place can be a theme, as we privatize this nation, and it is, and we are, some struggle for mere existence, some for more profit and gain.
“The insurance companies, drug companies, and oil companies might not like me very much. But they already have great represtation in Washington. It’s the rest of the people that need it.” Paul WellstoneWe need more leaders willing to be honest and fair to all.
Leaving Paradise and the Falls, heading west on Rt. 123, a small black bear runs quickly across the road, herons are hunting in ponds for breakfast, so patient, motionless they stand, like a yoga pose, then down to Newberry, I stop at Timber Charlie’s for the Big Breakfast, Lumberjack Days August 25-26, then right on Rt. 28 across lowlands of small lakes and forest, the birch trees are so divine, standing out, kinda like me in Detroit, we can all get along, all the small stores here are called Party Stores, guess because they have stuff to drink and eat, on to Munising, for a look a Pictured Rocks, a little time to explore, a little bakery, Pasties, what’s this, I am told its miners food, meats, vegetables wrapped in pastry, about the size of ones hand, the Cornish Miners had experience in the mines coming over here, they introduced this meal in pouch, later other immigrants came along to work the mines and picked up on it, I am still seeing signs for these in Minnesota, everyone sells them, they are not bad, not sure about the Rutabaga ones, off for views of rocks, lots of kayaks, some folks swimming in the rocks, the Native Americans would put their prisoners in small rock caves, no way to get out, unless you climb straight up these rock faces, Magnificent views, no Indians, thank somebody.

And don’t forget the Fishhouse for Smoked Fish, the next town west is Christmas, on Rt. 41N to Houghton, where Cooper Mines use to rule.
Into Houghton for the night, 6 days of camping, time for four walls and a bed.
History:
The City of Houghton was born during the nation's first mining boom. Douglass Houghton (the city's name sake) was the state's first geologist and documented the rich copper deposits of the Keweenaw Peninsula. The City of Houghton grew out of economic prosperity and by 1865 was a thriving shipping port and business cultural center for the rich mining district. Low copper process and the cost of operating deep underground mines forced the decline and closure of the mining industry. The entire region suffered, and the population decreased 51% between 1920 and 1970.
After this economic catastrophe the City of Houghton found it has a unique urban fabric of waterfront, historic buildings and steep hillsides along with unparalleled scenic environment of the Keweenaw Peninsula. These provided the opportunities for an economic revitalization program. In the late 1960s, the City of Houghton, like other communities in the region was suffering from the loss of its economic base. With a deteriorating infrastructure in need of improvements, the city participated in the HUD 701 planning program. A comprehensive plan was prepared and adopted. While many communities also approached their problems this way, Houghton actually implemented many of the plans and recommendations; improving the water, sewer and transportation network, central business and Portage Lake waterfront. The city's aggressive roll in facilitating economic growth has given the community new impetus and a positive attitude toward the future. The population mix reflects the benefits of cohesive community values. A strong work ethic, love of the area and traditional family values provide a solid foundation for continued growth. MICHIGAN’S COPPER DEPOSITS AND MINING
The first mineral boom in the United States occurred in 1843 when people from all over the continent began to chase the copper, silver and iron of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. These mines were in commercial operation for more than a hundred years.
Michigan has produced over 14 billion pounds of copper since mining began in 1844. Silver is often extracted along with the copper deposits. The copper mined in Michigan help fuel the industrial revolution that occurred in the US, because copper products were needed by the growing nation. All mining of native metallic copper ceased in the UP in 1969. Currently, Arizona leads the nation in copper production.
Michigan’s copper deposits were remarkable for their quality and purity. Bands of native copper were contained in outcrops 2 to 8 miles wide and of varying depth. The surface deposits first attracted the notice of Native Americans who dug out the easily accessible chunks and fashioned copper tools and adornments from them. The British and French saw the indigenous pieces but did little to exploit the resource.
Michigan’s unique contribution to archeology is found in the ancient copper mines of the Lake Superior region. The presence of copper in the rocks of the Keweenaw Peninsula has been known for centuries. Copper artifacts show that long before Europeans arrived, Native Americans throughout the upper Midwest used the metal for making a variety of ornaments, tools, utensils, and weapons. Much of the copper used by the Native American was "drift copper" — removed from the rocks by the glaciers and dropped randomly in the glacial debris. The Indians were made aware of the existence of the metal by masses of float copper carried south by the glaciers and left lying on the surface. Sometime in the remote past, an unknown tribe began to mine the native copper in the Upper Peninsula. They dug pits in the ground and separated the copper from the stone by hammering, by the use of wedges, and, possibly, by the use of heat. Thousands of hammers have been found in and about the old pits. Copper from these mines was widely distributed throughout the country, and it is probable that numerous tribes made summer pilgrimages to the Upper Peninsula to get supplies of the precious metal.
Copper jewelry and amulets worn by the Indians excited the interest of the early white explorers. They learned the Indians had not mined the copper but had found it scattered on the surface west of Pictured Rocks. Explorers from the time of the Jesuits on have searched without success for the "mother lode." Although the French explorers were told of the copper deposits by the Chippewa Indians in the early 17th century, no mining was attempted until late in the 18th century, and none of the French mining ventures were successful. The first copper mine opened in 1771, and its owner, Alexander Henry, sent the Ontonagon Boulder--of pure native copper--to Detroit as evidence of the region’s richness. But speculative activity did not begin in earnest until 1841, hastened by the favorable reports of the first state geologist, Douglas Houghton. These reports, combined with publicity given the Ontonagon Boulder, sparked the first mineral rush in the nation, predating by several years the more famous California gold rush. Between 1843 and 1846, thousands of prospectors arrived from the East with the hope of "striking it rich."
These events brought a rush of copper-seeking prospectors into the Upper Peninsula in the early 1840s. Copper mining has been almost continuous in the Keweenaw Peninsula area for the 150 years since then. During that time over 12 billion pounds of native copper have been mined. The image below shows pure copper ingots, awaiting shipment. Iron and copper are the two most economically important minerals in Michigan. Michigan produced 5,385,849 tons of copper between the beginning of commercial operations in 1845 and 1969 when several companies ended operations because of labor troubles.
Back on the trail:
A night in Houghton, located on the a river, with hills all around, very active downtown, taking a stroll to eat, beer, Keweenaw Brewing Company, Pick Axe Blonde with a busty blonde girl with Heidi locks of hair on the can, then there’s Red Jacket Amber, Magnum Pale, Hilde’s Brown, Empress Hefeweizen and RAM Stout, I get the Blonde to take back to my room for later, she not bad! There are at least 45 Microbrewers, Brewpubs and Brewers in Michigan’s Beer Directory check it out at www.michiganbrewersguild.org for more info. Later that night in Chassell, Pasi & Cats are playing, a Finnish band from these parts, Pasi on the accordion with his thick accent, Polkas are big stuff here, it’s outside, under cover, on the lake, a bit cold. still folks of all ages, families and friends, they come up to me and talk, interest on both sides, the dances are all fun, skipping, holding hands, large groups, singles, four older women sweet as can be, a beautiful thing to watch these people, some sipping whiskey, some beer, pastries and Finnish coffee, wish I would have written down the names of the pastries, and they continued to dance, some learning, me watching, a bit shy this night, for those looking, there seems to be some single girls there too, one band member said they may come out west to play, they have some large Finnish Communities out in the NW and celebrations, if possible, go and have fun!
Back to my room with the Blonde.
Paradise to Houghton
65mpg/ 255.7 miles traveled
Still in Michigan
A little run up Rt. 41N to Copper Harbor, pass old cooper mines, buildings falling apart, like there cars, rusting, worn buildings along the roadside, it's easier to get out the driveway with the highway right in front of your house, then pass Mohawk, the Wooden Spoons with fresh Chow-chow and pasties, pass Gay, what kind of church service do they have here, some of the most splendid forest around on this drive that I have seen, still trying to leave this state, up to Cooper Harbor, I can see why folks don’t leave this country, back down Rt. 26, and folks here are friendly here, too, not as reserved as the East Coast, a find a gem , The Jam House run by Catholic Monastery of the Byzantine Rite, these monks in thier black robes and with long beards get up at 4am, pray, then off to bake and make jams, all native fruits, Wild Thimbleberry, Raspberry-Currant, Wild Blackberry, Wild Apple Butter, to name a few and breads, fruitcakes, cookies, I ask to monk at the counter, if I can stay, he says “people just don’t show up”, after thinking about this later, did not Mary and Joseph just show up, still Heaven is Here!
Their website is www.societystjohn.com/jampot.jp, I have some jams to bring back to Oregon!!!
Back down the road leaving this beautiful place, a nice side trip, a hundred miles later I pass Houghton again, back on Rt. 41S to Rt. Rt. 26S, nice coffee shop in Twin Lakes, not much espresso found up here, then down to Bruce Crossing to Rt. 28W into flat lowlands of farms and forest, pass the turnoff to Porcupine Mountains to Ironwood, Michigan, then into Wisconsin.
An update on the rest of this ride later.

Down with the Trolls, Up with the Flatlanders

2007-08-14T14:51:00.000-07:00

Down with the Trolls, Up with the Flatlanders
Sleeping Bear and her Cubs, Ojibwa Indians tell of a mother bear with two cubs on Lake Michigan’s far shore, forced into the lake by a forest fire, they tried to swim across, but the cubs tired and drowned just short of shore. The saddened mother climbed a high bluff turned, and laid down to watch for her cubs. Manitou, the Great Spirit took pity and reclaimed the cubs, transforming them into Manitou Islands. He saved the mother as the Sleeping Bear, still watching her cubs.
This is the story of Sleeping Bear and the islands off shore, it is hard to fathom that this is a lake, being from the West Coast, I see ocean, salt water.
I head out on a day of discovery, first breakfast at the Crystal Café, locals eat here, its just pass Benzonia on Rt. 31 then back out Rt. 31N to Traverse City, take Rt. 37, then out to Old Mission Lighthouse, yet this sweet little peninsula possesses great fruits, grapes, apricots, plums, peaches, a paradise of views and food and wine, just at the 45 parallel, like home(Oregon) and France, great grapes are grown on this line, then up Rt.22 to Northport, summer homes, orchards, and more vineyards, even Heirloom cherries, Northport, and 12th annual dog parade, then Cat Head Point, then back down on Rt.22S to Sleeping Bear Dunes for walks and views, and exploring.

“Walk on my Brother, your road has not ended, lay down your weary head, you have traveled long enough”, words from Greg Klyma.
61.1 mpg/ 234.1 miles traveled
Heading to the Upper Peninsula, folks down state, get a special look in their eyes when talking about heading north.
Gas at $3.11 now, take Rt. 31N to Traverse City, make a right at the bay, pass Baby Red’s BBQ, the Blue Goat for Beers and wines, huge selection here, up Grand Traverse Bay, pass sunflower fields, signs for homemade pies, beautiful valleys, Skate’s getting great gas mileage, we switched to synthetic oil, we are getting like 70.2mpg right now, don’t miss Murdick’s Fudge, and what’s with Jerry Springer on Air America, first time that I have listened in a long while, Jerry Springer? Up to Petoskey, inland to Pellston ‘The Ice Box of the Nation’ gets extremely cold here, good I see only sunshine, me the wimpy tourist.
North on Rt31 to I-75 to cross the bridge at Mackinaw City, no firewood allowed upstate, the Emerald Ash Borer, an escaped species, and I was packing a nice bundle, too.
The Flatlanders (upstate) or Yuppers call the folks Down State: Trolls, because they live under the bridge, look at the map.
Six miles of Interstate, then Rt. 123 to Paradise, a Wild Blueberry Festival Aug. 17th-18th, make a left turn to Tahquamenon Falls to camp some, have a nice fire, drink beer and read a book.
Bell’s Two Headed Ale, American hops, floral, hoppy, well suited for a Hemingway-esque experience in the UP.
69.3 mpg/ 220.9 miles traveled
Starting the day exploring the smaller falls at the park, then off to Whitefish Point, then back though Paradise, then north on Rt.123N to The Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum on Lake Superior “Though its waters are fresh and crystal clear, Superior is a sea” French explorers labeled it “Superieur”, a fitting name for the largest body of fresh water in the world. Its clear blur waters and sheer rock coast line have inspired awe and admiration in this wildness.
Lake Superior. Deceivingly beautiful, yet the big lake's unrelenting fury has earned her the reputation of being the most treacherous of the Great Lakes. Throughout the museum gallery visitors see dramatic shipwreck legends come to life. Artifacts and exhibits tell stories of sailors and ships who braved the waters of Superior and those who were lost to her menacing waves. The bell of the famous Edmund Fitzgerald is displayed in the museum as a memorial to her lost crew. Whitefish Point marks the critical turning point for all ships entering or leaving the lake. The waters that extend west from Whitefish Point along the 80-mile stretch of rugged shoreline have earned the ominous title, "Lake Superior's Shipwreck Coast”.
The legend of the Edmund Fitzgerald remains the most mysterious and controversial of all shipwreck tales heard around the Great Lakes. Her story is surpassed in books, film and media only by that of the Titanic. Canadian folksinger Gordon Lightfoot inspired popular interest in this vessel with his 1976 ballad, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."
The Edmund Fitzgerald was lost with her entire crew of 29 men on Lake Superior November 10, 1975, 17 miles north-northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. Whitefish Point is the site of the Whitefish Point Light Station and Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. The Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society (GLSHS) has conducted three underwater expeditions to the wreck, 1989, 1994, and 1995.
At the request of family members surviving her crew, Fitzgerald's 200 lb. bronze bell was recovered by the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society on July 4, 1995. This expedition was conducted jointly with the National Geographic Society, Canadian Navy, Sony Corporation, and Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. The bell is now on display in the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum as a memorial to her lost crew. The film about the Fitzgerald was so riveting and moving, we pay respect to those men doing their work, and honor their commitment.
This magnificent lake still whispers its stories of human history…Indian Settlers and French explorers…of Miners, Traders, Lumberman, and here at Whitefish Point, tales of men and women who braved her cold deep violent raging storms.
Back to the Big Falls, Tahquamenon Falls State Park encompasses close to 40,000 acres stretching over 13 miles. Most of this is undeveloped woodland without roads, buildings or power lines. Centerpiece of the park, and the very reason for its existence, is the Tahquamenon River with its waterfalls.
The Upper Falls is one of the largest waterfalls east of the Mississippi. It has a drop of nearly 50 feet and is more than 200 feet across. A maximum flow of more than 50,000 gallons of water per second has been recorded cascading over its precipice. Very nice, the sound of the falls as you hike in, in the distance, draws one closer and closer. Magic fills the air, the mist in your face, with quiet respect, Mother Nature is all around these woods.
To finish the day, there is a Micro-brewery right on the premise, the Tahquamenon Falls Brewery with Porcupine Pale Ale, Lumberjack Lager, Black Bear Stout and Raspberry ale, all very good, full, the Stout was the only beer I thought could be improved on, open year round the summer folks, snowmobiles in the Winter and Fall folks looking at the Autumn Colors, also the Jilberts Dairy is serving fresh dipped ice cream cones, too.
64.3 mpg/56.7 miles traveled

Talk to the Hand, Michigan

2007-08-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

Talk to the Hand
Detroit, beautiful morning to update this blog before attending a 1:05pm game between Detroit vs. Cleveland. Taking the People Mover, $.50, this above ground light rail loops the city, great way to get around town and see different areas.
Relaxing sunny seat for the game, no walk off home run like last night, that’s baseball, it can lull you into a mindless state, then all the while, the machinery of the game, keeps ticking, moving towards an end, love it or not, its not like watching paint dry, like some folks say, its every action, miscue, nuisances’, all the action, like pieces of a larger puzzle. Zen.
Detroit wins 1-0.

Walking back to the car though Greektown, about a dozen restaurants, artist on the street, and a rather large casino, right in the heart of the city.
Lots of folks after the game, I make eye contact with a man coming around the corner, a second look, he grabs my arm, I politely keep moving, he says “ are you the guy that wanted to kick my ass last week”, not me buddy, let go, please, I hear him muttering, no look back, for a short distance I am listening for what could be next. Don’t linger, confront, and let your curiosity kill you. His action troubled me, I like Detroit, should an isolated event disturb my thoughts?
Would have loved to stay in the area, in two days Diana Jones will be here, got to keep moving.
In the car, out on Interstate 75N, to get somewhere, fresh pavement the sign says 4 lanes to 1 in 2 miles, after the game, plus a detour, the whole state has been a detour, just trying to go in a direction on North or West, out of this concrete slab, fun while inside, the payment is wanting to leave, lost into a small community after too many detours, mostly paler folks than in the city out here.
Finally directions, more Interstate about 35 miles to escape, looking for a blue road, not much time, leaving Detroit though the suburbs, trying to get to Sleepy Hollow State Park, in Clinton County, by a lake and keep my head, too.
I am away from the city, heading across the state, tomorrow I head North.
After a nice hike to the lake, and quiet time around the campfire, it's late at night, I need to pee, there is a noise of humans, folks having sex in a tent, it’s a sound I have not heard in a long time, the rhythm of moans, ohs and ahs, letting go, primal grunts, deep down, low down, just loud enough, I do sit outside my tent, enjoying the sounds of human interaction, I am quiet, I do respect them in the morning, my curiosity is to see what like look like the next day, complete the picture, also wondering how the family next to me will explain this to their 10yr. old. Wildlife!
Somehow out Rt. 75, then Rt.375N, traffic jam, to Rt.8W to Southfield, then though Orchard Lake, West Bloomfield, Old Orchard, to Rt. 5S to Rt.96W, Heron spotted, to small roads 43W, then 52N, though farms, fruit orchards, sunflower farms, into Laingsburg on Price Road to Sleepy hollow.
Detroit to Sleepy Hollow
60.3 mpg/ 112 miles traveled
Push day, Michigan folks explain to you were they are with their hand. I have been in the palm of the thumb, now cutting across the lifeline, now headed for the pinky.
Skate, and I go to Lansing for service, oil & lube, easy, then an air cleaner, some distance away, a Honda dealer here, the Honda folks have been great, $ 25 service stop, and the fellow helped install the air cleaner, after a short conversation about fuel, gas mileage and the car I am heading North, no westward gain until the 11th, a time consuming drive, we needed to go to the city for Skate, then getting out, and now up the hand.
Out on Price Road to Rt. 127S to Lansing, pass Michigan State University, car fixed, then back out of another city to Rt.127N to Price road heading West , more farms, corns 8 feet tall, on to Rt. 66N, though Ionia, pass peaches, home-made pies to rt. 57W, Greenville, a Danish community, left on Rt. 46W though Tyrone to Rt. 37N to Rt. 55W, reaching Lake Michigan at Bar Lake north on Rt.31n for a short time, then Rt 22n at Onekana and the Blue Slipper Cafe to Sleeping Bear Dunes.
Sweet corn, Sweet cherries. Sweet Life!

An uneventful drive, a normal Monday.
Sleeping Bear Dunes, campgrounds full, first-come, first-serve here, could be an issue for travelers like me, on the road, planning the day to the next hour. It all works out, a very quiet State Park near by, twilight at 9:30pm and cool, like home.
Sleepy Hollow to Sleeping Bear Dunes
60.1/ 339.5 miles traveled

A Couple of Days after Storms

2007-08-09T13:04:00.000-07:00

A Couple of Days after Storms
Niagara Falls to Detroit August 4th-6thA neat day, after too many storms, the airs clean, there is no humidity, a perfect day to leave New York State, heading South before West, out of town, going around the city of Buffalo, to the SE corner to my escape to a blue road, take Hwy. 62S to French Road, right on Hwy. 78S, the cities outside edge, shopping centers, car dealers, moms in small tanks, looking for the trap door, out on Rt. 16S, a blue road, pass E. Aurora and a Toy Train Museum, though Holland, to Rt. 98S, nice older homes, though Great Valley and it is, Amish Furniture, Fish Fry, a road cutting though the cleavage of two beautiful full hills, gets lonely out here sometimes, to Kill Buck, small crossroad town to Rt. 219S, headed to the Allegany Mountains, in Fall this place is a Monet painting, hard woods in Autumn, first a couple of discoveries.

