tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20449382588232839492024-03-14T03:53:58.352-07:00WEBB'S JOURNALgwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-1068375746969939082010-10-18T15:57:00.000-07:002010-10-18T16:14:43.760-07:00END OF THE TRAILROCKLAND COUNTY, NY<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6048CeCLxPZ2lF12sK-GL3k6f92T5Lkn3dSzzacFNMPwPesu-CStR449F72TktMzhNZ0geYQQmzmkNwoIt1pdiT5upZy84cVtB-OsDIQY3VchVH8MkUEUnhknj7Opb9MiIe1yaD8FOU/s1600/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6048CeCLxPZ2lF12sK-GL3k6f92T5Lkn3dSzzacFNMPwPesu-CStR449F72TktMzhNZ0geYQQmzmkNwoIt1pdiT5upZy84cVtB-OsDIQY3VchVH8MkUEUnhknj7Opb9MiIe1yaD8FOU/s320/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+130.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bam. And there it is.<br />
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Or. perhaps, <em>was. </em>Like a sailor still reeling from the sea, I'm trying to accept that this little hejiera is over with.<br />
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I left the hoary old Adirondacks early last week and headed down through my favorite old motorcycling haunt, the Catskill mountains, for one last blast..trying to savour that one last Fix, as it were, before the dreaded cold turkey comes looming into view... in this case, <em>stasis. </em>Non-movement. The wheels having completed their cycle. After that I pulled into Downstate New York and began the strange process of unpacking my duffel bag, (it sits on the chair, half empty, just in case I need to load it up again real fast).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7ttgtYdvn1soCBG_eCRaNu2hvjOtXsPhQvOU31jecU-qEOTQRlfancihqMNWhtmsj4-3f0Eucz6GEtpMgLzDuK6YbKztgECIUnhJ7kjO3lCYBR6XAoasz7P83zKOmicibKfK0MgO9_A/s1600/Iowa-Nebraska+069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7ttgtYdvn1soCBG_eCRaNu2hvjOtXsPhQvOU31jecU-qEOTQRlfancihqMNWhtmsj4-3f0Eucz6GEtpMgLzDuK6YbKztgECIUnhJ7kjO3lCYBR6XAoasz7P83zKOmicibKfK0MgO9_A/s320/Iowa-Nebraska+069.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I'm certainly not the first person to take this sort of motorcycle trip... it's the second time I've gone Coast-to-Coast, and the vast improvements in motorcycle technology have made it ever easier to do this sort of thing. The last time I rode a 1979 motorcycle with shakey carburetion, wood-blocks for brakes, old-school points ignition that let me down repeatedly. Now the new bikes are glossy-smooth computer-controlled spark advancmenent silky fuel-injection radial tire'd effortless. Many touring bikes have adjustable power seats, full cruise-control, built-in stereos, Bluetooth capable intercoms and heated coffee-cup holders.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ2ClYS7nAOm1MbyyJx1Ayz6b4KRm4uBhte2EyF8WGeu3r3EFmQdV763qDHPQa5oLkDoNUd4i5XBIipP7ixwBIu_i66xBQ4Fj9tlgf963My99YdnZsagz1nt6b6zJ_SvXgz8AwIQH_Jw/s1600/Iowa-Nebraska+123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ2ClYS7nAOm1MbyyJx1Ayz6b4KRm4uBhte2EyF8WGeu3r3EFmQdV763qDHPQa5oLkDoNUd4i5XBIipP7ixwBIu_i66xBQ4Fj9tlgf963My99YdnZsagz1nt6b6zJ_SvXgz8AwIQH_Jw/s320/Iowa-Nebraska+123.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Not mine, but it doesn't matter. I took a budget sportbike, simple and minimalist, freshly re-built from the transmission up; packed it with a single duffel bag and launched forth into the American Void. And survived. 12,500 miles. 26 states and two solid months on the Road, almost to the day. Back in one piece, with the bike ready to start right out again after an oil change and a fresh set of tires. (Not so sure my hands and neck would agree).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1c4vkRg47pAicj2P_UQGIvgOcS3Ab9MxGXVszXA3zBWOAyIntBAJmY0hcruxdDEqu3OF7a3GNug3_EjpflzIGULr8IFk3GM5alf7AObKH8IN6D3_yAWg7sPdKE7OjdZBuDLO4rMS_OY/s1600/Dakota-Montana+044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1c4vkRg47pAicj2P_UQGIvgOcS3Ab9MxGXVszXA3zBWOAyIntBAJmY0hcruxdDEqu3OF7a3GNug3_EjpflzIGULr8IFk3GM5alf7AObKH8IN6D3_yAWg7sPdKE7OjdZBuDLO4rMS_OY/s320/Dakota-Montana+044.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Those of you out there who have sat on a motorcycle for any real distance can understand what I accomplished. It was hard work. You're out there in the elements, come baking sun or drenching water, snow or dust, locusts or rockslides. Although sitting on the highway is relatively simple, your brain has to continue to <em>balance </em>this bloody contraption, and there's many a moment during a long run when you think, <em>What's actually keeping me UP? </em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfmBTqMnFQcuL05fMn_O5l0dvLhquNf8lMn_c8bqqwRzK2UKppYmx5OT0kyQ8N7Ue5jaUMEdH9q5RHH5qf5RqWDp7eByCNrnbmido_IWnOShnn1NMcUE2RMiXyMYL3XIfQWyzLI3Yffo/s1600/Illinois-Iowa+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfmBTqMnFQcuL05fMn_O5l0dvLhquNf8lMn_c8bqqwRzK2UKppYmx5OT0kyQ8N7Ue5jaUMEdH9q5RHH5qf5RqWDp7eByCNrnbmido_IWnOShnn1NMcUE2RMiXyMYL3XIfQWyzLI3Yffo/s320/Illinois-Iowa+023.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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It's a very Zen experience. Pirsig had it partially correct, but he was a essentially big pussy riding a clanky old BMW twin at at speeds of 40-60 mph over a few states. Get a real bike, Alan. When you're on a modern bike with a high power-to-weight ratio, you get to play these incredible G-force games; when the road begins to undulate for example you can twist the throttle at the right moments and the raw acceleration will float you smoothly over the hilltops like some jet-propelled marshmallow. Whee, indeed. Smoothly in control at speeds that would make car drivers shrivel in terror. When the bike is running hot and true, you can pull out onto heavy Interstate routes with utter confidence and aplomb, throttle pinned to the stop while leaned over sharply on the entrance ramp. The rear wheel begins sliding just perceptably and completely within your control, (as you've been at this for quite a while and understand the Physics quite deeply). There's no need to look around to see what semi truck maybe be coming down the pike on your left, because you're pulling so much G acceleration and speed that no one could possibly catch you from behind. Just keep that handgrip pegged and you'll only need to watch what not to run into up <em>ahead </em>of you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQiUii3ysrwxRavniDCJ_K5hcSeAUlS_Rokl2vDw1UT5G-fW9yqn2gVYO2f9T_NVx_GJI3RDtBQTd1En1MyODJDJoiVhNE3P9E0HrdEwNE_nBI7IUX1qC1MakKbH1jLkpj1Nyr8mk-8E/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQiUii3ysrwxRavniDCJ_K5hcSeAUlS_Rokl2vDw1UT5G-fW9yqn2gVYO2f9T_NVx_GJI3RDtBQTd1En1MyODJDJoiVhNE3P9E0HrdEwNE_nBI7IUX1qC1MakKbH1jLkpj1Nyr8mk-8E/s320/Virginia+Delaware+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This stuff gets very addictive, and you get very good at it after a month or two non-stop riding. Day after Day... hour after hour... week after week. The Big Road... and although like the Sea you can't take it for granted, you learn to live with it's rythyms and rules. It becomes a friend of sorts, and many times I sighed comfortably after leaving some sordid urban jam-up or sketchy hillbilly burb behind, by launching up onto the open-lane asphalt and escaping down the road into the brilliant sunset.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHNRaf2UnempFykH2rHrUzjXxIqKjuJp0jdnJWNtItYNcAeP9K4eOFW-q_eoQVypVWTYZ0pQM3aZGTR59RQ3wJgkHFrmicPxJc1g2ISiWIuDFw5eJ7BBRfd45y4wEDvE_YKMjwvUJX_s/s1600/Dakota-Montana+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHNRaf2UnempFykH2rHrUzjXxIqKjuJp0jdnJWNtItYNcAeP9K4eOFW-q_eoQVypVWTYZ0pQM3aZGTR59RQ3wJgkHFrmicPxJc1g2ISiWIuDFw5eJ7BBRfd45y4wEDvE_YKMjwvUJX_s/s320/Dakota-Montana+034.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I stayed off the Interstates as much as possible, but in the end you really can't avoid them on a trip so expansive. It's a huge country, and try as you may to stick to the red-line state highways, (far more rewarding), there's just too many times when it's getting dark or you're running exhausted from the endless thrill of swooping Appalachian switch-backs. Or it starts raining, and you simply can't fart around when there's thousands of miles to be done. There's always the blue-line, familiar old Interstate waiting, winking at you with it's tawdry glare of Arby's, Walmart, McDonalds, Motel 8, and yellow-stained Waffle Houses. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLvQhtn29gT-gMqi5LVLXQ8j40gAdJ2MBNNNsKt44vE7wA4ZbL6XQjdTeL7hZnirTPD652-phMiVXLKdKe9JCsadrhj0rMHpWC31sxxbs7c4sTbRDmZnM_uYFmCENYYsXqcgnQBndU-s/s1600/Dakota-Montana+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLvQhtn29gT-gMqi5LVLXQ8j40gAdJ2MBNNNsKt44vE7wA4ZbL6XQjdTeL7hZnirTPD652-phMiVXLKdKe9JCsadrhj0rMHpWC31sxxbs7c4sTbRDmZnM_uYFmCENYYsXqcgnQBndU-s/s320/Dakota-Montana+035.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This was, after all, a very spiritual adventure for me. I told Ken Babbs out in Oregon that I was on a <em>Mission</em>, but that halfway through the trip I still didn't know exactly what that WAS yet. I think I still feel that way, but I sure did a lot of expanding and learning on this trip. Because I stayed off the Interstates I got to see a lot of what's going on in American in the year 2010... met a ton of odd people and because I was on a motorcycle, smelled a lot of horse manure. (how can <em>shit</em> have such a wonderful bouqet at times..?) I pushed my limits quite hard on this trip, venturing down tiny forboding lanes into the deep Montana countryside and sacheying into scary redneck bar-rooms, (some of which I departed from very quickly). <br />
That, of course, is where the real Magic is found, out there on the teeth-chattering edge of your Limits. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjRuPuER5VFaMdkHWc6_DS963LLdUyGRZYTTBUQqGQMN-6btE-MkII9CsHAakhyphenhyphen2hlUmhS_rZDvuKiVuCe9tFLTSkRz5F8fGQZHgXAFXCacUzzC4dFXZQDhYW2_pQQ8KtoHTzAnddrcE/s1600/NM+2+118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjRuPuER5VFaMdkHWc6_DS963LLdUyGRZYTTBUQqGQMN-6btE-MkII9CsHAakhyphenhyphen2hlUmhS_rZDvuKiVuCe9tFLTSkRz5F8fGQZHgXAFXCacUzzC4dFXZQDhYW2_pQQ8KtoHTzAnddrcE/s320/NM+2+118.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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From the, <em>Credit where Credit is Due Department</em>, please: I profess to be a follower of that... carpenter dude from Galilee guy... I had loads of time and circumstance over 12,000 miles to explore prayer and Road Communion.. and by pushing my limits in such utter solitary states I found nyself often in contact with... well, let's just call it <em>my Higher Power</em>, (if that makes you feel any more comfortable). Without any doubt, God was with my on this trip, in a very Big Way, and as I crossed the landscapes day after day I found myself <em>Surfing the Coincidences</em>... lots of stuff that would bore you if I told you and you'd say, AW that means nuthin', but you know, I WAS THERE during hundreds of special moments when wildly improbable things happened within my personal perceptions, and there was no one else there to share it with. God is ultra Subtle in my experience... and when you're truly alone and open to "It", it's amazing how much you feel A Presence. Not much more to be said on that note... except THANK <strong>YOU</strong>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEF13pOcto_xv3t0_JbDl-EzA8BpYEakJIstJBiMOojNgMjG7QaYWid4589dcgznBLJk9UZQio4UxQ2NTm5ACtjmd7Xp0OULbDyvFH60RYXQbHqO9EWnerLLEKQexegOeb-zcT44rejNo/s1600/Dakota-Montana+056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEF13pOcto_xv3t0_JbDl-EzA8BpYEakJIstJBiMOojNgMjG7QaYWid4589dcgznBLJk9UZQio4UxQ2NTm5ACtjmd7Xp0OULbDyvFH60RYXQbHqO9EWnerLLEKQexegOeb-zcT44rejNo/s320/Dakota-Montana+056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
...for the miracles I encountered in getting the bike fixed after months of teeth gnashing. For opening the window for me to pull this off <em>at all</em>... for keeping me safe during many, MANY dangerous moments (that orange construction barrel rolled <em>right into me</em> outside of Vegas at a full 60mph, I hit it squarely, and I'm still here to write this)... onset of heat stroke in heavy traffic, local sheriffs in Texas tailing me for miles, frighteningly dark rain clouds gathering overhead in Montana, bad street corners in darkened city slums, and the long, long days and nights spent utterly alone.. except for this nameless, mysterious Presence... <br />
I'll only bore you with one example, (and I reckon it's a good one):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknmCXVxofF7_0YIBjOmlDQahHwn1R5lBXM0sb65zXJa-gva30HiXGYRJFzFr7QJIrvwEUMXkXFlQqdX1K6dVTeVoclKw5dj6Tp4G7tAL6YinHTpUwJDbhOeRdVUr2uqNN-J1fglz1f1A/s1600/Texas+1+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknmCXVxofF7_0YIBjOmlDQahHwn1R5lBXM0sb65zXJa-gva30HiXGYRJFzFr7QJIrvwEUMXkXFlQqdX1K6dVTeVoclKw5dj6Tp4G7tAL6YinHTpUwJDbhOeRdVUr2uqNN-J1fglz1f1A/s320/Texas+1+019.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In two months and 12,500 miles, <em>I only hit rain twice. </em><br />
Do the Math. That's simply incredible.. I dodged storms to the left and right and forward and back of me... and when I <em>did</em> get wet it was very mild, compared to the howling storms I've endured many times on shorter trips. <br />
Lots of stuff like that; things far more personal and inspiring than I could adequately describe here. I've sort of asked that these Memories will be ..saved for a ... well, <em>future moment, </em>so to speak, and somehow I think I received an <em>affirmitive</em> of sorts, on that one.<br />
'Nuff said there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOQ2tVumBIXU_mK6IBOhLvXCMJ-k89MAzChfIVZUM36LvpUAP8y8CZ4HZzUQ8pgDAFb_D4GnyOxadoTo3ih4WQoT-wQo0tbdnGCxMY9sTBznBzWlkKMZbzACYljueozw6psmMyDE2Bcw/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOQ2tVumBIXU_mK6IBOhLvXCMJ-k89MAzChfIVZUM36LvpUAP8y8CZ4HZzUQ8pgDAFb_D4GnyOxadoTo3ih4WQoT-wQo0tbdnGCxMY9sTBznBzWlkKMZbzACYljueozw6psmMyDE2Bcw/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+043.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I fell in love on this trip... with the Open Road and with my Life. I am so bloody fortunate to have this, and many other travel adventures, happen to me.. It's been positively Grand. I don't know what happens next.. t's a challenging moment now to return to "Normal Life", and I'm sort of in a bit of a ditch currently back here in the New York suburbs. But I'll carry the lessons I learned Out There: Against the Odds I'm confident that it'll all lead to another large adventure in the not-too-distant future.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-W0RdJvVut7eJhk2qwuYt5o3b4d2s07Ahlwr8l9sfZqM7wlcxyUZFSYtQsQ6YnBSVnoPelcnTMZvR5CFUVyruzdaLFmsP2HtMCfwUZ_xRyZFmfGxs4zywbPA1cu3yfjif9x5jNPU5xsM/s1600/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-W0RdJvVut7eJhk2qwuYt5o3b4d2s07Ahlwr8l9sfZqM7wlcxyUZFSYtQsQ6YnBSVnoPelcnTMZvR5CFUVyruzdaLFmsP2HtMCfwUZ_xRyZFmfGxs4zywbPA1cu3yfjif9x5jNPU5xsM/s320/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+121.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Too much to blather on about at this point... so I'll put a cap on it here and just leave it with,<br />
<em>Suzuki Bandits RULE!</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvbHMquLb8atoYs2zTRkK206mSthShz9zdn3hDTp32MAeFQylCnh0OUfcf0SSbC1HX82dZz43y2CROsQ5FvA3JanY0Xa1NyL8x53IMQWmOxM_jj9koRttcrs4wJKqL05z8Lr3uD3103s/s1600/Arizona+112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvbHMquLb8atoYs2zTRkK206mSthShz9zdn3hDTp32MAeFQylCnh0OUfcf0SSbC1HX82dZz43y2CROsQ5FvA3JanY0Xa1NyL8x53IMQWmOxM_jj9koRttcrs4wJKqL05z8Lr3uD3103s/s320/Arizona+112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>THANK YOU DEEPLY to all the great friends and family who graciously extended their homes and hearts to me during this jaunt:<br />
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Ken and Eileen<br />
Jena and Victor<br />
Brendan and Shauna<br />
Bear and GloJoe<br />
Travis and the Navajo friends<br />
"Coogey" Coyne, Ted, and the Lost Boy Denizens of Hilton Head<br />
Al(pocalyptic) Plotkin<br />
Bill and Arlene and the Kids<br />
Pete Leroy & Family<br />
Al Gilman and his new Mountain Squeeze, Anne <br />
.... all my buddies and pals around the NY area who goaded me on and gave me due New Yawk ribbing when I took this trip (myself) too seriously.<br />
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See ya'z out on the road come Springtime!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXs5aLusoTfUClgUrJx6dlO39doMkazqhAVCDInX5jT6lu90xz7rE3FNRKsn3-7tKHe6uyRZn_7xJCPUcBTunXUV0scuEY_Lslipz-TbcMmB0oo-O4vFH1bn9GOpiWQPcyJaMSq2KC-c/s1600/Arizona+118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXs5aLusoTfUClgUrJx6dlO39doMkazqhAVCDInX5jT6lu90xz7rE3FNRKsn3-7tKHe6uyRZn_7xJCPUcBTunXUV0scuEY_Lslipz-TbcMmB0oo-O4vFH1bn9GOpiWQPcyJaMSq2KC-c/s320/Arizona+118.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-66572356096549541382010-10-14T13:54:00.000-07:002010-10-14T13:55:46.077-07:00CATSKILL NEW YORKLeft Pete's house mid-morning and tooled around my old college town of Newark, (that's new. ARK for you Jersey-ites out there) Delaware for an hour.. reminiscing and getting numerous flashbacks. It's amazing what a strong mental Imprint that dinky place has left me with. Between 18 and 22 I suppose I was very open to Impression. Newark was an interesting place for a Newe York suburbanite; it is technically south of the Mason Dixon Line, and has this odd sort of.. southern country feel to it.. or used to.... train tracks, loneseome whistles... Virginia-styled brick architecture... a Black side of town.. and of course I was swimming in Grateful Dead mythology back then.. full of plenty of Depression era vibes and country-istic imagery. <br />
