In the immortal words of David St. Hubbins... There's a fine line between stupid and clever. When spending a bunch of time driving alone you tend more toward the former. To wit, I took a bunch of videos during the course of the trip, some of which you've already seen, and I've compiled them into a random, somewhat disjointed 15-minute travelogue. For those of you that prefer movies to books, you're welcome.
Well, this week marked the end of the epic U.S. road trip, or at least epic in my own mind. After driving as quickly as possible though the vast wasteland that is Idaho and eastern Oregon, I spent the night in Yakima, Washington where I saw many wild, native car racks roaming through the countryside. The next morning I took a detour off the interstate to drive through Mount Rainier national park, ostensibly in order to see an actual mountain since that is what you'd expect when you go to a national park with the word "Mount" in it. This is the northwest, though, so I saw some goats, snow, and had about 50 feet of visibility through the fog for most of the hour-long drive through the park. So... Mount Rainier! Spectacular!
And then Seattle. Ah... Seattle. You gave us Jimi Hendrix and Bruce Lee, so thank you for that. You also gave us Eddie Vedder and for that I can never forgive you. I've been to Seattle a bunch of times so this was more of a social visit than anything else, but I will tell you that it's one of the most beautiful cities in the U.S. on a sunny day. Unfortunately, it only has about 6 of those per year. If you get a chance to be there on one of those days you'll see some spectacular green landscapes, and on a normal day you'll see a lot of grey mist. I got a free lunch on Keynote with Jamie and Chris, then spent a couple of days hanging out with Jen and her crew, cruising around a few bars and enjoying some sushi for the first time in a few months.
From there it was a straight shot down I-5 to Oregon and my only stop in that state, Ninkasi Brewing, another place that I had targeted from the get-go for my trip. They've only been around since 2006 but are already distributed all over the place. They're known for some super-hoppy beers, which aren't my favorite, but they have a stout and a double red ale that are fantastic. After Ninkasi I continued southwest until I reached the California coast where I let out a little primal scream and then continued through Redwood national park and the Avenue of the Giants. This is a 30-mile stretch of road that winds through a huge redwood forest in the northwest part of California. If you've never seen a redwood tree... they're really big. Really big. Some of the tree trunks are wider than a car. So that was pretty cool.
And then it was back down through California, across the Golden Gate bridge and into San Francisco. I know that it's only been a few months but I feel like I've been gone a year. It's been a long trip across a lot of territory. I have to admit that it felt really solitary for a lot of the time. I've had no trouble traveling alone before, but this one involved a lot of time alone in a car then at a campsite or some random motel off the interstate. But I did get to set my own schedule and see pretty much whatever I wanted, so no complaints.
I don't have any sweeping observations about the U.S. although there are some things that are totally obvious just by driving around the country. Americans love Jesus, guns, the military, country music, Rush Limbaugh and fireworks. That's stuff you find in EVERY state. Outside California it seems like no one wears motorcycle helmets except foreigners. Mainly, though, there are deep and obvious economic and racial divisions throughout the country. I'm not saying this pessimistically, it's simply something that becomes more obvious the more you see of the country. I don't want this to get too political but it is easy to see why the government has become divided... it's just a reflection of the whole country. Even on a state-by-state basis, it's difficult to see how, for example, any one government could create legislation that would make both Alabama and California happy.
Anyhow, thanks to my trusty Garmin I can give you some of these facts about the trip:
Miles driven - 13,578
Total time driving - 301 hours 35 minutes
Moving average - 50 mph
I tried 34 different microbreweries' beers and I got the oil changed in my car four times. My car was an absolute champ... no problems whatsoever. No traffic or parking tickets, either. I didn't get sick... until I came home. So now I'm chilling out for a couple of weeks until I leave for Thailand, so you won't be hearing from me til then. Here's the last small batch of pics from the U.S.:
Whoa... I have to say, it's going to be hard to top three national parks in one week. I mean, I've seen some cool stuff on this trip, but the natural beauty that's crammed into Montana and especially Wyoming is unbelievable. When I drove into Yellowstone National Park, I wasn't sure what to expect. It's one of those places that you hear so much about that you almost expect to be disappointed, but that was far from the case. When I drove over a hill and finally got my first view of Yellowstone Lake, I laughed. I don't know if this happens to everybody, but there are times when I'll see or experience something so spectacular that it just invokes a strange, giddy laughter. It's some sort of primal euphoria, I suppose. Well, there were plenty of those moments not only in Yellowstone but in the other national parks I visited over the course of the following week. The pictures, and there are quite a few of them, do not do them justice by any stretch. If you don't like lakes, wildlife, and long views of nature, though, you can skip the pictures and go hook yourself back up to Skynet. The only downside of that first night at Yellowstone is that I wasn't exactly prepared for the temperature to dip below freezing while I was camping out near Bridge Bay. There are a few thoughts that go through your mind when it's 30 degrees in your tent you can't sleep at 2 AM, such as "Why can't I feel my face" or "Why didn't I spend the extra 30 bucks for the better sleeping bag" or "What would Bear Grylls do" but after a few minutes of pondering that last question I couldn't see how it would help the situation if I were to drink my own piss.
Nice Tetons
The next day I drove out to Idaho Falls to pick up ChrisP (Crispy) who had driven out from the bay area to spend the week with me in this spectacular part of the country. Our first destination was Victor, Idaho, home of Grand Teton brewing. When I decided to take this road trip across the U.S., one of the first places I put on my must-see list was this brewery. Every beer they produce that I've tried has been great, and the range of brews we sampled at their taproom did not disappoint. Best beer I've had on this trip, hands-down, across the board. We then drove into Jackson Hole, Wyoming, which is a town that people with lots of money use as a jumping-off point for skiing in the winter and visiting parks in the summer. From there the first park on our circuit was Grand Teton, which is named after the mountain range that it encompasses. It's much smaller than Yellowstone so we had plenty of time to get out and hike around a lake or two and up one of the larger hills for some great views of the valley and the mountains.
The next day it was back to Yellowstone for a full day wandering around all possible roads in that park. There are a ton of beautiful meadows, rivers and lakes in that park, and some really interesing sulfuric pools, but the one place that unexpectedly ranked toward the top was the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. It sports some really interesting colors in the rock that are reminiscent of the southwest along with a beautiful blue river and waterfall. What I would say is that you can avoid is pretty much the entire north loop, although we did see a couple of black bear cubs roaming in the grass. Of course, we had to check out Old Faithful geyser, the iconic emblem of the park. It's obviously the most visited part of the park as evidenced by the two lodges, restaurant, and general store within a couple hundred yards of the geyser. They've even set up rows of benches so that the hundreds of people waiting for an eruption have someplace to sit. And believe me, when you get a load of some of the characters sitting around the geyser it's hard to believe that they made it on foot from the parking lot. Anyhow, the eruption itself was cool, but I wouldn't place it anywhere near the top of the list of the attractions of the park. People like predictability, I suppose.
Beware of Angry Crispy
The next day we drove to Missoula, where the plan was to visit a couple of breweries and then check out the Primus concert that was being held outside of Big Sky brewing. We hadn't bought any tickets, but Crispy was sure that we could get them at the door because "Who's going to see Primus in Montana? It's Montana!" Well apparently there are more than 3000 fans of Primus in the Missoula area because the show was sold out, which led to Angry Crispy making an appearance for about 15 minutes. Everything worked out ok though... we bought a six-pack and hung out in the parking lot for the entire concert where we could hear perfectly and see everything, only smaller. In the span of two days we saw a moose, bison, bears, and Wynona's big brown beaver. Also, here's an interesting fact about Missoula... it has a population of 75,000 and 5 breweries in town with another 5 in the surrounding area. Yeah. We liked Missoula.