The Zippo Lighter Factory, Kim back home loves her Zippo, there is even the famous repair shop, where they will try to fix any Zippo sent to them. In 1931 George Blaisdell met a gentleman who was using a lighter made in Austria, but required both hands, it intrigued him, who envisioned improving upon the design, the word is a spin-off of the word” zipper”, the zipper was patented in a town nearby, he produced his first lighter in 1933, they retailed for $1.95 each, with a guaranteed and marketing strategy, “It works or we fix it for free”, the lighter is an American icon, solders in the war discovered they even worked in the field, in mud, almost anywhere.
In the neighborhood is where the in 1859 the first oil well was drilled in Bradford, Pennsylvania, a barrel sold for $20, by 1861 the price dropped to $.10 per barrel. The amount of high grade lubricants extracted from a barrel of Pennsylvania oil is about 12 times the amount which can be extracted from other crude oils.
After a burger, curly fries and a chocolate shake, off to the mountains for views and a hike, lots of fishing going on, a gentle drive though some gorgeous country heading West on Rt. 59, smoking a Cuban Cigar, lately buzzed, then hazily passing by Warren, refineries here, along the Allegany River for a little while, fresh two-lane blacktop, going 45mph then into farm country, blueberries, corn, lots of corn, though Indian Head on Rt. 6, there is no bridge, no detour signs
, a blue highway first for me, now heading south, then east, the sun not in my face, very small county road snaking south pass the Erie Wildlife Refuge to Little Cooley, then Rt. 77S to Rt. 409 to Cambridge Springs, taking the wrong, then Rt. 6 to Saegertown, then Rt. 198W to Rt.98N to RT.6W, though a maze of county roads, corn fields, small hamlets, folks barely notice, Skate and I wandering and wondering, where the hell where we? Take Rt. 6Wto Rt. 20W into Ohio, and then to Conneaut, pass the Historical Railroad Museum to Rt. 531, traveling alongside Lake Erie to Geneva-on-the-Lake, a small town with lots of things to do, shops, restaurants, bars, fun family stuff, a lot of people, the camp site is in an open field across form the entrance, no table, just a bare grassy spot and wet, and bugs, well OK then, it’s been a long day.
Lake Erie is the twelfth largest freshwater lake in the world and most shallow of the five Great Lakes. Its shallow waters harbor a diverse and abundant fishery, primarily known by anglers for fine catches of Walleye, Yellow Perch, and Small-Mouth Bass.
61.2mpg/ 332.8 miles traveled

Bound for Detroit, another sunny, cloudless day, I stop for a breakfast, only memory is the milk ordered, it came, and was dirty with old OJ inside. I read the local paper, Tigers in first place, my baseball fix, game sold-out, shit, I call the Tiger ticket line, Score!
I get a ticket for the night game 7.05pm, and one for the Sunday 1.05pm game, I love baseball, then the engine light comes on, but will I make it?
Out on Rt.2W, more corn, more fishing, folks & boats, its Saturday, Morning Edition on the radio, pass Lost Nation Road, then on to Rt. 2, turns into Interstate 90, though Cleveland,I would like to stop, and would like to take a blue road to Detiot, yet need to get around, there is also lots of construction, Saturday here, lots to do I am sure, some other day Cleveland, oh yea, Cleveland Rocks!
On to Rt. 6W again, to Sandusky, Cedar Point, lots of folks going that way, we are going to the Marblehead Lighthouse, by Jakes Deli, 30 subs afforded, pass the Carousel Museum, Merry- Go- Rounds, ride a pony with me?
Back to Rt. 2, the bridge is up over the Bay View Bridge, on to Rt.269, Historic Danbury Fruit, sigh reads “All our bail is lively, bait will die trying”, worms and leeches available here, too, then Rt. 163, Netty’s Famous Chili Dogs, to Marblehead Lighthouse, it used to run on whale oil, using the Argand Reflector, also known as ‘Lewis Lamp”, further research needed, nice day n the edge of the lake, views back to Cedar Point, from 6 miles away, looks like the worlds’ biggest roller coaster, lots to do around this parts.

Rt.6W, more farms & boats, sweet corn, melons and berries, though the town called Oregon, it’s not even on the map, kinda like my Oregon 30 years ago, then pass the Sundance Drive-In Theater, on to Interstate 280, over the Maumee River, though Toledo, Libby Glass, many detours also, on to Interstate 75N, into Michigan,the most driving on the Interstate I will do, since starting this trip, I have been in all the states before my trip, except Vermont, Michigan & North Dakota, two out of three now, better warn those North Dakotans.
Approximately 80 miles of Interstate getting around this corner on the map, Michigan ranks up there for the worst roads award, so far Jerseys in first, not done in this state yet.
Detroit, I get a reasonable rate of a room, the coupon helped, it's downtown, with a view of the city
, across from Winsor, while walking though town, it's Saturday, there is aBBQ Festival and Blues Music, later, then up town I go towards the statium, by a statue for Joe Lewis

, the boxer, then up Woodward, spotting an older part of town, I walk over 1515 Broadway, an Art space called Probity run by Chris Jaszozak, his philosophy is very similar to mine, he was the first to show Rocky Horror here, now a performance art, plays, poetry, music and film, his space is for artist to do their thing, not his, he provides the space, a quote he showed me, it says “ The question not to know who will sponsor the Arts, but what forms are possible in which artists themselves will control their means of expression, in ways though which they will have relations with community rather than a market or a sponsor” agreat quote.
Next door is Small Plates, fun small dishes, brick-oven pizza, salads, sandwiches and great looking desserts, and next to that is The Brewery on Broadway with its own Small batch beer, very good!
Then on to the game, Cleveland Vs. Detroit, a great seat, great fans, when a team is winning, everyone is happy, Kenny Rogers, 42 yr. old pitcher starts shakily, two homeruns given up, then he settles down, still down 0-3, then 2-3 to the bottom of the ninth, two outs, rally caps on, Pugh Rodriguez hits a walk-off HR, everyone is jumping, high fiving, the highlight on ESPN is this very moment.
Walking though town back to my room, I get a 6-pack of Broadway beer, walk back to see if the BBQ still going

, its packed, smoke fills the air, taste buds exploding, hungry, the lines are so long, everyones out tonight, its 11pm, finally a half-rack of pork ribs, beans, corn and cornbread, back to my room, beer and BBQ! Happy in Detroit!!!
62.9 mpg/ 249.5 miles traveled

da Falls!

2007-08-09T12:51:00.000-07:00

Niagara Falls, New York
August 3, 2006, my birthday I am 53 years old/young today!
A great day, off to see the mighty force and energy of Niagara Falls, walking the gauntlet of American diversions they want you to spend money before you get there, on to the views and the history of the falls for my present today, dodging families, no restraints on me, Awe is all I can say. The American side is done nicely, its about the environment, history, facts and surroundings of the falls area, were as the Canadian side has two faces, great views looking back at the falls and its commercial Disney attraction features, and its very crowded, why would you to come to see one of the wonders of the world, then wish to go to Ripley’s Believe or it, believes it, it's right here with no gimmickry, Nature, but then they do sell Cuban Cigars, don't forget Customs, I was also told to bring my birth certificate when crossing into Canada next time. Try going on the boat ride into the falls, it was a Blast, good luck trying to take a picture down there, on the boat you just get wet! On solid ground just Walk it, the sounds of this great wonder fill your ears, and the birds just fly over, then swoop down over the falls, nothing special for them, just nature, then I meditate on the power and beauty of Mother Nature. She has be doing these before we got here. Hey Mom, what's with all the rain, this is summertime, and its not Oregon, so Darling, quit with the rain, please.
A spectacular display.
Straddling the Canadian-United States International Border and both in the Province of Ontario and the State of New York, Niagara Falls attracts some 12 Million tourists to her majestic awesome beauty each year.
The Niagara is a fairly young river, only 12,000 years old!, a microsecond in geological time. The Niagara Escarpment, which was created by erosion is much older. The glaciers pressed down on the land during the last ice age and laid down layers of sediment, then the slow process of erosion of ice and water ate at the surface of the escarpment.
The mighty river plunges over a cliff of dolostone and shale. Niagara Falls is the second largest falls on the globe next to Victoria Falls in southern Africa.
One fifth of all the fresh water in the world lies in the four Upper Great Lakes-Michigan, Huron, Superior and Erie. All the outflow empties into the Niagara river and eventually cascades over the falls.
At the bottom of the falls, the water travels 15 miles over many gorges until it reaches the fifth Great Lake-Ontario. The land between the lakes does not slope at an even grade, but forms a spectacular drop approximately the same height as a 20 story building and this is known as the "Niagara Escarpment" Two billion years ago it was buried under a blanket of ice.
As the years past, the process of erosion took place, (and still does) five distinct 'gorges' were formed-Lewiston Brange Gorge, Old Narrow Gorge, Upper & Lower Great Gorges and the Whirlpool Narrow Gorge.
Approximately 500 years ago the river encountered an obstacle that caused it to 'split into two channels', thus Goat Island was formed named after John Stedman whose goat herds froze to death in the winter of 1780). This was the original sediment left from a vanished Lake Tonawanda (an Indian name).
On the eastern part of the island, the American Falls took shape, the Horseshoe Falls, is on the western side, where the river angles some 90 degrees.
American Falls & Veil Falls have a crest line of 1100 feet, height 176 feet, summertime flow of 75,000 gal/sec, pass Terrapin Point, Horseshoe Falls has a crestline of 2500 feet, height of 167 feet, with a summer flow of 675,000 gal/second. The water flow on the American side of the falls is much less in strength because of Goat Island, whereas Horseshoe Falls has no obstruction to divert it.
It should be noted that a third much narrower falls exists. Over the years these falls have been called at different times; Luna Falls, Iris Falls and is currently named Bridal Veil Falls. Man has not been able to completely control the flow of the water over the falls, even modern engineers have tried. Much of the water today is fed through underground channels and pipes to nearby hydro electric power stations.

DAREDEVILS OF NIAGARA FALLS
October 24th 1901
Annie Taylor was the first person to conquer the falls in a barrel. After climbing inside her airtight wooden barrel, the air pressure was compressed to 30 p.s.i. with a bicycle pump.
Though bruised and battered Annie made it, she expected fame and fortune.
Annie died in poverty.

July 25th 1911
The infamous Bobby Leach plunged over the Falls in a steel barrel. Bobby broke both kneecaps and his jaw during his daring event. Years later while touring in New Zealand, Bobby slipped on an orange peel and died from complications due to gangrene !
July 11th 1920
Englishman Charles G. Stephens equipped his wooden barrel with an anvil for ballast. Charles tied himself to the anvil for security. After the plunge, Chucks right arm was the only item left in the barrel.
July 4th 1928
"Smiling Jean" Lussier survived the trip over the brink in a large rubber ball
July 5th 1930
A Greek waiter named George L. Statakis suffocated to death after his barrel was trapped behind the falls for more than 14 hours.
June 30th 1961
Nathan Boya drops off the brink in a ball-like contraption.
July 3rd 1984
The first Canadian to conquer the Falls was Karel Soucek. Karel survived the plunge, but later that year Karel was killed while recreating the drop from a platform inside the Houston Astrodome. (Karel's barrel hit the edge of the water tank)
August 18th 1985
A Rhode Island bartender named Steven Trotter made the trip in a barrel wrapped in inner tubes. Steven was fined a total of $5,503.00
October 5th 1985
A Canadian mechanic John "Super Dave" Munday made a successful trip in his barrel. Dave could not get enough! He made a second successful trip on September 26th 1993.
September 28th 1989
Niagara Falls Ontario residents
Peter De Bernardi and Jeffery
James Petkovich accomplished
the first duo descent of the Falls.
October 1st 1995
Robert Overcracker rides a jet ski over the brink of the Horseshoe Falls to help promote awareness for the homeless. His parachute did not open and Robert ended up promoting better parachutes. He plunged to his death and his body was never recovered.
June 18th 1995
Steve Trotter returns to the Falls again to make his second attempt. This time with a partner, Lori Martin a caterer from Georgia. They were the first male and female to make the big drop together !
October 22nd 2003
Kirk Jones from Canton Michigan becomes first stunter in the history of Niagara Falls to survive the plunge wearing only the clothes on his back. Kirk's idea had been in the works for a number of years. While here on a visit with a friend, Kirk made the decision. They purchased a used video camera to record this historical event and went to the Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side of the river. Kirk entered the water about one hundred yards upstream and began swimming out into the swift current. Eight seconds later Kirk made the 175 foot drop and swam to shore while passing up a free ride with the "maid of the mist" tour boat. Kirk was treated for minor bumps and bruises at local a hospital and released only after promising to return for court. For his stunt Kirk was fined a total of $2,300.00 dollars and banned from entering Canada for life. Kirk is now wrapping up a stint with a US circus and plans on writing a book about his ordeal. Unfortunately Kirk and his friend had been imbibing in alcohol before the stunt and Kirks friend couldn't figure out how to work the camcorder and entire stunt went unrecorded!

Up & Down with a Bang, the Empire State

2007-08-09T12:27:00.000-07:00

Up & Down with a Bang, the Empire State
July 31st-August 2nd
Leaving Vermont by way of seeing Ethan Allen’s Homestead, back though Burlington, to Hwy. 2W, back up the Grand Isle, pass South Hero, than North Hero, named in memory of the Revolutionary dead, then pass Funny Franks giant outdoor art/junk/art/some bizarre stuff, arranged by Frank, only a for few minutes, there is also Tinker’s Barn for another fun stop, then I stop at the Champlain Statue, and find Saint Anne’s Chapel, established in the mid 1600’s, and Mass is going on, silent respect for the religon, yet I am not a Catholic anymore, I buy a small book on St. Francis, my confirmation name, more on that later, then pass Alburg, nice small town, used the library, interesting folks, good people.
Then onward I drive over into New York on to Rt. 115 to 9B South pass Chazy, founded in 1804, pass the Largest McIntosh Orchard in the World, and Conroy’s Organic Beef, gas is higher $3.15
In NY, great views of the lake looking east, quickly into Plattsburgh, though medium-size town congestion unto Rt. 3S, up slowly, climbing into the Adirondacks, facts about the Adirondacks: Algonquian and Mohawk Indians used the Adirondacks for hunting and travel, but they had no settlements in the area. Samuel de Champlain sailed up the Saint Lawrence and Rivière des Iroquois near what would become Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain in 1609, and thus may have been the first European to encounter the Adirondacks. Jesuit missionaries and French trappers were among the first Europeans to visit the region, as early as 1642.
Part of the French and Indian War (1754-1763) was played out on the edge of the Adirondacks. The British built Fort William Henry on the south end of Lake George in 1755; the French countered by building Fort Carillon on the north end, which was renamed, Fort Ticonderoga after it was captured by the British. In 1757, French General Montcalm captured Fort William Henry.
At the end of the 18th century rich iron deposits were discovered in the Champlain Valley, precipitating land clearing, settlement and mining in that area, and the building of furnaces and forges. A growing demand for timber pushed loggers deeper into the wilderness. Millions of pine, spruce, and hemlock logs were cut and floated down the area's many rivers to mills built on the edges. Logging continued slowly but steadily into the interior of the mountains throughout the 19th century and farm communities developed in many of the river valleys.
The area wasn't formally named the Adirondacks until 1837; English map from 1761 labels it simply "Deer Hunting Country." Serious exploration of the interior did not occur until after 1870; the headwaters of the Hudson River at Lake Tear of the Clouds near Mount Marcy were not discovered until more than fifty years after the discovery of the headwaters of the Columbia River in the Canadian Rockies of British Columbia.
Launched by the Adirondack Explorer, a bi-monthly news magazine covering the Adirondack Park, the campaign has identified three distinct parts of the Saranac Lakes Wild Forest for action. If successful, another 2 percent of Adirondack waters will become more peaceful, and more consistent with the state’s wilderness mandate for the park,
now crossing the Saranac River, Black Brook, Franklin, Sugar Bush, and a right on Rt. 30N to Fish Pond Sate Park.
Back at camp, a pleasant evening reading my little book on Saint Francis, a good man, also reading a book of Appalachian stories, I have a nice small fire, some light drizzle, a few beers, I am good, then off to sleep in my little tent, then Bang! Lighting all around, then Thunder, three hours of it, my last wishes spoken quietly, God’s bowling three hundred, I was in this storm, it’s all around me, Crack lighting , Boom, moments later, Boom, hey its been a good life, the next morning, I am Alive, the camp is silent, we were all silent, cleaning up, in awe of last night and in quiet rejoice we made it, weary I am I am, a great area, lots of canoeing and kayaking, a paradise in the lake and river country, these North County Woods, here at Fish Pond State Park, when the decision was made to keep Little Tupper Lake motorless several years ago, motorboat and jet ski enthusiasts complained bitterly that their sport was once again being shut out in the Adirondack Park. In fact, only about 5 percent of the surface water in the park is currently off limits to speed boats. That will change slightly, however, if a new Quiet Waters Campaign succeeds.
Then on to the next day quickly pack, a wet & tired wanderer I be, into Tubber Lake for a fine breakfast and hot coffee at Owl’s Head, I meet a fellow born in 1943 Hungary, lives in Canada now, we are at the counter, it's the best seat in the house, then back on the road south on Rt. 30 to Blue Mountain Lake, not the right turn in town, still south on Rt. 30, not Rt. 28, its ok, tired, things work out, pass Indian Lake, to Rt. 8, less expensive property here, then on to Itaca by way of Rome. You figure it out, I’m poopy and exhausted from last night.
Downtown Itaca closes up early, some happenings, a quiet steakhouse for a New York Steak and Baked Potato and a couple of Seneca Micro-Brews, talkin’ to locals, good conversasion about the local economy, then somesleep, priceless.
Utica, New York, like many industrial towns and cities in the northeastern Rust Belt, Utica has experienced a major reduction in manufacturing activity in the past several decades, and is in serious financial straits; many public services have been curtailed to save money. The Erie Canal (currently part of the New York State Canal System) is a canal in New York State, United States, that runs from the Hudson River to Lake Erie, connecting the Great Lakes with the Atlantic Ocean. Although the canal was first proposed in 1699, it was not until 1798 that the Niagara Canal Company was incorporated and commenced preparations for building. The first section of canal was completed in 1819, and the entire canal was opened on October 26, 1825. It was 363 miles long, 40 feet wide and 4 feet deep. There were 83 locks along the canal, each 90 feet by 15 feet. Maximum canal-boat displacement was 75 tons. The Erie Canal was the first transportation route faster than carts pulled by draft animals between the Eastern Seaboard of the United States and the western interior, and cut transport costs into what was then wilderness by about 95%. The Canal resulted in a massive population surge in western New York, and opened regions further west to increased settlement. The Erie Canal was also called "Clintons Ditch" before it was finished being built.
Leaving the next day back to Rome, all roads lead there you know, its hot already, more storms coming, take Rt.49W, pass Floyd, then 69W, pas Fort Stanwix, Erie Village, now farmland into Camden, stop at Avicollies for Pepperoni Pizza, great, and some fresh Garlic Knots, wonderful, get some for later, “Buon Appetito”, back to farm country to the Salmon River and a hike to Salmon Falls, the Salmon River is located in Oswego County, New York at the eastern end of Lake Ontario. It is considered to be the best place in the Northeast United states for salmon angling because of its high diversity of trophy-size salmon and trout including Chinook salmon, Coho salmon , steelhead trout, Atlantic salmon, and brown trout, great for the local economy in the Fall, to the falls take CR 22, leaving take CR22 to Orwell, left on Rt. 2, to Pulaski, then Rt.2A to 13W, pass Fresh Country Corn, CR5W to Rt.3S to Port Ontario, crossing the Salmon river at the mouth, Rt.104B along Lake Ontario, then Rt.104W, fruit trees here, apples, cherries, peaches, lots of orchards, Rt.104A though Fair Haven, its 95 degrees and humid, hard rain hits on to Sodus Bay, and the lighthouse,a Sodus, On May 26, 1824, Congress appropriated $4,500.00 for construction of a lighthouse to be located on Great Sodus Bay, New York. Located in north-central Wayne County is the Town of Sodus. Bordered by Lake Ontario, the town is rich with history, patterned with blossoming fruit orchards and dotted with cobblestone architecture. Heluva Good Cheesemade here, truth is, the Heluva Good name dates back to 1925 when Perry Messinger, our founder, began making wedges of homemade washed curd cheese in the basement of the A.B. Williams Store in Sodus, N.Y. (For those who ask "Where the heck is Sodus?," it's on the south shore of Lake Ontario, just east of Rochester.) Messinger sold a little, but mostly did it as a hobby. Then, one day, a traveling salesman stopped in and sampled a wedge. Upon tasting it, he declared, "That's a hell of a good cheese." At that moment, Messinger knew he had something very special. A new company, and a new name, were born, then back on the Seaway Trial to Niagara, then Rt.104W to Rochester, city traffic, pass Kodak Park, then Rt. 18W/104 to Lake Ontario Parkway, beautiful way to stay close to the lake, need gas, not much here, take CR272 to Morton, then Rt. 18W, back into orchards and dairy farms, kinda flat here, old homesteads as I get closer to Niagara Falls and Buffalo area, back to Rt. 104W to Interstate I-190 for five miles to a cheap hotel on Niagara Falls Blvd, when traveling, stop at the Information Centers, they have discount coupons for room, mine only $29, rest needed, another wicked storm, this time I watch from under the awning on this cheap motel, Pop, there goes the TV reception.
Lake Champlain, Vermont to Fish Pond State Park, New York
58.7mpg/ 155.5 miles traveled
Fish Pond to Utica, New York
59.6 mpg/ 173.4 miles traveled
Utica to Niagara Falls, New York
60.1 mpg/ 303.9 miles traveled
Time to check tire pressure!!!
another beer: southern tier from lakewood NY
phin & matt's extraordinary ale,good while watching a lighting storm!!!

a special place this Vermont!

2007-08-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

Leaving the campground before heading to Grand Isle and Burlington, a man and his family ask me, "what in Oregon are you from/", I say Gaston, he is from Dilley, well Gaston's population is 620 folks, and Dilley, is just 5 miles away maybe 150 people live there. Small World, second person from Dilley on this trip, the other in Zion, Utal. Those Dilleytonians get around. Small World!