Couple shots of important places at the old Alma Mater... Howard and a couple of you may appreciate these.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RODNEY F DORM</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TRIPPY TRACKS</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">74 AMSTEL AVENUE.. MY SENIOR YEAR. ALL THE OTHER CIVILIAN BUILDINGS ON AMSTEL AVENUE ARE GONE BUT THIS</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SMITH HALL... MOST OF MY CLASSES WERE HERE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Romantic tears done with, I headed out onto I-95 and north, for Jersey and New York. As many of you know, there's not a lot o fun to be had on old 95... but the Trip wasn't over just yet.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG4XVm2f9Aq5clkbJ71P-7FLvuDJy4q7o0SVuuWBn4iQUdmlVIcDA5EtgYFd-8BdjCd34SMCtW5fKUSyjURTHEnbAULbfSqbHQIynnnqijpkHJJ5vt6EfV_-2aABqWBpiKyz-1KU_oxI/s1600/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG4XVm2f9Aq5clkbJ71P-7FLvuDJy4q7o0SVuuWBn4iQUdmlVIcDA5EtgYFd-8BdjCd34SMCtW5fKUSyjURTHEnbAULbfSqbHQIynnnqijpkHJJ5vt6EfV_-2aABqWBpiKyz-1KU_oxI/s320/DE+Adirodacks+and+Home+032.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Like the Space-shuttle skimming into the Earth's atmosphere, I missed by a degree or two and pushed past my home base in southern New York State... up the New York State Thruway to the majestic and ancient Adirondack Mountains, 100 miles north of Albany. Like an Intergalactic Star Cruiser coming back into the Solar System, I needed to check my speed at the Outer Planets first.. and buddy Al Gilman's lake house at Schroon was just the ticket for jet cool-down. <br />
Al's a great old pal... a highly erudite mountain-man dude who lives half the year as a Key West Grouper and the other half as a Adirondack Woodchuck. He's recently hooked-up with a lovely gal who is making his heart (and presumably other things) throb. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LAKE GEORGE VILLAGE</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SCHROON LAKE</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TOWN OF SCHROON LAKE. THERE'S NOT MUCH MORE THAN THIS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was getting cold up there... low Thirties at night.. and I knew the Trip was coming to an end. "As autumn closes in..." . I went out with Al to do some winterization over at his friend's crumbling motel... and just to be out in that crisp Adirondack air was a sooper treat. The Adirondacks are a very special place... Mother Nature takes no prisoners up there... and those that stay the Winter have to be hardened and well prepared for it. But the Weather Channel predicted rain moving in by Weddnesday late, and I knew enough not to press my luck... riding a bike five to six hours south out of the New York mountains in a bitterly cold rain.... no thanks. <br />
I have been <em>incredibly </em>fortunate on this trip in terms of weather (and many other things). I got wet TWICE in 12,500 miles. That's it.. <em>twice. </em>Do the Math... that is simply unbelieveable. Anyway, I knew the journety had to come to and end... and started back south towards.... home.... although I am techically homeless.<br />
Anne cooked us a great chicken dinner at her beautiful house up the mountain road from Schroon Lake. The house is something like 200 years old... and is very "Adirondack-y". Practical... creaky..... efficient.... awesome views from the weathered front porch and immense starshine at night under the incredibly clear mountain skies smelling of snappy hard-wood smoke. We played pool and drank Jaegermeister to strains of high-end Bluegrass as well as Gypsy Punk while Cooper the Whippet happily chased her tail at our feet.<br />
<br />
Next day I glumly packed my gear into the duffel... one last time. Al bid adieu for the season and left to do some copper business over in Wevertown... just after he left I realized I'd lost my bike key and dug around for an hour... finally giving up and tearing the spare key off the frame where it had been taped for emergency. When I returned back outside with my luggage, I saw to my dismay that the bike was lying on it's side in the grass. This is not good; a 550-pound streetbike is not supposed to be laying on it's side for ANY reason... and I pulled a muscle in my arm trying violently to wrench it back up. Minimal damage, fortunately.. just a bent mirror stalk, but I had to do some mechanics to straighten all out reasonably. Finally I warmed her up one more time and headed south for the Catskills.<br />
I DO LOVE NEW YORK<br />
(UP-state, that is)<br />
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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZp8gG3r3MWE1zrpGwOnaskaCemGtct3kJFXz32Yc5sWPeqrDEQrk0j08MPqCsP_Ghrlr9Lh3gpKVRBEq10ns3Hci3E-nO8n1NN2Qj5gtaL-yST2ScRCxNZTYdCW7FggZkRR3B-3K1PQ/s1600/Dakota-Montana+033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZp8gG3r3MWE1zrpGwOnaskaCemGtct3kJFXz32Yc5sWPeqrDEQrk0j08MPqCsP_Ghrlr9Lh3gpKVRBEq10ns3Hci3E-nO8n1NN2Qj5gtaL-yST2ScRCxNZTYdCW7FggZkRR3B-3K1PQ/s320/Dakota-Montana+033.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Up in the Howard Johnson's morning and out, bidding a last adieu to what will probably be my final motel-stay on this expedition. Looking at my tattered atlas map I reckoned I could afford to head west into the Appalachians... at least for a little while, before swinging north and east towards my buddy's place in Delaware.<br />
A bright, crisp morning, slightly cooler every day now with the changes in season and latitude... and I have been VERY fortunate with the weather across the nation, only catching rain in two or three places.. and nothing over-whelming. That's quite amazing for 12,000 miles and two months out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQKzQZwr-JoU9hRsvYhXdJGnKtQ97jFHPVWkfJelWz0PxVH_q0xqIeHhYl_aEXi6B8Ypb6MCynofZe_hCRTOcyWu5kCWy8IXiFWpG2MSiX8TDXT1GzLAQr10KUv4U_gUWxscGpuR_8JE/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQKzQZwr-JoU9hRsvYhXdJGnKtQ97jFHPVWkfJelWz0PxVH_q0xqIeHhYl_aEXi6B8Ypb6MCynofZe_hCRTOcyWu5kCWy8IXiFWpG2MSiX8TDXT1GzLAQr10KUv4U_gUWxscGpuR_8JE/s320/Virginia+Delaware+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>So I pointed 'er out along state highway 311 towards Paint Bank... and very quickly I was in rural conditions. But surprisingly, nothing in the way of Rural Poverty that I'd seen farther south. With the exception of a few rusty mobile homes and an occasional decrepit barn, most of the housing and farms appeared quite tidy and well-kept. Not to say <em>affluent; </em>I was seeing a lot of Jimmy Joe Bob characters in high-waist trousers and pre-formed hunting caps perched on their domes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsDnJ1iiZPh2Sbkw8jG0wjvHSrsTlWcMHGtDYu5UG8M-V5oFsb7PUPIYCK8GBIb8MM2tJHcHmTAZRbCUDkUpRm_-73F1zBft7zhu0tdo7FItQI1a5O5rI6abHv7D-jE9zyrTPDr1P8I7w/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsDnJ1iiZPh2Sbkw8jG0wjvHSrsTlWcMHGtDYu5UG8M-V5oFsb7PUPIYCK8GBIb8MM2tJHcHmTAZRbCUDkUpRm_-73F1zBft7zhu0tdo7FItQI1a5O5rI6abHv7D-jE9zyrTPDr1P8I7w/s320/Virginia+Delaware+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Up into the mountains and the road became more and more windey... really great for motorcycle cornering except for the decaying condition of my tires and little sprays of gravel at the apexes that twice had me recovering automatically from sudden loss of traction while heeled-over. I had to slow down a bit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh3OTZM7zHekC9TBECt7-IrmMyECkSqfzWUr_XKXmTMHmxq2bBgUbkGdlc819ks138oWEOwSgvP6sHlj06MdiRlRgKak7kVP0czdYSZ_tu-M4DDO7o99Wco6jBZVClWmj3Cy4rPXNvIE/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh3OTZM7zHekC9TBECt7-IrmMyECkSqfzWUr_XKXmTMHmxq2bBgUbkGdlc819ks138oWEOwSgvP6sHlj06MdiRlRgKak7kVP0czdYSZ_tu-M4DDO7o99Wco6jBZVClWmj3Cy4rPXNvIE/s320/Virginia+Delaware+016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Into the tiny mountain town of Paint Bank and I stopped at a general store for coffee and to see what is what. Cool little place with hunters and locals coming in to chatter in a very deep Virginia accent. While pouring my coffee I was confronted by a staggeringly beautiful woman aboiut 30 years old... tall, thin, blue eyes, and straight hair so blonde it was near to white. She was chatting to one of the store clerks and although I tried hard to get my coffee fixed up and over to the register where she was, she left before I could sidle up to her. Perhaps the most beautiful woman I've seen on this trip..(although some of the San Fran girls in Golden Gate Park were breath-taking).<br />
Back on the road... lots of ground to cover today.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SJS7ohHNnlDH40LMJuJTIGgw0c1UswVwC1sQaxJIwSfph6xZe0u7SbLpbAWwTyju-GYND3Ob635CiZQIIyYxvtWSF2rI_ULFpetmdOBpN_pqGaWhC75m0QQetK5N8qEcAc-EB_uI2Ys/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SJS7ohHNnlDH40LMJuJTIGgw0c1UswVwC1sQaxJIwSfph6xZe0u7SbLpbAWwTyju-GYND3Ob635CiZQIIyYxvtWSF2rI_ULFpetmdOBpN_pqGaWhC75m0QQetK5N8qEcAc-EB_uI2Ys/s320/Virginia+Delaware+007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Up and over ... made a right and headed north on beautiful Rt 18 to the little town of Covington, near the George Washington National Forest, one of the best places I have ever ridden a motorcycle. Near perfect roads, clean, small, well-designed, and running through the gorgeous autumn Appalachians. Makes "The Dragon" at Deal's Gap look pastry by comparison.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkA99aaNUqQ9Sfem42JAOsaeGVAg9hg45AUSrTyfSmgIna5wq7AnpIKCNI-b-a9WSQ25Dz_V94Lq47o42ob-1nb0KxuBeClE39PC28UI2U1IOaJCREzUzVvNGwJTJN6F0EcHIXoXvOjLs/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkA99aaNUqQ9Sfem42JAOsaeGVAg9hg45AUSrTyfSmgIna5wq7AnpIKCNI-b-a9WSQ25Dz_V94Lq47o42ob-1nb0KxuBeClE39PC28UI2U1IOaJCREzUzVvNGwJTJN6F0EcHIXoXvOjLs/s320/Virginia+Delaware+020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOzX0mQ9M4Ekv1thUPGr_lnDCVuxZVEH8rBfqYatgMMmet5lRQg23XEQedV7IBeQ2B45_ZMnViYjvszxQ-BPXbHwMzLWmA_wGX5dvlMns8P_bdkZzyYS2eKnvx1oBmw3pGg52xqH_kM4/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOzX0mQ9M4Ekv1thUPGr_lnDCVuxZVEH8rBfqYatgMMmet5lRQg23XEQedV7IBeQ2B45_ZMnViYjvszxQ-BPXbHwMzLWmA_wGX5dvlMns8P_bdkZzyYS2eKnvx1oBmw3pGg52xqH_kM4/s320/Virginia+Delaware+011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17IRtc8PMx_ZmWl3vTP5k_21gNoxV5KVUn9mSHf8f114yDLjBDhVmChXd2O2GCyiRQ8vY3OD6kBEsvaf9-iUntufcOEe_tmudZ_nfFw3N9I8u5cUOMQAWDBL9cyHolVO5NJev87aBclY/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17IRtc8PMx_ZmWl3vTP5k_21gNoxV5KVUn9mSHf8f114yDLjBDhVmChXd2O2GCyiRQ8vY3OD6kBEsvaf9-iUntufcOEe_tmudZ_nfFw3N9I8u5cUOMQAWDBL9cyHolVO5NJev87aBclY/s320/Virginia+Delaware+024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3vZr6Gcmbac5zK14E8hJtFMYQnb-yMVWEF-2z-cNXFamZV5aPEyYM-UFVfkK_DBwqU6FEs5KHr2UB1h-XzOOTSUzjtXHc56Gbx3b8xTbZrxFaeER6v0wwwv-Tn6LvDgGQuaVuv5J-Tw/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3vZr6Gcmbac5zK14E8hJtFMYQnb-yMVWEF-2z-cNXFamZV5aPEyYM-UFVfkK_DBwqU6FEs5KHr2UB1h-XzOOTSUzjtXHc56Gbx3b8xTbZrxFaeER6v0wwwv-Tn6LvDgGQuaVuv5J-Tw/s320/Virginia+Delaware+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfGsgDxKMcLMUz5lB7Elb7C2zp2M6KSOXGdvPMy4-8stGtguV7P0ApCd_zxDlhw5DszgHr8zw8-aJd-GeMZIDA_PYVaWFyLLaqT80_SPU1IuGGMHnzC3P4e2t9qJoEo8Lt0c2384yvck/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfGsgDxKMcLMUz5lB7Elb7C2zp2M6KSOXGdvPMy4-8stGtguV7P0ApCd_zxDlhw5DszgHr8zw8-aJd-GeMZIDA_PYVaWFyLLaqT80_SPU1IuGGMHnzC3P4e2t9qJoEo8Lt0c2384yvck/s320/Virginia+Delaware+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Running through small towns... VERY AMERICAN feeling to me for some reason.. this is George Washington Country... not that eastern Virginia stuff, but the area in the 1750's where Washingon lead bands of militia out along the forts to fend off Shawnee Indian attacks. He spent a lot of time here... a true woodsman.. people forget.<br />
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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3kKHAOAnJHagRGBhGJVZWz4XsthgpTPkXW6yC_vSmZlu8tibE7oNpjAdPMVLtQ9lPVk-h1LrmexO-2dXu5nEKRnMYiQCQkLCCh11qltb6GK-CiiFxn6Wd5RL_E8D9fouQaJG5SfzjS4/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3kKHAOAnJHagRGBhGJVZWz4XsthgpTPkXW6yC_vSmZlu8tibE7oNpjAdPMVLtQ9lPVk-h1LrmexO-2dXu5nEKRnMYiQCQkLCCh11qltb6GK-CiiFxn6Wd5RL_E8D9fouQaJG5SfzjS4/s320/Virginia+Delaware+068.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4I0WUOPaTxy6V6cgmHD3j15mXuIA0GKnlphjjORmx4xsbKD2OaGM1_2FSWzMteyENtHESpmrMHJQQfFOAlV0106lRndZKL4eKJkD9OUQ2HGc1nRe-1Vlp1MZIHt1VFwqa-npZJyksoAY/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4I0WUOPaTxy6V6cgmHD3j15mXuIA0GKnlphjjORmx4xsbKD2OaGM1_2FSWzMteyENtHESpmrMHJQQfFOAlV0106lRndZKL4eKJkD9OUQ2HGc1nRe-1Vlp1MZIHt1VFwqa-npZJyksoAY/s320/Virginia+Delaware+073.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Finally around Warm Springs Virginia I had to carve off of beautiful Rt 220... head towards the (yuck) Interstate and East. The afternoon was drawing on.. and I had to reach Delaware.<br />
<br />
I cut across at Front Royal onto I-66 for Washington DC.. and soon encountered traffic as I neared the 495 Beltway. Up towards Baltimore now.. and I got lucky staying on 95 right through the city and the Tunnel... coming out the otherside near Chevy Chase, heading north, now in the darkness, and for the first time felt an Autumn chill.<br />
Pulled off at Elkton Maryland and headed over to my old Alma Mater, U Delaware. Man, this town has changed in the years since I was here... as with the rest of America, much more Corporate/monolithic building and structures.. and a lot of the gritty "townie" nature of the place have gone. There's a MARRIOTT right in front of the old Pencader Towers(for my U of D pals out there). <br />
Made my way out of town to the edge of Maryland and to old pal Pete Leroy's farm/house. He's got a great pad on a farm of sorts where his brother and father each have theie own lovely homes. There's a horse pasture and a beautiful state park, (donated by the DuPonts) just across the road. Very idyllic and comfortable place. Upon arrival Pete and I jawed endlessly about my trip, (THANK YOU Pete... I sincerely appreciate the "de-briefing" after such a monumental experience). Pete is one of my old Bohemian Comrades from the old Rodney Dormitories; we shared some important growth moments when in school.. and have remained fast friends. A good egg... we can talk of Cosmic Matters easily, still. <br />
Pete's son Max was over for the weekend, and the next day Pete threw a beautiful, high-tech mountain bike at me and said, "LET'S GO" and the three of us romped off through the state park across the road... 2600 acres of Delaware/Maryland natural exquisite countryside.. and it gave me huge flashbacks to the old days when I first arrived in Delaware and was impressed by the rolling woodlands areound White Clay Creek State Park.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7oEmmPlVHqSxZtNB4tspXkPStWDbSPANXztHd35QRrBa2cL9sElJQciSqFb09K9ZIY9zm7jKIOBAoA4vt1NSmUCyqEbieyhHUAm5oF8wFa5xZfzqRXvz14IxRV8BbwyBmrhXfPS4kAA/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7oEmmPlVHqSxZtNB4tspXkPStWDbSPANXztHd35QRrBa2cL9sElJQciSqFb09K9ZIY9zm7jKIOBAoA4vt1NSmUCyqEbieyhHUAm5oF8wFa5xZfzqRXvz14IxRV8BbwyBmrhXfPS4kAA/s320/Virginia+Delaware+078.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp-J83ysJREUC4gJ6yspEC9rItYKdZ5Rd6C_jVJFMcl7oZiBBdga3KNjKzLY43nzf_mgRWFClg1_IiJpj8d_pAj_mv9oq7TIv6-vEhdF2GOD6punOY3U4VN9OmlnoH6WAeHf6Ji9uPr0/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp-J83ysJREUC4gJ6yspEC9rItYKdZ5Rd6C_jVJFMcl7oZiBBdga3KNjKzLY43nzf_mgRWFClg1_IiJpj8d_pAj_mv9oq7TIv6-vEhdF2GOD6punOY3U4VN9OmlnoH6WAeHf6Ji9uPr0/s320/Virginia+Delaware+085.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkTXgGRtd_0nsyy0RBTGcCHaIhl5WcKXPlaRM83wpU5FKEEUfS-UGJFlDOZkKp43j-5KnbZc07f7jsAK8tdbFdF6qRenLMjZ9TXXIPgi2jRoHY6adXQ0hS_pzqNpkO6WmP-3e9xHnErw/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkTXgGRtd_0nsyy0RBTGcCHaIhl5WcKXPlaRM83wpU5FKEEUfS-UGJFlDOZkKp43j-5KnbZc07f7jsAK8tdbFdF6qRenLMjZ9TXXIPgi2jRoHY6adXQ0hS_pzqNpkO6WmP-3e9xHnErw/s320/Virginia+Delaware+082.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFaXM_9CpLwkvZYtvjtiJ8bCRnYUJTc_h3iUyy8fBr54dL19HxoGKAe4kt-Dp2x5dbIj_hgEtigX013DflDnQgVv0D_Zfr1rvCi9Ourt4ccri3Qh0Ske5balj6TDdmo9seVojXQCnLxM/s1600/Virginia+Delaware+087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFaXM_9CpLwkvZYtvjtiJ8bCRnYUJTc_h3iUyy8fBr54dL19HxoGKAe4kt-Dp2x5dbIj_hgEtigX013DflDnQgVv0D_Zfr1rvCi9Ourt4ccri3Qh0Ske5balj6TDdmo9seVojXQCnLxM/s320/Virginia+Delaware+087.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Later in the day I rode my motorcycle around the college town and did a lot of sweet reminiscing; it's amazing how all the street details were still tucked in my brain... where certain sewer covers were and how the corners were angled. I did a lot of motorcycling there back in the late Seventies.<br />