Glacier National Park was the next destination, which was supposed to be the likeliest place for us to see some bears. The main road going through the park was closed about halfway up the mountain due to the fact that snow was still blocking the road, but again... lakes, waterfalls, and forests provided a fantastic backdrop. We drove around the park and up to one of the more remote areas with some unexpectedly rough dirt roads over to Bowman Lake while I profusely apologized to my car the entire way. It poured rain on and off all day so the driving conditions were tougher than normal. When we finally got to the lake, though, we had one of those sublime periods of complete stillness in nature, where there are no other people around and it's just you and an entire lake. That's until the dad and his two little kids came out from the parking lot to try and catch some fish for the evening. It had been a really long day and it was already 7 PM when we decided to head back toward some sort of civilized society where we could find lodging.
I'm going to take a minute now to tell you how much I love my Garmin GPS. That thing has been a rock-solid partner for me the entire trip and has led me out of some really weird jams. I do talk back to it sometimes, especially when it's telling me to make a u-turn where I can't make a u-turn. I should've never switched the voice to a UK-English female. I thought it'd be sexier, but instead it sounds more stern and matronly. It makes me feel like a disappointment when I miss an exit. Anyhow, the one problem with Garmin is that it knows almost too much. It has a database of all sorts of crazy roads that you would never take unless you had a detailed topographical map. So when you tell it that you want to head toward Whitefish, it tries to find the most direct route, which can involve strange forest roads with names like "NF-1629." So we're driving down one of these dirt roads and it's getting on in the evening and we're pulling out some maps and figuring out if Garmin is full of shit and we turn the corner and there's this huge four-legged monster running down the road and it tears off into the forest and Crispy and I flip out because WE JUST SAW A FUCKING GRIZZLY BEAR!!!! YAAAAAAH! That thing had to be at least 4 feet high at the shoulder on four legs and was hauling ass at about 15 miles an hour. Dude... I was so amped. There was no trace after it leaped into the trees so we continued up the road for another 10 miles or so until we found out... it was snowed in. I'm talking a wall of snow completely blocking the road going up the mountain through the pass. I can't really blame that on Garmin but dammit, now we had to turn around and drive all the way back to the park entrance about 40 miles away. So we're driving back down the dirt road, frustrated, looking at maps, getting hungry, and I turn the corner and THERE'S ANOTHER FUCKING BLACK BEAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PATH! It turns around and starts tearing down the road while Crispy and me are fumbling for the camera and then it's gone into the forest. Dammit! Bears! That one was smaller than the first but nevertheless a godless killing machine. And yes, it was exactly that awesome.
We spent the night in Whitefish, another small, friendly mountain town where I'd be happy to return, then headed back to Missoula which I'm sure is a surprise to no one. Hey, there were a couple of breweries that we didn't try the first time. Then came the turd-like part of the week: the drive through Idaho. I'm sure that there are nice parts to Idaho, maybe Sun Valley or someplace in the north, but if anyone ever asks you to drive across the south or west of Idaho, tell them you'll fly. The one notable destination across central Idaho is the Craters of the Moon National Monument, an expanse of volcanic rock and ash encompassing 75 square miles. I'll be honest, after what we saw the previous few days we were underwhelmed, but I think you'll agree after watching the following video that Craters of the Moon has at least one spectacular view:
http://youtu.be/gffKf4MdBvQ
So after an eventful night listening to the hypnotic sounds of meth heads outside the Motel 6 in Twin Falls, Crispy and I had to part ways, and I spent all day driving through more uninspiring territory in Idaho and eastern Oregon. Well, at least I have these pictures to look back on. Enjoy!
For the first six weeks I was doing pretty well. I was trying to stay active, I was busy, I kept the food under control... so I lost 10 pounds. Ok, maybe the nutrition wasn't of the highest levels, maybe a diet of almonds and kimchee noodle bowls isn't the greatest... it's temporary. Then the last two weeks happened. 14 days in a row of staying with friends. Celebratory beers, venison, German pancakes, social beers, pub food, Chicago restaurants, steaks, and, of course, goodbye beers. And now we're back to where we started plus a couple of pounds. My point is this: Friends make you fat. Have you ever seen a fat hermit? The Unabomber... skin and bones. It's a fact. I believe I have just scientifically proven this.
Last time I left you I was on the road to Indianapolis for the sole purpose of visiting Katy and Chris whom I hadn't seen in four years. The whole Indianapolis downtown had a makeover prior to last year's Super Bowl so there's a lot more going on than there was a couple of years ago. Still, I don't know that there are many other reasons to go to Indianapolis other than visiting friends or business. Maybe a Colts game, except now they kind of suck. Nothing against the city, I just don't think it's a big tourist destination, especially with Chicago relatively closeby. But it was great to see those guys and we ate at a diner featured on Guy Fieri's show where the waitress took 45 minutes to take our order. Good food though.
The Four Seasons by Marc Chagall
Chicago is where I headed next. I hit traffic on the outskirts of town and it took me over an hour to get to Jimmy's house. Also, it was 95 degrees. Welcome to Chicago! But the upshot of cities that heat up in the summer are the outdoor terraces at bars and restaurants. Sitting outside enjoying dinner and drinks with friends... this is something people take for granted if they don't live in San Francisco, where you also can sit outside in the summer as long as the restaurant has heat lamps and you're wearing 4 layers, a scarf and a beanie. Anyhow, I love Chicago. It's a big, beautiful, diverse city with some of the greatest architecture in the U.S. Jim took me on a two-hour architecture tour of downtown, not only showing me some of the more significant buildings but going into detail about their histories. The first skyscraper in the world, the Sears tower, the Chicago board of trade, the first solid steel exterior building... Jimmy you should forget the product management and go into tourism development for the city. Take a look at the pictures and you'll see what I'm talking about. It was Jim's last weekend in Chicago before moving back to the bay area (that's the thing to do nowadays) so we traveled all around town, went out with friends, watched the Euros at a local bar, and also Jimmy's car overheated. We were pulled over to the side of the road looking under the hood when Jimmy shakes his head, looks at me and says, "You're not putting this in your blog are you?" I said, "No... no... of course not." But the overall most amazing occurrence of the Chicago weekend was finding out that Jimmy has been dating somebody for more than 90 days. My world has lost its compass.
Moving from Chicago, IL (population 2.7 million) to New Windsor, IL (population 800) takes only three hours, not counting Chicago traffic. Larry was waiting for me wearing a gray tank top with a steak on the grill. I have to admit, I was bummed that it wasn't the red tank top but Larry said he only wears those in Haiti, which I fear may be causing widespread psychological scarring among Haitian youth. Anyway, I'm trying to avoid the obvious statement that Chicago and New Windsor are galaxies apart, not only because New Windsor measures 11 streets by 7 streets and has a rodeo but because there's no way I could get a solo tour of a Chicago firehouse without being arrested for trespassing. Dude... I got to use a thermal imager! Then we sat out on Larry and Jean's patio, drinking Prestige and chatting into the night. It was a fantastic evening in the country. I really have to give my love and thanks not only to Larry and Jean but to all my friends who hosted me during this two-week period... you guys are awesome. Except you made me fat.
And then it was back to solo travelin' baby! First stop... Iowa. The true highlight was Iowa 80, the world's largest truck stop. It has a dentist! And swords! And the best restrooms in the country! Beyont that, the best thing I can say about driving across Iowa is that at some point it ends. Unfortunately, it then turns into South Dakota. There's about 800 miles of driving across these two states that is an endless, mind-numbing, at times coma-inducing stretch of corn. Then grass. Then... ooh! Corn! The wind, up to 80 mph in the summer, subtracts about 7 or 8 miles per gallon off your gas mileage. Tumbleweeds cross your path. You find yourself passing the time by counting the number of billboards for Wall Drug along I-90. Then you lose count because their numbers are beyond the capabilities of the human mind to compute. That is until you reach the southwest part of South Dakota, which is where the only part of the state that I saw that they crammed anything that may be interesting to humans.