Grand Isle on Lake Champlain, camping for three days here, so I have the time to discover what Vermont and Burlington are about, this island is home to many white-tailed deer, a variety of migratory waterfowl, fish in abundance, as well as turtles nesting in the beaches, please do not disturb the turtles! The Upper NE is a canoe and kayaking paradise.
It’s Saturday off to downtown Burlington, first the Farmers Market, lots of produce from organic farms, this area supports local, there were candle makers, maple syrup, yarn, like Oregon, grass fed beef, pork and lamb, all organic, available here and cheese, this cows, help produce some fine cheese and ice cream, too. Ben & Jerry’s is home here, starting in a small gas station building, with a vision for community and product, their new product, out soon is American Apple Pieice cream, soon please! The farmer's market was just the right size, with friendly folks and music all around, this downtown is well set-up, with a main street blocked to traffic, the shops, restaurants, coffee houses and bookstores are easy to get to, you can eat outside, everyone seems to give each other space for be themselves, the city even employs four social workers to work with folks living a different lifestyle here, on the street. And fancy food places, lots like Smokejack, I had a great meal of appetizers here, Mac & Cheese with Bacon, BBQ Pork ribs and a Beef-Cilantro Cigar with a Sweet Tomato Sauce. Yum!!!
, there’s RiRa, Irish food, Leunig’s Bistro, a fine Heirloom Tomato Salad here, the Church Street Tavern and Adrianas with a Lobster Roll to die for with Tarragon Mayo, Bibb Lettuce on Grilled Bread and Hand cut Fries, there are lots of small eateries just outside the main part of downtown, a block away, a funky coffee shop, the Radio Bean, fun bars all around town, with lots of music here too, the Red Square even has a film night, on 1st Friday’s, you can do the Art Walk, they have a fine performance venue, the Flynn with Classical Music, folk music, with the likes of Gordon Lightfoot, Rosanne Cash coming, Ballet, Dance, Plays, a happening place right in the downtown area. There is also a great waterfront, with views of the Adirondack Mountains in the distance, they are calling my name, I keep going back downtown, Saturday had lots of folks everywhere, on Sunday and Monday it's a lot less crowded, but still the same feeling, everyone belongs.
This area supports Eat Local, and buy local, they support Organic farms, even have a space called Intervale, where small farms and Community Gardens are located, a wonderful place to grow your own or to sell, with a wide range of vegetables, fruits, dairy products, meats, eggs, grains and legumes are grown and harvested by many fantastic farmers.
The Vermont Cheese Trail started in the early 1800’s, the earliest commercial cheese makers were Winfield and Nellie Crowly in 1842, a home-based operation in the little hamlet of Healdville, this state produces about 70 million pounds of cheese a year, to name a few: Crawford Farm with raw milk from cows, then cave aged “Ayr”, Cobb Hill “Ascutney Mountain” raw milk cheese similar to Gruyere from Jersey cow’s milk, Green Mountain Blue Cheese “Brother Laurent”, a wash rind French style cheese, Shelburne Farms “Clothbound”, an award winning Cheddar from Brown Swiss cows, just to name a few.
Then, The Beer, 15 small breweries: The Alchemist Pub & Brewery in Waterford, American Flatbread in Burlington, Harpoon from Windsor, great beer, one of my Favs, Magic Hat, a fun local, kinda light for me, Otter Creek in Middlebury, Trout River from Lyndonville and Vermont Pub & Brewery in Downtown Burlington, just a few, craft brewing has taken this region by storm from Maine to Vermont, there is plenty of good beer to be had and drank, quickly, before the Bears beat you to it!
Ciders and Wineries too, Although the wine I tasted was light in flavor and body, but for Cider, go to the Cold Cider Mill for great juice from McIntosh apples, Cider Jelly, Maple Cider Mustard, Jams and Vermont Maple Butter and Syrups, too!
Did I mention Chocolate from Lake Champlain Chocolates, Truffles, Caramel & Nut Clusters, my fav, Dipped Fruit and Hot Chocolate for those cold Vermont night I was told about, they say the lake freezes over, and stories of ice fishing and a occasional truck falling though the ice.
The music is everywhere, went to see a Kerrville performer Anias Mitchell, see could not make it, it would have been nice to have been told earlier, but I did meet a wonderful man Wil, he was at Kerrville as well, and lived in Austin, a new friend, we are everywhere, we chatted and checked out some NY City players, two out of three need to find some other way of entertaining folks, but
Julz A with his Squeeze rock accordion was fun. The next night at a place called Higher Ground, the Duhks from Winnipeg played, a must see and hear, Fiddle, Banjo, Guitar, Vocal and Tribal Drum sounds, folk, celtic, funk, a rich full sound and fun, lots, we all danced around & around all night.

History, me, yes:
Ethan Allen (1738-1789)
The folk hero of Vermont was an unusually flamboyant farmer turned statesman.
For all the legends, though, we know little about this man. We can only guess why he acted as he did. We don’t know what he looked like. We don’t even know where his grave is.
The founder of Vermont, was he: a drunkard, a heretic, a hero, a traitor, a rough and ready frontiers man, a furniture maker?
Ethan Allen is one of the biggest mysteries in American history, during his lifetime, he was awash in controversy. He wrote about himself, and others wrote about him, too.
Few accounts agree on what kind of man he really was.
After his death, stories were told and retold. Each generation subtly altered them to fit its own idea of patriotism, liberty and heroism.
His own version of the 1775 taking of Fort Ticonderoga. The fort’s commander demanded to know what authority Allen had to order surrender.
His response was: “In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.”
Then moments later,” Come out of there, you damned old rat.”
I like this guy!
Wielding the pen as well as the sword, he was the sagacious and intrepid defender of the New Hampshire Grants, which Vermont’s territory was under and the master spirit in the arduous struggle which resulted in the Independence of this state.
“There is an original something about him that commands admiration.”
General George Washington
Off to New York, a special place this place called Vermont.
59.4 mpg/207.9 miles traveled around Burlington and the Isles
July 28th-31st, 2006

Time to Go West!

2007-08-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

11,231 Miles, Time to Go West!A Nice drive out of Banger, after pushing out the blog, if I can write at night, until visibility and the words all meld together with beer to help me think. The next morning I clean up the mess, try to edit, get pictures ready, copy & paste, highlight, upload pictures, then post the thing, then run. Am I getting the story? There are lots of other notes, thoughts, viewpoints and pictures, when I get back home, I hope to add those to this story of travel. Please read though all my misspellings, misunderstandings or confusion I may cause, on the fly blogging, at its finest... Traveling back, going west is liberating, I will be traveling to totally unknown areas of the country, and have never explored the Northern Route. Can I find home-cooked meals, not ones from the back of a delivery truck in the northern regions.
Leaving on Route 2W, out of Banger, I will be on and off this road until I get to Washington State.
Watched the movie Grizzly Man, it’s a fascinating story of Timothy Threadway, he lived with the Grizzly Bears for 13 summers, watching, studying, filming, bonding, then trying to be a bear if he could, he pushed the envelope, love him or not, the thing became bigger than him, and he put himself in greater and greater danger, greater the risks, greater the reward, he was eaten, as well as his girlfriend by a Grizzly, he died doing what he thought was best, you be the judge, what makes us do the things we do, wander, explore, indulge in our own cleverness.
Western Maine, Oxford County, they just had a Bicentennial in 2005, America’s only Oxford County, evidence of native inhabitants date back 11,000 years, later, at the time of the settlers, the Pigwackets lived along the Saco River, and the Amarascoggins lived along the Androscoggins River, with waterways and trials being by-ways between them both.
Then early settlers carved farms out of pine, fir and spruce lowlands and hardwoods uplands, early farmers brought in oxen to do the heavy clearing. Most homes were one room log cabins with oil-soaked paper windows. Soon wide spread stonewalls skirted paths from fields being cleared, of all too common granite rock, and there are rocks everywhere, Rocks & Roots.
Early settlers relied on each other, utilizing special skills each had to trade for goods and supplies. A tough live, life in New England, with its heavy snows and cold winters to hot humid summers.
Onward, though Newport , by a Wal-mart, Always low prices, Skowhegan, following the Kennebec River, then Farmington, back into the hills, pass the Purple Haze Gift Shop, even a town called Mexico, to Newry, a quick tour up Rt. 26N to the Sunday River Covered Bridge, lots of covered bridges though out New England, then back to the Sunday River Brewery for a Black Beer BBQ Burger with bacon, cheddar cheese and Black Bear Porter BBQ Sauce and a 420 IPA brew, the best meal I have had leaving the coast. Their beers: Sunsplash Golden Ale, 4.5%, Sunday R. Lager, hops and malt from Germany, 420 IPA at 5.75%, then Black Bear Porter, malty & hoppy with coffee overtones 6.0%, they also serve Knuckle Ball Bock from Portland, Maine, and not bad either, and the food, great burgers and lots of BBQ selections, Pulled Pork, Beef Brisket, ½ Chickens, Baby Back Ribs, Beef Ribs, St. Louis Ribs with a Mustard Base Sauce, and a Bourbon Marinated Sirloin steak, serious stuff.
Then on to New Hampshire and the White Mountains, turn South on Rt. 16, this is ski country, some ones else's vacation paradise, I drive pass the Auto tour of Mount Washington, I maybe back, $20 a pop to drive to the top, stopped at a store for beer, ice and firewood, 200 beers to choice from, $8.99 for a mixed pack: Anchor Liberty Ale, Smuttynose Portsmouth Lager, Sea Dog Porter, Black Fly Stout, Sierra Nevada Porter and a new one, Tuckerman Pale Ale with English & Belgium Malt, four domestic Hops, then Dry Hopped, so the beer can finish in the bottle. Not Bad for this weary traveler.
Down to Glen, take Rt. 302 to Crawford Notch State Park, its raining, thunder and lighting, too.
Later, time for a quick evening hike to Ripley Falls, a nice 100 footer, it runs more down the rocks then falls over them, still nice, quiet time sitting on a rock by my lonesome in the woods.
At the bottom of the road, a fellow wanderer, a bearded hiker named Jeremy aka Orangeman, he left March 10, and he is hiking the Appalachian Trail solo, you can find his journey on www.trailjournals.com, search for “Orangeman”, he needed a ride to a bunk some 3 miles up the road, my camping stuff is out of the car, nice to be able to give him a ride.
Back to Camp, raining again, while reading in the car, I hear my ice crest outside making noise, no more than 5 feet away is a Black Bear, no food, just beer in the cooler, my photo journalism teacher is going to be pissed, no picture of Jeremy, no picture of the bear, instead I get out, wave my hands, remember show no fear, these words from Grizzly Man, the bear goes behind a bush, just looks at me, leave me and my beer alone, will he be back?
62.9 mpg/ 199.3 miles traveled

Nice Morning, cloudy, no rain, I drive back down Rt. 302 to 16N to Mt. Washington, $20, up the 6288 foot mountain, Skate loves mountain roads, the Native Abenaki people had two names Agiocochock “Place of the Great Storm Spirit” and Kadoak Wadjo “ the Hidden One”, some of the first settlers to go up around 1840 were Ethan Allan Crawford, he even guided Daniel Webster up, then in 1853 the Tip Top House was built, it still stands, they feed people and there were bunks, too. A Carriage house was built in 1861 and the World’s first Cog railroad came up in 1869, some grades are at 34 degrees, it was called “Railway to the Moon”. Mt. Washington can also boast to be the oldest hiking trial in America 1819, they also do weather research up here, on April 12th, 1934 the highest wind ever recorder at 231 mph, a low pressure system over the NE had actually passed though, then backed out, the system circulated counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere, and with this storm, a big wind came from the SE creating this big wind, barometric pressure was 22.82, lowest recorded on the summit.
A great ride up and down, no mountain to view, I am in the clouds, no guard rails, tight corners, and everyone lived today.
The Cog Railroad was fun to watch, come up and descend, they use coal, let the pressure build, and then off it goes. Or down or up.

They used to take mail, and even a newspaper, some time ago, on a Slideboard or “Devil’s Shingle” down, using a handbrake to slow it down, some folks went to fast and would fly off the tracks, some 3 deaths and several injuries later. No more Slideboard. Only pictures remain.
Off the mountain back up Rt.16 to Rt. 2 then Rt.16N, Berlin, lumber mills, I travel along the Androscoggin River, in days past, Boom Piers were constructed in the river, man-made islands used to secure a chain of boom logs, these islands still exist, shattered up the river for miles, then on to bouncy Rt. 110 to loop the top of the White Mountains, into timber country, then take Rt. 3 to Lancaster and Rt. 2 again into Vermont, gentle rolling hills, farms, cows, maple syrup, though St. Johnsbury, then on to Rt. 15 pass Waldren and the Cabot Creamery, Wardwick and the Buffalo Mt. CO-OP to Hyde Park, then down Rt. 100S though Stowe, a hopping arty place, to the Ben& Jerry’s Ice Factory, on to Waterford, turn right on to Rt. 2 again, a few miles, camping at Little River State Park at Mount Mansfield.
56.6/217.4 miles traveled

Little River State Park, this is a hidden gem, in the hills next to the park, there are old ruins of the early settlers, a history walk here is a journey though time, miles of stone walls, cemeteries, cellar holes and orchards give evidence of life over a 180 years ago.
Joseph Ricker broke ground on Ricker Mountain in the early 1800’s, three generations lived their lifetimes on this once-productive farm.
Most homesteads raised a couple of pigs, three or four milking cows and young cattle, a horse or ox, sheep, chickens and a vegetable garden for grains, such as rye, oats and barley, corn, peas, potatoes as well as nut and fruit trees.
Timber was the “main industry” and by-products: soaps, tannic acid, building materials, maple syrup and sugar helped them make ends meet and survive.
A heck of a hike up the hillside, early morning, I was soaked in warm humid sweat before getting to the top, bugs, lets just say, when you shoot a picture, do not inhale and keep moving and swatting.
Whole families lived here, generations tried to make a living, they did so until about 1925, it was hard work, let the idiot who ‘works hard’ do this to survive, he won’t be able to earn his keep.
Old stonewalls line trails, fruit trees and day lilies stand evidence that someone once lived here.
3 sawmills operated on Stevenson Brook,
they even had a school, the Ricker Mountain School, the school closed in the late 1800’s, due to a lack of pupils, then reopened in 1908, but finally closed, forever in 1921.
Each family had its own cemetery, there family plot, three different locations within a mile of each other, generations of folks, some lived long lives, one woman lived over 100yrs and a couple of months and tragically many small stones for children, and mothers commonly died giving birth. One cemetery is surrounded by White Cedar, uncommon to these forests, also known as “arbor itae” (tree of life) to give life to the dead.
A great hike back, drizzle the last mile, nice under the canopy, with the sound of river water, and drops of rain to start the day. Lots of mushrooms, red, yellow, pink, light brown, to many to count, lush forest, some older trees, maples lined the old pathways, now weeds fill in the gaps, brush obscures the past, hidden. Wander I must, back to Route 2, for a bite in Waterford, it’s a downpour now, has Oregonman cursed the NE, must the rain follow me.
West on Rt. 2 slowly though Burlington, around the college, to Grand Isle on Lake Champlain to camp for three days.
Next up: Foods, arts and entertainment of Burlington & Vermont
59.4 mpg/113.5 miles traveled

The Maine State of Mind

2007-08-02T16:22:00.000-07:00

The Maine State of Mind
July 18th-25th, 2006
Arriving in Old Portland, attracted by the deep, sheltered harbor, English settlers first established themselves on the Portland peninsula in 1632. One of the nation’s oldest Atlantic seaports, Portland has a long maritime history. The struggling town was first called Falmouth and was destroyed twice by the Native Americans, how dare they!
On the dock we go, the Harbor Fish Market as fresh and local, the boats come, delivery right to the back door; Lots of seafood joints to choose from, as well as some fine Italian places, their menus looked enticing, then Gritty McDuffs, Sebago Brewing, a couple of feel good pubs, I wandered around looking at menus and the boats in the harbor, on this hot summer day, so what do I do, go eat Pizza, not just any pizza, the place, it’s Flatbread with a couple of hand-made stone ovens, the fire is in the center-back on the oven, with a shelves on each side for pies, and fire-roasting vegetables, they use local food, all organic, too! Even Maine Root beer, made with cane juice & spices, yummy.
Some of Maine’s beers: Geary Seasonal Ale, Atlantic Brewing, Shipyard Export Ale, Casco Bay Riptide, Smuttynose Shoals Pale Ale, Magic Hat Seasonal, Allagash White Ale, PeaksOG Pale Ale, Shipyard Thunder, Sebago Brewing Boathouse Brown Ale, Atlantic Brewing Blueberry Ale. The Other Portland has some beer, homeys.
In the evening I go to check out the city after the rush is over, a nice fun downtown, go down Commercial Street and the side alleys, and then watching women walk on cobblestones in heels is a real hoot. The firemen are sitting out, the dog too, I’m checking out a 1804 lighthouse, the first ones were wood, they normally did not last long, then the fireman and me we talk, they notice I am from Oregon, they hear the other Portland hopping, it is, it is, they say their economy is down, the fish have been taken by larger commercial interest, and large foreign fleets, the small guy has a harder time here, the states' strategy is tourists, it even says so on the license plate, the Vacation State, so summer folks down up or down the coastline, I’m still confused. The fellows in the bar I talked to go to work in other states to make ends meet.
East Coast folks look at you, but don’t say anything, until you get them in a bar with a pint in their hand.
When ships sailed from Boston to ports in Maine (which are to the east of Boston), the wind was at their backs, so they were sailing downwind, hence the term 'Down East.' And it follows that when they returned to Boston they were sailing upwind; many Mainers still speak of going 'up to Boston,' despite the fact that the city lies approximately 50 miles to the south of Maine’s southern border. Contrary to what some non-Mainers may believe, "Down East" can be best described as any point on the coast between Ellsworth and the Canadian border. At times, it is sometimes jokingly referred to as any point east on the coast from the speaker.
Down East I go, north on Highway 1N, slowly though Freeport, it’s against the law here to not let a pedestrians cross the street, have you ever seen the movie “Deathrace 2000”, how much is a shopper worth? Lots of potters here, and folks eat, they eat Lobster Rolls, every inlet and harbor has little stands, packed with all kinds of wonderful food things, Lobster, Fish & Chips, Clams, Shrimp, it’s all good.
Through Bath, Montsweag, I stop in Ducktrap for a Lobster Roll and Fries, and Coleslaw, damn good, less coast here than I imagined, there is allot of Hwy 1 that’s inland, farms and wild blueberrys, this state’s famous for it’s blueberries, into Ellsworth, where I need to get on Hwy 3 to Acadia National Park, I spy a marque on a theater, it say David Bromberg, I park quickly, he’s been on my mind for a while, he has resurfaced after a break of ten years, I buy a ticket, it’s the next night, I am camping just 20 miles away, thank you sweet Jesus!
On to camp, I have always wanted to see this place, set up, and then off to explore the coast before sunset, beautiful coastline, good to hear the waves and the smell of the ocean, then back to read a book around a fire, the next day I am all over the island, down on the dock, mail boats are going out, there is a boat to Little Cranberry Island in a half hour, it's the best money I could spend, foe me the highlight of this area was this little island, with a Fisherman’s CO-OP and a small year-round community, 12 kids in a K-8 school, two teachers, vehicles even come over on boats, quite industrious, nowhere on the east coast is there a more tranquil or beautiful setting, with a diverse shoreline, cranberry bogs, the Native peoples used still exist, you can not leave the island without being deeply moved by it’s beauty, serenity and peaceful coexistence with nature. The chef was on the dock’s getting specials, The Islesford Dock is the name, save some time for chow. You can’t get closer to the source!

Cadillac Mountain has magnificent views all around, each coast, the fog was moving in on Bar Harbor, while some areas are completely covered and other areas clear, here you can be the first person in America to see the sun come up, enough exploring off to town, time to do the wash and catch Mr. Bromberg, his wife and her band, the Angels open, with David too, then he comes back, he is rich in music history and skilled as any player, he wailed, sang great some blues, country, his voice was strong, he can play damn near anything, he did speak about his isolation and disappointment with the country, and what we do in it’s name, a Democracy should stand up to the challenge of being Democratic.I paided for fun that night, it rained big time, and you have to pick your spots to break down camp the next morning and quickly, too.
Off to Cobscock and Lubec, the most eastern point of the U.S., 3,478 miles of coastline and 63 lighthouses.“The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lament”
O What is the bane of the lightkeepers‘s life
That causes him wry, struggle and strive,
That makes him use cusswords, and beat his wife?
It’s Brasswork.
What makes him look ghastly, consumptive and thin,
What sobs him of health, of vigor and vim,
And causes despair and drives him to sin?
It’s Brasswork.

Cobscook State Park, you camp above the bay, the muddy flood is all you see then, slowly, the narrow channel begins to fill, then in a couple of hours the tides filling the bay some 20 feet twice a day, great clamming, don’t get caught.
Rained both nights, first night a drizzle, not bad, still outside with a small fire, the second, the wind blew and rain came in buckets, read my book in the car, and then listened to Diana Jones and her sweet songs, before retiring to my tiny tent.
Take Rt. 189 four miles to The Lighthouse at Quoddy Head has been operating here since 1808, a sweet elderly woman Leona McBride, volunteers here, used to live in Cape Cod, lots of folks have moved down here, too crowded there. The lighthouse is the easternmost lighthouse in the US, early on its light and fog cannon warned mariners of Quoddy’s dangerous cliffs, ledges and rocks.
The only place for breakfast here is Murphy’s village, all locals and some of us, good breakfast, with Fried Dough, kinda like fry bread, but they put sugar and cinnamon of these.
I take a look at the harbor at Lubec, great little harbor, a few shops, B & B’s, the tide rushes out like a river now, the fog shrouds small islands and fish vessels, Canada is 100 yards away, Roosevelt Campobello is here, the summer home(s) of F.D.R., he also had land on Mt. Desert Island that his family gave for Acadia National Park.
Back on the road I pass Bold Coast Smokehouse, specializing in cold and hot smoked salmon, and wicked good smoked salmon pate and smoked trout pate, also.Saint Croix Island
Take Route 1 north, heading to Baxter State Park, looking to kiss a moose, up the Passamaquoddy Bay to Calais, in 1604, was the beginning of French America, they lasted the winter on this small island, then moves to Port Royal, there are nice statues commemorating their arrival and struggle. What would we be like today if the French controlled the early settlements?
Inland on Rt. 1 to Topsfield, take a left to Rt.6, into timber country, like rural Oregon, at Lee, take Rt. 168 to Famous Rt. 2 for 3 miles then Rt. 157 to Minninocket then, up Rt. 11 to Pattern, home of the Lumberman’s Museum into Baxter State Park, it’s a wilderness park on Rt. 159 for two days of camping here, still some rain, feeling mightily alone, as far from home as I can go, saw one moose, deer, birds, time to read, stay up late looking at stars, finished the Kite Runner, cried, then for a hike up >Mt. Katahdin, path to stream to rocks to boulders, half up, pass the tree line for quiet time, do I need more quiet time, it’s just what I needed to recharge, thinking about the solitude, quiet moments to view the wonders of the wilderness.
Mission Accomplished, as far east as one can go, and to see Maine again, here land is cheap, with a four full seasons, lots of independent folks, only to be flooded with visitors in the summer months, local rags in the café in Patten, All Maine Matters, a conservative Fishing, Farming, and Forestry paper, as well as a Christian Conservative paper the Record, the culture wars as they are called need to be fought here, to change America, we must engage issues at a local level, the rural folks are so isolated, unless we truly identify the real issues, like the economy of each area, the past and present influences, these folks will continue to believe that someone is out to change their world, same old scare tactics, these people are deeply patriotic, and influenced by a few, people in the larger cities need to get out, not just drive by and say “how beautiful”, then buy a coke and leave, like Oregon, the rural struggle hits hard, both Portlands need to realize, the rest of the state is different, value’s were built here and stayed in these communities, change will come, but we need to engage and be clear with our message.What does our America want to be?
Leaving, heading south on Rt. 11, Maine ranks behind New Jersey and ahead of Louisiana for the worst roads, don’t drink too much coffee,on the road down past Brownville and Milo, 15 miles of American Flags on each telephone pole, start here, talking you city slickers. Then Rt. 221 to Banger, for a night at the Holiday Inn, nice big bed, check e-mails, call friends, oh boy!
Heading West today on Rt. 2!!!
Portland to Aradia
57.8 mpg/ 159.3 miles traveled
Acadia to Cobscook
60.8 mpg/ 132.2 miles traveled
Cobscook to Baxter
58.2 mpg/ 123.8 miles traveled
Baxter to Banger
61.5 mpg/ 142.3 miles traveled

Pint to Pint

2007-08-02T11:50:00.000-07:00

Pint to Pint, in New England
Waking up on a hot,hot day in Greenfield, after putting most of my rant down on paper, just before my 4 days at Grey Fox. The passion of the mind, anger, love, desire, purpose, the things that drive our brains, completely our own bizzare thoughts, what rides we take in there,we write it down before it slips away, never ever quite getting the whole feeling, only pieces, sometimes distance remembrances of a thought, an idea. A seed, a weed, a flower, then harvest the mind. Greenfield, Mass, finished Sunday’s drive with a pint at People’s Pint, downtown, Celtic music in the corner, a regular jam, casual chatter, couple my age laughing, looking, talking, discovering each other, you can see it in their faces. Nice.
Ploughman’s board of Vermont Cheddar, apple, sausage, bread. Great beer, nice little haven here.
Off to see Shelburne Falls, a little hamlet back down the road I traveled on the day before, Bridge of Flowers, they have taken an abandoned trolley bridge, and filled it full of flowers, on to exploring the town, easy walking around here, smelling flowers, checking out the candle shop, Mole Hollow Candles, too hot to make the big candles today, they will droop otherwise, then Pot Holes, this town is famous for it’s potholes, there are falls here too. In the pass the Native people called them Salmon Falls.