<br />
Later at night I was invited next door to Pete's dad's home (his father is a retired Neurosurgeon... extremely experienced and respected.. a sitting leader of the Mid Atlantic Board of Nerosurgeons or something)... just an incredible man, born in France, with a wide range of experiences and knowledge. His lovely wife Roseanne cooked us a fantastic pot-roast dinner .. the best home-cooking I'd had in two months. Very nice folks.. a high-end experience for me.. and their welcome to me was awesome.<br />
<br />
Back on the Road.... briefly... trying to prepare myself for the abrupt end of this grand trip...<br />
<br />
... but <em>one more stop...</em><br />
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</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-25493555675478671512010-10-08T22:34:00.000-07:002010-10-08T22:39:53.628-07:00CHRISTIANBURG VIRGINIAStayed at Bill and Arlene's house north of Charlotte for four days... really, really nice place... one of the new areas of North Carolina that boomed over the past ten years, now struggling. But they got a great deal on a lovely six-bedroom house on a cul-de-sac, and Bill has been improving it ever since. They added a gorgeous in-ground pool; there's a full, screened-in porch on the back as well as a large patio. Out back is dense, piney North Carolina forest for quite a distance. Quiet, clean and lovely... three lovely kids who seemed to be ecstatic with my presence there for some reason, (the fireworks?).. and the room they gavce me was plush, clean and spacious, with my own cable TV and a bathroom that the kids don;t use much. Really easy time... and the chatter of very young kids sqwaking and hooting was really happy and welcome for me. I rode around with Bill a little and saw the basic area, but the real treat was hanging out in a full, roraing family unit. Oh, and latenight cockatils around the firepit. I got spontaneous hugs from the little kids every night before they went to bed. Nice.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_y0ngyZh7cYr51MsQ_OLrZznDB0uVOu25ma1N4pe99qyDYcJf-BH92eKVFycffj-6iFzmXhVs8mdaodonHEcwNgyP0ZGGko8JyKcmO2-32iR0pktQQVUKkIIfRB-u8KjSNQTpET3g2Oo/s1600/Leydens+and+north+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_y0ngyZh7cYr51MsQ_OLrZznDB0uVOu25ma1N4pe99qyDYcJf-BH92eKVFycffj-6iFzmXhVs8mdaodonHEcwNgyP0ZGGko8JyKcmO2-32iR0pktQQVUKkIIfRB-u8KjSNQTpET3g2Oo/s320/Leydens+and+north+007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eW7o0U0LNfAyElBFVz4yk54uol9KtXH7tci493xmk9aOdw6p74EOifDhSCJe5zPX65Fvu5DvAMCOfpoYNtWo0JkdbAnacbs5y-_E199Lru0zshgS4nAx8YXwwgX7lm3CpCiVbDpMGuM/s1600/Leydens+and+north+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eW7o0U0LNfAyElBFVz4yk54uol9KtXH7tci493xmk9aOdw6p74EOifDhSCJe5zPX65Fvu5DvAMCOfpoYNtWo0JkdbAnacbs5y-_E199Lru0zshgS4nAx8YXwwgX7lm3CpCiVbDpMGuM/s320/Leydens+and+north+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BILL's JR AND SR</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Thanks, guys.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsDzmf0U7Dr1iulMl1s8LwWl1oXi0CfUSYvLH8hyphenhyphenCbg5nNilePaugFwZ_-X-RI5mZvUXm4js59YUMBT752kbDjjbk7_VOP-WXzl6rwocHEVGOwuhTZahUuD53wZ9FTS5vmhIpTqkkqEI/s1600/Leydens+and+north+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsDzmf0U7Dr1iulMl1s8LwWl1oXi0CfUSYvLH8hyphenhyphenCbg5nNilePaugFwZ_-X-RI5mZvUXm4js59YUMBT752kbDjjbk7_VOP-WXzl6rwocHEVGOwuhTZahUuD53wZ9FTS5vmhIpTqkkqEI/s320/Leydens+and+north+018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKcUW9Zge6YMtFF5vS18KYOg95LaacwwM9q9WV6bRlP4IOtaN02M_CcDE5hUxf9M8k9zSPUPVu-KQrnIPjz3YwumiBvGk7iQFnGQIZ5GBDGmFKwnPp-38Rli0-W5n6J5AzBbLCqtGveI/s1600/Leydens+and+north+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKcUW9Zge6YMtFF5vS18KYOg95LaacwwM9q9WV6bRlP4IOtaN02M_CcDE5hUxf9M8k9zSPUPVu-KQrnIPjz3YwumiBvGk7iQFnGQIZ5GBDGmFKwnPp-38Rli0-W5n6J5AzBbLCqtGveI/s320/Leydens+and+north+015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39tjaKNuTyWDfhc_0lq9YfznGsU1FgTuqhgyOpHOt0jSBo2Z5TaOxijpqZyhoh4JwzhV82xEm77WiEunR_org76fixDK8NpAzanK0Z3bxYlDVNguuAGU2lw8YmHeOKXmHFTC8sGS8eN0/s1600/Leydens+and+north+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39tjaKNuTyWDfhc_0lq9YfznGsU1FgTuqhgyOpHOt0jSBo2Z5TaOxijpqZyhoh4JwzhV82xEm77WiEunR_org76fixDK8NpAzanK0Z3bxYlDVNguuAGU2lw8YmHeOKXmHFTC8sGS8eN0/s320/Leydens+and+north+022.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TWO BEAUTIFUL BLONDES SHARING MY BIKE</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Earlier today I left the Leyden's and headed west towards Asheville. Originally I thought to go out to Deal's Gap, Rte 129 "The Dragon"... but I already rode it a year or two ago... and it was a long way off my route, so I took the Blue Ridge Parkway instead for a while. A tough ride... pretty, but the speed limit is 45 and there's no <em>humanity </em>along the way... just scenery... which doesn't quite measure up to the Yosemite/Yellowstone stuff I saw a few weeks ago. After a few hours I carved back to Interstate 77 and headed for Roanoake... which is a couple of exits up Rt 81 from here.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXyRXeYIhdMOmBdldwJA5HT5Gt14rKwferegG62LuabMSsf15gNRJVNvD-kBAca7vFZsG6ne05x6gKvb9oASYTzlPgqRNVVlif0qBuhoQrCjJ0rJHHqvkliskhBsd9C5cR75phnsfDFU/s1600/Leydens+and+north+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXyRXeYIhdMOmBdldwJA5HT5Gt14rKwferegG62LuabMSsf15gNRJVNvD-kBAca7vFZsG6ne05x6gKvb9oASYTzlPgqRNVVlif0qBuhoQrCjJ0rJHHqvkliskhBsd9C5cR75phnsfDFU/s320/Leydens+and+north+042.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKIx9_f8SUqwwMExoHl-Spd9EqvSJ-HCRpozsnt_K3BcFn4sNMDUUHBRw9JwO8iOlIK-bZYcbhtnN7wMFvL3sZ7eOGwf3LivpPxN7eW5DAgVZJSNOeUWzI77cw9wZutAef_AH0IaoPrE/s1600/Leydens+and+north+044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKIx9_f8SUqwwMExoHl-Spd9EqvSJ-HCRpozsnt_K3BcFn4sNMDUUHBRw9JwO8iOlIK-bZYcbhtnN7wMFvL3sZ7eOGwf3LivpPxN7eW5DAgVZJSNOeUWzI77cw9wZutAef_AH0IaoPrE/s320/Leydens+and+north+044.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRHouph3KvZoaWWb150NkFDiDNr5bMLI_bQyDBf1jpz2CVe315BX7ewFw3GYc8yCzSMyjrhm3hqCVQCjb_gU_AB0CPty9VDo9i_XiMq4lfpAtnTBB71b4vRviuyR7Dv5xBRV-htZNuJY/s1600/Leydens+and+north+045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRHouph3KvZoaWWb150NkFDiDNr5bMLI_bQyDBf1jpz2CVe315BX7ewFw3GYc8yCzSMyjrhm3hqCVQCjb_gU_AB0CPty9VDo9i_XiMq4lfpAtnTBB71b4vRviuyR7Dv5xBRV-htZNuJY/s320/Leydens+and+north+045.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So now I'm holed-up in a Howard Johnson's hotel... got a deal after an Indian (Hindu) man in a convenience mart handed me coupons for motel discounts in the area.<br />
After a slight check-in hassle I went out looking for a few quick drinks and a bite. As I rode around I realized that this was certainly Jerry Falwell Country. Lots of Baptist churches everywhere... Pentacostal, etc., and there was a big statue of Jeb Stuart on the front lawn of the town hall. Funny; this stuff now exists next to Applebee's and modern Ford dealerships). <br />
I finally found a little sports-bar of sorts across town; went in and drank just two drafts beers while the locals peered at me curiously... (PS..no liquor in this semi-dry town where you aren't allowed to advertise beer). On the five mile drive back I had to go through the center of the old town... I luckily noticed a 25 mph speed sign at the last possible second before I crossed past a town cop lurking by the roadside with his lights out. I was driving fine and within the limits, but he immediately pulled out after me and drove alongside on the four-lane road, five feet behind, matching my speed (26 mph) for a full mile, waiting breathlessly for this black motorcycle with strange NY plates... a rider with a pony-tail and <em>no luggage, </em>to make one.. please God, just <em>one mistake</em>.<br />
<br />
I didn't give him the satisfaction. Eventually he gunned it angrily through a light and roared off.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-65912002995074133832010-10-08T21:33:00.000-07:002010-10-08T21:58:08.254-07:00Mooresville, North CarolinaLucky break in Daytona. Believe what you want... I'm calling it DEE-vine intervention.<br />
Had a lot of that on this trip. Some say that what you imagine you will find. You make your own Reality. Yeah, well.... I'm not that clever, I think, and I've sensed the presence of a Lucky Presence along this whole trip. <em>Surfing the coincidences </em>as I coined it to someone.<br />
<br />
Yep. So I headed north out opf Daytona... sort of happy to be leaving. It seemed like just another East Coast beach/tourist town, with a big racetrack to glue it all together, (because most of the other beach towns I've seen out East are decrepitating)[love that fake word]<br />
<br />
Let me look over my atlas.. ehh..<br />
Took I-95 up to Jacksonville because I wanted to make some time... and, well, there isn't much other option. Feature-less.. or at least, memory-less. <br />
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Into Georgia and onto state Rte 17... all the way north. <em>Muuuuch </em>better; local poverty and other such odd sights.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwrRYNdAnS4aH1G2aoFw5X7LtMijbaCSA8oUW6FoHVEfgP5inmVEYL5l9pK2s6bZcY6-seB89_utrbVZ5s0yisBQs6tvQUkDj4FOruRuZ7opjitf-XC-dwlm_JUfmpqnb4m2ueu93ZSA/s1600/Carolinas+062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwrRYNdAnS4aH1G2aoFw5X7LtMijbaCSA8oUW6FoHVEfgP5inmVEYL5l9pK2s6bZcY6-seB89_utrbVZ5s0yisBQs6tvQUkDj4FOruRuZ7opjitf-XC-dwlm_JUfmpqnb4m2ueu93ZSA/s320/Carolinas+062.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilU9we4mcKmg0Au5kxNA4tyOonl7GS1gKybpn9i4s3NPt4ygskjtbn3Th-39zczSAyPo6AAKX-zXjrdmIqX2wNruUOARE7N4IHCy1uUiNxPLyor0KQbGSyiCeEKauCHTy0twLWbNdiNt0/s1600/Carolinas+054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilU9we4mcKmg0Au5kxNA4tyOonl7GS1gKybpn9i4s3NPt4ygskjtbn3Th-39zczSAyPo6AAKX-zXjrdmIqX2wNruUOARE7N4IHCy1uUiNxPLyor0KQbGSyiCeEKauCHTy0twLWbNdiNt0/s320/Carolinas+054.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV39Vqq4GdvSX_3efN8pfwJWwvg7_a8KrJ9LEakQ1KvbTrGfytEAMCnlqKUvdGbRbEveL_hLo36Ad-oLVfM0jE44Jeb1ODxGFuvR-RhpwqvMSkQxEOwT3DvFWBOElfsdqYMWaFYPFeqLk/s1600/Carolinas+056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV39Vqq4GdvSX_3efN8pfwJWwvg7_a8KrJ9LEakQ1KvbTrGfytEAMCnlqKUvdGbRbEveL_hLo36Ad-oLVfM0jE44Jeb1ODxGFuvR-RhpwqvMSkQxEOwT3DvFWBOElfsdqYMWaFYPFeqLk/s320/Carolinas+056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Up through the Georgia swamplands along the coast.. beautiful swamps, if ever there be any.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCZzPNCN5uLesMsAp5BOnkj8rbebTWZKllrOPg8zt59wmeG-voJi83eIQoTjQNb02KIifHUiBQDrbV0ZOoDXJ08sZibAxwnt-KJ3mxcViJm83DBgmLB4GUFNGbjJtlnI9rMts2_WWamI/s1600/Florida+071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCZzPNCN5uLesMsAp5BOnkj8rbebTWZKllrOPg8zt59wmeG-voJi83eIQoTjQNb02KIifHUiBQDrbV0ZOoDXJ08sZibAxwnt-KJ3mxcViJm83DBgmLB4GUFNGbjJtlnI9rMts2_WWamI/s320/Florida+071.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtG5VuAwiwqH7WkuRrPdvAGHJZzCAbKbZfcmTgN2cIIn9EKHbGXSHJx2rEKdE9UVmh09eH2Dbo8PtbAzKKia0f_JkMDGNFU8k5MVKlPFvdw80NiDHJNMSniTONmzKuFwlJvl5nAn2vhw/s1600/Florida+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtG5VuAwiwqH7WkuRrPdvAGHJZzCAbKbZfcmTgN2cIIn9EKHbGXSHJx2rEKdE9UVmh09eH2Dbo8PtbAzKKia0f_JkMDGNFU8k5MVKlPFvdw80NiDHJNMSniTONmzKuFwlJvl5nAn2vhw/s320/Florida+063.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHgDiFQWIFFV4Nr61iQk_QqcaLi-SJPaHhTcXODclFWVEiA-Ari4QqyPfAEZOqT9KoK_EYjhT7DjmLNXOF4Bli48fXimNl2eMJnaMM_RHvyGe9ZnRRXsf_K2uoAdxpOchB0RwSdUAc3U/s1600/Florida+095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHgDiFQWIFFV4Nr61iQk_QqcaLi-SJPaHhTcXODclFWVEiA-Ari4QqyPfAEZOqT9KoK_EYjhT7DjmLNXOF4Bli48fXimNl2eMJnaMM_RHvyGe9ZnRRXsf_K2uoAdxpOchB0RwSdUAc3U/s320/Florida+095.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lovely scenery... warm for early October (for me)... mid Seventies. Humid but not uncomfortably so.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUO6ESLTZVIbHza3Xk_Ure7eZBiblDljNg0guX4VhyA9UVbUkMPBJqnXFGtsH2i6GY_khr3-nGMjlVJJi3nESUF0S2UZEj48xwxE95jstwI0tZCjW8dMkQ2PJySPT3x0T-ZTgthDQLrk/s1600/Florida+095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUO6ESLTZVIbHza3Xk_Ure7eZBiblDljNg0guX4VhyA9UVbUkMPBJqnXFGtsH2i6GY_khr3-nGMjlVJJi3nESUF0S2UZEj48xwxE95jstwI0tZCjW8dMkQ2PJySPT3x0T-ZTgthDQLrk/s320/Florida+095.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGz9CcuZgoJ5A1bkK8q51LQSjFJmD5wR2CAlbb5pjfXcv6cfc0iGGuxO8pe-AcdUKs2lRoLPfnDFurOjFlWhrZDhh_R8QL4Onlf-Wjvl4bo1pvSAr9tKh-JlqvMvbvgSyg1l0Cwf1KMs/s1600/Florida+059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGz9CcuZgoJ5A1bkK8q51LQSjFJmD5wR2CAlbb5pjfXcv6cfc0iGGuxO8pe-AcdUKs2lRoLPfnDFurOjFlWhrZDhh_R8QL4Onlf-Wjvl4bo1pvSAr9tKh-JlqvMvbvgSyg1l0Cwf1KMs/s320/Florida+059.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHERE I COME FROM WE CALL THIS, "YIELD"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4VxmhVyxix6qaBgN5gG91UN_ytu8yjUaBKsCnfj8HmQu8q5nhTBjozbB5AfJOgsbm0m3ffnHimR2uhUJGjzc4ufhCrztrahMmfnijwLegiUH17nHJb_aWuGYBSGw2Yh3QVd7iPSiof8/s1600/Carolinas+094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4VxmhVyxix6qaBgN5gG91UN_ytu8yjUaBKsCnfj8HmQu8q5nhTBjozbB5AfJOgsbm0m3ffnHimR2uhUJGjzc4ufhCrztrahMmfnijwLegiUH17nHJb_aWuGYBSGw2Yh3QVd7iPSiof8/s320/Carolinas+094.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
aHHHH, the Southlands. The <em>Low Country </em>as it is often referred to. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87q6zwNBC-c129I3gqMe7lLkiNWFsJYjE9DKj0F5VN2JXaoNwYZf1KXV0_jcpBjf1ue-ZV_fD2-lWFMe19XhMt6nrZJk8FZVrfnlKDAuaIOVRxyCdbd_jitLpuFHaSa2M08K3m4MiItY/s1600/Carolinas+102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87q6zwNBC-c129I3gqMe7lLkiNWFsJYjE9DKj0F5VN2JXaoNwYZf1KXV0_jcpBjf1ue-ZV_fD2-lWFMe19XhMt6nrZJk8FZVrfnlKDAuaIOVRxyCdbd_jitLpuFHaSa2M08K3m4MiItY/s320/Carolinas+102.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cm8uVXraqXxYBirYRM6fiWWa5dJOXjpe-0x7t72ffffqrIkEsU3s02FIcedFCx8lzm0sbN2U-sNM2toih7qimiyDaoxHgQUgLXRIKPfURACmgd5UmauQdXTGkJHBmmNK5OD2SW4ym1Y/s1600/Carolinas+114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cm8uVXraqXxYBirYRM6fiWWa5dJOXjpe-0x7t72ffffqrIkEsU3s02FIcedFCx8lzm0sbN2U-sNM2toih7qimiyDaoxHgQUgLXRIKPfURACmgd5UmauQdXTGkJHBmmNK5OD2SW4ym1Y/s320/Carolinas+114.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I crossed the line into South Carolina and headed for Hilton Head Island where my old guitar-playing buddy has been living for five or eight years in a low-slung ranch house a block or two from the Atlantic ocean with an ex-Lersey-ite bartender named Ted. El Ted-o-rino. <br />
It's a blurr. The first day there it POURED endlessly.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-bLAKYV0_6EG_34Jr15WUn0zPC1omxacbFJKU-9EtoavVVTV3BiXXKtvCKnEyTX4Ngxd4dB3u2ENqyDh_BdZZFKLPEFVWY-zNFzQj1kX-k81g_C3ibV0aePxvootqFZVKedTuwLwcJY/s1600/Carolinas+119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-bLAKYV0_6EG_34Jr15WUn0zPC1omxacbFJKU-9EtoavVVTV3BiXXKtvCKnEyTX4Ngxd4dB3u2ENqyDh_BdZZFKLPEFVWY-zNFzQj1kX-k81g_C3ibV0aePxvootqFZVKedTuwLwcJY/s320/Carolinas+119.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Rock & Roll Lifestyle... sleep all day and Rock all Night. My pal Craig is a very good professional guitarist who has taken his signbificant musical skills and made them work to his advantage in Hilton Head, playing gigs steadily... enough to pay his bills. Problem for me is the endless, late-night party-life going on amidst the Locals... and I found myself rising out of bed at 4 PM, following Craig to hios gigs, then fire the Midnite Oil past 5AM, locked in deep Hippie Discussion.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWx5P2_j3vxoe56Jn2UNw01D-3zejEuwtcg2y-jQtLwNnhwnvefGh6wTQqIcjARwgm0hQhaB-pqtPXavD5QWFjOcLDVNOf9jQR5gQCJpHgRcuci6SVDdBI3MKZIQhO_-YCuhxfTSQD7I/s1600/Carolinas+123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWx5P2_j3vxoe56Jn2UNw01D-3zejEuwtcg2y-jQtLwNnhwnvefGh6wTQqIcjARwgm0hQhaB-pqtPXavD5QWFjOcLDVNOf9jQR5gQCJpHgRcuci6SVDdBI3MKZIQhO_-YCuhxfTSQD7I/s320/Carolinas+123.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_krzLGZRJeK698KuBP_l0JY8z_g3iiGqLK8daH7OBBP3LfGjKpVZG5Qg6szazbZIokUaJ7wlJhZkggReylkNsipLKRKMf4FZR9QNCtYbWh_I46K0yohlb2LRzP-aOSYtz-40bSJ6RTMM/s1600/Carolinas+125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_krzLGZRJeK698KuBP_l0JY8z_g3iiGqLK8daH7OBBP3LfGjKpVZG5Qg6szazbZIokUaJ7wlJhZkggReylkNsipLKRKMf4FZR9QNCtYbWh_I46K0yohlb2LRzP-aOSYtz-40bSJ6RTMM/s320/Carolinas+125.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG71ARaZPmqbeMrngKVka43Ssm0Br4w29pIpBVRuk2KfXlps4ryDrHnzx4uJmdEXDWDzvH3TWxcfiQ5ON4gyPpY-CC_CWAbDfboxl21YdTE-XDANjba1y48r9nuv8cv0k54gRqU47NFeU/s1600/Carolinas+133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG71ARaZPmqbeMrngKVka43Ssm0Br4w29pIpBVRuk2KfXlps4ryDrHnzx4uJmdEXDWDzvH3TWxcfiQ5ON4gyPpY-CC_CWAbDfboxl21YdTE-XDANjba1y48r9nuv8cv0k54gRqU47NFeU/s320/Carolinas+133.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This shit went on day after day... not a lot of thought given to Proper Nutrition, but Craig and Ted provided me a warm welcome, and for a few days we partied like champions. Craig introduced me around diligently for which I was grateful; too many times you go somehwere and the "host" leaves you in a corner by yourself. But he did a great job of mentioning me as his buddy of 25 years who was completing a 10,000 mile trip around the US on a motorcycle... which pleaded me. I'm very aware that this whole Event may go un-noticed by too many of my friends. <br />
