Posted by: George | July 21, 2010

Americana on Old Route 66

Tepee Motel

July 20, 2010 (midday)

I stopped in Holbrock AZ to eat lunch and came across a tepee motel. Each room is a separate tepee (not a real one, a building in the shape of a tepee), and each room has at least one vintage car in front. I was tempted to stay there, but I needed to be further down the road before I stopped for the night.

Across the street, I ate lunch at the Wayside Restaurant, which has been there fifty years or so. I had a Navajo Burger, which is served on fry bread, a flat bread that is (of course) fried and almost has a pastry taste to it. Much better than a sesame bun.

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Posted by: George | July 21, 2010

Grand Canyon

July 20, 2010 (morning)

I camped last night about 50 miles from the Grand Canyon National Park. After a quick breakfast, I broke camp and hit the road.

At the first view of the canyon, the parking lot was full. One man, touring with his three sons in a convertible, left his engine running with bad rock music blaring.

Since I hit the west, I haven’t had my radio or CD player on much, especially in the national parks. I drive in silence with the windows down. I prefer to have as many filters striped away as possible. I almost said something to the man, like, “How could you be so rude?” Instead, I got in my car and continued down the rim road. I soon found a spot where I could be alone for about fifteen minute.

The Grand Canyon is big. Really big. I’ve been thinking of how to explain it.

If the Grand Tetons where hollow and you turned them upside down and inserted them into a piece of flat land, and you did this about forty or fifty times, then you would have something like the Grand Canyon.

It's Big

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Posted by: George | July 21, 2010

A Drive By (Bye) View of Vegas

July 19, 2010 (midday)

As I left Death Valley, I was on the road to Las Vegas. I decided not to stay the night there. I don’t drink much. When I do drink, my limit is usually about two or three drinks. I don’t like to gamble. I am not interested in seeing Donnie and Marie on stage, even if I could get tickets.

I spent almost an hour driving around Vegas, so I am not an expert on the town. But I thought I would share some initial reactions—a view from a moving car.

When I was doing research on Alcoholics Anonymous, my favorite circuit speaker (an AA speaker who is often invited to speak at conventions) was Ken D. He liked to say that the motto of AA should be “Excess is not enough.” It would fit for Vegas as well.

In some senses, Vegas is the most American of American cities. Excess is part of our economic system. As capital is used to increase production, we start to have more products than we need—more clothes, more cars, more houses, more food. While it is good in many ways to have an abundance of goods, excess also creates problems. How can businesses sell excess goods? They have to find new markets or ways to encourage over-consumption. The growing girth of the average American is just one example of people consuming excess. In this sense, Vegas is like much of American, maybe just a little better at promoting the consumption of excess.

Maybe part of the excess of Vegas comes from its being a place separate from ordinary living. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” It is in the desert, in the middle of nowhere. The entire city seems to be an amusement park for adults.

You can see the Statue of Liberty without having to take a long, cold ferry ride through New York harbor. You can take a gondola ride without having to worry about pigeons or rats. You can walk past the Eiffel Tower without having to tolerate rude Parisians.

It’s not a real city, and it’s not meant to be. It screams, “I don’t have to behave like I am at work, or walking down my street, in front of my neighbors.”

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Posted by: George | July 21, 2010

Death Valley

July 19, 2010 (morning)

I left my hotel at about 7:20 and found a coffee shop in the next town. They had fresh pastries from a local bakery, so I bought a triple latte and two donuts and headed for Death Valley National Park.

I wasn’t prepared for the beauty of Death Valley. I thought it would be flat with nothing but sand, sage brush, and cacti.

From the west, I entered the park at about 5,000 feet. Hwy 190, the only road through the park west to east, twisted into a valley at sea level for about five miles, then it began to rise again. As the elevation increased, a sign said, “Avoid Overheated Engines/ Turn Off Air Conditioning.”

I followed instructions and was surprised that the heat was not too bad. As they say, it was a dry heat. (Huey, a friend and colleague, often says, “It’s hot in Arkansas, but it’s a wet heat.” I prefer the dry heat.) After a climb to about 5,000 feet, the road dropped into a larger valley, also at sea level. This, I believe, is the real Death Valley, the 20-mule-team Death Valley, pure desert for about 10 miles. The only animal I saw was a chipmunk (I think) that ran half way into the road, saw my car, turned around, and ran back. I thinnk I would have gone ahead and crossed the road at that point.

In the distance, I could see another mountain range, behind a heat mist. The heat flattened the mountains into light blue and grey silhouettes, one behind another, seemingly creating distance between each range. As I began to climb again and grew closer, I could see details in each mountain. Most had strata that formed when that piece of earth was flat on a sea bed. As the plates moved, pushing the rock up, the strata moved to the diagonal.

As I drove through the park, I was amazed at the variety of rocks. A geologist could probably spend an entire career studying a few hundred square yards of Death Valley.

It is a place of stark beauty. In that sense, not worthy of the name Death Valley, but it must have been a dangerous place for pioneers. The heat, the scarcity of water, the difficult of climbing out of the valley once you’re in it, all this must have made deadly.