Time to leave Greenfield, take 2W to Shelburne Falls for a look, then 2E,pass 20 miles of construction & cones, 202N, by Lake Denneson, though Winchendon, traffic says “thickly settled”, then 136E, another Greenfield, but in New Hampshire, stopped to look at the cemetery, then checked out the bakery/ café, café closed, lovely elderly lady who has owned this place since 1952, lots of stories here, pass New Boston to 13N, then 114S to 101E around Manchester, big road,to a small road 27/107N to county road 156 to Pantuckaway State Park.
61.5/ 142.2 miles traveled

Pantuckaway State Park, camping on this hot day, it never cooled, it’s 5pm, I set-up the camp, my chair, beer & a book by the lake, life’s a bitch!
Reading the Kite Runner, the need to escape into a book, non-historical please, a great read, I found myself putting on more & more bug stuff to continue to read into the night, I am pissed at the author, half-way though, his writing is excellent, description of his home and family fine, then his friend, what happened to him, will the author get a backbone.
The bugs come in waves, as the night air shifts, the temperature changes, a new group arrives, the juice is doing the trick, and I read until after midnight. Why does everyone go to bed so early when camping?Leaving the next day, headed for Portland, Maine, the other Portland, it's early, I leave spotting a man, by himself, fishing in his boat, on the lake, with the mist still lingering, the still, quiet morning, solitude.
Leaving, take 156N, it turns to 152N, then 202E,pass by Ayers Lake, logging here, trucks too, just like home, and the smell of the forest, like home too!
I drive into the heart of Rochester, stopped at the Busy Bean, an internet café, poetry monthly, neat area of town. Heading out, a little lost, my first instinct was right, on to Rochester Road County Rt.236, thinking it will take me out of town, it does. Take a wrong turn, it’s fun, now I cross into Maine on a side road, asmall bridge, that was easy, then on 9E,there are horse farms, it flat land here, take 4N though Alfred, then to Gorman, take 25E into the heart of Portland.
Finishing my day at Gritty’s Brew Pub, at the bar, talking to locals and watching the Red Sox game, 2 pints: Original Pub Style, a light copper ale, then Black Fly Stout, the finest stout, west of Galway.
59.2/ 126.8 miles traveled

Heading “downeast” from here, a full Maine report after 6 days camping in the wilds of Maine. What’s a Black Fly?

Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival '06

2007-07-19T14:14:00.000-07:00

Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival 7/12th-16th
Getting in late afternoon, a light drizzle falls all day, then heavy rain while setting up my tent it stops, when I do. Time to meet the neighbors, Nina & Aaron, his brother Chris and Zoe, I do the walk of the site, I set my chair on a spot halfway up the hill over looking the main stage, first come, should have been here a week ago. Some Kerrville folks here, too. Looking forward to unwinding and independence from my mind. Praise good music and folks. Late night, it time to cruise the campsites,listening to folks play, mostly friends playing together, meeting up with each other from where ever they are from, I do come across some nice pickin’,a stand-up bass, and a hot mandolin player
two fast guitar players, along comes a grey haired dad and his 12 year old son, the boys strumming chords on his guitar a little outside the circle, then all the musicians welcome the young man into the circle, and the dad with a banjo proceeds to set the place on fire. Delightful first night of music, beer and new friends, up a little past midnight, falling asleep with music in my mind.
Thursday, Hit & Run, from Colorado, standard tradition bluegrass, crafted original tunes, finishing with ‘Mabeline”, then Cadillac Sky from Ft. Worth, a hot Tejas group with two national champions, a hot mandolin player and singer, this group is on it’s way to big, then Hot Buttered Rum, I missed them, yet heard lots of cheers, Mollie O’Brien & three gals from Uncle Earl, with heavenly harmonies, then Tim O’Brien & Molly O’Brien, brother & sister, family voices with good tunes, Red Stick Ramblers, from SW Louisiana, packed the dance floor, heads bobbing, got all of everything out of me, dancing for a couple of hours, then the Austin Lounge Lizards, missed them,but saw them in Kerrville, finishing the first night was Railroad Earth, hot, hot, hot, starting off at 11:15pm, playing late into the next day, a great jam band from Jersey, great balance of power, moving well with each other in & out of songs, even better with a double scoop of mint chip and chocolate in a waffle cone.
Friday, Day 2, starting off with Chatham County Line, fun young group from North Carolina, the Master’s Stage provided shade and intimate listening, the Song Swap was impressive with Jeremy Garret and his inspired country music, Jimmy Roger style, the boy can tell a story or two, then a Banjo style workshop with Bill Keith, master musician, Danny Barnes from Seattle, Larry Gango from Montana and Abigail Washburn from Uncle Earl, she a big hit with her voice and Banjo style, ‘round peak’, old mountain music from the hills, and off to the Dance stage, it was hopping all weekend, Magnolia, Lil’Anne & Hot Cayenne, with dance lessons from Michelle Kaminsky had everyone and me on the floor, back to the Main Stage with the Gibson Brothers doing Louvin Brothers material, then Del McCoury Band, always wanted to see him, he did not disappoint, they finished with “When I am 64” you know the Beatles song right, and Bela Fleck sitting in, too!, I'm not finished yet, Jerry Douglas with drums and electric guitar, he is a master Dobro player, with his own eclectic brand of bluegrass, jazz and interpretation, the closing act, was some of the best music all night, Tim O’Brien’s Cornbread Nation with Bela Fleck, Pat Flynn, Darrell Scott and a really, really good fiddle player Danny Driessen, hot fun into the late night, and early morning.
Saturday,Day 3 Abigail Washburn, with Bela Fleck on banjo, Casey Driessen on fiddle and Ben Sollee on cello start our day, with original music in English and Chinese from her album ‘Song of the Traveling Daughter”, she will be going to China this fall and lead the first ever US music tour to go to Tibet with the Sparrow Quartet including Bela Fleck, one song sticks out, “I got the key to the Kingdom, and the world can’t do me no harm.”

A standing ovation to start this day, then the Red Stick Ramblers get the main stage, even sporting ties, after two great nights on the Dance Stage, the Abigail again in the Master’s Tent doing songs in Chinese, Jordan McConnel of the Duhks from Winnipeg sits in. I have heard of this band, they are up and coming, then King Wilkie, young, energetic, then a nap before the Big Night, Larry Sparks & The Lonesome Ramblers, I could be in this group, he worked with the Staley Brothers then formed his own in ’69, he remains true to the best tradition of Bluegrass, then always the great Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, an eleven time Grammy winner, Chet Atkins once credited Skaggs with “single-handily saving country music”, a headliner at most venues, he began playing mandolin at the age of 5, he even played with Bill Monroe, then at 7 with Flatt & Scruggs, with his help and others, now a new generation of musicians from around America, they are keeping Bluegrass alive, I know in Portland we have allot of excellent bands, check out bubbaguitar.com for more information, then Mountain Heart, they have a distinct, dynamic sound, one of the new super group, they move in and out of songs together, like a dance, building each song with a rich texture of varied sounds and style, yeah, it’s time for Steve Earl & the Bluegrass Dukes, I am sooo excited joining him is Tim O’Brien, Casey Driessen, Darrell Scott, Bela Fleck and others, how much fun can I have today, I must have died and gone to heaven, Steve does mostly doing his older stuff, fine by me, ‘Slow Train’, his politics, words, a man that speaks his mind, go man go! Two Standing Ovations. Steve for President ’08!!!
Sunday Morning, awake, I am not in Heaven, so time to catch the Sunday Morning Gospel show with Dry Branch Fire Squad, established in 1976, they are the long time host band here, playing traditional, old-time and gospel, fueled with musical vision, biting cultural commentary is the band’s leader Ron Thomason, his dry wit, slow delivery and stories were funny, sad and his sense of humor starts this Sunday. He talked about Death with Dignity, the War, God, his Farm and Friends, a truly good man. He said “if we did not have the Government, how would we know we were doing things right”. Time to take down the tent, get ready to go deeper into to Northeast, where accents are getting thicker, traveling South to NE, quite diverse changes in voice. I start my day going the wrong way, who cares, listening to ‘like a fox on the run’ yes it's OK to be lost.
Heading out on Rt. 3 to Ancram, a good breakfast needed after 4 days camping, then North on Rt. 22, beautiful NY country drive, hoping to stop in Pittsfield, Mass., for the night, then I go though Copake, then take 295E, then Rt.41N for a moment, then RT.20E into Massachusetts, Pittsfield, I drive around for about a 1/2 hour, this town does feel right, onward then, where to go, pass Dauton to Rt.8n to Savoy, 116E to 8A north, this road following the creek, small blacktop road to Claremont, on the Mohawk Trail, lots of kayaks on the Deerfield River, pass Shelburne Falls, and the Bridge of Flowers, sounds like a place to go, I go by, returning the next day, with views of three states to the north, then on to Greenfield, this feels right, I shower, shave and publish my rant, where did the angst go? It’s on paper, still. The mind is a magical thing!
Greenfield, I asks a local where to go for a bite, he says Bill’s is good, been around a while, it looks OK, but up the block is the People’s Pint, local, home-made beers, a music circle playing Celtic music, I order the Ploughman Classic with Vermont x-tra Sharp cheese, apple, house-made sausage and bread, along with a couple of pints, Pied IPA, then Farm Brown Ale, they have hand crafted soda, and cider as well, even a beer called Poet’s Seat Pale, and lots of good desserts too, Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp, Lemon Cheesecake with Wild Blueberry-Port Sauce, sounds good, it is.
A great way to start my journey though the NE, on my way to see a Moose, at the top of Maine.
60.1/133.1 miles traveled

a Rant & two Rides!!!

2007-07-17T17:33:00.000-07:00

Gettysburg, Pa. to Tabernacle, N.J. July 8th
Take Hwy 30E, out to Gettysburg to York, then Hwy 74E, then 372 E, the Heart of Amish Country, though Bethesda and Buck, down Hwy 41 E to Route 1 N, pass Brandywine, 322 E to the toll bridge, south of Chester, into NJ, continue on 322 E, though Glassboro to Williamstown, then 532 N,Wharton State Forest, take 206 N, to 532 E to Tabernacle, and my sister Valerie’s house.
60.1 mpg/ 215.8 traveled
Leaving Gettysburg, site of one of the deadlyest battles in American history, so many lifes lost, the most our nation has ever experienced, how many souls live here, and my own sister lays here now as well.
Heading East , though York, large older red brick buildings and factories, downtown feels dated, you can smell blue collar sweat, the honest bustle, watch out for delivery trucks, and signs for highway routes, very important. Cutting under Lancaster, into the Heart of Amish County, towns like Blue Ball, Paradise, Intercourse and Bird in Hand.
Large Farms, using old ways to farm and live. I think an Amish farmer could use a plastic knife and still have a magnificent piece of property.
An aside, this country was divided, differences of values, ideas, economic and racial issues tainted the country. We are still getting over a civil war that spit this nation. Are we headed to another civil war, based on ideals and morolity? The way I see it worship the way you wish, or go to hell? We can’t have it both ways.
Behind an Amish Buggy, going 15mph on a small back country road that raises and falls, quick turns at the edge of someone's property, we slow down admiring the past , we have tolerance and reverence, yet can we do the same behind a vehicle with a rainbow decal, or long haired freaks? Long hair, I had long hair before country performers thought it looked cool. So I cut my hair.

Heading to Jersey between Philadelphia and Chester, slipping into Jersey, and then taking the back roads to see family and a new Grandchild Gianna.
She has curly blond hair, blue eyes, light olive complexion, dad’s Italian, she is a joy, able to function independently, observant, confident, an easy fit for my daughter Anna, a single mom now.
In Tabernacle, home of my sister Valerie and family, where the deer outnumber the humans, I have a half a day, so it'stime to go to Philly to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, I start my tour going though a screening, I take a picture, I am told to delete the shot, it’s a digital, easy, no so with film, I am told to take my hat off, I was even told to lift the hat, to provide a better view of the inside of hat.
The Liberty Bell, freedom rings, is this Liberty, are we a free society, we take risks because of our freedom, yes. Because the government can not do their job properly without making everyone guilty and then proved innocent, that is backwards. This makes us safe?
The place Ben Franklin made famous, the state that was tolerant of so many religions, some still florest, and our future is not imposed on them. Where is our freedom of thought and movement, we must be vigilant, all citizens, that is our job. Again the government is taking something away, sheep we are.
What a show, security guards, low wage workers with little pay or formal training, without skills to evaluate a true threat, going though a routine. "Broadway America", the Musical with song and dance and frisking, even a steamy midnight show, touching and cavity searches anyone.
“Proclaim Liberty throughout all the land onto all the inhabitants there of.”
A tradition of Protest, like John Brown’s raid in 1859 although usual for its attack of a federal installations is part of a long tradition of protest and dissent in America. The United Sates was born in protest. In the years before the American Revolution, colonists spoke out against the laws and politics of England. Eventually they rebelled with violence and war. With the ratification of the Bill of Rights in 1791, the Constitution on the United Sates guanuteed Americans the rights of free speech, a free press, the right to petition the government, and the right to assemble peacefully.
Americans frequently use these fundamental rights over time, citizens of the country have organized demonstrations and rallies to oppose politics and champion causes. Often controversial and sometimes violent, these protests have laid the foundation for political, social and economic change. Today as in the past, Americas often exercise their first amendment rights. Right On, what are we afraid of, now?
Now off to see Independence Hall, decisions where made here, debating each issue, with weight on every decision, with thoughts of a new country, to be born and fathered by these men. We must take time today to listen to differences, explore new ideas. America is asking the world to be Democratic, please practice at home. When being patriotic is to scorn at those that dissent. We are a nation born from protest, Revolutionaries, any other names one could call these people. A modern day word?
I take a picture of the front of an old building, nearby a guard tells me, no pictures, this building as been here over 350 years, cancel the PBS documentary, Independence Hall, no DVD will be made. Inside the same drill, no belt, lift my hat, scare me drill.
We must be safer.
Then into the courtyard, I did not look for cameras, yet. I wonder, waiting in a long line, I love history, does anyone know why this place is so special, I go into one of the holy places of history. We get 15 minutes of talk about general stuff, please follow the guide at all times, and we do! 30 guards to one guide. I am learning.
Upstairs on the ______floor (classified), we see where great minds created the rules and guidelines for America.
Later privately I talked to the guide saying, it did not feel right, too much security, he said we should be in the streets angry, I agree. Privately and off the record.
Because of religious extremists from another country, our friends, did a horrible thing, kind of like Hurricanes did to the South, an unplanned disaster, not enough propaganda, yet we should turn our heads away, please let me see what’s under your hat.

Leaving Philadelphia, on the speed line, over the Delaware, over Camden, half the city is boarded out, in my view out the window of the train, for a long as I have been coming here, it’s been that way. Fix this, too.
Fuel for a rested mind, it takes me a day to write this, get the angst out. The taste of conformity.
Leaving Jersey the next day, I get the one finger salute from a concrete truck driver, I am uneasy driving here. In Jersey as a youth, before Oregon and a better brain, I would drive fast, so test me. No more, I have slowed. I wave nicely to the driver, another bird, take care, I am leaving. Cars get in front, don’t look back, running up high speeds for short stretches, hey look I am in front of you. This is helping me leave, I will miss family, and this place of my past.
Maybe, I will learn.
July 12th
North on 206, right though the heart of Trenton, pass restaurant row, ethnic eateries, even Carolina pulled pork and Fried Chicken, connect midtown to Rt. 31N, the nicest road I have been on in Jersey, the state with the worst roads I have experienced, they don’t fix them, just patched, then pass Pennington, Washington, to Buttzville, to Rt. 46 to Columbia, the Delaware Water Gap, most impressive, where the Kittatinny Mountains have given way to eons of steady persuasion by the Delaware River, this famous notch has long been a landmark, not only for natural splendor, recreation, and gentle farmland. The Old Mine Road , the oldest commercial highway in America, which follows an aboriginal trail along the Delaware, believed to be 8000 years old. George Washington’s solders used the road and John Adams and Ben Franklin were frequent travelers. During the mid 19th Century, parts of the Old Mine Road became links in the Underground Railroad, now the Appalachian Trial goes by breathtaking overlooks, sublime glens and ravines, rugged outcroppings, a glacier lake, ancient copper mines and a pheasant drive up & out of Jersey.
Lost for a minute or two, not sure if I am in Jersey or Pennsylvania. North 521, foothills, back on Rt. 206, pass the highest point in Jersey- High Point 1803 feet, then to Montique, north on Rt. 521 into New York, then Port Jervis.
In New York, take 209N to Kingston , following the Basher Kill and Roudout Rivers, though towns of Godeffray, Cuddebackville, Stone Bridge to Kingston, 28E, then 32N across the mighty Hudson River on to Rt. 9/199E to Red Hook, past Lafayette to Pine Plains, to Rt. 82N Ancramdale, then Rt. 3, Overlook Mountain Road, onto the Rothvoss Farm, home of Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival, July 13th-16th.
59.2mpg/ 233.7 miles traveled
I am better now.