So for a few days I tagged along with Craig and we burned it Down... meals for 48 hours consisted of Stouffer's frozen pizza out of the local 24-hour bleary Walgreen's. Okay, no sweat.. a fun time of the Island of Lost Boys... a lot of Trust-a-farian kids and people who don't give a damn about growing old.<br />
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After a few days of this I took a breath and split north to see another old band-mate, Al, in the Charleston area, three hours away. A good move. Al is a fine old egg of a Russian Cossack who hasd a huge brain for computer logistics and a quasi-believable fantasy regarding the End of Civiilization As We Know It. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiRAAG0uNywjXZUlMtiwOOa7LoRtvjuE-NayrgFJJwBTiFdlN7p0I1LTFDrD-utQOU-sXannt0VLBr299WrSWI-n7B-u3VwTd9wU7vpHicNzJQHAKOmV8C1vNxLBPVXJykfvY4i-bAqk/s1600/Carolinas+200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiRAAG0uNywjXZUlMtiwOOa7LoRtvjuE-NayrgFJJwBTiFdlN7p0I1LTFDrD-utQOU-sXannt0VLBr299WrSWI-n7B-u3VwTd9wU7vpHicNzJQHAKOmV8C1vNxLBPVXJykfvY4i-bAqk/s320/Carolinas+200.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIS IS A TERRIBLE PHOTO OF AL WHO JUST WOKE UP MOMENTS BEFORE BUT IT'S OKAY SEEING AS HE TRULY DOESN'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS BECAUSE BY THE TIME THE <strong><u>S</u></strong>HIT HITS THE <strong><u>F</u></strong>AN HE'LL AREADY BE TUCKED COMFORTABLY IN HIS SMOKEY-MOUNTAIN HIDE-OUT AND YOU YOU CAN TRY TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO SURVIVE, AND WELL, FUCK YOU, BECAUSE YOU AREN'T THINKING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY <u>AT ALL</u> RIGHT NOW, ARE YOU? ADMIT IT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Al is another great NY guitar player and he took me out to some music and bars in the Charleston area... including downtown King's Street...Isle of Palms... Folly Beach. We saw a great bluegrass jam-band called the <em>Acoustic Syndicate</em> in a great club that had equal stages indoors and out. Al gave me a clean, comfortable room to myslef and took good care of me for two nights. <br />
Here are some Chareleston photos.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rtWxvR9b4Kt_UkNdj-wnqckmQmhYIAdvGOylxml-5O5ToCV5GqHHsunyxI15zdONSe4g1KUMOYDnDqPDsMADeu7zGWN11bJMF8lyRFK55y_9bliymB1_4OH1fwtFmpGn0RTegDfCmZ0/s1600/Carolinas+135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rtWxvR9b4Kt_UkNdj-wnqckmQmhYIAdvGOylxml-5O5ToCV5GqHHsunyxI15zdONSe4g1KUMOYDnDqPDsMADeu7zGWN11bJMF8lyRFK55y_9bliymB1_4OH1fwtFmpGn0RTegDfCmZ0/s320/Carolinas+135.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtQx2dv0cZl_r9C26wuQYhMeugAxtIBUXzoL6riss28ISMMMWEtXqscxPvv4vuVxOfIq01QdXOz_JFEoQl_jHl13McXxdcWywSRVUdvxaXVlWpN5hj5gch5fUlLdz8PyaELpQRKdflpg/s1600/Carolinas+137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtQx2dv0cZl_r9C26wuQYhMeugAxtIBUXzoL6riss28ISMMMWEtXqscxPvv4vuVxOfIq01QdXOz_JFEoQl_jHl13McXxdcWywSRVUdvxaXVlWpN5hj5gch5fUlLdz8PyaELpQRKdflpg/s320/Carolinas+137.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FORT MOULTRIE, USED IN THE REVOLUTION AS WELL AS THE CIVIL WAR.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WP26rU7ysfeKinxgVHf2loCDOultjh2na5x9VxYOxz6rksF2jpPwp_9cmBubn3vbLcCxTkHNo25Eq5DP3QkGQa9Sccw-6iK264SclMQfPapvx3qwsaJVfbwzyr9G1paUGuQ1sLMnKhA/s1600/Carolinas+171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WP26rU7ysfeKinxgVHf2loCDOultjh2na5x9VxYOxz6rksF2jpPwp_9cmBubn3vbLcCxTkHNo25Eq5DP3QkGQa9Sccw-6iK264SclMQfPapvx3qwsaJVfbwzyr9G1paUGuQ1sLMnKhA/s320/Carolinas+171.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3mo5Wf0-9khL0wUvoJLad5BoO5aMIOoZA4sfTZr1TPIq6wIJOmDSomAS54mys366X2mr44rlF1Mwk3UKGiEa4ttNdyZztY_6q_sWkO2RkQAlgpJ224yw5VDVeXfsPibBSbyysXflfkI/s1600/Carolinas+145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3mo5Wf0-9khL0wUvoJLad5BoO5aMIOoZA4sfTZr1TPIq6wIJOmDSomAS54mys366X2mr44rlF1Mwk3UKGiEa4ttNdyZztY_6q_sWkO2RkQAlgpJ224yw5VDVeXfsPibBSbyysXflfkI/s320/Carolinas+145.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>BAD SHOTS OF FORT SUMTER<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCgtcD34GUcfkjs18-QCixZ7jBt9uE9nmusQX0bYM6GgVPU5XyLkFaDQ0pSEMbHNSsRu2-XEs7XUrKomKcfwEkCYC_m8EJAz3KcyQfPoxij_YxgKswC4E9oejhWgQNErsYaPY5pmeXMY/s1600/Carolinas+139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCgtcD34GUcfkjs18-QCixZ7jBt9uE9nmusQX0bYM6GgVPU5XyLkFaDQ0pSEMbHNSsRu2-XEs7XUrKomKcfwEkCYC_m8EJAz3KcyQfPoxij_YxgKswC4E9oejhWgQNErsYaPY5pmeXMY/s320/Carolinas+139.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>FROM ATLANTIC TO PACIFIC TO ATLANTIC<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp4SvsHFqmvqmpGdsc-ALMo7LqxlDOY_LJKDNY4oT5BDsaDXKmffkizfflEwWFP4mt3_qIN9Si-uMb2gejvlEEStecG1bVa8Igv70IvvlRdj5jXzxeuF0E95I-_H0s6j4fvOFf8C8uVI/s1600/Carolinas+176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp4SvsHFqmvqmpGdsc-ALMo7LqxlDOY_LJKDNY4oT5BDsaDXKmffkizfflEwWFP4mt3_qIN9Si-uMb2gejvlEEStecG1bVa8Igv70IvvlRdj5jXzxeuF0E95I-_H0s6j4fvOFf8C8uVI/s320/Carolinas+176.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbmC8cpKvcxUoiyVwMFICXospYNSLReO-QvMn7q-HIfn26JLHVK2uA0_-6jmw5tCy-N_GpuOaACaqhndlksZMFYiQ6HP4m_O7gpBZ6KaONPDp8O0-haO_wa2sR_lY20OCS60t6s455ks/s1600/Carolinas+149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbmC8cpKvcxUoiyVwMFICXospYNSLReO-QvMn7q-HIfn26JLHVK2uA0_-6jmw5tCy-N_GpuOaACaqhndlksZMFYiQ6HP4m_O7gpBZ6KaONPDp8O0-haO_wa2sR_lY20OCS60t6s455ks/s320/Carolinas+149.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbej8c9OK7GvwkoJQ0SjmK4kgAMon0upYQxAsPD6SoJ34t9FsHzOehWdmj1p8OIrTMSqUB7XOSr0lXDtQh7W0989AZkRQx48YoO4eGUAuznuevPCY-Pc6R45d-0i4RBE-zTDH7xo68dBQ/s1600/Carolinas+165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbej8c9OK7GvwkoJQ0SjmK4kgAMon0upYQxAsPD6SoJ34t9FsHzOehWdmj1p8OIrTMSqUB7XOSr0lXDtQh7W0989AZkRQx48YoO4eGUAuznuevPCY-Pc6R45d-0i4RBE-zTDH7xo68dBQ/s320/Carolinas+165.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ydivc04Jg47D2GeIqrO4Uc66cPlZCMmIktxpJJ0KPSrEaxcQNfrpE5Aq6v7t4bx7u7GJNI3w5wfTvNXyR39X2rVCPbV35a_WDmxrD0b3LsFYA0roXLmcCzto0s-9F52Z9-5Cgv9ymBc/s1600/Carolinas+183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ydivc04Jg47D2GeIqrO4Uc66cPlZCMmIktxpJJ0KPSrEaxcQNfrpE5Aq6v7t4bx7u7GJNI3w5wfTvNXyR39X2rVCPbV35a_WDmxrD0b3LsFYA0roXLmcCzto0s-9F52Z9-5Cgv9ymBc/s320/Carolinas+183.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaX7eWCgSBywlT8ts_5FDCY6AU66qyMtbVEryRrN7KlK2qbWemgS-PL-xaK6N2iUL7OnEZQiDMD_pRbSg_qR29d7Nu3brOnrFz8g5vk8WZ2I-N2KTFzkk0aUOe0_F0SJVGSEjtmkNTdzU/s1600/Carolinas+197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaX7eWCgSBywlT8ts_5FDCY6AU66qyMtbVEryRrN7KlK2qbWemgS-PL-xaK6N2iUL7OnEZQiDMD_pRbSg_qR29d7Nu3brOnrFz8g5vk8WZ2I-N2KTFzkk0aUOe0_F0SJVGSEjtmkNTdzU/s320/Carolinas+197.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</tbody></table>Back to Hilton Head where most of my gear remained. A few more late-nights with the Coogey Brigade... flurries of disfunctional Carolina chicks seeking... God Knows What... strange burnout people who son;t seem to be worried about Al-pocolyto's scenariao, that's for sure.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_dtELzdEw6DO0Up-ZkqezvT7-PGv8UyFnXR0KyZA0k66wyoXSM4Uq_z_Pv7Z7cw8yZninpNIFFpJjCzqL7JnvtdBTRpI14sZEdTJI07FPxbfqcGrqVuxwAzuBGVZu_5mG1tb-S4M4B0/s1600/Carolinas+212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_dtELzdEw6DO0Up-ZkqezvT7-PGv8UyFnXR0KyZA0k66wyoXSM4Uq_z_Pv7Z7cw8yZninpNIFFpJjCzqL7JnvtdBTRpI14sZEdTJI07FPxbfqcGrqVuxwAzuBGVZu_5mG1tb-S4M4B0/s320/Carolinas+212.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN5HipLsyyUbrW5rcUPF0cGL3pQNk9AuA2BVZc8fWtGleDvuS4wJP3JELEGHhuvpHcrwgeskC04cmUhJCLhB5bUWF3zyE_RvTjP_Vmih2DB9yTpnypamda59MJTnyoaYTTRtW23tc6zo/s1600/Carolinas+209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN5HipLsyyUbrW5rcUPF0cGL3pQNk9AuA2BVZc8fWtGleDvuS4wJP3JELEGHhuvpHcrwgeskC04cmUhJCLhB5bUWF3zyE_RvTjP_Vmih2DB9yTpnypamda59MJTnyoaYTTRtW23tc6zo/s320/Carolinas+209.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrpfSpbMNfbLRJXVz3P9ujWPpNObcD-e2_dwurvtuqmoV8RKrsGJVturpK7BJQQH0I1zzMjccVkYyd4C07MkWdCwoI1TB84no2e1Fn_Gh9fCZQFDgBYrokdYlwbCfKuG7s6MlwYeql9E/s1600/Carolinas+213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrpfSpbMNfbLRJXVz3P9ujWPpNObcD-e2_dwurvtuqmoV8RKrsGJVturpK7BJQQH0I1zzMjccVkYyd4C07MkWdCwoI1TB84no2e1Fn_Gh9fCZQFDgBYrokdYlwbCfKuG7s6MlwYeql9E/s320/Carolinas+213.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoBiAQJ4NiGfPVzEAb_L6-xE6LFt5HI4J7ORd2DByoKGLkN_ZVH7-PGjQ-SrSuD7A83OBPejoWK9-P_84SofL_VXgh0HXdy1Isg1fcgSQ-oi7V5HHP5MLor5Zrt_k9q76CAlmOlIQ_is/s1600/Carolinas+204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoBiAQJ4NiGfPVzEAb_L6-xE6LFt5HI4J7ORd2DByoKGLkN_ZVH7-PGjQ-SrSuD7A83OBPejoWK9-P_84SofL_VXgh0HXdy1Isg1fcgSQ-oi7V5HHP5MLor5Zrt_k9q76CAlmOlIQ_is/s320/Carolinas+204.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>With very little A-dieu I packed-up and with some relief was off again onto the American Roadways, this time heading north to see my old pals Bill & Alrlene, who had moved to the north Charlotte a year before. This would be quite a wrench in my mind, as Bill was an old friend, highly pragmatic and although wide-minded, was quite critical of people's surreal nonsense. Bill is an experienced landscaper and over-all construction wiz; he works hard to support his family and doesn't tolerate slackers. I love the guy, despite my predilictions towards being a slacker myself.<br />
<br />
North of Beaufort I headed up State Rte 17 through Orangeburg and Columbia. Gorgeous Carolina landscapes, often flecked with images of gritty rural poverty. Cotton fields and abandoned Buicks. Young black men sitting in clumps by the side of a rural road, seemingly doiung nothing except hanging out. Ghost towns. Deliciously beautfiul agricultural landscapes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliCi0ZQvk1u9bCYX2_w51g25AxWMSJfAk3cX2xrurkCNpD0jVtpiyH1qnkJeZD7pUIsBN4hZ6YmUWVq_3fYPjWZ2U_QyQUkqCRDXovwZCmKuP17hEZllfhVaPjIhP0zBDG6CQI6oUsXw/s1600/Carolinas+228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliCi0ZQvk1u9bCYX2_w51g25AxWMSJfAk3cX2xrurkCNpD0jVtpiyH1qnkJeZD7pUIsBN4hZ6YmUWVq_3fYPjWZ2U_QyQUkqCRDXovwZCmKuP17hEZllfhVaPjIhP0zBDG6CQI6oUsXw/s320/Carolinas+228.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TjLutYrxKHHUrsmQ0vdRQ2mwLK3laFoLCANbHZtdtsQGd8vylAuhhdG-gRcitb-XyfMO0xuRwQJDfebujpf8fxxtbZ6ikeoL9Wwt0-XmbR2yNONV5AnL2lG-M2cTXLt9rhZQdLVdlCo/s1600/Carolinas+215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TjLutYrxKHHUrsmQ0vdRQ2mwLK3laFoLCANbHZtdtsQGd8vylAuhhdG-gRcitb-XyfMO0xuRwQJDfebujpf8fxxtbZ6ikeoL9Wwt0-XmbR2yNONV5AnL2lG-M2cTXLt9rhZQdLVdlCo/s320/Carolinas+215.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">REAL BULES CROSSROADS IN BLACK PEOPLE TERRITORY</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX0dc9mFmD8-8zGzcdarJ2b7qhwLgjw3OEMNWpccDuW8x65vYQO-Dvu5bxqdger3PtW2_tSs2AyhOR8cpZMTGZo7K7jsyIUN_0cR1SiahiS7XsutRk0OaNX3JA8C5pFNkmK4wLiVDhc4/s1600/Carolinas+217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX0dc9mFmD8-8zGzcdarJ2b7qhwLgjw3OEMNWpccDuW8x65vYQO-Dvu5bxqdger3PtW2_tSs2AyhOR8cpZMTGZo7K7jsyIUN_0cR1SiahiS7XsutRk0OaNX3JA8C5pFNkmK4wLiVDhc4/s320/Carolinas+217.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fDr48CzwLD7qYxIncV_g-0NeSSMk7x1paJB2S2QRHhmzEASif0aRmRCV73WlCHdLVXeWYkX5HdQY_QJ9Ns-lwUiYWEpmdX0BuGO2vsGx_D0cRjmVVnHMf4qfMyAmu5Qgdm3Jd6_BxJ4/s1600/Carolinas+223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fDr48CzwLD7qYxIncV_g-0NeSSMk7x1paJB2S2QRHhmzEASif0aRmRCV73WlCHdLVXeWYkX5HdQY_QJ9Ns-lwUiYWEpmdX0BuGO2vsGx_D0cRjmVVnHMf4qfMyAmu5Qgdm3Jd6_BxJ4/s320/Carolinas+223.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DANGEROUS SPEED-TRAP. JUST BEFORE THIS BEND THE LIMIT WAS 60. LOCAL COPS AWAITED IN THE SHADOWS.<br />
<br />
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</tbody></table><div align="left">It was a spectacularly beautiful day, and with the Mp3 playing my favorite music in my earplugs and an occasional stop for a smoke, it was just ... heavenly. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxla8GSd4PC5c3sHBtG65A4A8Z_jXTvqE2NR1toE-JHBBEAkxxmQndtS87msEKbigZBcsTXPc0Z1vTaPpU9LGL_v1_nTATSJrKiBJDqxqiGIH9iXIhOv5FmdYmEvGL6F5pihkBT8Nazo/s1600/Carolinas+232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxla8GSd4PC5c3sHBtG65A4A8Z_jXTvqE2NR1toE-JHBBEAkxxmQndtS87msEKbigZBcsTXPc0Z1vTaPpU9LGL_v1_nTATSJrKiBJDqxqiGIH9iXIhOv5FmdYmEvGL6F5pihkBT8Nazo/s320/Carolinas+232.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AFRICAN-AMERICAN GROCERY STORE AT A CROSS-ROADS; THOUGHT IT LOOKED GOOD TO DOUBLE AS A FRIDAY NIGHT JUKE-JOINT.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluZ7TWQkByv5RItEWQ0-AEku-yaHQFyxzMuvO9idJ43XeePZAERRbJgJ5NCkN-5VoYV13CX1Uy99NROGXp_g2uwPnQsR_rUQl__NCpYXYXDnHcHFb-TA-OcW67whHaxJtqxUL4Knw5hk/s1600/Carolinas+233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluZ7TWQkByv5RItEWQ0-AEku-yaHQFyxzMuvO9idJ43XeePZAERRbJgJ5NCkN-5VoYV13CX1Uy99NROGXp_g2uwPnQsR_rUQl__NCpYXYXDnHcHFb-TA-OcW67whHaxJtqxUL4Knw5hk/s320/Carolinas+233.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiHjTx3Z2nxcPE9ikHQeY5BbDOImm_eLikIdqerjtRSTAXzYarHvXJh4X6QFzLCHc1qfDeWzgOjd9haqxmJH7ZUta5lsqFgiDomM5Bvfphjb304ZNrjoW7qb8FYnp-N9lUtgY_62F_hU/s1600/Carolinas+230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiHjTx3Z2nxcPE9ikHQeY5BbDOImm_eLikIdqerjtRSTAXzYarHvXJh4X6QFzLCHc1qfDeWzgOjd9haqxmJH7ZUta5lsqFgiDomM5Bvfphjb304ZNrjoW7qb8FYnp-N9lUtgY_62F_hU/s320/Carolinas+230.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwDlKRqukwcRc7C5qeb-spvb7cmIhcoObILCnsyM0sKXb9rYUw3wX0HlDOHsRqTzFEWdKt14cX_913pQtiGCyKDVPqZjusZsdUdksGdjEllAe4zK49VJkipsV0KBSpsaFSXcmyFVwP_A/s1600/Carolinas+236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwDlKRqukwcRc7C5qeb-spvb7cmIhcoObILCnsyM0sKXb9rYUw3wX0HlDOHsRqTzFEWdKt14cX_913pQtiGCyKDVPqZjusZsdUdksGdjEllAe4zK49VJkipsV0KBSpsaFSXcmyFVwP_A/s320/Carolinas+236.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />
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</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-90907664347396699052010-10-06T13:53:00.000-07:002010-10-06T13:53:46.548-07:00THE ISLAND OF LOST BOYSSouth Sea Peter Pan<br />
Carolina Palmetto <br />
dark island dream..<br />
Where the Boys sleep all day<br />
in the moss-drooping forest<br />
and eat Slim Jims & Brownies & Stouffers Pizza<br />
and drink Gin Bracers and<br />
Tequila Delights..<br />
Where the girls are smiling and sleepless<br />
sun-worn, surf-frazzled<br />
herb-burnt and coca-crazed..<br />
where the Action never stops <br />
forever Monday Football<br />
forever giant video golf compete<br />
pre-dawn bleary Cable James Cagney<br />
laughs<br />
Where the Boys sleep all day and<br />
when the sun drops low,<br />
wake to <br />
snap-on fire sizzling Amps<br />
click-in plug chrome chords into <br />
glossy guitar backs<br />
ringing out rolling rythyms<br />
and Dance ecstatic<br />
while the bright Atlantic moon<br />
moans across the <br />
endless rumbling surf<br />
And then<br />
the Boys sleep all day<br />
And then<br />
dream... <br />