Of course I had to stop at Wall Drug, which shows that you don't need subliminal advertising, simply volume. You can't really call it a drug store, it's more like a one square block general store that sells everything stupid that you would expect a humongous general store that hosts up to 20,000 per day in the summer and is in the middle of nowhere to sell, along with a dinosaur exhibit, a giant jackalope, and a movie on the history of Wall Drug. I guess if you promote yourself enough you can create enough of a myth about yourself that people go out of their way to see you and eventually your own history (which you manufactured) becomes an item of interest for people. It's genius.
I had a date though... A date with destiny. A showdown with the great emancipator himself. Only one of us could come out on top. Mount Rushmore was the scene. Whose beard would reign supreme? That's for you to decide (but the correct answer is me). I will say that seeing four huge heads carved out of the side of a mountain is waaaay more impressive in person than it would be on any postcard. I used to think that Teddy Roosevelt didn't belong in the company of the other three (Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln), but now I believe that the creation of the National Parks system was one of the great achievements of any president. If not for him there'd probably be tract homes in Yellowstone and strip malls at Acadia.
From there I continued west through Sturgis, the site of the huge motorcycle rally, and on into Wyoming. The landscape finally improved through southwest South Dakota and into Wyoming as the elevation changed and the flat plains turned into rolling hills. Even the interstate highway in Wyoming is beautiful, and I took a detour to see Devil's Tower national monument, the tall, flat-topped monolith which most people know from the film Close Encounters. Strangely, it's one of those natural wonders that looks much more impressive from a distance. I think its mystique lies in the fact that it's so different from its surroundings which is difficult to tell from up close. Nevertheless... it's pretty awesome. And that's about as far as I've gotten into Wyoming. Tomorrow, all roads lead to Yellowstone.
Up until now the weather gods had smiled upon me, but they decided to take their vengeance as I made my way up the coast of New England. It's not so much the rain but the thick, soupy fog that made it impossible at times to see anything 100 feet in front of you. I left Boston heading straight to Cape Cod, the curly-shaped peninsula that sticks out into the Atlantic from the southeasternmost part of Massachusetts, hoping to catch some amazing views of the ocean on the drive up. I could barely see past the beach. I'm pretty sure there was water out there somewhere. Somewhere. I heard a splash when I threw a rock. I wanted some kind of experience where I felt like I was at the end of the world. When I traveled through Portugal back in 2003, I went to Cabo Sao Vicente which is the westernmost point in continental Europe. From there you really felt like you were on the precipice of an endless ocean. From a foggy Cape Cod, not so much. On the plus side, the drive itself was really enjoyable since there are a bunch of small, picturesque villages on the way, ending at the tip of the cape in Provincetown (P-town to the locals). It's obvious from the get-go that P-town is a finely-tuned tourism machine, with a 10-block main street lined with craft shops, bars, and restaurants, and a large portion of that tourism seems to be targeted toward a specific segment of the population. The "Provincetown Bears" are not a football team. Cock and Bull Leather Shop... hey now. I'm sure "Seamen's Bank" is legit, but after a while you just start looking for it.
From Cape Cod I made my way back up the coast into New Hampshire where I spent the night in Portsmouth, which is also a really nice coastal town, and then through into Maine. I stopped in Portland for a lobster roll then proceeded directly to Mount Desert Island where I spent the night camping in Acadia National Park. This was the best national park I've come across since Joshua Tree. There is a fantasic loop road which takes you all around the island ending up at the top of Cadillac Mountain with 360 degree views across the ocean and back inland. I knew this was as far northeast as I was going to go so the plan was to wade into the ocean... until I got my feet in and immediately lost all sensation. It was colder than Linda Mar in December, and that's saying something. Bar Harbor, Maine, about as far as I'm going to be from home, is where I've gotten my only California license plate shout-out thus far.
After traveling across the center of Maine and into Vermont, I can tell you that the northeastern part of the U.S. is the most beautiful part of the country I've seen since leaving the southwest. The terrain is completely different of course, consisting of farms, trees and hills, but it's been the most pleasant driving scenery I've had in a long time. There are loads of campgrounds and inns, and I'm lucky that I caught it on shoulder season between skiing and summer because I'm guessing from the number of places to say that this area blows up during tourist seasons.
On a personal note I was incredibly disappointed to find out that the town of Spurbury, Vermont does not exist. There are about a hundred something-burys, but no Spurbury. If you're a fan of the movie Super Troopers, then this may come as a crushing blow (it was filmed in upstate New York). Nevertheless, I was determined to perform an honorary Vermont maple syrup chug, so I traveled to Morse maple farm in the capital Montpelier, which even though it's not a "bury" is good enough. And there I pounded a pint of maple syrup. Look, I'm not going to lie to you, sometimes you just need to come up with stupid shit to do in order to amuse yourself. Witness the glory:
http://youtu.be/ZPBteQg2D8Q
I thought that was a thing people did in Vermont, sort of like their version of cow-tipping, but if you google "Vermont maple syrup chug" you get surprisingly few results. You may be thinking that was really stupid, and in retrospect I agree with you more than you know. I sampled four different types of maple syrup, ranging from light to dark, before settling on the lightest "Vermont Fancy" as the most easily chuggable type. Maple syrup fun fact: there are 1600 calories in a pint of maple syrup. It wasn't so much the caloric intake that bothered me though; the syrup went down surprisingly easily. The problem started occurring about an hour or so later when this strange burning sensation started occurring in my stomach which lasted about 6 hours. Then I got what I can only describe as "maple sweats" where my whole body started sweating for no particular reason. On top of that I started feeling kind of stoned and woozy. That's probably why, when I went on a tour of the Ben and Jerry's ice cream factory, I kept asking people "Where do you keep the monkeys?" Yeah, that was weird.
Some of you may have also noticed that my travels across the U.S. have turned into a sort of microbrewery tour and you'd not be mistaken. In Vermont I traveled to Alchemist brewery where they only brew one beer, Heady Topper, a thick, unfiltered IPA which scored 100 points from Beer Advocate. They let you take your own tour of the brewery, which basically means just walking in there and checking it out. When I bought a four-pack the woman told me to make sure I keep it chilled. If by chilled you mean five weeks in a rubbermaid container in my car then no problem. I also visited Magic Hat brewery where they brew that kind of gnarly apricot-flavored #9 beer but is also the first time I've found an Imperial Pilsner. And then it was on to Canada.
This is what the border guard looked like. Except more angry.
So I don't know if it's the aggressive beard (that's for you Josh) or what, but the border crossing did not turn out to be a routine affair. First off, I made the (I think understandable) mistake of driving past the initial stop sign at the border crossing. I sort of found myself in no-man's land, nobody was in the booth, I was sort of just waiting there thinking about what the hell I should do next, when a border patrol guy who looked like a younger, angrier, French-Canadian version of Louis C.K. came out and said "What are you doing?"
Me: I'm waiting... not sure what's going on.
YAFCLCK: Didn't you see the stop sign?
Me: Yes, but there was nobody...
YAFCLCK walks back to the stop sign, TAKES IT OUT OF ITS POST AND CARRIES IT OVER TO ME.
YAFCLCK: What does this say?
Me: Uh... stop. (This is when I kind of laughed because it was so ridiculous. He didn't like that.)
YAFCLCK: Ok, you can read. Now drive back to the sign.