Five States in an Hour

2007-07-12T10:47:00.002-07:00

Leaving Winchester July 6th
What does Chester in town’s name mean?
Slept in, its 11am, beautiful morning after a few rainy days.
Take Hwy 50/17 east, thought I was going to take 11N, oh well, pass a Southern BBQ joint, vegetable stands, farms and migrant workers in the fields. I am on Lord Fairfax Hwy. and into West Virginia, another surprise, passing Charles Town on to beatutiful rolling hills and small mountains to Harper's Ferry, I had known less about this place then I should or have forgotten.
It's time to explore.
Harper's Ferry sits where the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers meet, with bluffs surrounding this picturesque town. The history of Harper's Ferry has few parallels in the America drama. It is more than one event, one date, or one individual. It is multi-layered, involving a diverse number of people and events, decisions and actions all that influenced the course of our nation’s history. Harper's Ferry witnessed the first successful application of interchangeable parts, the arrival of the first successful American railroad, John Brown’s attack on slavery, the largest surrender of Federal troops during the Civil War, and the education of former slaves in one of the earliest integrated schools in the United States. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Meriwether Lewis, John Brown, Robert E. Lee, J.E.B. Stuart, Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, George Custard, Phillip Sheridan, Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglas, W.E.B. Du Bois and many others.
Most inspiring to me was the abolitionist John Brown, he believed he could free the slaves, and he selected Harper's Ferry as his starting point. Determined to steal the 100,000 weapons at the arsenal, the US Armory and Arsenal was established here in the 1790’s, Brown was to use the mountains for guerrilla warfare, and he began his raid on Sunday evening Oct. 16, 1859. His 21 man self-styled “army of liberation,” which included three of his sons and five free African-Americans, seized the armory and several other strategic points. Thirty six hours after the raid began, with most of his men killed or wounded, Brown was captured in the armory fire engine house, also known as “John Brown’s Fort”, when US Marines stormed the building, brought to trail at nearby Charles Town, Brown was found guilty of treason against the commonwealth of Virginia, conspiring with slaves to rebel, and murder. He was hanged on Dec. 2, 1859. John Brown short lived raid failed, but his trail and execution focused the nation’s attention on the moral issue of slavery and headed the country toward civil war.
So many important events happened here, the Civil War was profound and disastrous effect on Harpers Ferry, because of the town’s location on the strategic Baltimore and Ohio Railroad at the end of though Shenandoah Valley, Union and Confederate troop movements were frequent, the town changed hands 8 times between 1861 and 1865.
Another very important moment of our History. The Niagara Movement, a cornerstone of Modern Civil Rights, is celebration it’s 100th year on August 18th-20th, 2006, they held their first meeting on American soil in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia in 1906. At the dawn of the twentieth century, the outlook for civil rights for African Americans was at a precarious crossroads. Failed Reconstruction, the Supreme Court’s separate but equal doctrine (Plessy v. Ferguson), coupled with Booker T. Washington’s Accommodations policies threatened to compromise any hope for full and equal rights under the law.
Harvard educated W.E.B.Du Bois committed himself to a bolder course, his appeal for civil rights, he acted in 1905 by drafting a “Call” to a few select people. The call had two purposes; “organized determination and aggressive action on the part of men and women who believed in Negro freedom and growth,” and opposition to “present methods of strangling honest criticism”. The movement was born.
So much history and change in one place, Harper’s Ferry ignited change throughout its history, I am overwhelmed, impressed, humbled and in awe of this place.
This has to be one of the most important places in American History.
Leaving Harper’s Ferry for Gettysburg. What was it like, living in this region during the Civil War, the stories these hills could tell.
Taking the back way, back into Virginia for a couple of miles, Skate & I cross the Potomac River, though Brownsville, attempting to stay close to the Appalachian Trail as possible.
Take a Right on 40E , it's called the Old Natural Pike, then Hwy 17, small road, going south, not north, hard to tell, a few miles one way, then I need to turn back.
Rolling hills, small mountains in the distance, you can tell where the towns or hamlets are, by the steeple tops of churches poking up though the trees.
17N all back country, crossing Middle Creek numerous times, cooler down by the river, into Smithsburg, the Dixie Eatery, a roller coaster ride, farm town of Lettersburg, then right turn 418E into a big open valley.
Now Pennsylvania, WOW-five states in an hour: Virginia, West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, and then Pennsylvania.
16E, Now the the Buchanan Trial, pass Red Run Grill, says they have Carolina Pulled Pork, this place is straddling the Mason-Dixon Line, sweet corn for sale, my goal this morning was to get to Blue Ridge Summit, only a few miles up the road, turn north on 116N, pass Frontier BBQ at the Junction then North to Gettysburg, home of my sister Donna’s final resting place, there is lots to see, a reenactment this weekend and 15,000 bikers coming to town for a rally, rumble, rumble, rumble.
But it’s time for family and remembrance for me
Next up: Amish county and the trap door into Jersey.
58.5 mpg/ 120.7 miles traveled

Up the Ridge

2007-07-11T13:04:00.000-07:00

Blue Ridge Parkway, Skyline Drive
Leaving Natural Bridge, I had hoped to go to the Bridge the night before for a hike & a view, today I will try. This is a private venue, only $12 for a hike & a view, so I decided to hike Sharps Top at Peaks of the Otto instead, poor visibility, lots of cloud cover, still a nice hike, I let my mind wander, and it's quite humid, sweating off all that BBQ off, right.
Bill Markham has lived here his whole life, as a boy he saw the CCC camps back in the 30’s working on the Parkway and the trail up to Sharps Top, he never meet these people, they were not from here, so he stayed away, don't talk to stangers, but recently he meet one of the workers,they are both elderly now, they shared stories and talked about the work that was done here, it took 3 years to build the road to the top and trail, they used picks, and most labor was done by hand, workers sent money home to families, about $28 per month, I have seen the work of the CCC in the west and now here, times were tough, no work, the depression, my grandparents told me stories, too. Links to the past through oral history, we pass the experiences of our generation and stories we have heard, so please share, listen and pass them on.
Normally there are views of seven ridges up on top, West Virginia some 52 miles away.
Then I head down step by step, rock to rock most of the way, my legs get a really good workout.
A baby fawn on trail, flowering columbine, very peaceful on the trail, only me and nature.
Peaceful drive north on Blue Ridge Parkway, I had hoped to camp a couple of days in these mountains, but the clouds and rain have moved in. So I take a leisurely drive at 45 mph, the Parkway follows the Appalachian Mountains chain, and provides seemingly endless views of parallel ranges connected by cross ranges and scattered hills.
The Parkway leads into the Shenandoah Natural Park and Skyline Drive, staring at the Smokey Mountains add 114 miles to 355 miles of beauty, you would need weeks to truly appreciate this drive, the wildlife is abundant, having seen a fawn, a small Black Bear, they to shy for a picture, and birds of all kinds, and more deer.
There is History at every turn as well, ‘Stonewall’ Jackson used these mountains to confound the North for years.

This is a Great driving road, lots of time for views and while listening music, excellent way to sneak northeasterly, less people, less traffic, no hype, me, Skate, views, animals, flowers, trees, today I am one in the clouds.
Old timey music in the old time mountains.
Front Royal, Virginia, just out of the mountains, I find a Jersey style Italian Eatery, Castiglia’s,there's Pizza, Stromboli, Cheese Steak Sand, Meatball Sand, Eggplant Parmigiana, Cacciatore, Pasta, Tiramisu and Cannoli, I settle for a Pizza Steak Sandwich, no biscuits.
Take Hwy 522N up the road to Winchester, time for beer, the blog and some needed sleep. And it's still raining.
59.9 mpg/ 244.3 miles traveled

Books purchased: The Appalachians, America’s First and Last Frontier, companion to PBS series, and Blue Ridge Music Trails, Finding a Place in the Circle by Fred C. Fussell

“These mountain people, who have been shut out of the world all these years, I know them. If I live…perhaps we can do the justice they deserve” Abraham Lincoln
A follow-up on the Bill of Rights, today I read that Post 9/11 Patriot Act and other new laws, 9254 National Security Letters were issued in 2005, no courts, no review, no oversight, anti-terrorism laws allow access to an array of consumer information, as well as business, health, library and books, too.
The lock has been taken off the door!

Happy 230th Birthday, America

2007-07-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

the 4th of July, 2006- Happy Birthday America, 230 years old.
Leaving Gary, NC, it’s muggy, warm, and hot, American Flags out, Neighbors running around the yard with the flag draped over their shoulders.
Off I Go.
Interstate 40W for about 20 miles, pass Biscuit Time, Durham, Chapel Hill, Carrboro, time for a small county road or two. Take 86 N though Hillsborough, a nice small county, town pass Prospect Hill , poor folks here, stop for gas at a corner store, theirs a small southern deli, fried chicken, pulled pork & bbq, outside some poor soul needed a jack for fix a flat, no one seemed to care. Folks came and went, I can’t help, and Skate’s jack would not do the trick, so I drove away hoping someone would help this person.
Listening to the radio, thoughts of my beliefs in my mind on this day, all this talk of what Freedom means, Freedom on thoughts, can we has a country have a vision of Liberty, as a predominate Christian nation?
Freedom's strength is a freedom of faith, would we not be a better nation and, also show the world the greatness of America, but we are not a Christian nation in our laws, but the Rule of Law, our Bill of Rights and Constitution give rights to all Citizens and guidance, neither God or church should command the Nation, yet it’s influences our thoughts, and our sense of morality does impact it, if one were a believer, one would believe we live in the Kingdom of God, and not a Nation were the Church tries to control it. That is why we became America to get away from a church run country. I hate the question when asked “do you believe”, that’s very private subject to me, and it’s a loaded question, noT fair. Thomas Paine wrote,” my own mind, my own church.” If one today would fellow the Ten Commandments, MY beliefs, we would have no more killing, we would be tolerant to all people, we would not judge, I do not believe My God or even Jesus ever said killing is justified. How can we as a nation promote war, in our churches or question the morality on others with different views.
The 4th is a day of honor and respect, a day of reflection of what my place is in this country, I strongly believe in my thoughts of God and Jesus and respect for all sincere belief or not, and will continue to learn and respect others for their points of view, only tolerance and understanding, communication and dialogue will change the world, Not Rightessness.
I Continue the drive North on Hwy 29 into Virginia past Danville to a very small road 43W to Bedford, this town used to be called Liberty, this town lost more men in WW II per capita than any other. Pass peach and apple orchards. Bedford is building a Memorial for this people.

I also, always take time to honor the dead, I have a special place in my heart for sacrifice. Just or not for men and women killed or wounded in battle, yet I think war should be the last resource, World War II had to be fought, but no war after that, that’s is my American opinion.
I go over the Blue Ridge Parkway, looking for shelter, weather has not been good.
I find a place off by Natural Bridge on Rt. 11. A nice inexpensive room on a small quiet highway.
After I go in search of the Natural Bridge, miss the spot, 7 miles out in the country, it starts to rain, then buckets of rain, at times, so thick I stop the car, tree branches down, go around, the wind picks up, this is the most violent storm I have been in in a very long time, I put on my flashers, look though the rain, moment of faith while driving blind.
Back to the motel, power is out, I call friends, drink beer on a wooden bench, reading books in the dark with flashlight, and plotting my course to Gettysburg,
My 4th is fantastic, there was a storm, and I have lighting bugs, thunder in the distance and lighting, too. Cars go by slowly, looking for shelter, it’s hard to tell we are here.
A day of surprise and thought. Happy Birthday America!
59.9/ 209.4 miles traveled

My influences, Yet separate.

The Bill of Rights
Amendment I
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Amendment II
A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Amendment III
No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

Amendment IV
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Amendment V
No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

Amendment VI
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.

Amendment VII
In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise reexamined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.

Amendment VIII
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

Amendment IX
The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Amendment X
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.

Again My Beliefs, Yet Separate.

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS,
1) "Thou shalt have no other gods before me."
2) "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,"
3) "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain;"
4) "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy."
5) "Honor thy father and thy mother:"
6) "Thou shalt not kill."
7) "Thou shalt not commit adultery"
8) "Thou shalt not steal."
9) "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor."
10) "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house,.....nor anything that is thy neighbor's.”

Peace and Love and Freedom to All

After a Long Day

2007-07-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

North Durham, I pulled in late off Hwy 98 and junction of Rt. 70, looking for a motel, its late, I spot a Budget Inn, I circle back, go in, I see the reflection of a police officer in the back room watching TV, people in the lobby, on the balcony, looking out windows, I get funny looks, I have been around, just not in this neighborhood. The sign in the lobby says, “after 10 minutes, no refund”, $43 bucks buys me a room, what else? The first room I am is in the back building, I unload my stuff, is this a safe area, is my stuff in the car safe, is me safe, why thoughts like this after 9000 miles, I get inside, looks like the AC works, even if the top cover is beat to shit. I am fried after a long day, and need a couple beers and dumb TV for an hour or so. All I get is FM radio, no TV, I go see the manager, an older black man, seems like he wonders why do I have to deal with this guy, I am not sure if he is helping me or will come back, in the end I get a different room, but I forget to get my stuff, so I go back for the third time, a big cop takes me back this time, he asks where I am from, where am I going, then seems to realize I am not a local or a person that uses this motel for other activities, men looking out windows, each balcony is well staffed, women come and go. The new room, the TV works, being persistent does help, I learned this working for a Country Club, members do it all the time, and they get results. Me too. In North Durham.
The bed seems better too. And I am in the inner section of the motel, looks a little safer. I have a restless night's sleep for 6 hours, then up every hour, it's 7:30, so I am up and off to see friends, Brandon & Holly are folks I ran into camping in Utah, 6 weeks ago. While getting ready to leave the motel, I go to drop off the key, a young black woman, early 30’s, missing teeth, hovering about in lobby, tells me of the $3 key deposit, I ask the first person I see behind the glass walled barrier for my deposit money, she then disappears, then she’s back with something to sign,I get 3 bucks, go to walk away, the gal in the lobby tells me she needs money for biscuits, so I give her the 3 bucks, I leave, sitting in the car, getting ready for the day, she walks up, I’m looking at a map, planning my day, she tells me how much she likes the NW, she needs to move back home, out of the shelter, we talk, I am unsure where this is going, so we make small talk, then she leaves, nothing more. There is racial tension in this town because of the Duke scandal, there are two stories, a poor person’s word against students with money and connections,so this issue has people worked up, it’s going to be some time before things settle down.
I go to Biscuitville to get coffee, biscuits are big in the south, only Yankees eat toast, I am curious where the biscuits end and toast begins, the Mason-Dixon Biscuit Line maybe.
I meet friends in Carrboro, a fun, funky section of town, we have breakfast at the Co-Op and catch up on our lives.
Then we go to a fund raising festival for the Eno River, they are using money to purchase property and have hopes of a State Park, there are all sorts of crafts, lots of dancing and there is a working Grist Mill on the property. They are grinding wheat and corn, great to see passive uses of flowing water, and there are performers, too, Kerrville folks are there, Greg Klyma with his Kerrville mug, Jonathan Byrd and Dar Williams, fun, it’s a wonderful event with a great respect for the ways of the past.
Off to spend a couple of days in Gary, NC with Brandon and Holly, and their dogs Chaka, Tayma and Annie, they are gracious hosts, respectful and socially concerned, connected to their roots, family and friends, taking in a traveler, a stranger, we had meet out West, we talked for a few hours, had beers, and then watched the full moon come up in Bryce Canyon and as well had a good hike together in Zion, and now they have invited me into their home. While at their home we had a nice picnic, and played poker with friends, I enjoyed playing with the dogs, we listened to music, talked politics, and watched old movies. Brandon has started his own blog, excellent satire and dark stories, check him out at beardedtoad.blogspot.com
We have to seek faith in our fellow humans, trust our instincts, and take small risks, be aware, share, listen and love unconditionally.
52.4 mpg/ 60.3 miles traveled

Leaving Nag’s Head Before Being Eaten by Crabs

2007-07-09T10:43:00.000-07:00

Leaving Nag’s Head Before Being Eaten by Crabs –July 1st
After a great week with family, we sit around on our last night together eating fresh steamed crab and shrimp, a quiet fell on the table as men, women and children cracked, dug, pulled out every piece of juicy sweet crabmeat,
it was a marvelous time had by all, except poor George, who is allergic to shellfish, we also made burgers. Food all week was wonderful, from Craig & Lisa’s breakfast of Chopped Venison over Toast (SOS) along with Potato, Egg, and Sausage scramble, Nicole & Tom making Pancakes and Tacos, not at the same meal, George & Pamela with Chicken Kabobs, Jill with Pulled Pork Sandwiches and Mac &Cheese, Pat& Val, my sister, holding down the fort and directing traffic, Craig was responsible for a bushel of fresh steamed crabs, and me steamed shrimp. The crabs pick on us, we pick on them.
Friday night , after the crab feast, some on the crew departed, then the rest have left before I get up, my first day in a bed all week, I sleep in, they were all gone at 8am, strange feeling, a big empty house, most of the rentals change hands on Saturday, folks saying good-bye, hugs, it was a much needed family experience for me, not a bad thing at all, family.

Off to see the big sailing ships in Beaufort, NC, down Hwy. 12 south, along the narrow islands of Cape Hatteras, pass many beautiful lighthouses, summer houses, and people having fun. Though Pea Island, in Buxton, then on to the free ferry at Hatteras, you need to call for reservations for the Ocracoke Ferry, a 3 hour ride to Cedar Island, they leave at Noon, 3pm, and 6pm, I call they are full till 6pm, so after a pleasant ½ hour ferry ride, it’s 11:35am, Skate flies down the road, it’s a 45 minute drive to Ocracoke, we only pass one car, driving a little over the limit, if you have more time, looks like a great town, lots to do here, yet no time for me here, pass Howard’s Pub, that's where I am going if I can’t get off the island, it’s 5 till noon, I pull up, say hello,there's one spot left, lucky for me, behind me are some Outward Bound kids after a 2 week kayak trip around the islands, I don’t know, who’s happier. Time on the ferry to write about family, thoughts of them fresh. All good people, we lost my sister Donna last year, she as a trooper, in life and with family and friends, she would want us to continue doing life’s chores and enjoying it’s small treasures, she was the one that stayed in the East, raised three smart and beautiful girls and son and continued to build bonds with the community she loved, for my reasons I choose to life out West, at times its too far away. Donna had a sweet sense of humor even when suffering, her willingness to live, and do things she was told not to, and still laugh and smile, and be a brat to the end of her life, and we miss you and love you. I appreciate your love to me, and your gentle understanding of me, your older brother that moved away 30 years ago to Oregon, I will take your strength and love. I will be there for our family when needed. Bless you, Sweet Donna.
Off the ferry at Cedar Island, not really an island, across the marsh land south, pass Stacy on to Beaufort, the ship the Meka II is a 54 foot half scale replica of a 17th century two-masted pirate brigantine. In 2002, Captian Sinbad and crew guided the Meka II to victory in the Americas’ Sail Class B race in Montego Bay, Jamaica, which earned Sinbad the right to host the 2006 event in his homeport of Beaufort.
There is the Cisne Branco, 249 feet from Brazil, the Virginia from Norfolk, Virginia, one of the coolest is the Ada Mae, a skipjack, used for dredging oysters, it is one of only 20 remaining and believed to be the last of its kind built in North Carolina, it’s 62 feet in length, with a mast of more than 53 feet and 1200 square feet of sail. There was music, food and lots of Pirates about. Beaufort is pronounced BOW-fort here, in South Carolina its phew-fort, in the south its fun to think you talk like the locals, but like any relgion, good luck!
This was once a fishing village here, settled by the French Huguenots and English sailors more than 275 years ago. Fishing was active hare during three wars, the Revolution, the War of 1812 and the Civil War, lots of great older buildings, a 1709 cemetery called the Old Burying Ground and pirates, did I say Pirates, this was a hang out for Blackbeard and his pirates in the 1600’s, his treasure is buried here, somewhere buried in a long forgotten place.
Before I leave, I take a harbor tour of the tall ships, on the Water Bug, a dinky little oval shaped boat, very enjoyable, the captain told us all boats have their music, so while going by a tall ship, he plays ”Blow the Man Down”, we turned heads, get laughs, we sing and we yelled like pirates, we were scary, I am sure, well maybe. Lots of sailing vessels from all over the world take part. A Fun time.
It’s time to get back on the road, south along the Crystal Coast, pass Fort Mason, down to Cape Carteret, then while on the inland take Rt. 58 N inland, going though Pollockville, black folks are out on this Sunday Eve, eatin’ and talkin’ and being together, time for relaxing. Farm lands, tobacco sheds, smell of manure is in the air, rolling hills, a nice drive with a beautiful orange sunset, I cross Snow Hill for the second time, stop at Bojangles for Fried Chicken and Biscuits, not bad for a small chain, good sweet tea. Then on to Durham, I am pushing hard, to hard this night, I get assistance from Renee in Odessa, Texas, following my commitment to take mostly all small roads, tired and worn this takes me on Rt. 222 to Rt. 39 north to then Rt. 98 W,I am trying to get as close to Chapel Hill as possible for breakfast with friends, Brandon and Holly, folks I meet in Utah. It’s late, it’s dark, tell me to stop, nerves a bit on edge.
I pull into North Durham, a Budget Motel, to late to look any longer.
More on the Budget (crack) Motel later.
62.0mpg/328 miles traveled

Roanoke Island and the Outer Banks

2007-07-09T10:17:00.000-07:00

Roanoke Island and the Outer Banks
June 24-30, 2006
Much needed time exploring and family time, there are 8 children with parents, mostly that’s OK, as long as you don’t need a nap. When I am not spending time with relatives, it’s off to see the sights.
This part of the country has seen some remarkable events, the first English Colony, then early American settlers, African Americans, first as slaves, then a freeman, even starting one of the first free communities, the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk, this area is rich in it’s history, from its lighthouses, marsh lands,kite flying, wildlife, restaurants, abundant seafood and industrially, shops of all kinds, the beach, deep sea fishing, and putt-putt golf, even a couple of micro-breweries.
I was fascinated by the weather station at Manteo, having read ‘blue highways”, this is were the author was hanging out on the dock, and was asked if he wanted to go on a fishing boat and work soon, too. So I wanted to check it out. There are not many fishing boats here now, it’s a bit upscale, proporty rates, condo's, you know the story, but, to the south on Rt. 345 to Wanchese, there is a healthy industrial fishing fleet, and a community of working class folks, while checking out the docks, it's late in the day now, I drove around the area to see the community at ladge,there were guys at the end of their day, drinking beers and hangin' out around their trucks shooting the breeze.
The Manteo Weather Station on Roanoke Island is dedicated to Alpheus W. Drinkwater 1875-1962, weatherman, telegrapher, wreck commissioner, the US Weather Bureau once used the coastal warning display tower to fly flags to warm mariners of wind shifts or approaching storms. On Nov. 10, 1904, the Weather Bureau established this station, putting Drinkwater in his role as telegraph operator, he was the logalical choice for weatherman. He is also noted as for sending the news of the Wright Brothers. Beyond the symbolic colors and sharps that told a rainy day or flood tides of a northwesterly, weather flags when flown in various combinations of shapes and colors, signaled that it was time to take in the laundry or to set the fishing nets, part of everyday life. At night, two red and one white signal lights flashed storm warnings. The Manteo weather tower is believed to be one of five towers still in use, and may be the only one with all of its original signal lights affixed.
“Cross the creek and you will find safe haven”.
The Outer Banks were home to many African Americans, communities and family have been a significant part of coastal tradition, they fished the waters of the sea and sound, piloted ships around the dangerous shoals and though the narrow channels of the waterways and safe guarded the coast for hundreds of years. Most of the first African Americans were brought as slaves starting in the early 1700’s. Up the civil war the Outer Banks islands had significant slave populations. Many African Americans were skilled waterman, heavily involved in fishing, ferrying, piloting although the Civil War changed the lives of many on the Outer Banks and altered the demographics of particular coastal communities. Folks maintained a viable presence in the region. In fact Roanoke Island was the site of one of America’s first freeman colonies.
Even before Sir Walter Raleigh planted an English Colony on Roanoke Island in the mid-1580s, Africans had been on North Carolina’s shores.
In 1526, Lucas Vasquez de Ayllon, a Spanish explorer and slave trader led an expedition of 500 people from the West Indies to settle near Cape Fear among them were several slaves. It is possible that the first blacks to visit came with Sir Francis Drake in 1586.
During the Civil War Free Blacks answered the call to arms, en mass following the Emancipation Proclamation their skilled knowledge of the area helped the Union, they were essential area to will the war.
The freedom of a freeman’s colony at Roanoke was the first in our history. Time for change, no different than today and for all Americans to have Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. That’s true freedom to me, and it is Free.“This, at present is safe asylum in all North Carolina, and God is lifting the yoke, and soon I feel there will be a great rush of those who are held by the last firm grip of expiring slavery”. Sarah P. Freeman, a missionary, teacher, writing about the Roanoke Island Freeman’s Colony on July 8, 1864. Sadly after the Civil War the Colonies land was given back to the original land owners.
There is a micro brewery here, theWeeping Radish, and a Eco-friendly Bavarian fare, open since 1986 on the Island, very good Bavarian fare, nice lunch of sausages, pretzel and beer, they had Corolla, why I don't know, and their own brews: a German pale lager, Fest, an amber lager, and Black Radish, a dark lager Munich Dunkel style and a seasonal Hefewiesen, they were all good full flavored, slightly flat, yet the Hefe was the best and had better bubbles. They use organic beef and work with local farmers to buy fresh organic vegetables.
On to Nag’s Head and Kill Devil Hills,
“the sand fairly blinds us, it blows across the ground in clouds. We certainly can’t complain of this place. We came down here for wind and sand, and we got them”