of endless youthgwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-36438483628387999552010-09-30T23:59:00.000-07:002010-09-30T23:59:07.994-07:00DAYTONA FLORIDA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuunu0AhqyFyvlZjI6gpMbyoSL9rZhA_Cz5XxPLwPo-QVFVpssdRiJ5rzTgs9jqnBgFXtkHRNim572ptOczNdHJ-dk_0fhblBs4tSbGnTIAE3_uVwaD2WoYyMig7wNwJo543YizIsJMo/s1600/Florida+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuunu0AhqyFyvlZjI6gpMbyoSL9rZhA_Cz5XxPLwPo-QVFVpssdRiJ5rzTgs9jqnBgFXtkHRNim572ptOczNdHJ-dk_0fhblBs4tSbGnTIAE3_uVwaD2WoYyMig7wNwJo543YizIsJMo/s320/Florida+023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Headed out of Wet-Pampers-smelling Perry after a breakfast of local cuisine in a "family restaurant called <em>Pouncey's </em>and you can try and guess the pronunciation. Here it is: Smoked Ribs and Cheese Grits and Hush Puppies and Dump Cake, with a big Mason jar full of iced tea. They claimed to "butcher their own meat", but I cant say I really liked the ribs... smoked... nice taste, but too chewy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9V9ScgC1Tq5Eb7L6Otrsv6PZ0PH7I6wc6CAKPz19sYqU_rEPXe4fHzPR1kOGOW6EJH5bZNXwVIzBF0QeWJp77dRuMWrlXdEkaCxdyPWU-THjc0g2rrJ9uN7qJw4v4-K6ps3IcYEDn9M/s1600/Florida+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9V9ScgC1Tq5Eb7L6Otrsv6PZ0PH7I6wc6CAKPz19sYqU_rEPXe4fHzPR1kOGOW6EJH5bZNXwVIzBF0QeWJp77dRuMWrlXdEkaCxdyPWU-THjc0g2rrJ9uN7qJw4v4-K6ps3IcYEDn9M/s320/Florida+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Across the room middle-aged women seemed to be stariung at me curiously... maybe iot was the ponytail... and eventually a man about 60 came in wearing huntin camoflage and a stiff ball cap and I don;t theink thius guy had smiled in a very long time. He looked like all of your worst <em>Deliverance </em>nightmares.. who knows,. he was probably the nicest guy in Christemndom... but he gave me a chilly feeling and I paid up smoothly and exited smelly Perry. (Oh, PS... the waitresses in Pouncey's were very friendly and smiling).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1P6ST38Wn_iyHwuataSlsD2VIGW6kNFZT2RFXFbq7z80RyDx5DMDQdF2NfBADh7ca7ZARFW_5aw7zBJoF2oiY182GBqNS-H6ZmhechZabp0TR9SKGCuPeViYqNl6IvsQkMDV-DPLuIuc/s1600/Florida+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1P6ST38Wn_iyHwuataSlsD2VIGW6kNFZT2RFXFbq7z80RyDx5DMDQdF2NfBADh7ca7ZARFW_5aw7zBJoF2oiY182GBqNS-H6ZmhechZabp0TR9SKGCuPeViYqNl6IvsQkMDV-DPLuIuc/s320/Florida+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Ouyt across the neck of Florida, and boy, is it ever the Heart of Dixie. Very serious church-goers for the most part,... but also a lot of very opionated... I'd have to say uneducated... folks as well. Really, I must say again that almost everyne I met in the South was simply kind and friendly... but for sake oif that I kept my Yankee Tongue toi myself.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlTrxHa7YMPPrvnABrvxG26t4sX6IDxYM6w9RQi0uwX2oG0EgyM97d5Ds43gjQPToZYkNK0vOa7aB28f7hlkBOtg-dhuPQzSsPuPLF3nBNRTLFNloIk0y-k4wIRzoiBzvfh7nLZQ_KOI/s1600/Florida+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlTrxHa7YMPPrvnABrvxG26t4sX6IDxYM6w9RQi0uwX2oG0EgyM97d5Ds43gjQPToZYkNK0vOa7aB28f7hlkBOtg-dhuPQzSsPuPLF3nBNRTLFNloIk0y-k4wIRzoiBzvfh7nLZQ_KOI/s320/Florida+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WAAAY DOWN UPON THE SWANNEE RIVER</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lots of Southern Povery apparent, and the economic problems in this nation hit the Poor the hardest. All the "little", foo-foo businesses dry up as people begin to save for Basics.. so hobby shops and nail salons and Special Bar B Q places foild and disintegrate,. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHXVn-hnh1meHtJjEEOsTvjQ7cPxug_Je3OcibaVRcEOR0BZfG6FGVVri3tcBYkwQO1Cr1kEztePBzGJhv0IkZ3VV1U3LA0GFium0ue1zowD5WqHf3HbO7y8vHTPrYUo68a8TdnV0KQY/s1600/Florida+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHXVn-hnh1meHtJjEEOsTvjQ7cPxug_Je3OcibaVRcEOR0BZfG6FGVVri3tcBYkwQO1Cr1kEztePBzGJhv0IkZ3VV1U3LA0GFium0ue1zowD5WqHf3HbO7y8vHTPrYUo68a8TdnV0KQY/s320/Florida+012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HOLY BAND HEALING AND DELIVERANCE CENTER</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI02apVW8tDsldEnGMZAXHP8vkFeZpgYXXla0VEDEnlmhZtPCH-ntdtFH6A_7lyk8_oc_om29ofQlQVQg71mo84X5tgftlNcYfF_0mlMNCKzitzhyUIjsfBbWL2fUvbquugRiquk0hJk/s1600/Florida+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI02apVW8tDsldEnGMZAXHP8vkFeZpgYXXla0VEDEnlmhZtPCH-ntdtFH6A_7lyk8_oc_om29ofQlQVQg71mo84X5tgftlNcYfF_0mlMNCKzitzhyUIjsfBbWL2fUvbquugRiquk0hJk/s320/Florida+021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3H0erdtUJcZ7a6_ayM6S1qGnJXfPRaKqOlmrYqAyJThZGHm3QTErpe05hK09Tf84fh2QW9eqJzWBgNQQ5q7Eykqn8NdmH6MzpJP5vMYseH3MMhrn00H1F-aI3J7As2XF2hTNEvMTIRI/s1600/Florida+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3H0erdtUJcZ7a6_ayM6S1qGnJXfPRaKqOlmrYqAyJThZGHm3QTErpe05hK09Tf84fh2QW9eqJzWBgNQQ5q7Eykqn8NdmH6MzpJP5vMYseH3MMhrn00H1F-aI3J7As2XF2hTNEvMTIRI/s320/Florida+019.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_211ZkM3mDIBjAT6mfINIPdtrRs2Zmf4p6lrJv-4OOf-m11SvCgc758cIDhnu9CMAJ2RQCYMB0fkBD15oejq80x8iSqwuFF1R88T-ahbjG4vTmZtxvlaeVEypRmX0OMm__hRxt9GoSrU/s1600/Florida+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_211ZkM3mDIBjAT6mfINIPdtrRs2Zmf4p6lrJv-4OOf-m11SvCgc758cIDhnu9CMAJ2RQCYMB0fkBD15oejq80x8iSqwuFF1R88T-ahbjG4vTmZtxvlaeVEypRmX0OMm__hRxt9GoSrU/s320/Florida+016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Across the flatlands... pretty countryside ... tree-lined and green... ruural, agricultural. Churches and anti-government messages all over. Numerous police cars... sheriffs and State Patrol and a few times I found mysel;f being tailed for a while. But I was being extra cautious with my spoed; 75 was no problem with cruisers on my ass. in a 70 zone (most of Florida).. I generally kept a careful control because they certainly poipped up unexpectedly at times. Generally though , trasffic controls were lax and Florida people kept up 80 mph most of the time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VU8Ml3sEQqT5zFvqClO9paMqEe9du0ld0XuqlzuhuvKX7jfSOaLmsWwVT9Mtpa8joaTSfcTQ_9Hsdk8A0eoBhrr3cTz-hoRh0f1x3e-tPx09XIebJuhvWk7FbG8sdyU2yjxyoGfrasI/s1600/Florida+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VU8Ml3sEQqT5zFvqClO9paMqEe9du0ld0XuqlzuhuvKX7jfSOaLmsWwVT9Mtpa8joaTSfcTQ_9Hsdk8A0eoBhrr3cTz-hoRh0f1x3e-tPx09XIebJuhvWk7FbG8sdyU2yjxyoGfrasI/s320/Florida+051.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVRAtWYfVTAHOcPShK6Q-mTTiaWRB_ky5fkwFENA0NS0KWFGBRSZgP9tL8qXXjx9-sWknYv3PkZNKELXwxVIo2hTye9Hg54if0VTJwB_budZswy3_SipN8CQFmAOAUI1l8OvggES4GXs/s1600/Florida+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVRAtWYfVTAHOcPShK6Q-mTTiaWRB_ky5fkwFENA0NS0KWFGBRSZgP9tL8qXXjx9-sWknYv3PkZNKELXwxVIo2hTye9Hg54if0VTJwB_budZswy3_SipN8CQFmAOAUI1l8OvggES4GXs/s320/Florida+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oi43CXuUNaiUZw4rOEzBNYUTpqPWGOB9A_kIoVGIfVVzQXhMyAARVlTtOJfrtn_nsJ702Qt75Z_aqZw6meDOTaElwh7d63b18pePjg4u4WMXRjc5ANqwckIYSt3OwiwPnZFIgzOnwfk/s1600/Florida+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oi43CXuUNaiUZw4rOEzBNYUTpqPWGOB9A_kIoVGIfVVzQXhMyAARVlTtOJfrtn_nsJ702Qt75Z_aqZw6meDOTaElwh7d63b18pePjg4u4WMXRjc5ANqwckIYSt3OwiwPnZFIgzOnwfk/s320/Florida+035.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0Gghn5njCAiV6L5-NS-VytrCS2GcTBrT72h7E3uB2_XImE4Wmb8PAJQw0xZMutvvya5hFf3TUj1EKlqVl4EgXEwSLjwBWpq-PXgOujnOBTABHeYjVYUCLF3ozY8zj__w67eIlXSSjUw/s1600/Florida+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0Gghn5njCAiV6L5-NS-VytrCS2GcTBrT72h7E3uB2_XImE4Wmb8PAJQw0xZMutvvya5hFf3TUj1EKlqVl4EgXEwSLjwBWpq-PXgOujnOBTABHeYjVYUCLF3ozY8zj__w67eIlXSSjUw/s320/Florida+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLMmABG1ERl4WjVFuArep1GYfhBc9UD0b-oCv6K9JzOVRscH0A_RNvv26raFxIEE6BwxsgbX1YeQdR3NVALPRvr88G5Wo_eanWo4k7CZ3UKzeFpgDLgaxVC6Xz-x2IiY1fEOL_5Lm2nA/s1600/Florida+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLMmABG1ERl4WjVFuArep1GYfhBc9UD0b-oCv6K9JzOVRscH0A_RNvv26raFxIEE6BwxsgbX1YeQdR3NVALPRvr88G5Wo_eanWo4k7CZ3UKzeFpgDLgaxVC6Xz-x2IiY1fEOL_5Lm2nA/s320/Florida+029.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBC2rIkBoQKQe7m-bKedIlitEMW3k3pMFWEL8o4S8J5XQVEte34RfqUp6xlU1JyenZR2EZ1zu30WyvteFYOmn04UrAT4iOJA82xLO7nMktcp6K7e9ildnwGbX-bQpcAE_Bg5s4jHT7n0/s1600/Florida+046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBC2rIkBoQKQe7m-bKedIlitEMW3k3pMFWEL8o4S8J5XQVEte34RfqUp6xlU1JyenZR2EZ1zu30WyvteFYOmn04UrAT4iOJA82xLO7nMktcp6K7e9ildnwGbX-bQpcAE_Bg5s4jHT7n0/s320/Florida+046.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">THE ATLANTIC</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left">I rolled over the bridges into Daytona Beach proper, and from the beginning I noticed and felt the run-down edginess oif the place. Daytona ois obviously in the same straits as say, Virginia Beach and other places where reduced tourist revenues have resulted in urban decay and an up-swelling in the minal element. I rolled aorund the road closest to the beach until I found a motel just across the street, (there were many) that advertised $35 rooms... bought one from the young ((yes) Indian woman. No Wifi... dark, well-used room... tattered carpet and squeaky bathroom faucets... another grim, drug-dealer's motel. But it looked safe enoiugh, and I went out of the bike, eager to explore what Biker Mecca Daytona had to offer. I left my helmet home for a change..s Florida doesn;t require one, and I knew I;d be just gouing to Main Street eight bloicks away. I did need to weasr sunglasses though (eye protection rule) and the dakr shades made it somewhat difficult for my eyes to adjust eadh time at night.</div><div align="left">Down to Main Street and I found there were half a dozen bars with numerous motorcycles out front... not all Harleys, but a majority anyway. I went to the famous Boot Hill Saloon... nothing so imposing as coloirful. The whole inside looked like someone had beaten it with a ball-peen hammer... then painted it black and covered it with clever bumper stickers. A few dozen biker types present... and some wannabees. I had a couple of beers there and a shot... then over to Froggies where I chatted wit a couople of large-bodied local Florida women in too much make-up... then one open aor place where a band was starting up. I probably had a handful of beers and three shots or so. </div><div align="left">Decided to take a quick spin back to my roiom for a moment to make soime adjustments. On the way back I was looking half-heartedly for somewhere to eat and saw an interesting Barbecue place. I turned in quickly and came to a stoip in the empty parking lot... saw that the place was closed, unfortunastely, started to put the bike in gear when WWWWEEEEEEEEE-WWWWWWWWW!!!! A white Daytona Beach police car comes screaming in and stutters to a stop just inches from my bike. WHAT THE.....</div><div align="left"> Cop jumps out.</div><div align="left">"LICENSE AND REGISTRATION PLEASE!" he commands;</div><div align="left">What the HELL... </div><div align="left">"I was just SITIING here!" I blurted out.</div><div align="left">The young officer looked a little confused for a moment. </div><div align="left">"Do you knoiw why I'm pullling you?" he asks. "You ran that red light when you pulled into this lot."</div><div align="left">I peered backwards and didn't see anything. But he still had his hand out so I fished in my wallet for my license. I had no registration paperwork (left it home) so instead just gave him a copyt oi my insurance card. This is it, I thought grmly. He's going to ask iof I've had anything to drink and I'll be screwed. I had no choice but to stand tall and breathlessly waited for the Wave.</div><div align="left">Officer clicks his shoulder mike and radios me in. "New Yawk Alpha Mary Alpha One.</div><div align="left"><em>That curious plate again... AMA1.... in a serious AMA motorcycle racing town.</em></div><div align="left">He looks at my license card and flips it around in his fingers.</div><div align="left">'i like the way New York makes these lecenses flexible like this," he says distractedly.</div><div align="left">"Heh heh... yeah,... uhh they arte kind of nice... err ehh" I stuttered.</div><div align="left">long pregnant pause ensues. Bullets of sweat are springing from my head</div><div align="left">"Well I can see that your from out oif town," he says quietly. "We get a lot of problems around here.. and well, you ARE on a <em>black bike."</em></div><div align="left">"Oh, ahh.... really? I mumble.</div><div align="left">He looks thoughtful for a second, sees the short distance between my bike and his strobing patrol car.. looks suddenly sheepish. Hands my liucesne back.</div><div align="left">"uhh... sorry I came in so fast... uhh, lots of black bikes around here... umm. Well, you be careful and have a good night".</div><div align="left">He got into his cruiser and pulled back onto the beach road.</div><div align="left">I simply coul;dn;t believe it. The break was unbelieveable... but truly kept in keeping with the absolute Divine Intervention that I have felt so celarly ever since I took off on this highkly risky adeventure. As soon as I started breathing again I dredged up one of the most profound THANK YOU GODs that I've ever uttered. Did so repeatedly during the night... especially as I was parking the bike at my motel and heading out on foot.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">\</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-23532929055001258392010-09-30T22:38:00.000-07:002010-09-30T22:45:15.704-07:00PERRY, FLORIDALeft Gulfport after another nameless fat breakfast... gassed-up and headed for the Alabama line. I'd started using my special little FM radio that I'd bought for this trip, and was picking up a lot of interesting Country channels. <br />
Lot of crazy Redneck stuff going on Out There. Across America one thing became clear to me: THE PICKUP TRUCK IS KING. Bigger the better. I thought we had a lot up in the NY area... Zheesh.. anywhere south of the Mason Dixon a man DOES own a pick-up truck. Total Waste of materials... pick-ups seem to be mostly used (in REALITY) for pulling horse and / or people trailers. I rarely saw another legimimate usage... the rest were simply empty.<br />
<br />
I'd had a fun night the eveining before over in the Bucksnort Grill or whatever it was. That place was heavy with real Southern Crackers and recently-retired Gulf Vets. Across the South from Texas onwards I've overheard lots of anti-"Liberal" cracks... and, well, far be it from ME to interfere with the Yucks... heh heh... not the best time to be waving my New Yawk Yippie viewpoints.. Met one jovial Gulf War vet who gleefully told me jhow he'd been shot four times and has a plate in his skull. He was a cheerful sod; I bought him a shot and he gleefully jumped out into the Karaoke stage that was blaring classic C&W music, and started yelping out Hank Williams at Volume 11. Happy seeming bloke... drunk like a monkey before I left.<br />
<br />
On the Road... <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qQuxsu03Z76VPRLzvunjT__yHqLg-pNaeIZ2EplS5jFtNoM7ASgD0KDiykWpXg49idluxly2d7eK0aw016QkjHhDPERc8sPMCSQWP2gP43qPLaDnljpZ9-gkdCj2KTgHLDca4ilBZSg/s1600/Gulf+Coast+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qQuxsu03Z76VPRLzvunjT__yHqLg-pNaeIZ2EplS5jFtNoM7ASgD0KDiykWpXg49idluxly2d7eK0aw016QkjHhDPERc8sPMCSQWP2gP43qPLaDnljpZ9-gkdCj2KTgHLDca4ilBZSg/s320/Gulf+Coast+084.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After an hour or so of smooth sailing I came up to Mobile... lots of signs and indications of Air Stations and Naval Bases. Mobile looked ... neat.. as I was passing through. Just modern corporate office buildings visible from the road... wonder how much the Armaments industry is keeping this part of the country alive. Lots of signs of poor blacks in shack houses and trailers with broken machiunery in a scruffy yarrd.. also high percentage of toothless-whites babbling GAWD and FOOTBALL... many Mexican/Latinos who seemed to be sort of avoiding attention. ENDLESS PICK-UP TRUCKS. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JfURba8t-I6wumgOBCBmXjsvd2ctrU7U4Ku1kF591AV-EvHubHAJXFlBjq4QsTDeYpytLk_jsevuxZY7ZD7okkQ7-GrOnSmVklIom39bL1Bmzkh8KfnU3ZZTW-y4wAjL4mgBJxcH-Co/s1600/Gulf+Coast+085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JfURba8t-I6wumgOBCBmXjsvd2ctrU7U4Ku1kF591AV-EvHubHAJXFlBjq4QsTDeYpytLk_jsevuxZY7ZD7okkQ7-GrOnSmVklIom39bL1Bmzkh8KfnU3ZZTW-y4wAjL4mgBJxcH-Co/s320/Gulf+Coast+085.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOBILE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Country-western tunes coming in .. sort of broken wisdoms about how "Grandpa taught me God is Great, Beer is Good, and Life should be lived without trying the be very clever. Or Educated... or something. <em>Definite </em>strong signs of Ignorance in many places... but much more "modern" than I'd perceived.. like, even farmers have computers these days... and cable TV and mobile phones... but still need to believe in SIMPLE solutions... answers that, Wellsir... <em>just seem right. </em>No need for thankin' too hard... Granpda had <em>that </em>wisdom now, didn't he?<br />
More songs about chasing the local tan Farmer's Daughter.... weepy tales of Love Gone Away and happy tunes regaling whiskey fun and an occasional dust-up... <br />
Then we get to the AMURICAN patriotic songs, and lookout, brother... <em>IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH THE SILVER AMURICAN EAGLE, BOY, THEN YOU GONNA FEEL UNCLE SAM'S BOOT UP YOUR ASS..</em> Yes, that's an actual song, (if not a perfectly duplicated).<br />
<br />
On into Florida. The run was failry long.. the air getting warmer and more humid... I stopped at a Florida Welcome Center and it was mid-Nineties and 86% humid. Sticky... so much different than the desert heat I'd experienced for weeks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMf6XJ8-MaawHHhGCPVpWloR1IqiDPoGA9xOxx1oI_uCq91_wDG7w5u5CusyKENngU2LQCE-FRcRLFOxoUmzk9hobM1coT82G5TU2BoUzshfTe7wQJ5R8WZ-CbtaRNyIHzmsKNDja4AXE/s1600/Gulf+Coast+088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMf6XJ8-MaawHHhGCPVpWloR1IqiDPoGA9xOxx1oI_uCq91_wDG7w5u5CusyKENngU2LQCE-FRcRLFOxoUmzk9hobM1coT82G5TU2BoUzshfTe7wQJ5R8WZ-CbtaRNyIHzmsKNDja4AXE/s320/Gulf+Coast+088.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6fZGVnffOvKJYrTLFtBXnLIWf9JwJIRoscPltIuM3AI_aHtr8-rac3elWFSm3m52LEkGFj57hFMlU5bdUFa1nDblZe0Z54XHKNVgqN9q72O9Aj62Xs0pj9aeJN7SLghIBPEKMRb31IA/s1600/Gulf+Coast+089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6fZGVnffOvKJYrTLFtBXnLIWf9JwJIRoscPltIuM3AI_aHtr8-rac3elWFSm3m52LEkGFj57hFMlU5bdUFa1nDblZe0Z54XHKNVgqN9q72O9Aj62Xs0pj9aeJN7SLghIBPEKMRb31IA/s320/Gulf+Coast+089.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Pensacloa... wanted to run down to the beaches there, but was warned that two militairy bases were about to let out.. and it would be traffic murder. I took a short off-highway trip up a state highway and foiund a giant bike shop... all Japanese brands.. met the owner by coincidence when pulling in... he was magnanimous and told all his staff to take good care of me. Unfortunately I had just bought four quarts of expensive synthetic oil at another shop... needed a p-lace to dump the old.... unfortunately not possible either place... worried about EPA sting ops, supposdely... so I glumly pulled behind on of many boarded-up hulks down the road and, looking boithe ways, cracked my drain plug and let the old hoit oil piss into the scrubby, pebbled sand and weeds. It disappeared from view within moments... I rapped the fiuller bolt back in and using a newspaper funnel drained 3.5 liters back in as fast as possible. Hot... I was sweating profusely.. I hated to do that, but no one wanted to offer me a drainp-pan and dump can... and the place I left it off was certainbly no prisitine parkland.. just hate to do that,. last time was in the desert parking lot by Santa Fe Downs for the Dead in '83.<br />