Death Valley

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Posted by: George | July 18, 2010

Yosemite

 

Serenity in Yosemite

July 18, 2010 (evening)

Today was a better day.

I went to sleep early and woke up about 4:30. Not on purpose. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  So, by about 5:30, I got out of bed, showered and headed to Yosemite.

Ahead of the crowds, I was able to see a grove of Sequoia, drive to Glacier Point, circle down to the valley, and then take a few short hikes on my way out.

At Glacier Point, I talked to two guys (one about my age) who were getting reading to hang glide off the point and fly down into the valley. The older guy said, “It’s the best hike in the park.”

On my way out of the valley toward Hwy 120, I took a few short hikes, just far enough off the road to find a pretty spot with no people. Then, I sat down for thirty or forty minutes to take it in.

At one of these spots, I found a piece of granite near a lake. After I sat there for a while, a couple and their son came up. The man said, “We have to apologize to this man for disturbing his serenity.”

I replied, “It’s hard to disturb in a place like this.”

“Even with a five-year-old?” he said.

“Even with a five-year-old,” I replied.

However, people are becoming a problem in the park.

Yosemite is much smaller than Yellowstone, and it feels more crowded. As I was driving through, I wondered if the Park Service would one day need to limit admissions to national parks by lottery or some other form.

No one wants to talk about this. In Ken Burns’ documentary about the National Parks, he never mentions the crowds, except to cite some statistics on how many people visit the parks.

Americans view the National Parks as their birth right, as well they should. We should also view our parks as a gift to the world.

On this trip out west (my last long car trip out here was in 1996), I noticed far more foreign tourists, especially Germans, Japanese, and Chinese. You do, however, hear many languages as you move through a national park. As economies around the world have improved, more people from these countries can afford to tour America and its parks. I certainly don’t think we should develop an immigration policy for national parks, but foreign tourists are adding to the crowds.

The crowding is most apparent on the roads. You have to walk a ways into a trail to get away from the sound of buses, RVs, motorcycles, and cars. Yosemite has tried to deal with the crowding by providing shuttle service. You can park your car, get on a bus or a trolley (the kind with electric cars that pulls a series of trailers with seats, yes, the kind you saw in Disney World) and tour without a car. While this is a reasonable solution, it does make Yosemite seem a little more like a theme park.

I don’t want to downplay my experience in Yosemite. I had a smile on my face the entire time. It is an amazing place. I am, however, concerned about its future, how we can provide access to all without turning the park into parking lot.

After I left the east side of the park, on Hwy 120, I headed south on Hwy 395 to Independence. I had planned to camp, but I also thought I would still be in the mountains. The high today was about 104. I chickened out and checked into a motel that was probably built in the 1950s. It is a charming place. You just don’t see many motels like this. It is simplier than most chain hotels, but I have everything I need, even WiFi, and it is about $30 cheaper than most chains.

Tomorrow, I will head through Death Valley toward Las Vegas. I may pass through Vegas to Flagstaff and go into the Grand Canyon from there. I don’t know. Maybe I ought to spend a night in Vegas.

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Posted by: George | July 18, 2010

A Driection

After some rest and some dinner, I have decided on a direction for the morning. I am going to head straight into Yosemite via Hwy 41 North, spend the day in the park, and come out the otherside. Once on the other side, I can head for Grand Canyon National Park, then start heading home. This means I will miss Sequoia National Park and Joshua Tree National Park, but you can’t fit everything in on one trip.

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Posted by: George | July 18, 2010

Another Night in Fresno

July 7, 2010 (late afternoon)

I must be getting a little punchy.

I drove six or seven hours today and ended up back in Fresno. I’m sure Fresno is a nice city, but I didn’t drive out west to spend two nights in Fresno.

Yesterday, my plan was to get a hotel on Hwy 41. Then, in the morning, I could drive out of the hotel parking lot, take a left, and set out directly for my campsite. I might even be able to set up camp in time to make a short trip into Yosemite.

I couldn’t find a hotel right on Hwy 41, so I spend the night a few exits away.

By the time I woke up and started out, I forgot I wasn’t on 41. Happy and clueless, I headed north into farmland. I eventually had that vague sense that something was off. When I stopped to ask for directions at a Gas-n-Sip, the clerk gave me one set of directions and a helpful customer gave me another. Confused, I went back to my car and figured out a third route.

My route made sense on the map. I found a road that would bring me close to Mammoth Campground, where I had a three day reservation. I figured, once I got close, I could ask for directions for the last few miles.

As I was driving straight up the side of a mountain, I came across a cyclists sitting on the guard rail, catching his breath. Then, I saw a small boat abandoned on the side of the road. I guess the owner couldn’t pull it up the steep incline. Then, I saw a mini-van, hood up, steam rising from the engine.

When I hit the top of the mountain, I asked for directions from an old guy sitting outside a tackle shop, relaxing, smoking a cigar. He said, “You got to go back down the mountain.”

I was probably three or four miles from my campsite, but I couldn’t get there.