Orville Wright, 10/18/1900
The Wright Brothers of Dayton, “from the time we were little children, my brother Orville and myself lived together, playing together, worked together and in fact, thought together”, the bachelor brothers lived with their father and younger sister. They went into business in 1892. Wright Cycle Shop, at first they sold and repaired machines, but later begin to manufacture them.
Later they used the shop to build parts for their airplane, on there experiments the brothers said “all the experiment have been conducted at our own expense without assistance from any individual or institution”.
In order to fly a powered machine to Wright Bros. had to solve three major problems
1) Lift, 2) power, 3) control, climb and descent, steering, sideways balance.
All things I need to do in life.
On their 1902 glider “our new machine is very great improvement over anything we had built before or that anyone else has built”, The brothers made a thousand glider flights, many on them into 35mph winds at Kill Devil Hills, their record 622 ½ feet in 26 seconds
By adding horsepower and propellers at the end of 1902, the brothers had solved most of the problems of free flight. They began to work on the motor
The 1903 powered machine, their new machine was the promising, yet, now to attempt to fly.
On Dec. 13, 1903 the day man first flew. “Only those who are acquainted with the practice of aeronautics can appreciate the difficulties of attempting the first flight. Four attempts at controlled flight, the final flight 852 feet in 59 seconds.
“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return”. Leonardo da Vinci
Lots of great eats here, go to eat early in the summer, or better yet, go for a late afternoon lunch, you may get a table.
There is a micro brewery called Outer Banks Brewing Station, with great beers and creative food as well, their beers are Olsch, pale-Bubbha-bubba Hefeweizen-Hip Hop IPA-Golden Eye Alt-All Around Brown-Irish Breakfast Stout-Sledgehammer-Barley Wine.
I have had lots of great meals around the house, each day a different family will cook, chicken kabobs one night, chipped venison with cream sauce over toast for breakfast (SOS), BBQ Pork Sandwiches and mac and cheese, I grilled large tenderloins, mushrooms and peppers, and a salad of spinach, strawberries, toasted pecans, yellow heirloom tomatoes, with a cranberry mustard-honey vinaigrette, then topped with gorgonzola, we have some meals out, there are way to many options to choose, so do some research, check out High Cotton BBQ today, I would like to go to Awful Arthur’s for oysters, or Sooey’s BBQ & Rib Shack, while on an evening drive, I see that all the lots were full and the smells are delightful.
A beautiful place, great for R&R, time with family, it fascinating to see the different strains and influences in the family because of genetics I guess, my sister Valerie inspects our baby toes, the last little one, we apparently have a passed on a mutation, turned-in pinkie toes, some of us have web toes. A very special place to land for a week, good healing time catching up with the past and family, securing relations for today, and enjoying the future generations.
Off to Beaufort for see the Tall Ships on Saturday, then inland to the Mountains and then to the northeast.

Bat Cave, to the Atlantic!!!

2007-07-06T14:59:00.000-07:00

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Starting the day in Frankin, a bit worn from the push to get to Nags Head by the 24th for a needed visit with family, I had lost my sister Donna Marie on December 05, 2005 after her two year battle with cancer, she was 51 years of age, a sweetheart, loving mother, and friend, her four children will be in Nag’s Head, I was only able to be with her one time before she passed, because of my stuff, mainly the long divioce, we talked a lot on the phone, still its not like being there, she lived in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
So it’s important to make time today, I am one day away. I have enjoyed the south, but needed to spend more time down here to enjoy it and the people, eating BBQ and drinking sweet tea and music, after this drive, I hope not push like I have.
I have a good breakfast at the City Restaurant in Frankin, biscuits, all types, I lose an hour to a regional time change, get started about 11:30 am.
Back on the Road Hwy 64E.
In Highlands, there are lots of folks, shops, weekend stuff to do, I wish to get though town, taking to back roads will lead you though most towns, not around it, I take my medicine.
Lots of fruit and vegetable stands, pass Brevard, Cashiers, down 8% grade, northward to Bat Cave and the Chimney Rock area, need more time.
Bat Cave, after hiking a mile up a steep trail through a mature hardwood forest, you will be rewarded with Bat Cave’s natural air conditioning: a cool moist draft that constantly pours out of vents on the side of the large cave. Bat Cave is the largest known granite fissure cave in North America. The main chamber is a dark cathedral more than 300 feet long and approximately 85 feet high. Fissure caves are formed by rock splits, boulder movements, and other motions of the earth, while most other caves are formed by water dissolving and abrading rock.
While seeing this impressive cave opening is the attraction for most visitors, the rugged slopes around Bat Cave contain an equally important array of habitats and creatures. Hickory Nut Gorge is cloaked in cove hardwood forest, while Carolina hemlock and chestnut oak forest are found on the cliff tops and ridge line. The forests harbor a number of threatened or endangered plants, such as broadleaf coreopsis and Carey’s saxifrage. The preserve has an abundance of spring wildflowers, including bloodroot, toothwort, trillium, and violets.
There is a Nature Conservancy, one of their goals in managing this preserve is to reestablish the critically endangered Indiana bat to its former habitat. The cave itself is closed to visitation at all times and the preserve is closed from October to mid-April in an effort to allow the bats to hibernate undisturbed. If bats are disturbed during hibernation, they fly around and quickly use up the stored energy that they need to survive the winter. Three previously undescribed invertebrates -- a spider, a millipede, and an amphipod -- also live in the cave and are specially adapted to survive without sunlight and with a limited food supply. In warm months, you may see the crevice salamander sunning on exposed rocks.
In 1981, Margaret Flinsch began making gifts of undivided interest in the Bat Cave natural area to The Nature Conservancy. The preserve is now co-owned by Mrs. Flinsch and The Nature Conservancy. The Flinsches had owned the property since the 1920s. Invasive species such as tree-of-heaven, multiflora rose, Japanese grass, wineberry, and Japanese honeysuckle threaten the preserve’s native plants. North Carolina Chapter staff and volunteers are battling these exotic plants through the invasive species program.
Down to Rutherfordton, my intent was to take Hwy 64 the whole way, but instead, I take Hwy 74E to Shelby, 18N for a short time, Hwy 150E, it starts to rain, Hard. I spot another Honda Insight the third one one seen this trip. I Going over Charlotte, traffic slipping out of the big city, it’s Friday, then pass Lincolnton, severe thunderstorm warnings, we do not get storms like this in the NW, 152E to Chinaville, I stop at a real service station, gas, a garage and a mechanic, too. What a novelty, this is North Carolina, car racing and cars are still revered in the South. Who is #88?
They tell me about Gary’s BBQ, great plate of Pulled Pork, and Smoked Chicken, with white cabbage slaw, vinegar dressing,, French Fries and Hush Puppies, tomato and lettuce on the side, with a big dollop of Mayo, the Best Banana Pudding in the state and Sweet Tea, $7.75, I tell the staff and owner, there prices are to low, they say, don’t tell the local, they will complain. I leave quickly.
The storm has caught me again. Thunder and Lighting all around, wipers on high, visibility poor, no AC to help inside the car, and large puddles,too lucky for me, not many people driving in this stuff.

Hwy 52E pass Gold Hill, then 49E pass Asheboro, back toHwy 64E, then 421E, 64 goes into the Durham area, I afford Durham by going under.
Stopping in Dunn for a needed night’s rest at a motel, I ask the clerk if they have Wi-Fi, she asks “what’s that?” I type a report, will post later. Louis Black is on the tube, good laughs.
61.5 mpg/ 353 miles traveled

Highway facts:Hwy 64,it's an east-west United States highway that runs for 2,326 miles (3,743 km) from eastern North Carolina to just southwest of the Four Corners in northeast Arizona , this road runs the entire width of this scenic state, this road starts 4 miles west of Ranger, North Carolina and ends at Manteo not sure about total miles.

Waking in Dunn, North Carolina for a lazy drive to the Atlantic Ocean and Nag’s Head.
Take Hwy 55E then 13N, pass farm lands of tobacco, corn and soybeans, tractors on the road, toward Goldsboro, rated as “One of America Best Cities in 1993” , taking
70E south of the city, missing a turnoff, I turn on 903N through the town of LaGrange, as much as Goldsboro is so livable, the downtown in this small rural farm town is mostly vacant storefronts, owning a small business here may be a thing on the past in this area, so close, yet so far away. Pass Snow Hill to Alt. 264 E around Greenville, to 264E, then following the river basin pass the turn off for Historic Bath, incorporated in 1705, is recognized as North Carolina’s oldest town. Bath is rich in authentic Colonial history as the first county seat for Beaufort County and in legend and lore was the “home” of Blackbeard the Pirate when he was not threatening commerce on the high seas, I must come back to explore, they call this the Albemarle Highway, pass New Holland, Engelhard into Dare County, famous for the Lost Colony, back on Hwy 64, pass the fishing village of Manteo, this town is mentioned in the book “Blue Highways”, on to Nag’s Head, saying hello to seagulls and pelicans fishing near the bridge.
More on the area, later. Family Time!

60.1/ 251.6 miles traveled

Hills of Tennessee to the Great Smokey Mountains

2007-07-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

Into the Great Smokey Mountains
Waynesboro, Tennessee to Frankin, North Carolina
So many roads, here’s the log, then the story:
Tenn. 64E, to Winchester, then 50W to Lynchburg & Jack Daniels, 50W back to Winchester, 64E to Tracy City, 56N to 399E, pass Gruetle-Laager, Hwy 8E down the Cumberland Plateau to Dunlap, along the Sequatchie River to Pikeville, down 30E across the Tennessee River to Decatur, up the foothills to Athens, 39E to Hwy 165E, the Cherohala Scenic Skyway, into North Carolina, Rt. 143E, a bite to eat in Robbinsville, with many loops around this old mill town to find food, then many loops to leave as well, they need a special map just for this town, though Stecoah, and a twisty, turny late evening ride on Hwy 28 S to Frankin.
The day's ride: Waking up in rural Tennessee, after a great drive though Mississippi and Alabama, up the Natchez Trace. A perfect day.
Now log cabins, fruit stands, churches, small rural towns struggling to get by, poor country folks with an economy that’s moving elsewhere, folks making money on there treasures, your antique,
small shops shattered on the sides of most roads, pass Good Hope Primitive Church, there are alot of divisions of the church goers here and homemade crackin’, rolling hills to farm country, cornfields for miles.
“Give me cornbread when I am hungry, corn whiskey when I am dry”.
Stopped in Winchester for breakfast of eggs, grits and biscuits, on the dinner menu there’s frog legs, fried chicken, and chicken livers, the service decent, too.
Leaving, ready to pay, young woman on cell phone taking my money, complaining about her boyfriend, making change, it’s not the first time, this practice is very annoying.
I notice Lynchburg, home of Jack Daniels, I need to do some back tracking on Hwy 50, pretty, pretty drive 21 miles up the into the hills to the distillery, this is a dry county, has been since 1906. Go figure.
The employees get a fifth a month, so let’s meet in the parking lot soon.
The tour is lots of fun, our guide was very entertaining, he had all of us laughing with his stories, then we all sniff the fermenting mash, he even tried to sweet talk one of the light headed ladies into a walk.
This is the “Oldest requested distillery in the US” established in 1866. I am sure that others have been making clear liquid in a jar for longer than that.
There is George Dickel's and Prichard’s distilleries close by, too.
In Lynchburg check out the Caboose Bar-B-Que Cafe, as well as lots of the small country shops here, the cafe has good BBQ pork or smoked chicken, hand-squeezed lemonade and peach cobbler, they even have live music of Friday night and a live radio show of old timey music and they broadcast every Saturday at 10am.
Back down 50E to 64E, its local election time, so the sign reads, Mike Foster for Sheriff, “he will continue to give Bibles to inmates”, he should get re-elected, cuss God wants him in office, then I pass the Bear Hollow Smokehouse.
There is an odd mix of religion, moonshine, music and a way of life that seems a bit confusing to me.
Back on the road heading east, the mountains in SE Tennessee are like fins, carved out by ancient rivers more than 5000 yrs old, maybe older depending on who you believe. This wonderful country with has no straight roads, except the Interstate, but my arms need the exercise, and who needs to go straight.
Up Hwy. 127, along the Sequatchie River to Pikeville, turn down Hwy 30E, pass the Laurel Snow Rocket Wilderness, across the Tennessee River, up the ridge, into the hills, then the Appalachian Mountains, on to the Cherohala Scenic Skyway, take Hwy 39E to 165E, crossing from Tennessee to North Carolina for the ride of a lifetime.
There are motorcyclists all over these mountains, there is a rally in Knoxville, 17,000 riders. On Rt. 129 around Deals Gap the road is called “the Tail of the Dragon” and a favorite ride for bikes and me.
The views are spectacular, rich, layered, forested, clear rivers, adventure for all, the Great Smokey Mountains, fun driving, Skate and I enjoying the ride, up to 5377’ at the summit, down a 9% grade, way down, yet you are never quite down, that takes another 150 miles, pass Stecoah, where the Historic Stecoah Valley Center is, there is folk, bluegrass and mountain music, dancing, story telling and ballads sing, other activities include spinning, weaving, log spitting, as well as local crafts and information of the Cherokee culture.
Time to rest, down Hwy 28 to Frankin, another road less traveled, I will name this road. “the Spine of the Southern Dragon”.60.3 mpg/ 381.2 miles traveledI great finish to a day on many small roads cutting though southern Tennessee hills into the mountains of North Carolina, excellent!

Mississippi Blues

2007-07-06T00:14:00.000-07:00

Mississippi Blue
Natchez, Mississippi Solstice 2006
Hwy 61,it's morning, it's warm & humid, gassing up at the Chevron, I see a sign in the window, "Let’s Stand-up for Jesus", then just above is a sign that reads Natchez's Best BBQ, its 8am I go check out the smoker at the side of the building, Mike Smith is there, we talk BBQ, then he invites me in to his kitchen for a sample, BBQ pulled pork for breakfast, why not.
Of course it’s delicious, no talk of Jesus, but he would be proud.
Off to explore the Grand Village of the Natchez Indians, they inhabited what is now southwest Mississippi around 700-1730 AD with the culture at it’s zenith in the mid-1500s. Between 1682 AND 1729 THE Grand Village was their main ceremonial center. French explorers, priests and journalists described the ceremonial mounds built by the Natchez on the banks of St. Catherine Creek, during that period, the French explored the region and begin settlements. Relations between the French and the Natchez were cordial at first but deteriorated beginning in 1716 until 1729, when the Natchez massacred the French garrison at Fort Rosalie. The French retaliated in such force in 1730 that the Natchez were forced to abandon their homeland.
Back on to Hwy 61 and Mississippi, Birthplace of America’s Music, Yes, blues from the Delta.
Natchez is also the start of the Natchez Trace, 450 miles of ancient road to Nashville, over the centuries, the Choctaw, Chickasaw and other American Indians left their marks on the Trace. The Natchez Trace experienced its heaviest use from 1785 to 1820 by the “Kaintuck” boatmen that floated the Ohio and Miss. rivers to markets in Natchez and New Orleans. They sold their cargo and boats and began the trek back north on foot to Nashville and points beyond, they also took what they could get for lumber in their boats. The swift Mississippi made up stream travel nearly impossible. Stories of settlers, mail carriers, solders, bandits, missionaries and opportunists paint the past.
Northward on Hwy 61, pass Fort Gibson, Blue cruises leave from here, pass plantations, soul food joints, cars with fishing poles out the back window, kids in the back of a truck, they gesture to a trucker to toot his horn, he does,then pass Vicksburg once the Southern Capitol, onward to Onward, the Onward Store is located where Highway 61 and Hwy 1 meet in Sharkey County. Onward is a small Mississippi town, Onward known because former President Theodore Roosevelt’s famous bear hunt was held close to here in 1902. A famous bear hunter Holt Collier and friends set out early to scout for bears. Luck was with Collier and he trapped and tied up a 235-pound Black bear. When Roosevelt arrived, he refused to kill a tied-up bear and the bear hunt was stopped. Local and national newspapers began to run political cartoons about the President refusing to kill the bear. The Cracker Jack Company and toy companies created stuffed bears and called them “teddy bear”.
At the junction turn left to Rt. 1, towards the river, though farm country, cotton, soy bean, and corn fields, wooded areas, and the levy in the distance to tame the grand river, pulling into a small rural town of poor folks hangin; around, shade trees, in the south, its good to have the right tree, looking for soul food, I spy a place with fried catfish , but not open, I drove away wondering how to get closer to the culture here, then pass the Rock of Ages Baptist church to Rosemont. There is a dispute has to where the exact location of the famous crossroads is, folks in Rosemont think it’s in their town, then again there are 3 known grave sites for Robert Johnson.
I stop at the Blue Levee for lunch, alternative folks here, moved away long ago only to come home, everything changes over time, they are making a difference, they have a good Plate Special of BBQ Pork Sand, coleslaw and beans with sweet tea, and they have music on the weekend. The locals are keeping their thread strong.
On to the river, at the State park is a display of an old still,it even comes with the recipe on how to make moonshine, must go camping there someday.
Then I take the Bobo-New Africa Road back to Hwy 61, just enough time to go see the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale, an excellent collection on photos by Panny Maysfield of Juke Joints of years past, Margaret’s Blue Diamond, Dew Drop Inn, Red’s Blue’s Club, Terry’s Blue’s depot Club and Ground Zero, which is across the street and playing the blues nightly. The are remnants of Muddy Water’s wooden shack, the one he was raised in, and B.B. King's Lucille and others guitars and tributes to past greats. In the back is a studio for young and old musicians to practice and learn, there are about 12 folks playing, organs, a couple of bass players, four or five guitars, drums and a vocalist, someone is playing some great riffs, I can’t tell who, I try to watch their fingers, his back is to me, a 12 year old young man putting it out, they are keeping the blues alive, players and fans from all over the world come here to the Crossroads.

As I leave I go to the Crossroads Hwy 61 & 49 to pay homage to Robert Johnson and Mississippi, with a new found respect for its people, their struggles and the music that helped them survive and also influence so many. The rhythm of the land, the beat of the heart, the swing of one’s hips, hard working by day, then freedom to play all night. Working people’s music, the blues.
At the crossroads is a Abe’s BBQ, since 1924, great pulled pork sand with slaw on it and sweet vinegar BBQ, the stories these walls could tell. Listen.
In August they have the Sunflower Blues Festival here, it’s free.
There is a Delta Blues Map Kit, with good resources, to order: www.bluesoterica.com
Its 5pm, I need to make time, thoughts of Memphis, not enough time, Tupelo instead is my destination tonight, the birthplace of Elvis. I take LA 278 pass Batesville, Oxford, where the land changes from flat river bottle land to rolling hills, North on a small road LA 9n, of horses, and small farms, then to Hwy 78E to a short ride to Tupelo, there is the Natchez Trace, its still early, 8pm, don’t stop yet. Happy to explore, a lot of miles today, the Trace is a gentle ride, no stops, stores, towns, this road cuts though time, its cool, there are lighting bugs out, Skate and I glide on the two lane blacktop, a heavenly road, hardly a soul on it, this is were the voices of the past can be heard, if you Listen. It’s too enjoyable to stop, Northeastern Mississippi, my discovery, then we slice off Alabama and into Tennessee, on to Waynesboro for some needed rest. I must see and drive down the entire Natchez Trace, this is one on the great roadways in America. Next time more slowly and with more time to absorb its gentle beauty, then on to the Delta and the blues.
Miss you Mississippi.
62.9mph/520.8 miles traveled

the Good, Bad & Ugly!