<br />
By Talahassee it started getting dark... I had to decide where to stop... looked at my map and decided to head southwards .. even in the direction of Sarasota, where my MIA buddy lives (supposedly)... hoping somehow that he might wake up out of his boozie revery long enough to check his phone messages; this wasn't to be the case and I sadly had to shallow-up my Southern Dip and plan on doing a Tampa-Key West run someday in the future.<br />
<br />
In the meantime I stopped in a little rest area of sorts off the small state highway I was then running on... stopped at a little lake next to a car with a young couple who began telling me about all the alligatlors in such water and how they put up a lot of fencework to keep them at bay. I was peering at my map when a "Florida Law Enforcement" SUV suddenly pulled up behind me and a big cop dressed in paramilitairy garb lumbered out, peers at me suspiciously through black mirrors. It was then that I noticed a small bag of garbage broken open not far from my bike. The cops and I both looked hard at it at the same moment, and it had obviouysly been rained on earlier in the day. <br />
"HA YA DOOO'N," he drawls in an intimidating way., studying me closely. Marine Corps, all the way, fully armed with the latest Tactical Web Gear and big black .45 automatic.<br />
"Fine. Sir".<br />
Looks around. "Y'all know that this's a state park. We generally don' encourage people to come in here... I can see yer outta state. There's a fee for getting in here, ya know..."<br />
No one had been at the tiny booth when I rode in, and no "fee" signs had been evident.<br />
"How much IS the Fee, Officer?" My years in Asia had taught me well.<br />
He hesitated for a moment and studied me , then glanced quizzically at my custom "AMA1" New York plate, emblem and all.<br />
"Well; we don' <em>always</em> need to charge.. I suppose..."<br />
The clever guy next to me speaks up and says Thanks, we'll check the rules carefully on the way out... we're all just keaving." Big Cop harumphed and sauntered back to his shiney truck.<br />
Just before dark I crossed the Swannee River... <em>real </em>Dixieland now... cars with giant Rebel flags painted in their dusty hoods.... m,any many Jesus signs... towns where there are more churches than businesses. Sort of scary... lots of heavy Confederate sentiment there.. VERY Right and God-Fearing.<br />
But despite all the ominous trappings people I met were hugely warm and easy to talk to... (though often difficult to understand). I suppose if I had been black or Asian it miught well have gone the other way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuItw5C0fH5okBQBHzm0pBQvvqI6Vpz5HkAWP0FnWiX_1NJGwbhAuoPz-qZ1OhjOQfdg4XK9I8ejL36z6-AZHTgUiv_fX0_nOK4-2qwXaKKf7qoDaMPxu4bhd__O30svMd4RMr5medyY/s1600/Gulf+Coast+092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuItw5C0fH5okBQBHzm0pBQvvqI6Vpz5HkAWP0FnWiX_1NJGwbhAuoPz-qZ1OhjOQfdg4XK9I8ejL36z6-AZHTgUiv_fX0_nOK4-2qwXaKKf7qoDaMPxu4bhd__O30svMd4RMr5medyY/s320/Gulf+Coast+092.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Earlier in the day I'd been on the state road and I rolled 70 mph past an old feller lounging comfortably in the shade and the back of a laoded pickup truck. As I buzzed past he smiled appreciatively and gave me a cool, well-timed thumbs up. A hamdmade sign nearby proclaimed, "TATERS". z<br />
I rode past... continued snother mile or so down the road... said WHY NOT... wheeled around and headed back... pulled up in front of the truck and peeled off my helmet and earplugs. <br />
HA YA DOOO'N, I said with a warm smile. "I'm just a tourist riding past on a cross country trip... and I just needed to stop back and say howdy."<br />
That old boy's face lit right up. Sticks his had out purposefully. "Name's Bobby.... Bobby Fletcher,' says with a fine grin.<br />
"Greg Webb! I'm actually from New York... doing 10.000 miles.."<br />
Bobby was quite pleased and I think we gave each other a gift that few moments of experienceing someone <em>very </em>far outside of our respective Boxes. We talked a little about my trip... about this part of Florida... about potato sales. Shook the old boy's hand firmly and we gave each other a God Bless and Vaya Con Dios.. and I motored off feeling that I'd acually accomplished something... somehow. A kindly fellow.. no signs of susicion or concern. Warm and welcoiming without reserve.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9KjPD0ogU7F6mp4-fDQyueZaAfMumpaq9wPC22zdmxde5RTOPNqfYdNjs1ytbtkLArTCLjGLUmsX63caX03zT4vTrGwFV6ojlJlPu6DzSE-DjWhhpQyZ22j_O6o7WPRRAf_U7gLjuZQ/s1600/Gulf+Coast+093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9KjPD0ogU7F6mp4-fDQyueZaAfMumpaq9wPC22zdmxde5RTOPNqfYdNjs1ytbtkLArTCLjGLUmsX63caX03zT4vTrGwFV6ojlJlPu6DzSE-DjWhhpQyZ22j_O6o7WPRRAf_U7gLjuZQ/s320/Gulf+Coast+093.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Into the night and ligthning on the horizon as I turned onto oute 27 heading south to Perry. Long, straight runs through the moonlit Dixie pines... bright full moon lighting my way down the beautifully-paved road.. a very smooth, pretty run, except for no one else on the road and a lot of deer-roadkill. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AIqv7bZIKwLWxeBgJs8lqPL6qquxpqmG7teYrDf6EB1C27H2x7SI3dw4Hjigq9VkRKBYB6CEi9EjTBlyq5NsfB0fYqA8lTuGl4DYmPMwat6eebD8xheutOeXGuyGiDowQg0fjO4fEWw/s1600/Gulf+Coast+094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AIqv7bZIKwLWxeBgJs8lqPL6qquxpqmG7teYrDf6EB1C27H2x7SI3dw4Hjigq9VkRKBYB6CEi9EjTBlyq5NsfB0fYqA8lTuGl4DYmPMwat6eebD8xheutOeXGuyGiDowQg0fjO4fEWw/s320/Gulf+Coast+094.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Down through little crossroad towns full of various flavor of Baptists and Pentecostal, etc. churches, now dark. Finally reached Perry.. a tiny town with a handleful of (thankfully) cheap motels and a few eating places, some local some corporate. <br />
Checked into a fine little lodge called the Gandy Motor Inn and sure enough, a nice Hindu innkeeper at the desk, and The Gandy was one of the more comfortable dumps I've excpereinced so far. <br />
<br />
Unlaoded my gear and headed back up the road for a tiny dew-drop inn that I'd seen. Now this place was <em>very </em>sketchy... a real tin-roofed, Schlitz-signed good-ol boy joint called <em>the Palmetto Bucket Lounge</em>. Only pickup trucks out front. ... well used ones. Went in and sat at the back corner of the bar; ordered a Budweiser.. big guy next to me about 6'3 and big boned gives me a big grin and a heavy drawl.<br />
<br />
"You LIKE this stuff?" he asks me over the din of some cheap metal band playing on a small stage to a crowd of fifty.<br />
"Well," I mumble, trying to mask any traces of Yankee accent, "I'm sort of middlin' on it", Diplomacy, at all times.<br />
'Well, I don' lak it, " he says shaking his head. the he cheers up again. <br />
"Hey.. knoiw what?" he asks with a grin, "I'v been thrown in jail in this town more times than <em>anyone else </em>for <em>fighting. </em>Yep.. jus spent three months in County last time!"<br />
I chuckled softly. "Well, ain't that quite sumpthin'" I offered with a cautious smile.<br />
The situation became m,ore tense when two black men came in, one with (gasp) <em>dreadlocks, </em>and Roundhouse Richie next to me starts to pay all kind of attention.<br />
"Now hwo's going to hire <em>that?" </em>he quizzes me. "I mean, come on.... really! And that basatrd is taking my TAX money!''<br />
Ahh, boy...I started looking for my escape route... but I figured I should give iot at least the Ol College Try..<br />
"Oh I dunno," I says sheepishly, " he may be working for a store or a music shop something, err.."<br />
Pugsly wasn;t buying, and peered at me intensely for a moment. I fidgeted.<br />
"Naw," ha drawls, leaning back. "That boy just taking my TAX money, I'll tell ya?<br />
When he looked the other way I dropped a dollar under my bottle and slipped out the door, half looking over my shoulder as I fired up the bike. On the way back to the Gandy I acttually did go sand dig up a secondary bar deep in the middle of the local area away from the highway. That place was even more scary, and ough no one there gave me any noticeidn;t like the Vibe.... <em>very </em>local. <br />
<br />
Returning to the motel (<em>extremely</em> slowly and carefully) I noticed that the entire town smelled strongly of... <em>wet diaper.</em> Permeated everythiung.. even the lovely Gandy Arms. Right all the way to the outside of town the next day. Swamp Gas, I suppose..<br />
<br />
NEXT MORNING SHOTS<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqw_B-Tu6a3kkampE3v4EOp1-CHylbHVnLL2ImPVXxNdBBCQ-FTH7B72k8ItkJ3WMl6w3RA8m7hn0ybPdJ3VF1-7czsZ0U2AcbAmH4aPf1uxCnjn_BO_9NcdP6QuwJqeYRqvASNTWYCo/s1600/Florida+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqw_B-Tu6a3kkampE3v4EOp1-CHylbHVnLL2ImPVXxNdBBCQ-FTH7B72k8ItkJ3WMl6w3RA8m7hn0ybPdJ3VF1-7czsZ0U2AcbAmH4aPf1uxCnjn_BO_9NcdP6QuwJqeYRqvASNTWYCo/s320/Florida+007.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE PALMETTO BUCKET LOUNGE IN LIGHT IF DAY</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzDEgI30lmU4Hfg6QXxlHfpGpOPPF_L3LJ7-_30zBIOHvdgB3ve2ZAfVLMixCHGTfjo9ibw6KKAz-hC1AQs6t4msQj9TFmWYQZYEb5UpZNv5P0CMs9zYCSocK-Y2UkWuZyumwA7GnTos/s1600/Florida+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzDEgI30lmU4Hfg6QXxlHfpGpOPPF_L3LJ7-_30zBIOHvdgB3ve2ZAfVLMixCHGTfjo9ibw6KKAz-hC1AQs6t4msQj9TFmWYQZYEb5UpZNv5P0CMs9zYCSocK-Y2UkWuZyumwA7GnTos/s320/Florida+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh307Blz4G8Hmzc6pvE3Az5YWrUdvJ33hkNFoXXGZGNJdtuHbOFyUAjsG51tiqaz6jzwU57C7Effjqi68A1_mueGgR7lhpW87Nxc-KrAOqA3tYyBxuqu_uzRZzsRPcbAwlN8tP8UZiJ_is/s1600/Florida+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh307Blz4G8Hmzc6pvE3Az5YWrUdvJ33hkNFoXXGZGNJdtuHbOFyUAjsG51tiqaz6jzwU57C7Effjqi68A1_mueGgR7lhpW87Nxc-KrAOqA3tYyBxuqu_uzRZzsRPcbAwlN8tP8UZiJ_is/s320/Florida+003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-19026644873195291512010-09-28T17:38:00.000-07:002010-09-28T17:38:29.190-07:00I'M NOT SURE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIXBh9Wb0cdxuX5-8oZFptctPR7qPa7sCgeWJJwTji9nB8tFYCoZXl1Urs8vxomYTFtw6YzMTpqMy2YskPYp3gzjzWO8QlK_IxYygtu-C9hjVWFGTkXgpcsXe2uCVk7FOTWST0jGf7S0/s1600/Texas+2+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIXBh9Wb0cdxuX5-8oZFptctPR7qPa7sCgeWJJwTji9nB8tFYCoZXl1Urs8vxomYTFtw6YzMTpqMy2YskPYp3gzjzWO8QlK_IxYygtu-C9hjVWFGTkXgpcsXe2uCVk7FOTWST0jGf7S0/s320/Texas+2+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Let's call this one GULFPORT MISSISSIPPI.<br />
I'm not actually there of course, and I'm actually a little foggy about Loisiana/Mississippi/Alabama... but I'm trying to give this out in bite-sized pieces for you of the ADD Nation.<br />
<br />
Side note: I wrote a section for almost two hours in a restaurant.. had it done... WIFI connection blinked at the wrong moment and lost it all. No worries, it were crap anyway. Now I'm at a plush marina in a yet-to-be-disclosed location with a Strong Connection.<br />
Onwards Through the Fog.<br />
<br />
First, here's some photos of the Gulf Coast region.. make it easy on all of us...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9WN79nzkMZyrpBcoQi1WVIglBO02Eud5k5jomRMyeoah4xyKkxDpENDuhSka8eRwF1z5htFr4bEH1Fp8CWk6q7rDuwL-pwFceQDME-JrE06JyYgsjmHepF21RJTqwBgtX9EplZFi_E8/s1600/Texas+2+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9WN79nzkMZyrpBcoQi1WVIglBO02Eud5k5jomRMyeoah4xyKkxDpENDuhSka8eRwF1z5htFr4bEH1Fp8CWk6q7rDuwL-pwFceQDME-JrE06JyYgsjmHepF21RJTqwBgtX9EplZFi_E8/s320/Texas+2+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRDPrXhUZUg3SONh4wGhHVPfnzhbd5BfVgJIcevz56rMh-WYHGvadxPG_HA9DCJyk0DO4vCsv7vY2rycZWbbR9mc3PXlod-d_rw-B-wFMkHmZQlMG_ujToA1d6VskYuqzLBMzMqLHnTs/s1600/Texas+2+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRDPrXhUZUg3SONh4wGhHVPfnzhbd5BfVgJIcevz56rMh-WYHGvadxPG_HA9DCJyk0DO4vCsv7vY2rycZWbbR9mc3PXlod-d_rw-B-wFMkHmZQlMG_ujToA1d6VskYuqzLBMzMqLHnTs/s320/Texas+2+015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihZ8Khpf-DaJtlxFvTbbObe8zAP7X4sQGqT55jrAAw94vonW5l_uhwPiG9Y7nnAsfhPEFUCF4zOtUoqCzkMZRaXl6v2m4t_JXs4QHjyNi2w66gXLXPOYKuxVu_iRANQewJnV1IsvWipE/s1600/Texas+2+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihZ8Khpf-DaJtlxFvTbbObe8zAP7X4sQGqT55jrAAw94vonW5l_uhwPiG9Y7nnAsfhPEFUCF4zOtUoqCzkMZRaXl6v2m4t_JXs4QHjyNi2w66gXLXPOYKuxVu_iRANQewJnV1IsvWipE/s320/Texas+2+020.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THAT'S LOUISIANA, IF YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR GLASSES <br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Two or three nights were almost exactly the same... a Motel 6, a dew-drop inn for evening cocktails, and a <strong>Waffle House</strong> for breakfast. On the Screed I just lost, I went on a tirade agaiust how Corpoorate America has pushed-out any kind of real local culture in many places, especially down South, and how the Interstate Crossroads are simply cookie-cutter copies of each other: Arby's, McDonalds, Super 8 Motel, Hampton Inn, Chili's, Applebees, and of course, Waffen SS House.<br />
<br />
Left Baton Rouge after waffles and headed north into the Mississippi Delta, opting out of a full-tilt New Orleans mission after a Hooters waitress and an overall-wearing mechanic named Wink advised me at separate times that Borboun Street might just might be a little too sketchy for a guy riding a motorcycle in. <br />
"As long as you stay out of the Ninth Ward," admonished Wink. He peered at me ruefully. "You're not goiung to the <em>Ninth </em>Ward, 'er ya?"<br />
Well, if I'd had any idea about going to the Ninth Ward before, wherever that was, I sure dismissed it quickly. North to the Blues Country.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34eYX4okPeUTFIr7QD01Cxb3o-CSzermHuKuti35cNNZH9TJppsUen1e3BcZtZz92fOADa3ZU5JrPI0IEfVb3ClffiPlo3JFBf2c3NcrSkoM22DPjTBjBqFCvoKKXPeCnopAsCRf4hGg/s1600/Texas+2+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34eYX4okPeUTFIr7QD01Cxb3o-CSzermHuKuti35cNNZH9TJppsUen1e3BcZtZz92fOADa3ZU5JrPI0IEfVb3ClffiPlo3JFBf2c3NcrSkoM22DPjTBjBqFCvoKKXPeCnopAsCRf4hGg/s320/Texas+2+051.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4jB1S24e-uyc2NAxH-vfPRgovAlu_WeRz2CDzPuxKo4oV4exS9WcPzuG5fw0p4K1m-ZbCNGwqwiD8qAZTHHc2xE8Om-vw0j_XEOwuoYcr9HhJbTuuf4oqFK54cJkgFRrFK-JtyZAN1w/s1600/Texas+2+056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4jB1S24e-uyc2NAxH-vfPRgovAlu_WeRz2CDzPuxKo4oV4exS9WcPzuG5fw0p4K1m-ZbCNGwqwiD8qAZTHHc2xE8Om-vw0j_XEOwuoYcr9HhJbTuuf4oqFK54cJkgFRrFK-JtyZAN1w/s320/Texas+2+056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The Delta, from the few hours that I rode aound it, was <em>not </em>the table-flat cotton-fields that I'd pictured Robert Johnson trading his crossroads soul on; it was more rolling-hilly and wooded. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2htjcT_rr5gYYROeIWDZ1M2ZrCO9Tx3d7oCGq5y5mHW1sLv_3YFX5XP-bEkktt0AdYqMw6H3PdvS7e9OruWejZyCaW4j7jzKJHcWNZ31sy0qmmaSYpf8RRLY_CNSSiTMoxyKMsW31XQ/s1600/Texas+2+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2htjcT_rr5gYYROeIWDZ1M2ZrCO9Tx3d7oCGq5y5mHW1sLv_3YFX5XP-bEkktt0AdYqMw6H3PdvS7e9OruWejZyCaW4j7jzKJHcWNZ31sy0qmmaSYpf8RRLY_CNSSiTMoxyKMsW31XQ/s320/Texas+2+053.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"... PUT SOME BLEACHER'S OUT IN THE SUN..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So I run it up through the western edge of Ol' Miss towards Natchez... ended up being a few hour ride. The countryside was pretty but not spectacular... skies clear and blue with cotton-white.<br />
<br />
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</div>Stopped in for gas in a tiny Exxon station crossroads and some large Gangsta came in with chrome spinners on his Lexus and large shiney chains. He was busy yelling at some woman he apparently knew... but the both of them had such heavy Southern accents that I couldn't iunderstand almost anything. "YO, WAS' DA TUMBLE-ONFREE TAKIN' SAS-BRING YAM SO FUGGIN FROOSA STOO"<br />
They peeled off in separate directions and the man was shaking his head, but he had a secret smile as he turned awa and climbed in. The stuff you see going past... the little details that almost can't be communicated with any perspective.. I'm chock-a-block.<br />
Natchez... not much of a town... a mix between Remote-Poor and CVS America. Crumbling pine shacks next to Bank of America. I fell for a sales-pitch at a Suzuki shop from some young guy swore by this certain type of chain-lube that I bought and susequently regretted, (anything without that sticky, black Moly in it is simply useless). I heard these <em>heavy </em>accents around me and I really wanted to mix it up somehow... find out who these people kind of were ..but as I've mentioned, Time and Money are extremely limted on this little expedition, and you have to save-up for places like Yellowstone.. Oregon... San Fran... Navajo Nations. I made small-talk in the convenient stores and gas-pumps acorss the country wherever I could. My Conclusion is that people almost everywhere... but increasingly-so outside the cities, are kind, well-intentioned and friendly, if perhaps a little skittish when confronted with people that are somehow outside their Envelopes. PS.... a full one-third of all Americans live in some sort of mobile-home/trailer dwelling.<br />