So he made me go back to the original spot of the sign and stop my car. Then he got in his booth and waited for about 15 seconds and waved me forward. As I'm sure you can guess by now, he did not like any of the answers that I gave to his questions about why I was crossing into Canada. He then waved me over into the car bay where I waited for another 10 minutes until he and his partner were free to pillage my car, which is what they did for the next half hour. They went in and took everything out, and I mean everything. I had nothing to hide so I wasn't nervous, but I was getting annoyed and actually a bit concerned. I mean, in this situation, I have no power whatsever. YAFCLCK could find any technical excuse not to let me in the country. And he was trying. I started thinking things like "What if it's illegal to bring granola bars into Canada?" He kept asking me the same questions over and over again but in different ways. They opened every bag in my car, leafed through all my books, and went as far as to look through all the pictures I had on my camera. Finally, he has me follow him back inside, hands me my passport and says, "Have a nice trip."
I'll be honest, that soured me a little bit. During the search I was a bit detached from the whole thing but after I had a chance to reflect I got more and more pissed off. I was pretty lathered up when I got into Montreal, but after settling in and walking around for a bit I managed to chill out. I really like this city. It is easily walkable, culturally diverse, historically interesting, and completely engaging. I spent most of my first day walking along the waterfront in Old Montreal just hanging out at the park and people-watching. After a few hours of that I headed back to my hostel to chill out for the night and that's when I started hearing the banging of pots and pans coming from a few hundred yards away. The receptionist at the front told me that those were the protesters that gathered at a park half a block from the hostel and had been doing so every night for the last two months. She also said that last week they had marched up our street and the police had fired tear gas driving some of them into the hostel. That was it... I heard "tear gas" and I knew I had to check that out.
Ok, a little background on the protests, and admittedly I only know superficially what's going on. The way they started is that the government of Quebec decided to hike up student tuitions by a large amount, so the students began protesting. As a result, the government of Quebec decreed a "Special Law" that said any gathering larger than 50 people needed permission and to clear their route through the government. This is when the shit hit the fan. The protests have now grown to symbolize something beyond student tuition, namely resistance to government oppression of free speech. I followed the protesters in a giant loop around Montreal for about two hours and I can say that it was one of the most spectacular displays of civil disobedience I've ever witnessed in person. It wasn't just about the protesters themselves, but I'd say about 95% of the onlookers and bystanders were completely supportive, clapping their hands, joining the chants, and banging on pots and pans with wooden spoons. It was a fantastic display of solidarity, from children to elderly people, and it happens every night! It was electric. And, to be honest, it was better than any walking tour of Montreal. Plus, with the beard I have going I probably got my picture in some newspaper as an anarchist provocateur. And then I wonder why I get stopped at borders. So here is some video goodness from my night as a Montreal protester:
http://youtu.be/rzvZ2A75tVo
Well how do you follow that up? I had another day in Montreal that I just spent roaming around, mostly in the Parc Mont Royal in the center of town. If you climb all the way to the center of the park you get these spectacular summit views of the entire city, which I hope you will enjoy in the pictures. I then wandered down to the east side of the park where I found a Brazilian drum circle and some kind of crazy Sunday park rave with a DJ. It was a lot of fun, just sitting in some park listening to crazy music and watching people walk by. Montreal is vibrant... there is a little bit of everything for everybody, from highbrow to hippie. The only other destination I had left was the Dieu du Ciel pub, which had been recommended to me by a guy I met at a microbrewery in Bar Harbor, Maine, who told me that the best beer he had in his life is at Dieu du Ciel. That is no recommendation to take lightly. I sampled quite a few of their beers, and while I don't know if I can say they make the best beer in the world, I won't deny it either. They had a peppercorn ale and an ESB that were out of this world. They had a simple menu and served all their food on blocks of wood. It was exactly the type of place I'd run if I opened a brewpub; I had a memorable evening there. I've had my ups and downs on this trip so far, mostly because the nature of driving around on your own tends to be a solitary experience, so it was refreshing to come to Montreal and be reminded that you can find other travelers to chat with in hostels and bars and there are all sorts of fun things going on if you wind up in the right place. And when in doubt I ask myself WWJD... What Would Jeremy Do? The answer is either a) start up a conversation with the closest person, b) do something completely random in the next 15 seconds, or c) head to the closest bar. That usually solves the problem, or results in conditions like "maple sweats." By the way, WWJD is valid for both DuPont and Gilmore. There must be something about being a Jeremy from Denver.
So now it's on to Kingston to hang out with Rich and Cari... which means a week of hanging out and drinking lagers with two of my favorite people. Rich made sure to instruct me on how to find Prestige in Montreal before I left. Things are good. I want to wish everyone the best. Be good to each other. Here are the pics:
If you like beer porn then there's probably no better place to go than the Dogfish Head brewpub in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware during craft beer week. It's not their main brewery but it's the brewpub/restaurant where Dogfish Head originated and it still maintains a brewhouse for what they serve on tap. Their beer menu consisted of about 10 of their normal brews and another 15 seasonal or experimental brews available only this particular week. I sampled about 10 different beers which varied from jalapeno-flavored ales to ginger IPAs to one that tasted like a pine cone mixed with Fernet and cough syrup. After the first few sips of that one the bartender must've seen the look on my face because she said, "Yeah, I think that's pretty much the worst beer we've ever made." You know what would've been nice? If you'd mentioned that before I ordered it.
It's funny how each region has its own ubiquitous (for them) local vacation spot, which is where I think Rehoboth Beach falls in the spectrum of coast-side towns. It's a summer destination for people from all over the Delaware/Maryland/Virginia area. It has one of those kind of old school salt-water taffy boardwalk-type places feel to it where you can picture a bunch of families taking their kids for a week or two.
I took the ferry from Lewes to Cape May in southern New Jersey, driving for a bit along the ocean until I arrived in Atlantic City. My two driving observations of New Jersey is that everyone drives at least 15 MPH over the speed limit at all times and are annoyed when you do not and that the NJ turnpike is the biggest ripoff road in the continental U.S. Why is there a toll plaza every 10 miles? Anyway, Atlantic City itself is more or less what you might expect, a scaled-down Las Vegas strip of huge casinos directly on the beach boardwalk. Souvenir and t-shirt shops abound, and the size of the casinos themselves makes walking distances deceptive. That may explain the proliferation of pushcarts, basically a guy pushing a cart with two or three people in it along the boardwalk, presumably to get them from one buffet to another. One thing I've also noticed the last few times I've been to casinos is the increase in numbers of Asian gaming areas. Casinos are usually ahead of the curve when it comes to figuring out where their bread is buttered... they'll probably be the only U.S. industry that's in the black when our Chinese soon-to-be overlords finally take charge.
My biggest hesitation, actually fear really, in coming to Jersey was that I would surely encounter my life's nemesis: the Guido. For many Italians, the Guido is the embodiment of all that is unholy in this world. Their origins are shrouded in mystery but my theory is that it's sort of like what Saruman from Lord of the Rings said about how the Orcs were made. "They were Elves [or Italians] once. Taken by the dark powers, tortured and mutilated. A ruined and terrible form of life." I was concerned when I continued north toward Hoboken that I would somehow cross their spawning grounds but that was not the case. I stayed with Hugo the Juice in North Bergen and when we went out that evening to the beer garden or at any of the sports bars where we watched the Devils-Rangers game we were unmolested. We did notice, however, that we were the only guys in all of Hoboken who are not on steroids or HGH.