2007-07-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

The Good, Bad and the Ugly- Louisiana
Having just arrived in Sulphur, Louisiana, after finally getting out of Texas.
Some wonderful Kerrville friends Don & Frieda (Fork in the Road camp) live here, he is a retired meteorologist, she native German, they are the salt of the earth and both excellent cooks. When Hurricane Rita paided a visit, they secured their house, weighed down the boat, tighten up everything and decided to ride the storm out. They survived the 110-180 mph winds, the sound must have been terrifying. A tree split their home in two, and also destroyed other trees, and they both survived. They were asked to evacuate, they choose to stay, free will, after the storm they went about cleaning up, folks that had left could not get back to their homes four three weeks. They were able to stop the mildew from evading their home, and take care of displayed animals, they say no one died in Rita, yet there were dead, the elderly mostly, unable to deal with the stress, animals dyed, and the long term effects will go on for years. FEMA would not help Don & Frieda. Bad. I was only able to make this a short stay, and Don wanted to make Gumbo. I had to go, to much time in Texas, now pressing to get to North Carolina for a family reunion!
Bad me for not having time for Gumbo.
Louisiana is able diversity of its people, the land, food, music and the arts. Driving to Lafayette to see my son Abraham on Father’s day down LA 90 E, Pass Lake Charles, on Sunday morning, it’s Cajun music on the public radio station and French speakers talking about their music, in Mamou starting at 9:30am to 1:30pm it’s live music. On a nice flat, straight road, going though a number of small towns, there were blue tarps on roofs, quite a few, and debris, sometimes stacked, sometimes still clinging to a building.
Ugly.
In Rayne, Jacques Weil and his brothers Edmond and Gontron in 1901 came from Paris to start a business selling frog legs across the country, they sold as most as 10,000 pounds a week.
They say there are fours seasons here, its Crab, (summer), Shrimp (fall), Oyster (winter), Crayfish (spring). Good.
Lafayette, I am humbled and bewildered by their traffic planning, it’s too late to fix it, do your research and don’t ask the locals about directions, they are equally confused. Bad

The Louisiana Folk Roots present The Roots Heritage Festival every April with classes, music, dance lessons and the line-up for main performers looked like a good fun time. Their website is www.lafolkroots.org
Good!
One of my highlights was goin’ to the swamp with my son. A native Cajun Bryan Champagne, is our guide for a tour, he grew up fishing the swamps. He is an excellent guide, we were out for over 2 hours, he takes us to hidden pathways, at least to me, we see all types all birds: egrets, ducks, ibis, woodpeckers, cormorants, two types of night heron and a rosette spoonbill, a beautiful rosy color, and the bill. There were gators and turtles, apparently the yellow bellied ones (turtles) are the best eaten, folks down here eat what ever they catch. In October it’s Gator on a Stick.
We went through a grove of Cypress Trees that were 500 years old. Weaving in the trees, bumping them, and getting stuck in the little boat, the guide has to push us out if something breaks. I am not getting out of this boat with critters bigger then me in the water.

There are restricted areas for nesting birds, and on the other hand they do spray 2-4-D on the swamp to control vegetation, our guide said there are less fish now, then years prior, go figure. Check out a guided Eco tour into the Atchafalaya Basin Swamp.
Louisiana has a bounty of life, folks know their surroundings, and they need our respect and support to rebuild their state. Let’s not forget one on the truly special places in our country.
Catfish, Jambalaya, Etouffee, Crawfish, Shrimp, Frog Legs, Gumbo, Po boys, anything that jumps, moves, that can be caught, is boiled, fry, or cooked for days, it’s all good!
Their BBQ is a spicy voloute, whole shrimp with the shell on top of baguette with stuffing, this gives me a warm fuzzy feeling. Good!
Iberia Island, home of Tabasco, was great to see, a solid recipe done well, the same since 1868.

We also went to St. Martin Parish to view the church and grounds, Longfellow's poem about Evangeline and the stories of the exiled Arcadian settlers who arrived in 1765 and found this mysterious, untamed land along the banks of Bayou Teche.
An Excerpt from Longfellow’s EvangelineThus ere another noon they emerged from the shades; and before them
Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya.
Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen.
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms,
And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan islands,
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses,
Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
On the banks of the Têche, are the towns of St. Maur and St. Martin.
There the long-wandering bride shall be given again to her bridegroom,
There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold.
Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit trees;
Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens
Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.
They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana!

Sources: Brasseaux, In Search of Evangeline; Dormon, Truth about the Cajuns; Rickels, "Folklore of the Acadians."
Time to Leave, my son is going to a concert, I was invited, a graciously declined.
On the road at 5pm, out to Interstate 10, no blue highways over this baby.
Across the waterways, the Bayou, the Mississippi River, sources of life, to Baton Rouge then to take Hwy 61 north into Mississippi and the Blues.Into Natchez, Mississippi.
59.6 mpg/ 276.2 miles traveled

Dime BoX & da Q

2007-07-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

Dime Box & more Good BBQ, June 17th
The Area around present day Dime Box, Texas was originally a Four League Grant given to Stephen F. Austin for bringing the first three hundred colonists to Texas. Originally the Dime Box area was called Brown’s Mill in 1869, after Joseph S. Brown it’s located at the west end of County Road 429, it’s one mile south of The El Camino Real, State Road 21.
Record’s show that Brown’s Mill had a post office as early as 1877 with Brown as postmaster, there was confusion with the town of Brownsville, so they needed a name.
Many people had used a wooden box at Brown’s Mill to send and receive mail and also request other items, leaving a dime in the box for service rendered.
A suggestion was made to call the area Dime Box, so on December 28, 1883 it got its name.
I first learned of Dime Box when reading ‘blue highways’ A Journey into America by William Least Heat-Moon, he writes about his travels around America in 1979, he went clockwise around the US in a small van,I am going counter clockwise in a 2000 Honda Insight, go figure.
He(Heat-Moon)wrote a story of the town barber Claud Tyler, he was an old time barber in a small town, his joke’s and local knowledge were fascinating.
He says that when business was good, he had a shop as good as any shop as in Texas, he says that he listened to a million stories cutting those old squirrels’ heads. “a Barber’s the third most lied-to person, you know," Heat-Moon asked “Who’s first”, the Barber “Man’s wife is first anywhere in the world, Priest is second”.
Not much of a town now, rusty silos at the old train station, the old shops almost boarded up, people are trying, the Historical Center was closed, the sign said that they should be open, the sign said go across the street, ask for any elder lady, I did, she made a call, and in a short while they opened the center for me, I am alone. The fellow and his wife , as well with other’s are trying to keep their history alive here, we had a fun talk, the Community as a lot of Czech people, he even afforded me some of his homemade sausage, he said it’s OK, not thinking I was going to see friends in Louisiana that would just love his sausage.
I have noticed other sausage makers ,too. There is Barton’s and even Dime Box sausage.
In town I barely noticed a Jake’s Bar-B-Que, open Sundays, Pit Bar-B-Que Brisket, Pork, Chicken, Sausage and Ribs, it’s Saturday. I was able to talk to Jacob Beran the owner, and a few locals hangin; around the shop.
Up the street the market I asked for help with the Historical center, I noticed local black men sitting around eating BBQ, I went back, I am glad a did, $2.25 for BBQ pulled pork on white bread, wrapped in foil, let's just say I did not get very far before that sandwich was gone. Great Sandwich.
Early this morning I left Austin, it rained a bunch, it was dark in the morning, no bright sun, nice for me, Oregonman notices that Texans and Californians drivers are wimps when it comes to driving in the rain, it’s nice to see then slow down. “Good lord willin' and the creek don’t rise”. Here High Water poles go to 5 feet, Skate could handle half a foot, try me!
I say good-bye to Bill and Janine, a beautiful couple, in love, flowing together and as themselves, it’s nice to observe, the sweetness of harmony.
I get my usual four shot latte, now were talking and driving out of Austin, back on the journey to wander, heading to the Southeast, a take 290 E two lanes out of Texas, then SR 21 to Old Dime Box, then to Dime Box on County Road 429, then back to SR 21 to 290E then on to SR 105, trying to make time to get to Sulfur, Louisiana, and stay with friends for Kerrville, the ride is pheasant, the back roads are the best, 290 is a Austin to Houston connection, I go over Houston, I only experience little traffic here, 45 miles out, pass Washington at Brazos, a very historic area here in Texas history, Bluebell Ice Cream is the Bomb here, good stuff, over the Trinity River, thru Batson, sighs of shrimp and Bayou country, East Texas and Southeastern Louisiana, on to Texas 12, pass Beaumont, Texas across the Sabin River, smell of gas in the air, oil county, SE gulf coast, on to LA12 to Deweyville, on the Acadia Trial, south on LA 27S, pass the Boiling Point Restaurant.
On to Louissana, I pull in after a long day's drive, and a day when I am not in Texas, almost a month in Texas, little did I know.
Back for a moment in Texas. Best B-B-Q the Planet reads the sign, ROCKIN'R B-B-Q at the junction of Texas SR 321 & SR 105, in Cleveland, a man in a chef’s coat, it's his shop, in the back of a gas station store and in an adjacent building, the smokers are going outside, Ronnie & Janice Reeves are the owners, I order the brisket, we start talking BBQ,what me talk, he starts to give my samplers, and telling me his secrets, I share my knowledge and he is of like mind, some chefs won't share. He is great, we talk for about an hour, BBQ, on being a chef, the good, the bad, and then he gives me 4 CD's of local musicians, I need to keep in touch with Ronnie.
Did I Mention the Brisket was Heavenly!
55.9 MPG/ 365.3 mile traveled

Austin, Texas, Capitol of Texas; and more Good Times

2007-07-04T13:40:00.000-07:00

Austin, Texas, Capitol of Texas; and more Good Times
June 11th-16th
Arriving in Austin after a brief tour of the hill country and removing myself from Kerrville, all the new discoveries, am I ready for Austin, The Live Music Capitol of the World, sorry Portland. My host says we must see the bats, they are amazing, a beautiful evening after a great meal at Curra’s, wonderful Mexican food with some delicious salsa and Texas Mexican food Tex-mex, then we head to the river, the crowds have gathered, we go to the north side of the river, you can watch from the south side, but you are under the bats there, if it feels like rain, but smells different, it's bat poop, the bridge is a great spot to watch as well, or in one of many boats. The History of Free tail Bats in Austin ... In 1980, while reconstructing the Congress Avenue Bridge in downtown Austin, bridge engineers had no idea that new crevices created beneath the bridge would make an ideal place for a bat roost. Even though they had lived there for years, it was headline news when the bats suddenly began moving in under the Austin Bridge by the thousands. After the novelty of this unusual occurrence had worn off, the public began to react in fear. Many activists within the Austin community began petitioning to have the colony eradicated.
About that time, a group now know as Bat Conservation International, stepped in and began an educational process about the bats. They educated Austinites to the fact that they are gentle and incredibly sophisticated animals, and that they eat from 10,000 to 30,000 pounds of insects, including mosquitoes, each night.
The campaign proved to be successful as Austin came to appreciate its bats and even erected a bat sculpture in honor of this unique and spectacular mammal. Since then, the population under the Congress Avenue Bridge has grown to be the largest urban colony in North America. Up to 1.5 million make nightly flights creating a most unusual tourist attraction for Austin.
They arrive in mid-March and return to Mexico in early November. They emerge at different times every night, but the hotter and drier the weather gets, the earlier they will get hungry and set out for food.
August is the best viewing month, not only because they come out before sundown, but because the newborn bats (called pups) are just beginning to forage with their mothers.
Austin's bridge bats are Mexican Free-Tail, which migrate each spring from central Mexico. Most of the colony is female, and in early June each one gives birth to a single pup. The pink, hairless babies grow to be about three to four inches long, with a wingspan of up to a foot. In just five weeks, they'll learn to fly and hunt insects on their own.
Great fun, and Austin is a great small city, not without it’s issues, growth, their wonderful Barton Springs, a great place for swimming is becoming being invaded by algae because of development around the lake, they could use a better transportation system, maybe copy Portland, it works well here, like Portland it’s a place people want to live. I would love to live here. And the music scene, are there 30 hours in a day? The older, poor neighborhoods are being purchased and remodeled, and there are still some unique pockets of culture here. So, Good luck Austin!
On to fun stuff, we eat at Curra’s Grill Monday night, everything was excellent, try the salsa sampler, my favorite was the roasted pumpkin seed salsa, and they have whole fish, too.
Our table eats everything, we tasted everything from each other’s dishes, and the prices are also not bad.
After Kerrville, there is a review at the Cactus Cafe on campus, lots of known famous people got started here, tonight is a one song review night by the staff and fellow musicians, everyone is clean, and we smelled good, and we got to look at each other in fresher clothes. The music was filled with great spirit, and final good-bye’s till next year.
Grant, one of many new friends called, Johnny Winter is playing in Bee Cave, he can flat out play guitar and at his age, he can still kick most (all) people's butt, he did a Muddy Water’s tribute, his playing was out of this world, sadly his voice, does not have the strength it had, all in all, he’s still alive and well, finishing the night with Dylan’s Highway 61, ironic that’s were I am headed. Please Robert Johnson send me a message.
On my final night, I had an Austin night out, Jerry Stile’s, who has a song “I found a Trailer to match My Truck”, great fun Tejas country music at Artz BBQ, the ribs was good, the service, let’s call her Casper, they pay servers like $2 per hour here, you would think, you would try harder for a tip!
Then we when to Jovita Café to hear Colombian music by a group called Cerronata, they were hot, and the dancers are even hotter. We finished the night at the Saxon with Jon Dee Graham, he rocks, his gravelly voice, lyrics and stage performance, we rocked till 2am.
This is the best town for live music, there are great bands and venues in Portland, but we are infants compared to Austin. There are so many clubs, Threadgill, Antoine’s, the Continental Club where Toni Price plays every Tuesday at 7pm. Get the Chronicle their weekly paper, and have fun.
The food joints I counted had 170 listings for BBQ, 472 for Mexican, and there are other types of food as well, where to start. My favorite BBQ is the County Line, the beans are the best I have ever tasted, and the ribs tender, sweet, the sauce perfect!
Other places to try Salt Lick 360, Rudy’s Country Bar-B-Q and the Iron Works to name a few.
It’s downtown is full of shops, small and large, lots of eateries, tour the Capitol, you can walk to so many clubs here, you could go to a different restaurant and club in 365 days and not go to the same place.
Austin has a delightful Art Museum AMoA, it’s recent show OVER+OVER, Passion for Process, 13 artist, surprising beauty out of the mundane, using playing cards, pencil stubs, tires, road maps, dollar bills, marker caps, twist ties, and pasta.
“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons” from T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” 1917, he overheard women who, come and go talking of Michelangelo, artist of his time were more likely inspired by cups, saucers, spoons and newspapers.
Finishing out my day, there was a parade celebrating the freeing of the slaves 141 years ago called Juneteenth, all over Texas there were celebrations, and marching bands, Texas is a land of many peoples, with a rich history dating back to the Native Americans and even before. It’s in the rocks, the water, the food, song and dance, its weather and it’s a damn big state.
Well I do have to go, to wander once more.
Thanks Austin, I will be back, soon!

Leaving Home, Back to the hills of Texas, that is!

2007-07-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

Leaving Home, Back to the Hills, of Texas that is.
June 12th, 2006
Leaving the Kerrville Folk Festival after a great Sunday evening, hangin’ with my friend Renee. The final show, hugs & good-byes, we found one perfect campfire of musicians, including David Amram, one last night of song and a full moon to boot.
Leaving Monday morning, a Dirty Hippie no more. I break camp, say good-bye my friends, take a hot shower, collect my knives from the kitchen, say bye to the camp kitchen ,too.
Back on the road!
I decide to go see Luckenbach, est. 1849, where the late Hondo Crouch said” People can’t believe we have such a big moon for such a small place”.
SR 16N on to Kerrville leaving the ranch, all is quiet, only the smell of Dr. Bonner’s Peppermint soap is in the air, our shower soap at Kerrville. Right on SR27E, the back way is a nice drive, a few cars, I pass Comfort, pass Buzzy’s BBQ, then on to a really small road RR473E, views of the hill country to the south, rolling hills of pine, cypress, pecan trees and cactus. Ranches with their brand over the gate of their property. Land of wild pigs and big game hunting, no wonder Dick Cheney came here to shot things that move, so much for empty pop bottles.
Rolling up & down, pass First Coffee Hollow, up the hill, down the hill pass Second Coffee Hollow. I turn left near Sisterdale on toRR1376N, a gentle climb , then to my left are a group of dead trees, with what appears to be sculptures of large birds, cool, a small road turn around, I swing back for a picture, then there are a few more sculptures by the road, cool western art. As I drive back, I see a dead deer on the opposite side of the road with these sculptures, vultures eating it! Looking at the trees across the road, 30 more waiting their turn. Soon the bones of that deer may be someone’s western art. Maybe a sculpture!

On I go, Luckenbach, I turn right, instead of left to find large olive jars on this man’s lawn, they look artistic/ more sculptures maybe. The owner sees me, we talk, he notes my Oregon tag with McMinnville on it, and he has friends our way.

Back a quarter mile is Luckenbach, population 3. The cosmic cowboy’s Willy & Waylon and other notorious legends of Texas music played here, this place has opened the door for the rednecks and hippies to realize they all dig the same music. Time we all grow our hair out. As a boy I lived in Texas in the 60’s long hair was not cool, then!
It’s early here, 2 guys drinking a beer, what the hell, set me up. It’s quite the enterprising place now, variety of music, large beer gardens, BBQ, large wooden dance hall. Funky bar with pictures of the past and a gift shop to take your memory with you.
There are Lone Star Pickers on Tues., Wacky Waylon Weds., and Loco Locals Thurs., Friday & Saturday are dance hall nights. Come on down to Luckenbach were “Everybody’s Somebody in Luckenbach”.
Turn left up the road 290W to Fredericksburg, an old German Community, they are known for thier peaches, every area has its specialties, and here it’s peach pie and peach ice cream and preserves. In to Fredericksburg, quaint little cottages spot the town, ranchers built these small cabins, so they could come to town on Saturday with their families, to be clean and ready for church on Sunday.
Lot’s of German eats and shops, abit touristy, I drive around, go to the local tourist info center, then on to Llano, so I take SR16N
Heading north to eat BBQ at Coopers, voted the best in Texas, pass Willow, again back in the beautiful Texas Hill County.
Coopers BBQ, you order your BBQ at the pit, the cook cuts off close to what you order, giant slabs of beef ribs, pork chops, pork loin, German sausage, chicken, beef brisket to choose from.
They weigh it inside, they wrap your food on a parchment paper, you can order sides of coleslaw, potato salad, and there is also a large selection of pies and cobblers, too.
Big pots of beans and all the BBQ sauce you will ever need, as well as refills of iced tea, sweet or not, when you eat out in Tejas, you get a cup for iced tea, as you when you leave you can ask for a go cup, where they fill you up for free. I like this idea the Go Cup. There are large picnic tables with loafs of white bread for drips or to put meats in. I had brisket, excellent, tender and moist, German sausage, very good, and pork ribs, again very good, their BBQ sauce is more vinegary then I thought it would be, but what the hay, I am a tourist!

Lots of other BBQ joints here, too.
On to Austin, SR71E, slowly out of the hill country to the largest city on this leg of my journey. Its 3:30pm, I need to take Interstate 35N for a few miles, back to back traffic, 100 degrees, no AC, northern cars get less in trade down here.
I am headed to Bill & Janine’s house they live in an old Latino neighborhood I get a glimpse of the city.
5,326 miles so far, my travels from Oregon, to Washington, back down the Oregon coast, California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and now in Austin, Texas.
55.6 MPG/ 214 miles traveled