So, I went down the mountain, found Hwy 41, and started back up the mountain. Hwy 41 was straight. Hwy 200 was full of curves. South Fork had even more. I was moving along at about 30 mph for over an hour.

I passed a large RV on the side of the road, steam rising from the hood. I stopped to see if the driver needed help. The main help he needed was to know the name of the road he was on so he could call a tow truck. I honestly don’t know how a tow truck could pull an RV off that mountain road.

I drove about 10 miles past where the campsite should be and never found it.

About this time, I realized my campsite, even if I could find it, would not be a good base for visiting Yosemite. On the way up the mountain, I saw a sign that said something like: “HWY 573 to Yosemite Closed.” My campsite, which I thought was about 30 minutes from Yosemite, was probably a three or four hour drive from the park. By the time I hit the gate, I would need to turn around.

So, I headed back to Fresno. By this time, about 3:30, I was exhausted. I pulled into an Applebee’s for lunch. I needed a few minutes to decide what to do next.

On trips like this, I usually like making decisions on the fly. I was stumped. Over lunch, I decided to check into a hotel and regroup.

This is the part of the trip that I had planned with the most detail. I thought Yosemite would be the highlight of the trip. I had planned on maps. I had planned on websites. I even tried to talk to a human being, but was soon lost in an automated phone system. I pushed two when I should have pushed three. Now, I wanted to head in the other direction.

Steinbeck wrote, “You don’t take a trip; a trip takes you.” Today, I got taken.

Every trip, short or long, has a day physical or emotional exhaustion—if you’re lucky, maybe even a complete emotional meltdown. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s a release, and what is being release might have been building up long before the trip began.

This has been the first bad day of an otherwise great trip. I can’t complain.

My View All Day Long

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Posted by: George | July 17, 2010

Yosemite

I will be going into my campsite outside of Yosemite this morning. I will be coming out on July 20. Unless I can find Internet service in the area, I may not be able to post for a few days.

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Posted by: George | July 17, 2010

Rocinante

Steinbeck's Truck

July 16, 2010 (evening)

As I was approaching San Francisco, I saw a huge fog bank in the distance. I knew that must be the city. As I grew closer, I watched the fog creep over a hillside outside of Sausalito and burn off almost instantly as it hit the sun and warm air.

The micro-climates of the west coast apparently even affect real estate prices in San Francisco. Some areas rarely have sunshine, so apartments are cheaper there.

After I crossed the Golden Gate bridge, I tried to head south on Hwy 101 to connect with Hwy 280; instead, I took a detour through Oakland. Eventually, I found my way to the San Jose area and had lunch with Lisa, an old friend.

I mentioned to Lisa that I was amazed by the dry climate. She mentioned that when seasonal rains come in the spring, everything is green.

The hills in much of California, at this point of the summer, are covered by light brown grass, about the shade of hay. At a distance, it looks like crushed velvet.

After lunch with Lisa, I headed to Salinas to walk through the John Steinbeck Center. They have Racinante there—the very truck/camper that Steinbeck drove on his trip. By the time I hit Salinas, I was pretty tried. I don’t look too happy in the photo, but I am still having a great time.

I was struck by the size of Steinbeck’s truck, very small by today’s standards.

From Salinas, I drove east through the hills and farm land to Fresno, where it is pretty hot.

As I was driving today, I notice that I was having trouble pushing through. I think I am pretty tired. I decided to get a hotel room for the night, rest up, and take a shower.

Tomorrow, I will head to a campground just outside of Yosemite for three days. It will be good to be settled for a while. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I am not able to find an Internet source.

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Posted by: George | July 16, 2010

Reflections on Oregon and Muffin Tops

Someone submitted a comment yesterday on the “Localness” post. He/she felt I was ranting and whining about Oregon and why on earth would I say the muffin tops at Dutch Bros. are less than satisfying.
Just to clarify, Oregon is a beautiful state. I ought to know. I drove around it in circles. I got lost so much I am practically a resident.
Also to clarify: Dutch Bros. has good coffee (juding on my one trip there) and very attractive young women working the espresso machine. They even call you honey (again, judging on my one trip there). I just didn’t enjoy the muffin top (again, judging on a sample of one).
Here was the problem with the muffin top: It was slimey. I think there are two possible explanations: (1) the muffin top was placed in the plastic bag too soon after baking, the steam tried to escape, leading to slim on the surface, or (2) the mufflin top was shipped from Seattle in plastic and frozen, when it thawed on site, moisture collected around the surface, creating slim.
So, here are my suggestions for all coffee shops: (1) when possible, buy from local bakers, (2) if this is too complicated, don’t ship the pastry indvidually packaged in  plastic. You can ship it frozen, just not frozen and in plastic.
To summarize, the only things I didn’t like about Oregon (a very beautiful state) are (1) there seems to be a lack of roadsigns and (2) people give directions like they grew up in Maine (read some of Steinbeck’s thoughts on this point).
The only thing I didn’t like about Dutch Bros. is their muffin tops. Otherwise, I had a very good experience there. I would go back for the coffee and the “honey.”

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