While in the north New Jersey area I took a trip to Ellis Island in order to visit the immigration museum. The interior of most of the buildings where immigrants coming into the United States were processed have been maintained in their original form, so it was striking to look at the old photographs and then picture how people were moved through the various stages of the immigration process. The main reason I went is because my great-grandpa came through Ellis Island in 1924 in order to work in the U.S... I'm not sure if that was when he worked on the Brooklyn bridge or whether that was on another trip. There is a very cool immigrant database where I was able to find a digital copy of the ship's manifest that showed my great-grandpa on the lists, which was a little bit of an emotional moment for yours truly.
I drove out to northwest New York the next day to stay with Amy and her family and I have to recommend the drive if any of you have the opportunity. The Finger Lakes area is quite beautiful, especially if you enjoy driving through picturesque small towns. I really enjoyed being hosted at the home of the "most spoiled girl in the world" but I have to admit that my highlight came when Brian handed me a cooler full of venison steaks on my way out the next morning. Oh, baby. I spent the next night in Providence, Rhode Island, mostly to say that I've been to Providence, Rhode Island and from there proceeded to Boston.
The first and only time I've been to Boston was on the tail end of a business trip back in 2002 with the one-and-only E-man. I had asked my buddy Murph (a Boston native) what I should see when in Boston and he told me to drive up the interstate to Peabody and go to this place called The Golden Banana. So one night after work the E-man and I took the rental car to Peabody to visit The Golden Banana which as I'm sure you can imagine is a "gentlemen's club." And, as I'm sure you can imagine, when a "gentlemen's club" is right off the interstate it is not one of the highest quality. It might have been a Tuesday night and there might have been three other patrons in the entire place and one guy might have been asleep/passed out/dead. Anyhow, we ended up strategically seated on the end of the catwalk where the pole was located for optimal viewing. After one of the strippers had done her thing she came over, the E-man handed her a few dollars and said to her, "You are very professional." Maybe you need to understand that the E-man is a 5'4", 110 pound Chinese guy with coke bottle glasses and a very thick accent to understand why this moment was unforgettably awesome for me and very confusing for the stripper.
Anyhow, this trip to Boston unfortunately did not involve any golden bananas. I stayed with Chris and Sarah who are possibly the two best people ever and whom I miss dearly because they laugh at all my jokes. Chris just finished law school and his graduation is coming up next week, so this weekend involved a softball tournament and a pub crawl with soon-to-be lawyers. Chris and Sarah have been living in Boston for 7 years and they have the tour guide thing down, so I got to hear a surprising amount of historical detail about events that occurred in downtown Boston leading up to the revolutionary war. We tooled around various neighborhoods, visited Fenway Park, and caught a hip-hop show featuring F. Stokes (http://www.fdotstokes.com/). It was a great weekend and Boston is a great town... it has a little bit of everything and it's easily walkable. And, of course, the company was fantastic.
http://youtu.be/DA4TxHf1ZTc
Next I'm headed up the coast then making a left turn toward Canada. Hope everybody's going great, and here come the pictures...
I was driving along a scenic two-lane road in rural central Georgia, zooming by ranches and farms, when from a distance on the right side of the road I saw a really tall flagpole with a humongous Confederate flag waving in the wind. As I got closer there was a sign that said "Sons of Confederate Veterans now recruiting" with a phone number. In Charleston in front of the central market there was a sign on a building commemorating the Daughters of the Confederacy. Almost every market or general store I went into across the south had some sort of Confederate flag paraphenalia... license plate frames, hats, t-shirts, pendants, etc. Before I go any further, I'd like to make sure we undersand each other. The Confederate flag was the symbol of the short-lived (less than 4 years) Confederate States of America. One of the primary causes of secession, if not THE primary cause, was the desire for the Confederate States to protect the institution of slavery. In the constitution of the Confederate States of America there are several articles which not only define but protect the ownership of slaves across state lines and for future states which may enter the Confederacy. That flag symbolizes a union that was largely formed based on something ugly, shameful and immoral, and I think I'm being kind. So if you are a racist and/or an advocate of slavery then well done, you selected the right symbol to represent you, asshole. On the other hand if you support Southern pride, or freedom, or states' rights, or just want to be a "rebel," all of which are cool, then can you come up with something else? Look at all the other sweet flags and slogans that are around. At first I was going to suggest the Gadsden "Don't Tread on Me" flag but then I found out that the Tea Party idiots took that one. Think about New Hampshire for inspiration... their state motto is "Live Free or Die!" Or how about something along the lines of the California state flag... it's got a bear on it! Or maybe design something with an eagle, because as everyone knows an eagle screeches freedom. If you want further inspiration how about the Welsh flag? It has a FREAKIN' DRAGON! Now that is unquestionably badass. So please, use your creative rebel powers to find another symbol. The Confederate flag is racist. Thank you.
Not being a native of the United States, Mark asked me if I could somehow include a map of the places I've hit so far, so here you go buddy:
I have to admit that it was a huge relief to finally arrive on the east coast and I couldn't have asked for a prettier destination than Savannah. When I got there it was in the midst of some kind of tropical rainstorm which revealed Savannah's Achilles heel... drainage. The city center is laid out in a grid with dozens of small parks intersecting the main streets. There are many cobblestone streets and there is liberal use of wrought iron on the well-preserved older buildings. It reminded me a lot of London except hotter and with less kebabs. I think I would use the word "haunting" in a brochure description of Savannah, and I mean that in the best possible way.
After a pleasant walking tour I continued east about 15 miles because I wanted to see the ocean and complete the coast-to-coast experience. I ended up spending the night on Tybee Island because it's a cool little beach town and because I could smell the sea. I found a cheap hotel with an old Indian man at the desk who immediately started telling me about how he's 82 years old and has never been to the doctor and never had health insurance because he adheres to some strict diet with no meat, no coffee, no alcohol (this all sounds terrible), raw vegetables, very little water, and a litany of other rules. He had me trapped for at least 10 minutes, like some kind of religious zealot. Then he goes to the back room and returns with a photocopy of an article about him in a local Savannah paper talking about his diet and regimen. I thanked him for the article and he said, "That'll be 25 cents for the photocopy."
From there it was north to Charleston in South Carolina, another really pretty town. Charleston has a lot fewer parks than Savannah and a lot more shops. You get the idea it takes some money to live in the center of this town. It's easily walkable, it has a really nice waterfront, and one of the best craft beer shops I've seen since leaving SF at The Charleston Beer Exchange. Fort Sumter, where the first shots of the Civil War were fired, is in the Charleston harbor and accessible by ferry but I didn't have time for it. At the center of town is the city market which back in the day used to be the slave market but now is filled with small shops selling all manner of trinkets. Personally, I would've burned that shit down and started over but I wasn't in charge of Reconstruction. I also have to say that Charleston has by far the best looking women I've seen in the South.
The next day it was up the coast and through Myrtle Beach, a 15-mile long strip mall on the water consisting of fireworks stores, beachware and souvenir stores, miniature golf courses, and the most hotels I've seen outside of Vegas. It's low season which means it's almost sadly empty, but I can only imagine the sweaty, claustrophobic mess that this place becomes in the middle of summer. Legions of mouth breathers descending on this short strip of land, playing miniature golf in 110-degree heat wearing $5.99 or less tie-dyed "Booty Inspector" souvenir shirts and blowing up M-80s. The mere thought of it chills me to the bone.