Kerrville Folk Festival, a Different Time in Space, 2007

2007-06-27T13:10:00.000-07:00

Kerrville Folk Festival, a Different Time in Space, 2007
A year ago I stumbled on this place, Home. Now Kerr-vered, I fly into Tejas on a red eye out of Portland Town, now a year later, not on the road traveling, but working, time is short this time.
I fly in to Odessa airport on a Sunday morning at 8am, not much sleep, happy to be in Tejas, happy to see Renee, we meet in Kerrville last year, shared a friendship at camp, we talked for three months as I completed my journey, then got together in Las Vegas after my loop. Then off on our own side trip around the Southwest camping, making love, falling in love, you know the rest.
On Monday we head to Kerrville to set-up camp, she has a working gig in San Antonio the next day, I spend time catching up with friends, eating BBQ in a trailer as its raining, and the big show starts on Thursday.
It’s been rainy this year in Tejas, last year we had 100+ degree heat the whole festival.
The sprit of the camp is growing slowly each day, people arriving every moment, hugs, laughter, time to catch up with the all of life. “Welcome Home”
Thursday night the first night of the festival the McKay Brothers open, they are from Bandera, just down the road, two handsome Texas boys, with songs about pick-ups, beer & girls, fun, then Thad Beckman from Portland town, wonderful blues, it is a blessing to have him up here in Oregon, then Ian Moore from Vashon Island, where all the freaks live a short ferry ride out of Seattle, then the Austin Lounge Lizards doing their classics, during the show, I am told by my friend that she knows two of the members quite well, over time we all have known someone else better than well, history, it’s all good, then the treat of the first night is James Hand, a shy real country cowboy, swiveling hips, a proud guitar, sad lyrics from lonesome cowboy, a real hoot!
That night it starts raining right after the show and continues, we wake to our road in front of our tent, it’s now a small river now, after coffee and breakfast, well it’s already time for beer and a need to divert water, shoveling a good half a day to save our camp, the camp is in good sprit, although the main stage is not suitable for the big show, we are all to busy to notice, so later in the day the word gets out 9pm at Threadgill, under cover, newly terraced, it's really nice, we are in for a magical night, the sprit of the festival prevails, that night The Laws from Ontario, then Tracy Grammer was a delight, on to Michael Smith, intelligent words, a gifted song writer, a great mind f**k for some lucky lady, topping the night a Band of Heathens out of Austin town.
Saturday, the rain continues, we are back at Threadgill for the New Folk contest, Rana Rose from Portland/ Austin signs a song about Oregon, then Anthony da Costa, 13 years young, a force to be reckoned with, 16 singers each day, only six chosen.
The New Folk Contest is the core of this place to me, were ones words are there for all to hear, we listen, no judgment, just a great respect to these songwriters.
Saturday night back at the main stage, Cory Sheridan from Moab, Peter Yarrow from Peter, Paul & Mary, he is one of the people that keep this thing going, topping the night Jimmy LaFave, we all dance to a beautiful night of music.
Its tequila night for me, eight shots of Patron, Renee and I wander around the camp listening to songs around campfires, we make it to the Crow’s Nest where Brian Cutean of Oregon holds camp, high above the camp, of a ledge, and folks pass the guitar and share their songs.
I slide off a truck sideways, it’s easy to go downhill for me after that.
Later that night the rains start again, 5 inches in a couple of hours, we survive, yet it’s time to divert water again, just inches from our tent, we are in a good spot which is now river front property, a good time to drink coffee then smoke cigars & beers under our canopy, as the clouds lift, a double rainbow appears, a rubber gator flows down a the new river, a man with a boogey board rides the waves, we make our own high water gauge, it has bewildered me that here in Tejas they have a pole marked from one foot to five feet, why would anyone try over two feet, they do and they float away.
As we recover from two more down pours, our campfire is flooded, as well as many tents with belongings, sleeping in or/on wet bedding is not comforting, Renee & I did well, only some papers get wet, the tent and placement (Renee) also get a pat on the back.
Sunday back to Threadgill for the New Folk in the afternoon, then back in the evening for an extremely fun couple in Small Potatoes, they have fun with you and their music, then Sara Hickman, a Texas legend in the making, then Steve James from Austin as well, then the great voice of Vance Gilbert, A.J. Croce can flat play piano, and to close the show on this wet wonderful day, the Hudsons.
I did not get to as many campfires this year, between the weather and the shorter stay, only the first big weekend for me, I know now that this is only the beginning, during the week things settle down, but the music keeps a-coming, for me only one more day & night.
Monday it’s our time to cook, last year I cooked cedar-plank wild salmon over the open campfire, as well as grilled asparagus, balsamic mushrooms and proscuitto wrapped prawns, and pesto corn on the cob, so this year with Renee as my assistant, we go for the prawns again, getting the prawns in ice as a prepare our meal outside, accomped with tomato (ripe tomatoes in may in this state), fresh mozzarella and basil, we do well, each night someone cooks a fabulous meal, Sally and Steve with whole fired grilled beef tenderloin, Grant & Greg (not a couple) with Steaks, Wes & Mary with Lasagna, all this with mud between our toes. Don & Freda’s Fish fry is canceled on the first Saturday because of as well.
We make it happen, although I miss the Blues Project with Thad Beckman, Stefan George and Gary Primich, o’ well, we do get to go back to the main stage for a beautiful evening concert of singer-song writers, all past new folk winners: opening is one of my favs Diana Jones, she has found her home and voice, she seems more relaxed after having won last years New Folk, and my view, she may have found someone, then Jonathan Byrd from North Carolina, I enjoy his songs, words and southern voice, has well as has politics, later in the week is BYRDJONES both Jonathan and Diana together, I won’t be here, back to the evening Amilia K. Spicer, a darling of this festival, John Gorka, the singer-songwriters songwriter, o my god, voice and words, excellent, then topping off a magical night Susan Werner with her piano.
We sit in the front row on the end, in the same spot as last year, only this year Renee & I are a couple.
We go campfire hopping on our last night in camp, many excellent players, the topper was a woman singing a song to her husband, a non profession that got everyone singing and smiling, these moments continue, endure and enlighten though out the whole festival, come high water, 100+ degree heat, fire ants, wild pigs, and what ever our God will throw at us. Family.
The next morning Tuesday, we prepare Eggs Benedict for all, a good kick off to travel back to Odessa with Renee for a couple of relaxing days and nights before heading back to Portland and a job.
We did stop at Cooper's BBQ in Junction for some great BBQ coming and going to the Festival.
Writing this, I have sad news Berk Snow died in a plane crash, his partner Suzanne survived, I had meet them many years ago though an old partner, only to see them at last years Folk Festival, seeing them again, we had the privedge to drive them to the airport, they had flown his 1958 Cessna from Northern California to the Festival, not knowing this would be the last time they would fly over Kerrville.
He would come to the festival to listen to music, find folks for his radio show at KMUD in Garberville.
More about this: www.kmud.org
Fly away my brother, I will always think of you flying over camp, waving at us from above on golden wings.

Rocking the boat in Mayberry.

2007-06-21T17:43:00.000-07:00
The Mayberry Machiavellis of the Bush Administration are finding resistance in the darndest places.
BY THE NOSE | TheNose at Willamette Weekly
[June 11th, 2003] The Nose has never met Barbara Comstock, but he wants to take her out on a date.

The Nose became aware of Comstock, a U.S. Justice Department spokeswoman, Monday morning while listening to a National Public Radio report about the backlash against the Patriot Act. Comstock was downplaying the fact that 120 U.S. cities (and three states) have passed resolutions opposing the Act. Comstock stressed that the cities were clustered in liberal New England or around universities.

"The usual enclaves," she told NPR's Juan Williams, "where you might see Nuclear-Free Zones."

That's why the Nose would like to treat her out to a night on the town in beautiful Gaston, Ore., a sleepy burg of 600, just 30 miles west of Portland on the edge of Washington County. We'd start at Cooper D's diner for a Bison Deluxe Burger, then grab a soft-serve ice cream cone at the Gaston Market (a.k.a. Ralph's Pretty Good Grocery) before ending with a glass or two of Hamm's at Crickett's Tavern.

Comstock would see that that the guys who buy their Carhartt overalls and Bailey hats at Gaston Feed & Hardware aren't making a fashion statement. And it's neither a Vermont socialist enclave nor a radical college town, but a pretty typical rural outpost of America, where George Bush beat Al Gore 97 to 71. And two months ago, this city told Comstock's boss, U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft, to shove it.

On April 9, the nonpartisan Gaston City Council passed a resolution, crafted by councilor Michael Slocum, that forbids city employees, including police, from apprehending people solely because of immigration violations or helping investigate anyone not suspected of a crime.

Slocum, a Democrat, says he was nervous about broaching the topic with his fellow councilors, who include a Republican, a Libertarian, three Democrats and an independent. "I was a bit worried about rocking the boat in Mayberry," he says. But his colleagues were as eager as a heifer in heat. The council voted 7-0 in favor of Slocum's resolution stating that the U.S.A. Patriot Act threatens "fundamental rights and liberties."

The 342-page act, passed by Congress just a month after 9/11, creates the crime of "domestic terrorism," gives the federal government unprecedented access to financial, medical and library records of U.S. citizens, and makes it easier for agents to tap phones and intercept email. Non-citizens face the prospect of deportation or indefinite detainment (without judicial appeal) even if not charged with any crime.

"It's like gun control," says Gaston councilor Richard Sager. "It's the first step toward tyranny."

Last week, Ashcroft's own inspector general, Glenn Fine, released a report showing that there were "significant problems" in the detention of many of the 762 foreign nationals held on immigration charges since 9/11. None has been publicly charged with terrorism, and yet they spent an average of nearly three months behind bars while the feds snooped around, many going weeks before seeing a lawyer.

You'd think Ashcroft might have been contrite. But, instead, he got pushy, last week telling Congress he needs more powers. While he limited his requests to efforts to keep tabs on actual terrorism suspects and harsher penalties for convicts, many reckon he wants even more. A draft bill to expand the Patriot Act, which surfaced in February, would allow Ashcroft to keep secret the names of people he detains until criminal charges are filed, collect DNA evidence from suspects and strip citizenship from anyone who "becomes a member of, or provides material support" to a "terrorist organization...engaged in hostilities against the U.S."

Maybe that's why the act has united the NRA crowd with the NPR crowd.

"You can't let government erode your rights," says Sager, a registered Libertarian. "They don't repeal taxes, and they don't restore liberties."

Kerrville, between Time & Space #2006

2007-06-20T20:38:00.000-07:00
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Kerrville Folk Festival 2006 May 24th- June 11th, on the Quiet Valley Ranch Celebrating Songwriters since 1972.
Turning onto the ranch after a long hot drive south from San Angelo, after being alone driving down from Oregon to discover this very special place, were music, words, voices, harmonies, singing and playing to sunup everyday, all types on special people coexisting, supporting, sharing, laughing, sharing outside toilets for 19 days, but everyone works hard to share for respect and burden on all of us living close, FEMA could learn something about living in the elements, which Texas definitely has, plus the joy of working in the kitchen 4-5 hours a day, 5 days a week, I washed dishes, did prep, got to cook a little, I know how to fill in gaps when needed in the kitchen, we did well, the on stage music was fantastic, when you though you had heard the best, the best music rises again, on the stage, at the Kennedy Outdoor Theater, which is the large stage, at the Threadgill Stage it has been remodeled, and on to the campgrounds were half on the camp is musicians, the staff too, magic fills the air, some sleep with ear plugs, not me, rock me to sleep with live music nightly, Sweet Jesus yes.
Oregon was well represented, Brian Cutean a long time piece of this festival, gentle soul, years ago he had played at the Clinton St. Theater in SE Portland, and Adam and Kris, a long time folk couple, now a celebrity odd couple featured in People Magazine recently, also played at the Clinton St. A hot young guitarist from Eugene, David Jacobs-Strain, recent Austin transplant to Portland Thad Beckman, great performer, delightful stage performer, I believe in plays in a little pub in SW Portland, GO SEE THIS MAN PLAY!

And Rana Rose of our kitchen staff, she works at Mississippi Studios, great voice and incredible song writing. Go Oregon!
Everyday there is music, from the Main Stage Johnsmith and the Asylum Street Spankers with Whamo of Austin Poet Slam fame, he performer in the Portland Poet Slam in 1996, the second day Matt Anderson of Toronto, Canada, great blues play, also that night Joel Rafael and Steve Gillette & Cindy Mansen of Vermont. Day 3 Jack Williams of South Carolina, suberp guitar player and writer. Day 4 Guy Clark, another Texas Legend, then Butch Hancock from Terlingua, Texas, find this place on the map? And David Jacobs-Strain, a young force to be reckoned with! He should be at the Portland Blues Festival every year.

Monday May 29th, Memorial Day dynamite line-up Django Walker of Austin, Bill Hearne and Bonnie Hearne of Santa Fe, New Mexico, Stefan George of Tucson, great Robert Johnson covers, as well as his own blues tunes, the Replacements of Austin with Jon DeeGraham, and topping off the night Sue Foley, watch out Bonnie!
Mid week performances are in the Threadgill Theater, named for a man from Austin that let musicians play for a free meal, song and dinner, please. This place can test your endurance. Tuesday, the FlatLiners with Vince Bell, Steven Fromholz and Eric Taylor, Wednesday May 31st Amilia K Spicer, a young rising star, and Vance Gilbert of Boston, great voice and fun performer, he played one night near our circle with Adam and Kris, Joel Rafael, Tom Prasada-Rao and the music rained down from heaven, I went to bed at 2am, they played on, it was a magical night, sweet dreams.
This is where Michelle Shocked taped her Campfire release, she also worked on the recycling crew at the same time! Go Recycling!!!
On Thursday June 1st, “New Folk Club 7”, a evening of former New Folk Finalists, the ones that did not make the cut, Lyle Lovett being one of them. No he was not here this festival.
Over 8oo entries from all over the world submit their songs, 32 are selected to perform at Kerrville, from that only 6 are chosen, then they perform in a special concert, my fav was Diana Jones of Nashville, and she can to perform on two differnt nights at our campfire, sweet woman, unique voice and songs with great emotional depth.
Only Day 9, Peter Yarrow and Noel Paul Stookey, guess? Peter has been a big part of this festival, and I got to meet him, everyone is approachable here, also that night Vance Gilbert again, Thad Beckman got everyone up out of their seats and then Ruthie Foster, rocked the house, dust from the dancers was flying. Saturday Amelia again, opening was Los Texmaniacs from San Antonio, and closing was Texas legend Ray Willy Hubbard.
Day 11 Bill Staines of Boston, then Dar Williams, South Austin Jug Band, more dust, great young group and topping of the night the Austin Lounge Lizards.
Now I am starting to get woozy, way too much fun, way not enough sleep, did I mention the 100 degree heat daily and free staff beer. Like a toad, reserve your energy, I need a rock to craw under.Back to Threadgill, Michael Troy, fun, fun, fun and Anais Mitchell, sweet beauty and voice, let’s just say that myself, George and Grant, my new friends, all of us older guys, were all in love that night.
On Tuesday June 6th, day13, I went to a motel for a long nap in an air-conditioned room, and I update the blog, sorry about delays or worries. Swim in a pool, called friends, a much needed break. I missed Peter Alsop and Dana Copper that night, sorry.
In the home stretch Steve Seskin and the Dreamsicles with a cast of many, great great fun with jazzy funky music. Thursday, a group called the Work O’The Weavers, they cover the older folk songs, excellent music, and they are a great link to the history of Folk.
Back to the Main Stage, Friday night, a good line-up not the best, still great anywhere else in the world, playing were Carolyn Hester, Northern Lights and Red Dirt Rangers of Stillwater, Oklahoma, this band rocked, they would be fun to see in a bar.
Saturday Beth Wood, Darden Smith, then the Limeliters doing the great folk music of a past generation, Go see Trout Fishing in America, they play and have fun doing so, JonDeeGraham, one of my favorite new discoveries, topping the night Gary Primich.
One more night, David Amram Conductor from New York has been coming to Kerrville for years, with soloists Jonathan Byrd, Jimmy LaFave, Albert and Gage, Megan Meisenbach, Trout Fishing in America and Bobby Bridger.
With a small orchestra, this was another magical night of music, remembrance of those that have passed on, on friendship, and singing, holding hands, hugs and tears.
David loves all forms of music, people and campfires, he told stories, and directed, each performer brought their own special magic to the stage.
That’s a little peek at the performances, there are workshops for performers, songwriters, teachers, a Blues Project that was good fun, Allen Damron, a important part of this festival for years died, there was a remembrance for him, I was told that there was not a person that was not his friend, a good soul, I did not know the man, just the work of this festival he left behind. You did well, Allen. May you find a special place to continue your work in the heavens?
Camping for weeks, people share, love and laugh, I met a group of fellow Texans camped across the way, they are family to me now, we sit, talked under a great shade tree, cooked wonderful food, there are some great cooks here, campfire cuisine at it’s best. One of my new friends is Renee, full of life & fun from Odessa, then Joe, Shanna & Conner of McKinney, Bill & Belinda of Abilene, Wes & Mary of Odessa, Grant from Austin, Brother Tim and Nicki, Nicki is a hoot! Sharon of San Antonio, Steve, Sally, Katrina & Tristan of Houston, Janine & Bill of Austin, Penny from Plano, Greg from Austin, then there is my soul brother George of San Antonio, we spent time talking, soaking in the river, having Apple Ice Cream and Pie for lunch in Medina. In the Kitchen, Stu and Carrie, Wayne and Laura, they also are board members with their heart and soul into keeping Kerrville alive, this has been going for another 35 years. So many musicians, their music is etched in my head forever.
Old friends Suzanne and Burk flew a 1959 172 Cessna aircraft from Northern California, I have not seen them in 12 years, you see people from all over America here.
Kerrville is a place between time and space, a place of harmony and love, caring and compassion, sing your song, someone will listen.
19 days later, I am back on the road.

Detour to Home

2007-06-20T13:05:00.000-07:00

San Angelo to Kerrville May 24th
When driving into San Angelo, I turn on the radio, first time in a while, mostly listening to tapes, I tune in the Austin station, about 5pm it's national news, not much has changed in a month. Why do I get caught up in the world news, why have we not learned to get along in a few thousand years!
There is mention of a folk festival in Kerrville, I spend the night mostly alone in the park, nice evening walk, a wonderful park host Jessie Faye, more in a minute.
Kerrville, where the hell is Kerrville, I look on the map around Austin, no Kerrville.
Back to the park, Jessie, alone here as a park host, an older independent woman, we talk, she is a hoot, left her husband behind, no divorce, she like’s living in Texas, her husband does not.
She is full of life and wonder, she needs a recipe for marshmallow icing, I have my James Beard cookbook get it out, and we are in business. When leaving Oregon , my friends Kim & Jeff give me presents, a 6-pack of good Oregon Beer, a pound of coffee, and a box of 34 rolls of Necco Wafers, my favorite candy, but too many. The car was packed just right, then we have the Neccos added, my box needs to be fixed up, Jessie and I duct tape the box together.
We talk about food, kids, life in her little air condtioned camp office . A beautiful person this Ms. Jessie Faye.
The next day I drive into San Angelo to the local library to post my blog, most libraries have access now, they made me get a card, so now I have a San Angelo library card. I post quickly, not much time, that’s why at times there are no pictures and the fact that I thought I could only post one as I learn as I travel.
I look up Kerrville Fork Festival, I need music, not sure about what Kerrville looks like on line, you never know, unless you risk adventure. Please take the risk!
About San Angelo, wide streets, long lights, but in the old part of town is Miss Hattie’s Cafe and Saloon, the cafe was originally a bank, the Bordello next store. The men would say they where going to the bank, then sneak though a secret door in the floor, then up and over the rooftop, across a wooden board to this “gentleman’s social center”. The bank would get a cut, the first franchise fees, at least you get something for it.
It was shut down after 50 years of business, there are tours, the food is excellent, Chicken Fried Steak and Iced Tea, it’s in my blood and the shops filled with western clothes, hats and boots. Everyone needs a hat in Texas. Boots too!
I eat and head south, my detour.
I am excited, I was one day out of Austin, now it will be 19 days later by the time I get to Austin.
South on SR 87, there are now Farm Roads, in West Texas they had Ranch Roads.
To Eden, the center of Texas, South on SR 83 to Menard, I spy a little Laundromat, a dusty little town off to the side, an old main street, wide with small flat roofed buildings, a few businesses. In the laundry is a poster of Bud Clark’s Expose Yourself to Art, he was our Portland Mayor, owns the Goose Hollow Inn, rode his bike to city hall as mayor, how did the poster get here. I talk to the people in the Pharmacy, small town talk, lots of time to chat, next door is a cowboy making saddles, he used to ride the open range, now a wife and boy in school, trying to stay close to home, nice leather work, we also talk spurs, Garcia spurs, the best are out of Elko, Nevada.

South to Junction, pass Cooper’s BBQ, one of the best in Texas, south to SR 41 E to SR 27E to Kerrville, South on SR 16 to the Kerrville Fork Festival.As I pull into the gate, everyone says “Welcome Home”
54.2 MPG, 242.1 miles traveled

West Texas, lots of it!

2007-06-20T11:26:00.000-07:00

Across West Texas May 23, 2006
Leaving Guadalupe, up early, a beautiful sunrise, to lazy to take a picture. The wind blew all night shaking the tent violently , I was afraid to get up and pee, thinking the tent would fly away.Back on the road in a hurry, too windy for coffee making. Everyone was running because of the wind, scurrying rats after their nest was invaded by the West Texas Wind.
Leaving head north on SR 62, pass Nichol Creek, looks like an abandoned gas station, great picture there, instead of stopping, I want coffee. I make a run for Ranch Road 652 to Orla, just a road nothing on it, I am taking this route to stay off the interstate. Here No stores, no coffee, no nothing and I loss an hour due to time change, my goal is to get to San Angelo tonight, then one to two days to Austin.
South on SR 285, I drive though Pecos, where the World’s 1st Rodeo started. Most of the stores in town were closed for good, as I head out of town, just before Interstate 20, there is a Wal-mart, gotta love the low prices, gotta love that small town feel. In February there’s a Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering here.
Down to Fort Stockton, its a hot 93, need a lunch before the long drive across West Texas to San Angelo, this is country where the wind blows & blows.
Driving though town, looking for chow, then I head back though town, I often head from one end of town to another to see what my options are when on the road, I spy a place, moments after driving by, the place is packed. Mostly Steakhouses and Mexican restaurants here. So in the SW I should take advantage of my opportunities, there are lots of cars and trucks all around this little cafe.

The screen door says open M-F, closed Sat-Sun. The front of the menu says, ”our food is made daily with authentic ingredients. This is a local hot spot, I get in early, at least for me it's 11:30am. I picked the right place, the place is packed, mostly Latinos, locals and me, the tourist. (I have been back three times in the last year)

The name of this restaurant is Mi Casita, owned by Adonna Louise Gonzalez. Sauces are family recipes passed down by her grandfather Eliborio Pena this place was established in 1992. This is the real deal. The salsa is excellent with the chips of course, a good sign.
Everyone drinks iced tea in the south, You can have it sweet or not, I love SWEET TEA. I order the Cancun special, spicy green chile sauce and a mild red chile sauce over beef enchiladas, Spanish rice and beans, all to too damn good, then the bill, a whopping $8.28.
Two days of Texas wind, my journal says ”Quit blowing please”. Did I mention the heat, only 93, it's only noon!
Fueled up and ready to go. On to Interstate 10, a few miles to SR 67, Texas takes two pages in the Rand Road map.
A future story on what is south of here, Marathon, Alpine, Marfa and Big Bend country, I have be been back here a couple of time since this road trip, more later.
I may wish to move here one day, little did I know I would be so close to a possible future home just south of Fort Stockton, yet this journey needs to be completed.
Even more surprises in a day and a special new friend and friends in Kerrville.
Welcome Home! (6/07)coming!

On to San Angelo, thinking I can be in Austin in a day or two. The scenery slowly changes, only wildlife I see is the roadkill, I pass oil being pulled from the ground, the smell of gas in the air, a pleasant surprise of wind power on the hills here, lots of wind turbines, what better place then West Texas.
Pass Girvin, McCamey, Rankin, Texon, Best, Big Lake, Mertzon, Sherwood, Tankersly and at last San Angelo. Little restaurants to note, McComb’s BBQ in Rankin, in Big Lake Grandma’s claims to have the best burgers, The Yellow Rose Cafe in Barnett.
The park host in the Del Norte Park in California told me they host in San Angelo in the winter, so go to the North side of the state park here for more shade, a nice place, and I am again the only paying customer.
The wind and going downhill must have helped.
66.5 MPG, 368.6 miles traveled

Talkin' like a local!

2007-06-19T20:32:00.000-07:00
Talkin' like a local! Texan that is.
I recently meet someone who says, you only need 9 praises to talk like a local.
Please add more, we can write a book. The only problem is in crossing West Texas, you may only see 4 people all day.
Hidy-Hidy
How yew doin’
Tell yew what
Boy Howdy
Ahamajin (I'magane)
Shoot Faher
I’ll be durn
F**k me runnin’
Whoo!
Please add more.
Like: Fixin’ too