I don't know that for a fact, but it sure seems about true from what I've seen.<br />
Onward.<br />
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Pointed her East over past McComb MS and then south for a couple of hours baqck to an intersection with I-10... always I-10. Walking The Plank. But this time I looked at my map and realized that I-10 actually runs directly through the center of the Big Easy... and although it was getting a biut late, I decided that I at least deserved to see the city skyline. The road goes across a 23-mile long casueway bridge that spans Lake Pontchitrain... interestingly for me, I lived next to a 24-mile bridge in China over the Hangzhou Bay. Anyway I began to see the sunlight glinting off the downtown sky-scrapers... pick-up trucks covered with Saints artwork... quickly found myslef immersed in urban traffic flows... saw signs for the Superdome. I flashed through the city on elevated 10, buit I stared deeply into the neighborhoods as best as I could. .chrome high-rise office buildings mixed in with.. peeling wooden houses, painted in bright-but-faded colors...ratty palm trees punctuating here and there...shades of... <em>Panana...Caribbean...Tropical! </em>Ancient French port city...<em>Haiti..</em><br />
On the eastern edge of the city I saw what was probably the infamous Ninth Ward... a long district below the elevated roadway where many seemingly modern commercial buildings were abandoned; some showed signs of water damage... in many places thick layers of sand still were visible across the parking lots. The flip-side of that coin was that many other businesses, especially around the cross-streets, seemd to be well-lit and fully functioning. Sort of an odd excersize of Apocalypticaly Progress Capitalism. What do I know... I drove through it all in twenty minutes. <br />
Here's a few shots..<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONgAINy0yfb-HWqMUkis7vK2kg37Pc5xswjz5pxlDz35a0_2Sc0P7a__nhQFA5aIS44vzN-8uuhO0CCr8w6NhaNeW8zjDFfghfou30vzOneIv3aBnciTzss2YM_dWT7seeVmYI7Z443w/s1600/Texas+2+114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONgAINy0yfb-HWqMUkis7vK2kg37Pc5xswjz5pxlDz35a0_2Sc0P7a__nhQFA5aIS44vzN-8uuhO0CCr8w6NhaNeW8zjDFfghfou30vzOneIv3aBnciTzss2YM_dWT7seeVmYI7Z443w/s320/Texas+2+114.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Took it east to into Gulfport MS where I completed the Motel 6 Drill and fquickly ound myself in a flat-roofed, low-slung "lounge".. drinking with rednecks who I heard mention the words "Longhair" and "haircut" over the screaming Hank Williams karaoke speakersgwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-6338028839136382422010-09-24T20:45:00.000-07:002010-09-24T20:53:31.624-07:00BACK-TRACKHere are photos from New Mexico that I didn't get in before. I'll provide some captions... I expect that most of you find it easier just to look at pictures... eh?<br />
[this is going to take forever to load this list....]<br />
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Oh shit.... the thing loaded my photos in the wrong order... okay, ADAPT:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8N-ZDUnvbUhvHYvBoDkVLax9omCoJGa4oM14LnfxyLBn7vyEYWjjmftYEd96vSmJAr7WhtXpyjpY8zDPFKDa5UaC81rCKycPsWZFSPgq__OUYdl2kNUYsVVltLwieRnIVxZkLjR496o8/s1600/NM+2+058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8N-ZDUnvbUhvHYvBoDkVLax9omCoJGa4oM14LnfxyLBn7vyEYWjjmftYEd96vSmJAr7WhtXpyjpY8zDPFKDa5UaC81rCKycPsWZFSPgq__OUYdl2kNUYsVVltLwieRnIVxZkLjR496o8/s320/NM+2+058.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SIGN NEAR LINCOLN NEW MEXICO DESCRIBING THE INFAMOUS LINCOLN COUNTY LAND WARS OF 1880 INCLUDING ONE OF THE MAIN HENCHMAN, BILLY THE KID</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FREEMASON BEAR AT CHEESEY MOTEL</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CHEESEY MOTEL, GRANTS, NM. WORST PLACE I'VE STAYED YET. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GLO JOE AND BEAR, TWO REAL-DEAL BIKERS</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALBEQUERQUE AHEAD</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MODERN GHOST TOWN CENTRAL NEW MEXICO</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HIGH PLAINS DRIFTER</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwDlQI4t38d55_1AQi0ZhiyqPTCfBqRtSidf3VGGL2KGayJBsBQfGersjLmd6wwf_tzNxIAyIgJL6whC2XTOS7drecn2I5rDMmKl2jR-ue5VHqwr1e3E-KLSGSQw7zdBpcC6v0As5gOU/s1600/NM+2+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwDlQI4t38d55_1AQi0ZhiyqPTCfBqRtSidf3VGGL2KGayJBsBQfGersjLmd6wwf_tzNxIAyIgJL6whC2XTOS7drecn2I5rDMmKl2jR-ue5VHqwr1e3E-KLSGSQw7zdBpcC6v0As5gOU/s320/NM+2+040.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE ETERNAL ROAD</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhrGXMA9ON8o_qkP17BQnWbu1fDpdaU_pZOBYv8S7jbLCDmRYjLdf2i1XeX-VXEVlczZDU4oTvjTkXjg6AMSsyCxht9aB6NfpfwT3StzEh1a45dwH3RlsolSMIjK-eMqP3sqIyIMbwVc/s1600/NM+2+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhrGXMA9ON8o_qkP17BQnWbu1fDpdaU_pZOBYv8S7jbLCDmRYjLdf2i1XeX-VXEVlczZDU4oTvjTkXjg6AMSsyCxht9aB6NfpfwT3StzEh1a45dwH3RlsolSMIjK-eMqP3sqIyIMbwVc/s320/NM+2+042.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CLASSIC WESTERN CROSSROADS</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5oMC9mp9q3WqvNiP8vME6QBasgBclfDNaqLdKez9bE87uA_9hmrPfMcKYIALwiFj3rw_BVGLy8Bmb323bjWcA7geFgzdO0UjcZnTFrIaC_IcB1qPJF5Ch2pm8t9J6NMiWIPd12Gd54o/s1600/NM+2+050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5oMC9mp9q3WqvNiP8vME6QBasgBclfDNaqLdKez9bE87uA_9hmrPfMcKYIALwiFj3rw_BVGLy8Bmb323bjWcA7geFgzdO0UjcZnTFrIaC_IcB1qPJF5Ch2pm8t9J6NMiWIPd12Gd54o/s320/NM+2+050.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SLApsKRvlH3zYMIR_Ac05M9PeKFJED_jyxb5FyRT5EWOYglR9WTqzgtab_Y5cQsuXNkOfOa5MMNtEyvT3O_oTEHp_6ktv7hlslxTjmvZwwa8DhtJQAffZ77lwjoJBGzyZ78r8obG14A/s1600/NM+2+056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SLApsKRvlH3zYMIR_Ac05M9PeKFJED_jyxb5FyRT5EWOYglR9WTqzgtab_Y5cQsuXNkOfOa5MMNtEyvT3O_oTEHp_6ktv7hlslxTjmvZwwa8DhtJQAffZ77lwjoJBGzyZ78r8obG14A/s320/NM+2+056.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MORE ON THE LINCOLN COUNTY LAND WARS. IF YOU CAN'T READ IT, THEN JUST WICKEPEDIA IT.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippQPg8iHqliA2JQC8ukJXz802GE5ww-AUAxyPe1xYV9ujPXDf1WjjW1XrZqzW39sBtuLAsd_oo5wes9Y8EuqP3FOZG4bqk6Gy5gyH_DdGMIiO_Ev3fmEtUH6fx13lIWB5hJn_aKxngC8/s1600/NM+2+111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippQPg8iHqliA2JQC8ukJXz802GE5ww-AUAxyPe1xYV9ujPXDf1WjjW1XrZqzW39sBtuLAsd_oo5wes9Y8EuqP3FOZG4bqk6Gy5gyH_DdGMIiO_Ev3fmEtUH6fx13lIWB5hJn_aKxngC8/s320/NM+2+111.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SUNSET BEFORE EL PASO</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYmrRlwLUMvHGytJ1UCqdp-5guGZsph8eqdAuDGPeTU9ZpKDnr91NgQeJbzXnMLsl0mHs9RDh1g5ZJSWIry33vOK5dpT8RoE8lVTf9vkv5lvVyP-KOI6xJgeCrmCzumfZDuTvlgr6Lr0/s1600/NM+2+060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYmrRlwLUMvHGytJ1UCqdp-5guGZsph8eqdAuDGPeTU9ZpKDnr91NgQeJbzXnMLsl0mHs9RDh1g5ZJSWIry33vOK5dpT8RoE8lVTf9vkv5lvVyP-KOI6xJgeCrmCzumfZDuTvlgr6Lr0/s320/NM+2+060.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BILLY THE KID MURDERED TWO DEPUTIES AND ESCAPED FROM HERE. PSYCHOPATHIC FREAK.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1ATnwmtoT4HR8WLX0fWAARy_Kd69o_OxnXKEjwGPo_75dqwHJQfor8xn9mJYa3vRLjT8E2fBfhe4JEIYQ6zExegGxi5AliEdYzxNb06cIV2SklWJgpgH6PRzxpwboHIBZ_Z5LMEb3gM/s1600/NM+2+066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1ATnwmtoT4HR8WLX0fWAARy_Kd69o_OxnXKEjwGPo_75dqwHJQfor8xn9mJYa3vRLjT8E2fBfhe4JEIYQ6zExegGxi5AliEdYzxNb06cIV2SklWJgpgH6PRzxpwboHIBZ_Z5LMEb3gM/s320/NM+2+066.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ROAD SIGN BY HIGHWAY. NOTE MODERN BULLET HOLES</td></tr>
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</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuz2UWsd1wQWjJeS9TOgy7VCHKJbds97e_k_GEyAbCZQQ5Hh2vBTnyA0byyVr7yizDZU-sydW4uih8-GtbhCEZ3qRYHpc6IM_drQFk5jgm5OIzHZndHlJ8KxHrE8bNRoTavfphP1SF68/s1600/NM+2+070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuz2UWsd1wQWjJeS9TOgy7VCHKJbds97e_k_GEyAbCZQQ5Hh2vBTnyA0byyVr7yizDZU-sydW4uih8-GtbhCEZ3qRYHpc6IM_drQFk5jgm5OIzHZndHlJ8KxHrE8bNRoTavfphP1SF68/s320/NM+2+070.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MESCALERO APACHE NATION. GORGEOUS LAND</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPm3-fWNsIughL7JfRZkB7-kWxbKZNRne0qnOrxNEwZ6W_QLUvPD2NE7vnk4dTP1iFq4cCghdjXr2F6tUyuoaW8FgX0prMRXTUs0NKfnqvkTCfdAw3DgurCl8OEhmopFVGoSR5-xw82s/s1600/NM+2+093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPm3-fWNsIughL7JfRZkB7-kWxbKZNRne0qnOrxNEwZ6W_QLUvPD2NE7vnk4dTP1iFq4cCghdjXr2F6tUyuoaW8FgX0prMRXTUs0NKfnqvkTCfdAw3DgurCl8OEhmopFVGoSR5-xw82s/s320/NM+2+093.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TRINITY NUKE SIGHT, ALMAGORDO</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgcWifPxwDlAfMoZE-MkITSZteESSPZhycfOYk6_B6CCBZv3_edkl64yiWvtnfolvIO6UOMTf5wqGL_G_JFGHJQS_H9F3yyeeJ1ux3yeVvs4Y7FOn-QkA04rTpVNHy7AuLXnvWdHNht4/s1600/NM+2+097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgcWifPxwDlAfMoZE-MkITSZteESSPZhycfOYk6_B6CCBZv3_edkl64yiWvtnfolvIO6UOMTf5wqGL_G_JFGHJQS_H9F3yyeeJ1ux3yeVvs4Y7FOn-QkA04rTpVNHy7AuLXnvWdHNht4/s320/NM+2+097.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MORE ETERNAL ROAD</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-BOJeRXHUD-B1LAiHxjr1vexO9x5sQdvM0BRNLoiG6PxAuyr2kGhluMOpjjbpivN_XtEgglfbj6MQTClwEihizyrrSKVyd3TBMP353_FLe4rg1Rwhd4pFrgyn7GlyhZTk3buLmFeCAc/s1600/NM+2+102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-BOJeRXHUD-B1LAiHxjr1vexO9x5sQdvM0BRNLoiG6PxAuyr2kGhluMOpjjbpivN_XtEgglfbj6MQTClwEihizyrrSKVyd3TBMP353_FLe4rg1Rwhd4pFrgyn7GlyhZTk3buLmFeCAc/s320/NM+2+102.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9wBhcHOIRXIl6wTDk0hqNYxkln41QFiKhEFmwtx4ndPd1lUFt0HaCZf2dk53Kv1SEYb7fmQEJ2CPE0hyuXxkooxgdr6Bpl4mwcXNXDO6BgeNh1VowmmjBVgnjndZZ_alEFU-k5CUP5c/s1600/NM+2+106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9wBhcHOIRXIl6wTDk0hqNYxkln41QFiKhEFmwtx4ndPd1lUFt0HaCZf2dk53Kv1SEYb7fmQEJ2CPE0hyuXxkooxgdr6Bpl4mwcXNXDO6BgeNh1VowmmjBVgnjndZZ_alEFU-k5CUP5c/s320/NM+2+106.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsSGux1CHERhtzzHS76RlL_xHzD3CKPlaUHQV9vswvasRbcNhCEbw9PYQJkxQ5S-fL2Mk9P3B-oaDAw_5A2fr8kuUN0_3AD6ckAcBAqm9ww4RGVneRWkgJYTrnk1n3EMhQRgmO1LwdQk/s1600/NM+2+057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsSGux1CHERhtzzHS76RlL_xHzD3CKPlaUHQV9vswvasRbcNhCEbw9PYQJkxQ5S-fL2Mk9P3B-oaDAw_5A2fr8kuUN0_3AD6ckAcBAqm9ww4RGVneRWkgJYTrnk1n3EMhQRgmO1LwdQk/s320/NM+2+057.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MORE BILLY THE KID SHIT. MURDERING ASSHOLE.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-48843033813928069332010-09-23T21:56:00.000-07:002010-09-23T21:56:29.977-07:00BATON ROUGE, LOOO-SIANADamn hard ride from Austin. <br />
I walked out of my Motel 6 and it was suddenly HOT. Humid Hot. I'd been in this place for two nights, trying to get my shtuff together and get some rest. <br />
Some guy from the bike shop up on Rt. 35 had suggested I make it past 6th Street in the capitol district... as that was where the Action was. After installing anew air filter and new Arai faceshield, I motored up the "freeway" to the capitol district and headed in. The bike had been experiencing some popping and spitting off idle, which I recognized as dirt in the (a) carburetor pilot jet(s). I planned to take them all apoart and clean them out before leaving Austin.<br />
The downtown 6th Street had about twenty bars.. most of them dark, cavernous rooms with square, Texican facades; ancient bricks and moldy rafters poking through un-apologetically. Obviously well used, these places had seen um-told number of bands over the years.. and Austin(ians?) are very proud that their city is supposedly THE Live Music Capitol of the World. Okay, well... maybe. <br />
I roamed through half a dozen joints.. having a Lone Star beer here and a pulled-pork BBQ sandwich there. I saw three or four acts, as it was late Happy Hour / Early Evening... and the air was just beginning to humm as I left to go back to my hotel. Don;t want to take too many chances drinking in these lower states.<br />
<br />
So in morning left my Motel... the scariest one yet for worrying about my motorcycle. Everyone I spoke to recommended that I keep close tabs on my Stuff.. as Austin (and southern Texas) are real hotbeds of gang-land cultures. <br />
I opted to pour in half a bottle of Tecktron fuel-system cleaner, and see what happened prior to doing a complete 4-carb overhaul. Good move; it eventually cleaned things out.<br />
Anyway, I headed out on I-35 for Louisiana and went the wrong way for half an hour. Once turned around, I kept running in and out of lines of heavy showers... so I would be wearing my full plastic suit for a while in the very hot sun... finally get tired of that and stop to pack it away, only to pull it back out and go through the donning process onbce again as rain started falling. Over and over. Riding in the rain on a motorcycle is a Requirement on a long trip, and if you have good rain gear it makes it a lot less miserable... but when you are in and out of showers all day it wears you out.<br />
<br />
Small Texas towns .... nothing special to report... <br />
[TO BE CONTINUED WITH PHOTOS.... I'm too bushed foir anymore tonight...]gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-60809362105427206942010-09-21T21:59:00.000-07:002010-09-21T22:06:38.852-07:00AUSTIN TEXASNear the downtown of Austin, (the capitol of Big 'Ol Texas, for you 8th-Grade flunkouts). Staying at a Motel 6... my apparent Motel D' Choice on this little excursion. <br />
Backing it up....<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSo_C8zD60vyIBjRASX4m82H5H0RPQ_hoclUvD6uD6GkofG-VOo4EZjDAcaoPTCDDtbN2LAQwrtpQ3VkpKL5d-3JCHaTeurM_cH_NxVNr-O_eYPwCpUaFu5mOezNvEzkDuwhaW-_NDXtI/s1600/Texas+1+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSo_C8zD60vyIBjRASX4m82H5H0RPQ_hoclUvD6uD6GkofG-VOo4EZjDAcaoPTCDDtbN2LAQwrtpQ3VkpKL5d-3JCHaTeurM_cH_NxVNr-O_eYPwCpUaFu5mOezNvEzkDuwhaW-_NDXtI/s320/Texas+1+001.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ANTOHER FINE HINDU-AMERICAN INN IN SIERRA BLANCA, TEXAS, $45 YANKEE GREENBACKS</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I left Sierra Blanca mid morning.. uh.. yesterday. Yup. Got onto ornery Interstate Route 10, heading across the bottom of the state... and turned on the gas. Lots of miles to cover in Te.xas... as far as I'm concerned, West Texas has <em>nothing</em>... just barren, straight, and endless. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_bW_sFYHvXQw7eSZn-Ke3zXXFaVXEQAJK_wT3GrRWEjksrUh1ukwfNk_Vh1z_cL6C2mSQhtkashEDY66gKq2UBjVwzPsooELk_lddLNYfdel2Xz6u3y84GAkX_Jp7SpUn363Z3BFBAQ/s1600/Texas+1+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_bW_sFYHvXQw7eSZn-Ke3zXXFaVXEQAJK_wT3GrRWEjksrUh1ukwfNk_Vh1z_cL6C2mSQhtkashEDY66gKq2UBjVwzPsooELk_lddLNYfdel2Xz6u3y84GAkX_Jp7SpUn363Z3BFBAQ/s320/Texas+1+012.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOUNTAINS ARE IN MEXICO</td></tr>
</tbody></table>No one gives a rat's ass how fast you go; drive Indy 500 speeds for all they seem to care. I saw <em>one, </em>count 'em.. <em>one</em> police vehicle going the other way during the entire drive over to Austin, 550 miles. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD2Ju7QBB1pnCL0l3R47zTCRSpMBHU1387-8kITxXQgEfAlhhxuMgYeaHpvmqnpDmJB_TwEMIIUb4F0NJ7HzdNGRvIEjnT6wUXZKAc2aYxaNmQhGJTKuC6rd-RhgaMTrHYVaElo8C62w/s1600/Texas+1+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD2Ju7QBB1pnCL0l3R47zTCRSpMBHU1387-8kITxXQgEfAlhhxuMgYeaHpvmqnpDmJB_TwEMIIUb4F0NJ7HzdNGRvIEjnT6wUXZKAc2aYxaNmQhGJTKuC6rd-RhgaMTrHYVaElo8C62w/s320/Texas+1+013.jpg" /></a></div>Not a whole lot to report about that. The ride was numbing and utterly tedious, with little except tumble-weed- desert to look at. Towns were few and far between. It's a chore to keep your mind from daydreaming into complete sleep.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxf1Xs5WnNaWqJNG9fUcXHConl3yxK9xuqXjqRssVDZfKV8_fBuyE5IQAt8zdxSJQVjG05NFLRuD4qqQ3WgYk1RroXLUGTsvk7zTRRctYrn-M9fk8ZMMc71p8g2vlqaq3iJruexQ2O-U/s1600/Texas+1+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxf1Xs5WnNaWqJNG9fUcXHConl3yxK9xuqXjqRssVDZfKV8_fBuyE5IQAt8zdxSJQVjG05NFLRuD4qqQ3WgYk1RroXLUGTsvk7zTRRctYrn-M9fk8ZMMc71p8g2vlqaq3iJruexQ2O-U/s320/Texas+1+014.jpg" /></a></div>I made the mistake of forgetting to look at my fuel guage for too long... At 95 mph, my gas mileage is <em>halved...</em>and when I noticed that I was already down into the Red Zone on my dial. With 28 miles to go... <em>bucking a headwind... </em>uphill. I layed down on the tank road-racer style and dropped my speed down to 65 mph to get the best fuel economy. People roared past me doing 100 in giant manly pick-up trucks (they all seem to have 'em here), looking at this nut with a New York license plate, doing only 60, laid-out like he's screaming along at Bonneville. <em>What the....</em><br />