North Carolina was next on the agenda where the plan was to take the ferry to the islands on the Cape Hatteras national seashore. The Cape Hatteras lighthouse is 12 stories high so I was really looking forward to climbing up and having a view of the island chain and the Atlantic. After a 2-hour drive to the Cedar Island ferry I come to find out that the ferry to Ocracoke was running ok, but once you got to Ocracoke Island you'd be stuck. The ferry between Ocracoke and Hatteras wouldn't be running for at least two days because of low tides. So I had to drive all the way around and up north, skip the national seashore and take the bridge directly to Nags Head and north to Kill Devil Hills, the site of the Wright Brothers' inaugural flight. The upshot of that is that I didn't end up driving through Rodanthe, which would've violated my personal vow to never again come into contact with anything having to do with Nicholas Sparks. My consolation was a softshell crab BLT in Nags Head, which was fantastic. The Wright Brothers' memorial was very cool, don't get me wrong, but that sandwich... man. Anyhow, the field where the Wright Bros conducted their first four flights has been preserved along with markers showing the distance of each flight. I really like it when you get to see the actual location of a momentous event in person rather than some sort of museum abstraction, it's much more powerful that way. The Wright Bros were mechanical genius bachelors from Dayton, Ohio who still lived with their mom and sister, which probably more than anything explains why they fled to Kitty Hawk for two years to conduct their flight experiments.
That night I stayed at the KOA in Virginia Beach which I would recommend avoiding. Nothing against the place itself, but it happens to be a couple of miles from a naval air base. There's nothing like the "sound of freedom" waking you up at 5:30 in the morning. Also, they charged $40 for a tent site, which is twice as much as everywhere else, and when I expressed my surprise the girl said "Well this is Virginia Beach" like we were in Cannes during the film festival or something.
FDR and his mansion
From there it was directly to DC, or Alexandria to be precise, to spend the evening with FDR (Fuckin' Dave Ryan) whom I hadn't seen in three or four years. Our initial text conversation went something like this:
FDR: Do you want to go see the Avett Bros concert tonight?
Me: I don't know who they are.
FDR: They're kind of like Mumford and Sons.
Me: That's not helping me. At all.
We did end up going to see the Avett Bros show and they were great. Kind of a soulful alt-country hard to describe band but definitely worth listening to. And they have a rabid cult following, especially at George Mason university. You know, the kind where someone is bragging about having seen them 60 times and have you heard this one song that used to be called something else but they just changed the title and you may not know that but I know that because I've seen them 60 times. This is an actual conversation that we heard.
Then it was on to Washington DC. I've never been to DC and I was really looking forward to it but I've got to be honest... as soon as I arrived I just got a weird vibe. I was driving around the city and all the buildings seemed thick and oppressive to me. I don't know how to describe it other than to say you know how sometimes you get to a place and you instantly like it and can't necessarily put your finger on why? Well this was the opposite... I don't feel like I'm friends with Washington DC. There's some sort of dissonance between me and this city. Still, I wanted to see the sites so I spent the first day walking all around the White House, Capitol, and all the various memorials spread through the center of town. I knew the Vietnam veterans' memorial would be touching and in fact it was. There were many people there searching for specific names on the wall, taking pictures, and even tracing the names with pencil. It was cool to stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and picture Martin Luther King giving a speech. Personally, the memorial I found the most moving was the FDR memorial (not Dave Ryan, FDR the president). It's not so much that it was beautiful in any way, but the quotes that were scattered around the memorial really resonated with me. For my money, in spite of several brutal mistakes (such as Japanese internment), he was still the greatest president.
Mae happened to be in town for a family event so we met up at a club where her sister was playing in a cover band. It's really nice to be able to catch up with friends and break up the solitude of the road trip. After the show I drove through the center of town to see all the buildings by night, which are actually quite striking. Sometimes you don't really get the chance to know a city unless you spend some alone time with it, and that is usually best done by night. I was driving by the Smithsonian when I heard "I Only Have Eyes for You" being played over a loudspeaker. I had to stop because that is one of the all-time great songs. It turns out that they were projecting a series of intertwined short film clips featuring different versions of that song onto the outer wall of one of the Smithsonian buildings. There were a bunch of people sitting on the lawn watching the film and relaxing. I sat down as well and just relaxed and enjoyed it. It was a really nice moment, one of those times where you're glad to be exactly where you are. I think that's when I made my peace with DC.
Sunday was very chill... I went to the Air and Space Museum, snuck into two movies then had a couple of beers. I know that doesn't sound like the most exciting way to spend your birthday, but my real gift to myself is coming Monday. Monday is the first day of Craft Beer Week. Monday I'm driving to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Rehoboth Beach is the home of Dogfish Head Brewing company. I'll let you figure out the rest for yourself.
Well, I hope you're all happy, healthy and well. Without further ado, here are the pictures:
Well, I've driven almost from coast to coast and so far my goal of not turning on my air conditioning during the entire trip has been a sweaty success thus far. The United States is a big place, and the road trip has always been one of its great romantic journeys. Now that I've seen a good chunk of it, I have to say that there are huge swaths of this country that are boring as shit. I mean, mind-numbingly boring. The driving itself is usually the highlight as long as the scenery is nice, but man, sometimes you get to a place, look at its "attractions" and "historical sites" and wonder who really gives a crap about this? Most of the bigger cities have some character in their downtown areas but are surrounded by endless concrete sprawl packed with chain stores and fast food restaurants. Ok... this probably isn't making you want to read any further. The U.S. is great! Best country in the world! USA! USA!
When I last left you I was entering Arkansas... The Natural State. Supposedly, it's the only state that would be self-sustaining if you closed its borders. One thing's for sure, if you like trees then you'll love Arkansas. It was so nice to finally see some green after the bleak desolation of Route 66.
I stayed in Little Rock for a couple of days hosted by Aly and Jay who I hadn't seen in about five years but were kind enough to let me use their washer and dryer, though that may have been more out of self-preservation on their part. Aly's an Arkansas native but moved back to Little Rock just under a year ago with Jay, who's originally from Cleveland. She said she's getting used to the environment again, especially the first two questions women are typically asked: What church do you go to and how many kids do you have. Jay... is still adjusting. He is very thankful for their 62-inch TV. Also, thanks buddy for that travel music CD you gave me... it rocks.
I visited the Central High School national historic site as my first bit of tourism in Little Rock. In 1957, this was the first southern high school to defy the Brown vs. Board of Education decision regarding the integration of schools. There's a good picture in my album with text that captures the sequence of events. The Little Rock Nine became national news and this was one of the more significant milestones in the fight for desegregation. After that it was on to the Clinton Library, which was like stepping into a time warp back into the 1990s. There's a lot from his presidency that I either don't remember or I just wasn't paying attention. I'm sure it will be shocking news that the exhibits and timelines were fairly pro-Clinton. There were a couple of brief, apologetic mentions of an "incident" and impeachment, but you're not going to find a navy blue dress behind a glass case.
From Little Rock it was on to Memphis, which is known for music and for barbecue so there was no way I wasn't going to like it. Of course I went to Graceland first, my impression of which is that I think we should all be grateful that Elvis dedicated himself to music rather than interior decorating. If you threw a grenade in a thrift shop and then tried to cover up the damage with shag carpeting, that's more or less what it would look like. You're welcome for saving you $32. Now... Sun Studios, that is definitely a place to visit. First of all, it's the place where the first known recording of distorded electric guitar occurred in 1951 after an amp fell off a truck and they kept the speaker cone in place by stuffing newspaper into it. It's where Elvis Presley recorded his first record, not to mention legends Howling Wolf, Ike Turner, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins and where U2 recorded Rattle and Hum. The recording studio is still active. Someday...
Beale Street is where the magic happens at night. It's kind of a Bourbon Street light, and by light I mean smaller and cleaner and with about 57% less drunk people. The live blues is, I dunno... spectacular? These guys could piss on an instrument and it would sound fantastic. There's a band in almost every bar and one that plays outside in a park. I don't usually go to bars alone, but I spent a couple nights hanging out for three or four hours listening to some great jams. One night I couldn't see the stage because I got stuck sitting behind Chris Webber. The next night I got in a conversation with a guy who asked me if I'd been harrassed in my travels because I look ethnically ambiguous.
My highlight in Memphis, by far, was visiting the National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Hotel. I usually have about a 90 minute timer with museums before I'm over it, but I spent about 5 hours over the course of two days here. It's a remarkable place. It traces the history of the struggle for civil rights from the early days of slavery to the modern day in a way that is detailed and engaging. There are so many evocative images on display but the one that always, always gets to me is the photos of the striking Memphis sanitation workers wearing the signs that say simply "I Am a Man." That just tears me up every time. The good news is that the narrative of oppression and injustice is always the same. They can be overcome, it's a question of time and determination. There's still a lot of room for improvement but when you look at the fact that 50 years ago we needed a Voting Rights Act... things have come a long way.
After Memphis it was on to Clarksdale, Mississippi: home of the delta blues. There's a pretty good Delta Blues museum there that highlights many of the old-school blues artists and whose whole rear section is pretty much a shrine to Muddy Waters. That night I was at a blues club near the museum minding my own business when I was approached by a Japanese guy who said he saw me at Sun Studios and on Beale street and now here so he felt like he had to introduce himself. Hideki (from Japan) was traveling with his girlfriend Beth Ann (from North Carolina) and decided that we had to meet since we had seen each other so many times. I tried to picture what it was like from his end seeing me pop up in random places like some bald, bearded Where's Waldo. It was open mic night at the Ground Zero Blues Club and he brought his guitar and would really like it if I hung out to listen to him play a couple of original songs. There aren't too many sure things in life, but I can say with some certainty that this was the first time that a Japanese guy played original, acoustic J-Pop at an open mic in Clarksdale, Mississippi. He sort of blew people's minds. Here's a recording of some random blues plus Hideki as the big finish: http://youtu.be/ZVGAmR8b16w
From there it was on to Vicksburg where the Union layed siege to the city for over two months in order to clear the last Confederate stronghold on the Mississippi River. I drove through the military park which was more a graveyard than anything. There were hundreds of memorials to the fallen, all of which were organized by state. Then I spent the night in Jackson, an urban sprawl-ridden city inexplicably featured in a Johnny Cash song. I had my first Jerry Springer moment here in the back parking lot of a Motel 6 where I walked in on a family quarrel... some toothless woman was yelling at a guy with tattoos all over his face about sleeping with a whore when he has a woman at home, then he says that she's not a whore and he turns to me and says it's ok that's his mom, then she starts yelling at me that he's having babies left and right. Oh please, please let my car start.
On to Alabama where the first stop was Selma. There isn't a ton to see in this small town but it was cool to cross over the Edmund Pettus bridge and take the same route on Hwy 80 to Montgomery as Martin Luther King. There are highway markers on the side of the road commemorating where the marchers camped out each night but of course the one thing I'll always remember about this drive is seeing Wallace's Sports Bar and Grill along the same road. I don't know if this is coincidental or what but... come on. Once you get to Montgomery you can see almost all the historically significant sites within a couple of city blocks of each other: The Civil Rights Memorial, the Alabama State capitol (which also served as the first capitol of the Confederacy), the Dexter Avenue Baptist church from where the bus boycott was organized, and the white house of the Confederacy. And yes, it's weird that so much Confederate and Civil Rights history is so close but that's the south I guess.
I'll always remember Montgomery though as the first place in all of my travels where I escaped my motel. Yeah, okay, maybe I shouldn't have chosen the motel under the freeway. Or maybe the signal should've been the rock thrown through the sign, or the busted air conditioners, or the wrecked up cars in the parking lot, or the guy out on the balconies grilling up his dinner on a hibachi. Then I got into the room and it had a deadbolt plus a chain and a sign on the door that said "Door chain is provided for your safety. Put it on before opening door." But I'm a stubborn man... I had already paid, I figured it was just for one night, plus it had HBO. Then when I got back from picking up dinner a woman intercepted me on the stairway and started insistently waving at me to come upstairs to talk to her. I mean... she really wanted me to come upstairs. I asked her what for and she just kept on waving. So I politely declined, got in my room, packed up my shit, and got the hell out of there.
Then it was on through to Georgia, from Columbus to Macon. The drive was pleasant but the cities themselves were unremarkable. Macon was holding the Georgia state fair whose highlights were carnival rides, pig races and fried snickers bars.
So... the south. It's a lot more green and foresty than I expected. People are generally friendly, it's hot, and tamales are surprisingly popular. The radio stations play a lot of Jesus, a lot of country, some rock, and an unusual amount of Phil Collins. It's almost impossible to travel through the south without thinking about race. You pretty much get smacked in the face with civil rights history, though in all fairness I went looking for it. I can't really make any fair observations about it after only a week or so of traveling. It's pretty easy to make fun of the south considering its history. It is weird to see people driving around with Confederate flags on their cars, or on their clothes, or around their necks, never mind that it's still on Mississippi's state flag. I always wonder if you're black and live in the south how it feels when you see that stuff. To be fair, though, we're still a pretty racially divided country overall and you can see it in the south or if you look around in San Francisco or Chicago or New York. There's still a ways to go pretty much everywhere.
Anyhow, I'm off to Savannah today which has been billed as the Paris of the south. I've been to the Paris of Siberia and the Paris of France so now I can complete the loop. A warning to anybody who sends me text messages... I keep my phone off most of the time and when I turn it on I sometimes only get partial texts or none at all so if I'm not responding it's that. Or I don't feel like talking to you. Here are the pictures...
I've started talking to my car. This is what happens when you're alone for a while. There must be some part of me that wants to make sure that she's appreciated since this whole trip is relying on her, but... I sound like a manipulative boyfriend. "I know baby... three days in a row driving 7 hours... I promise it's the last time. I know I said that last time but this time I mean it. Come on, tomorrow it won't be more than four hours. Oh, don't bring up the off-roading again. I only took you off-road that ONE time! Okay, maybe twice, but that was a long time ago! Why do you have to keep bringing that up? Aw now... you're leaking. Shhh.... it's ok, it's ok. I can call up my buddy Vince at Enterprise and rent another car, no need for you to worry. Oh... you don't want me to do that. That's fine, let's just put this ugly incident behind us. I forgive you. Oh, and I've been meaning to talk to you about your gas mileage... it's not really as good as we'd like now is it? Maybe you could tighten it up a little bit? Good... let's get back on the road."
My first stop in Arizona was Sedona, a small high-desert town centered in the midst of red rocks and with the most roundabouts I've ever seen in a U.S. city. There are quite a few psychics in town which probably explains the lack of stoplights. The town itself is what you might expect... a handful of central streets lined with all sorts of shops surrounded by beautiful views of the red rock formations encircling the town. I'm fairly certain that, with the exception of the many kids dragged on vacation by their parents, I was the youngest person in Sedona. It's a great place to stay, and may very well be the prettiest city in Arizona, though when you use Phoenix as your benchmark there's nowhere to go but up.
After leaving Sedona I headed north through Flagstaff and into northern Arizona on the way to Monument Valley. This was one of my highlighted destinations. I've always been a huge fan of westerns and was looking forward to visiting the place where John Ford filmed some of his classics. Monument Valley is located in southeastern Utah in Navajo territory so if you're in the area you can enjoy the sounds of Undercurrents radio on NPR (Navajo Public Radio) or at http://undercurrentsradio.net. As you drive through Navajo territory the surrounding scenery shifts from high desert browns to brick reds. There aren't too many towns to speak of, and the ones you see consist mostly of prefab houses, shacks and one church. Occasionally you'll see roadside stands selling beads, jewelry and artwork.
The view from Artist's Point
When I finally reached Monument Valley, all I can say is... wow. It is even more breathtaking than I had imagined. The rock formations are more vibrant than is possible to convey through film. I headed straight to the park to stake out my campsite but was told that the entire site was booked by a film crew. Luckily I was able to get a site up the road at Goulding's... where John Ford and John Wayne used to stay. I went back to the park for the 17-mile off-road loop through the valley and all I can say is look at the pictures. Erosion rocks (ha ha!). Up close the peaks and buttes can be overwhelming; you almost have to look at them from a distance to properly take them in. When I stopped at Artist's Point I got out of the car and walked down to take a picture of a lone tree with the valley in the background. A ranger stepped out of his truck and said I could only go so far and not all the way down to the tree. He told me that he had to sit there in his truck all day to watch the tree because it's fake... it's only there for the film. Then on the way out of the park I got stuck behind one of the film crew's 18-wheelers who couldn't make it up the hill. Walt Disney pictures. When I finally got back to the visitor's center, I just sat outside for a while soaking in the view of the valley below. That same 18-wheeler was still struggling up the hill. I started talking to one of the locals who works there and he said that they're filming The Lone Ranger. Not sure what to think of that, but it was the third strike on these guys. Then I sat for about 15 minutes and watched with perverse glee as a bulldozer came up to try and tow the truck up the hill, finally succeeding. The local (who was watching with me) looked up the road and said, "There are three more of those trucks coming up behind it." Then he laughed. And I laughed too.
Goulding's shows a John Ford movie every night in its theater and the night I was in town it was The Searchers. I've seen The Searchers at least five times but I dunno... I would've felt funny watching it in Navajo territory. The Searchers wasn't Birth of a Nation or anything but it was a little racist. No more so than other movies of its time, but I had to wonder what the locals thought of these films. To be fair, it's obvious that John Ford had a love for Monument Valley and it probably wouldn't be the destination it is today without his influence. I was probably overthinking it... this is the kind of shit that goes through your mind after you've spent four years at Berkeley. Damn hippie conditioning. Anyhow, I skipped the movie and ended up spending a sleepless night struggling with what I've discovered is my tent's kryptonite: the wind. When the flaps weren't cracking like a whip, I was getting blasted with red dust through the front mesh. Good times.
I decided to drive to Taos the next day. Why Taos? I don't know... it looked good on the map. I may have heard it mentioned in a Creedence song. I was a bit sad leaving Monument Valley but the road was calling. I'm actually really enjoying the driving. I stopped at the Four Corners since it was on the way but I wouldn't recommend it. It was cool to stand at the intersection of four states, but the monument is not much to speak of and the view is nothing special. The best thing at Four Corners was the Navajo frybread with honey. That shit is good.
The gas in New Mexico is only 86 octane for regular unleaded. The larger towns in the north are full of pawn shops, smoke shops, fireworks stores and modular housing lots. Once you get into the countryside, though, it's very green, with farms on large fields and small towns with old-school filling stations/post offices. Taos is a cute mountain resort town with a central plaza surrounded by pueblo-style buildings. There's the usual drill that goes on in small resort towns... lots of shops selling quaint things. I took a drive around the "Enchanted Circle" which turned out to be a pretty mellow way to enjoy a couple of hours at 9000 feet. It's a nice, relaxing place to stay but it's probably better if it's winter and you're into snow sports.
Santa Fe has much the same setup as Taos except on a larger scale. You know the whole plaza/pueblo/shops combination. There also seem to be a lot of drifters in the plaza. One of the big draws seems to be the Georgia O'Keeffe museum, but I don't really know anything about her art. I keep thinking that she drew a lot of vaginas but I can't be sure. The Chuck Jones gallery was more my speed. The Coyote and Roadrunner cartoons were formative for me in my youth and arguably my adulthood. I know quite a few people that really like Santa Fe but I wasn't there long enough to fall in love.
Sounds like the ending to a good date
After that it was south and then east along Route 66, known nowadays as I-40. Most of the old road was replaced by the interstate though there are small towns here and there where the historic Route 66 still exists. The crosswinds along the interstate are brutal and I have no idea how motorcyclists can stand it. The most interesting thing about this route is the dilapidated state of much of these old symbols of Americana... billboards, drive-in restaurants, and filling stations all in various states of decay. I wound up at the center of this anachronism: Tucumcari, New Mexico. Even the hotels and diners that are still in business look like they're falling apart. I stayed at the Palomino Inn in a room that costs $25/night. I'll let you imagine that room in your mind and you'll probably be right.
From there it was on to Texas and more various Route 66 miscellania including a stop at the exact midway point between Chicago and Los Angeles. This road must be some sort of rite for Harley riders because they travel in packs in both directions, helmetless, at 80 mph. It's also become obvious that you can tell how crappy a town is going to be by how much the Motel 6 in town is charging. Just look at the digital display... if it's $29.99 be wary. Also, of the five non-chain motels where I've stopped at the front desk, all five have been run by Indians (from India). I don't know why, just making an observation. Then everyone keeps asking me if I have a pet, and when I say no they give me that look like I'm lying to them. Also, at some point between New Mexico and Texas they stop giving you the check and instead give you the ticket.
Troy sweatin it out 20 minutes in
South of Amarillo is Palo Duro Canyon which is the second largest canyon in the U.S. after the Grand Canyon of course. It is nowhere near as spectacular so I would rather concentrate on a true attraction in Amarillo: The Big Texan steak house. You see billboards for this place from hundreds of miles away along Route 66 touting a free 72 oz steak therefore it must be awesome. Well even I was not prepared for the spectacle that is the free 72 oz steak contest. You get the 72 oz steak for free IF you eat it in under an hour. Not only that, but the contestant has to eat at a table on a raised platform in the middle of the restaurant (450 person capacity) with a big red timer behind his head. Our man Troy from Utah happened to be taking the challenge this evening with his obnoxious brother yelling/jeering from a nearby table. Troy was the bigger man but obviously more shy. I envisioned a lifetime of verbal abuse suffered at the hands of his loudmouth brother. Someday Troy will have his day, but it was not this day... he gave up with 16 oz left.
The bewildering production surrounding the devouring of over 4 lbs of meat reminds me of that show Man vs. Food. The basic gist of this show is some guy going around the U.S. taking the challenge of eating the most outrageously sized dishes at various restaurants and diners. Can you imagine some guy in Somalia tuning into satellite television and watching this gluttonous bastard spend a half hour plowing through a 6 foot sandwich or an 8 lb burrito or a stack of 15 pancakes or whatever? This is why people hate America.
I spent the next day driving through Oklahoma, which, in case anyone was wondering, is boring as fuck. It's more green than I expected, the OKC bombing memorial is thoughtful, and Tulsa seems like a nice town, especially along the river. That's about the best I can do.
To be honest, after spending a couple of days on Route 66 it's a bit sad seeing this deterioration of an era of American culture. The businesses that remain in the small towns are either dilapidated relics hanging on by a thread or a thriving handful that have managed to successfully market themselves based on a mystique that no longer exists. I know that this road has historical significance that goes deeper than what remains, but you don't need to drive a thousand miles to understand that. Read a book. As anyone who's driven on an interstate freeway knows, they don't tend to leave much soul behind.
As for me, the only times I've felt really alone on this trip have been when I've had to get a room in a motel these last few nights. When I'm camping by myself it doesn't feel lonely, in fact it's great to be able to enjoy the outdoors on your own terms. In a motel room though I feel like I'm stuck in a box. A hot, depressing box. Luckily, now that I'm in Arkansas I have Aly and Jay to keep me company, or at the very least have a conversation with me that's longer than four sentences and doesn't end with "That'll be thirty-two dollars." At least I hope.