Thank God Fort Stockton appeared on the horizon at the very last minute.. talk about running on<em> fumes...</em>the needle on my guage was completely outside of the red zone... on the <em>bad </em>side. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2z-hPdwacRPtEdp1el9Nj9VRBJVczhOgsJfl8e0idVjEtXTsoOkddFrUjSnH4Gja8iEc0KQJSjcyUlbj_0CQIZh8ijBmMuQQuIVjZkNfFw2vbtIdCrTLY0cSCV_s7fbew_ahwK1qbPM/s1600/Texas+1+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2z-hPdwacRPtEdp1el9Nj9VRBJVczhOgsJfl8e0idVjEtXTsoOkddFrUjSnH4Gja8iEc0KQJSjcyUlbj_0CQIZh8ijBmMuQQuIVjZkNfFw2vbtIdCrTLY0cSCV_s7fbew_ahwK1qbPM/s320/Texas+1+019.jpg" /></a></div><br />
A hundred mile later I rolled into a town called Ozona.. biggest 'burb in the region, and not saying much. Strange little place... real back-woods, southwest Texas town. Little agricultural village, in the middle of Great Nowhere; west texas buildings with the square facades and Old West, castled roof-lines. But they had a modern tidy high school with a team called the Wildcats... and a little, dry, town square where I pulled into to take a photo of Davey Crockett,.. who apparently has no connection with Ozone whatsoever except for the fact that they both have something to do with Texas. Hey, everyone needs a hero. While I was trying to take a snapshot of old Crockett, my wispy strands of long hair floating around my face, I turned and saw that an ominous, white, Dodge Charger with a big "Texas Ranger" pointed star painted on the door had just pulled into a strategic position very nearby, <em>too </em>nearby, and seemed to be watching me carefully. Now, this being a town so remote from yer modern Ikea Civilization, the very idea that some Yankee with a queer ponytail could possibly be riding a motorcycle through there might be <em>Sufficient Cause</em>, and as I just didn't need anymore Texas K-9 experiences, thank you. I gently replaced the helmet over my Coiffure and motored along back to the highway as quietly as possible. Heh Heh.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQr-O0Blzx9m6luGeKr7imoJtB3li26FXucfx6GYztMcxVdfRMAleCKLCPnA9yjusxyNcV7Wf-BpNCmDfBIowQ_rh1blppjNzFEX5zD5M81nT-iVANL1VPpBuG2EhFxyAzLdgvbGobgE/s1600/Texas+1+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQr-O0Blzx9m6luGeKr7imoJtB3li26FXucfx6GYztMcxVdfRMAleCKLCPnA9yjusxyNcV7Wf-BpNCmDfBIowQ_rh1blppjNzFEX5zD5M81nT-iVANL1VPpBuG2EhFxyAzLdgvbGobgE/s320/Texas+1+034.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Back to the Bottomless Run... El Paso to Austin, which is something like 550 miles. That's a long day, and I don't care what you're riding. At 90 mph steady, the vibrations were doing a number on my hands and Ball Package, which, if you've ever spent time on a sportbike, you might understand. I took numerous stops, re-arranging a carefully-folded bandana in my shorts, but every halt simply increased the duration of the trip. Really... just a stupefyingly <em>long ride. </em><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsBCWi8qPTi-Sc2ZRgvgafScxEXLyWYkCrK_Q0NvMBM576Xlz5ZjWv1-UcxESNHMF4TxVsLZwM4ql4DRi9AgGyVbCYk_q9rA2z2b8WfqC1w2twrsDRm3jj_6NOUKBUeV0Em-ZijQnuww/s1600/Texas+1+033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsBCWi8qPTi-Sc2ZRgvgafScxEXLyWYkCrK_Q0NvMBM576Xlz5ZjWv1-UcxESNHMF4TxVsLZwM4ql4DRi9AgGyVbCYk_q9rA2z2b8WfqC1w2twrsDRm3jj_6NOUKBUeV0Em-ZijQnuww/s320/Texas+1+033.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A BAD CHOICE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At one little pull-off I walked over to a bush in the desert to takle a Wizz, and there were lots of desert grasshoppers and ants milling about. As I was shaking out, I noticed two of what must have been dung beetles, rolling little balls of.. well, shit. Someone trucker must have been there before me... Anyway, I ran back to get my camera, because it's not just everyday you see big black insects toiling over balls of feces. When I was taking a short video I saw a little black spider jump out of a hole and launch at one of the beetles... little black spider.. with a <em>red hourglass on it. </em>Black Widow. Never saw one before. Before I could get a decent photo, it zipped back into it's little lair, but I do have a little video for later.<br />
<br />
Onwards.<br />
Endless... simply endless.<br />
Yes, I said that already, but, well, fuck you. You weren't <em>there.</em> I have the right to repeat myself<em>.</em> Go start your own goddamm blog. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONz7H420RHq-pxy_sjOqLl99GbsTpmEAaFI6eJvnyoio9A5n_YSPasxUauzn4xXx9Hphq8vIXd1fv0C4QG5kxZ6nrsW_nPb3Dvm6U6ut9GF9rHfKGnfAkgSzt37rsGmVonjaV8yFb7Ns/s1600/Texas+1+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONz7H420RHq-pxy_sjOqLl99GbsTpmEAaFI6eJvnyoio9A5n_YSPasxUauzn4xXx9Hphq8vIXd1fv0C4QG5kxZ6nrsW_nPb3Dvm6U6ut9GF9rHfKGnfAkgSzt37rsGmVonjaV8yFb7Ns/s320/Texas+1+040.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sxHiBho-_FUVBkLUHHCTrUSWluqZFwRbvwezM6sJjKN2GdUOBNHspgDG-x_e55Fpr1waj0PBfRQwfKb0VTmD0V3pAsEBfKFC0EYZw0J8ssIc0Tp0Ne5tFUFbMGSIqlzYkp4rTbyuYIk/s1600/Texas+1+047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sxHiBho-_FUVBkLUHHCTrUSWluqZFwRbvwezM6sJjKN2GdUOBNHspgDG-x_e55Fpr1waj0PBfRQwfKb0VTmD0V3pAsEBfKFC0EYZw0J8ssIc0Tp0Ne5tFUFbMGSIqlzYkp4rTbyuYIk/s320/Texas+1+047.jpg" /></a></div><br />
heh heh...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40177VLMSsiwk5ziX0KROQLQ2_IpXpJJRbon0z_WoRheRCka1Ur1MWuHWKDz5oy2-wmQi9LoO8oxFppy313fxal0DQudRltFA69W3ab9tamTM8I26zNIthJ9XmlxLtwXtK_Cix6I095U/s1600/Texas+1+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40177VLMSsiwk5ziX0KROQLQ2_IpXpJJRbon0z_WoRheRCka1Ur1MWuHWKDz5oy2-wmQi9LoO8oxFppy313fxal0DQudRltFA69W3ab9tamTM8I26zNIthJ9XmlxLtwXtK_Cix6I095U/s320/Texas+1+051.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FREDERICKSBURG, TX</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IfzwDvsDFEoDMj0oZq1RoacNlfZIdCEyzhyphenhyphenp0pBTFNQAMW5XPlZw-b9hAoLUAHzgmnrUPV6PzpJrhsc4fbiswhNlaCc9fGRwLjE5NhpKgbGVDvqmOUj6-oxWcXAC9XC8dM0dR4ij6j4/s1600/Texas+1+050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IfzwDvsDFEoDMj0oZq1RoacNlfZIdCEyzhyphenhyphenp0pBTFNQAMW5XPlZw-b9hAoLUAHzgmnrUPV6PzpJrhsc4fbiswhNlaCc9fGRwLjE5NhpKgbGVDvqmOUj6-oxWcXAC9XC8dM0dR4ij6j4/s320/Texas+1+050.jpg" /></a></div>Eventually the hills became longer and taller and the vegetation more green. Clouds appeared on the horizon, something I really hadn;t seen since I left the Coastal range in California. Dusk drew near, and although the sky was textured and beautiful, I was running into lines of drizzle... that became more frequent as I approached Rte 290 over to Austin. 290 is a much more interesting road, runs along through the Texas "Hill Country", home of LBJ, (you see signs quite often). More little towns popped up between the rolling, now-tree-filled landscape. Ctalle Country.. where the original Cowboys would start their drives up to Kansas and Dodge City.<br />
<br />
Finally, after scurrying under various looming storm clouds, I headed right into a line of showers that kept up for the two further hours into Austin. Tough slogging, as the road was wtisty and poorly paved, and trying to peer through a plastic faceshield covered with water droplets after dark is draining.<br />
Before Austin, still in the hills, I came across a dramatic scene where a small car had run into a ditch somehow and a cop was shoving some kid forward, up and out of it, locked tightly in handcuffs. The cruiser still had it's siren blaring away. The cop didn't look happy at all, and neither did the kid. I passed by slowly.<br />
<br />
Down into Austin <em>finally. </em>Exhausted, I rode down through monsterous highway overpasses within the nightime city limits, looking for Motel 6 signs... my signal that I'd reached Budget Drydock. Tough to find... but when I finally did, the girl behind the bank-glass-thick window just about Read me my Rights, if I wanted to stay there. Obviously a high crime area.. which a motorcycle shop worker, very articulate and educated, attested adamantly to today... "These Mexican 'bangers will take that bike of yours and hoist it by board onto a pickup truck before you can even take your hands out of your pockets".<br />
<br />
Crashed out happily, bike locked up as best as possible outside my window and my soggy rain-gear dripping off hangars across the room.<br />
--------<br />
<br />
Today I got up and had an expensive breakfast at a divey place that had no air-conditioning, and I realized that I'm now out oif the Desert and into the South. The <em>humid </em>South. I began sweating immediately, and all day tropical showers have been pelting the area. I went out and found a large bike shop to get maintenance parts (air filter again...chain-cleaning materials...new faceshield for my helmet... $145 ouch). The guys there were super friendly, and this <em>does </em>seem to be the Norm in Texas.. people ultra kindly. Unless they want to steal from you. Watch them. They're not happy. Anyway, I was told where I should go as a tourist, and I managed to get to at least one place: Downtown Capitol district, 6th Street. Twenty bars and plenty of live music... and Austin prides itself on being the "Live Music Capitol of the World". Personally, I think that's a bold claim... but the Texans are happy to boast about almost <em>anything </em>Texas-related, so...<br />
I wiggled my bike into a parking spot on 6th Street, and of course this is one of the great benefits of touring on a light motorcycle: manoervability and parking. I wandered up and down the street... the architecture is a blend of 1890 square-topped facade and modern urban pragmatism... most of the places I went into were cavernous and very old... almost all had a stage of some sorts. Raw, ancient rafters and crumbling, hundred-year-old bricks were the norm. I was there just at the end of Happy Hour, oin a Tuesday, (is it? How nice to lose track)... and as such I was between shifts of sorts. Nonetheless I had a few Lone Star beers and watched a handful of bands gettinmg started. One thing I could clearly see: there are plenty of guitar players in the South and boy, you'd better have your chops together if you expect to play Austin. I was sorry to end it early, but I simply don't want to take too many chances with the Public Safety (cops) on this part of the Tour. I packed it in around nine PM and rolled back to my homey Motel 6. Everything is scattered around this room... totally un-packed... but I did LAUNDRY... a great luxury, as generally you rinse out your socks and underwear for the next day... every few days wash out the one pair of black riding jeans... usually still wet in the morning when you squeak them on, cold and soggy. <br />
Tomorrow back up to the bike shop on Rte 35, where I will disassemble all four carburetors in their parking lot asnd clean out as clogged pilot jet that has started causing some hiccups. Not taht I need to do it at a bike shop... but it's not far away, and God Forbid I snap something off like I did in Urbana, at least I won't need a tow-truck.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-60618713894999928312010-09-20T00:10:00.000-07:002010-09-20T00:56:15.128-07:00SIERRA BLANCA, TEXASAH, shit... here we go again. <br />
Who was it said, "I hate writing but love to have written"?<br />
me too. I'm so bushed each night when trying to cover everything. Fortunately I have a cold six pack of Bid bottles here.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcA1W9DLubWYOtPMCPRokK46Nj3b8fzGuYMsTanOl62mNX5jOcBCXZwLnNqhwoCTwLR__oYz1ZHhtsmwB8_RBN4axpfU1ofXDxKEmgqN7_6U9-tLas7SbBsq2weKeUdBILm7UoQPQtlE/s1600/Arizona+112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcA1W9DLubWYOtPMCPRokK46Nj3b8fzGuYMsTanOl62mNX5jOcBCXZwLnNqhwoCTwLR__oYz1ZHhtsmwB8_RBN4axpfU1ofXDxKEmgqN7_6U9-tLas7SbBsq2weKeUdBILm7UoQPQtlE/s320/Arizona+112.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Right. <br />
I rolled into the Navajo Nation three days ago in the late afternoon. The <em>distance </em>between discernible points out West can be daunting; you ride and ride and ride and it seems like your not getting anywhere. Lots of pretty scenery with NOTHING regarding Human Habitation to break it up. Raw Wildernesss... a full snoot-full.<br />
Anyway I pulled into a little town called Kayenta in the northern center of the Navajo Reservation, the largest in the United States... home to something like 400,000 Navajo people in a huge area the size of Connecticut. I was excited to be there, partly because of an odd, mid-life desire to understand Native culture better... and secondly because Monument Valley was just up the road... a place I had considered running past ever since I left New York.<br />
Great. Deep in Indian Territory... and this weren't no cheezey "casino reservation" up in the Catskills with a bunch of watered-down toothless freaks that look more like drunken Irishmen than Native Americans. No, the Navajo Reservation is the Real Deal; a major seat of Indian culture in America. <br />
Problem was that all the hotels (3) in town were FULL, and I got "lucky" in finding a room ten miles outside of Kayenta in a real dump called "the Anasazi Inn", a collection of thin-walled rooms in what were essentially corrugated shacks. I wouldn't have minded this so much except that they GOUGED me NINETY-FIVE BUCKS for this leaky, hafl-broken room. Ah well... Grin & Bear it; I supposed that I had to pay back some ancesteral karma for all the rip-offs and tears the Europeans put the Navajo through. Went back into Kayenta and had steak fajitas at a nice little cafe called "Amigos" .. good taste but the beans .. well... let;s just use the word <em>explosive.</em><br />
Next morning I got up and out early, as I was told Monument Valley is best seen early morning. I rode out of Kayenta about 25 miles to the Welcome Center, (entrance fee a reasonable $5). The vista from the parking area was already spectacular... but I went over to a little outdoor booth manned by Navajo people, offering tours of the Valley. You couldn't drive it by yourself; there was no pavement and it's generally off-limits to non-Navajos. <br />
I ended up taking a chance and spending a significant $75 for the "complete" 2-1/2 hour tour. A few European tourists (Holland, England, Austria) stood around the designated "Jeep"; an old 1967 Ford pick-up truck with the bed modified into sort of a Safari tour bus. There was a slight discussion about who would be our guide, and eventually a wiry young guy with very long hair, a natty black felt hat with Rock & Roll chrome studs, and pink colored shades jumped forward and we lumbered off into the Valley.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBi7chPX4RbV3q_rYlI4zU2L_z79aRyZDooIBuEfg0ts02nV56BfpV5w6cWd0JH1qcBGI-52LN6W_lrXABIEjWcSZWOpeP6nb3mKYYpuq0WrTvI5_rR31RLsqG4UxzlFdCm5mtJaJEQE/s1600/Arizona+118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBi7chPX4RbV3q_rYlI4zU2L_z79aRyZDooIBuEfg0ts02nV56BfpV5w6cWd0JH1qcBGI-52LN6W_lrXABIEjWcSZWOpeP6nb3mKYYpuq0WrTvI5_rR31RLsqG4UxzlFdCm5mtJaJEQE/s320/Arizona+118.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Wow.<br />
<em>Double Wow.</em><br />
From the beginning I was blown away by the sheer scale and <em>texture </em>of the geology there. Any photos you'll ever see of Monument Valley simply can't convey the immensity... and profoundly magical feeling of the place. Each time the old Ford clanked around a sandy corner of a mesa everyone in the back would gasp in unison. Simply spectacular, and I realized quickly that the 75 Clams was well spent. I've <em>dreamed </em>of Monument Valley for years... and sudenly there it was, in full, red-cliff, monolithic spendor.<br />
I also quickly realized that our guide, Travis, was an exceptionally cool rock & roller, and as such I asked if I could ride shotgun up front with him; he never hesitated: "Sure Bro!" he said, in a sort of Southern Californian accent, "Welcome aboard!"<br />
One of the best moves I've made on this entire trip. Not only was Travis fully in tune with the magic of the Valley, (he took us to a number of places generally off-limits to tourists), it turned out he was a rock drummer who's played iun four bands, incluyding one that toured out East briefly, (Native Rain). We had a blast in the front of the truck... he was hysterically funny and a very, very sharp cat. Full-bloode Navajo, he was pleased to answer a lot of my burning questions regarding life in the Nation, as well as about the Spiritual nature of the Valley, ("VERY"). <br />
Here are a couple of photos... I have far too many; show you them later if you want.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi533EzlLysIo2W7T1n-BZhUWqsNopVLYzHbuO4Ero55jLfGlezHADge8q2bbm6TWMrsDkwaw_iWZvZ8BcAO_EQfUBqXKqhc1QjUvBgUb_zD6gCI6qm19pqsVqe4sEmtaci9zprpwKtY_0/s1600/Arizona+121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi533EzlLysIo2W7T1n-BZhUWqsNopVLYzHbuO4Ero55jLfGlezHADge8q2bbm6TWMrsDkwaw_iWZvZ8BcAO_EQfUBqXKqhc1QjUvBgUb_zD6gCI6qm19pqsVqe4sEmtaci9zprpwKtY_0/s320/Arizona+121.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa47nTwW9FhqK6htbIileVS1ddOVRiFnjAi1AprHKG6fLY8WfHD_c2mkHCYGNmjnnPN7JdVtUAEIL9HyA5lrPKn6E2OSR3IGZLu6holoN5NUgWtgJHcJB1K-WKaMkMozJbrU03rj_Kbo/s1600/Arizona+128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa47nTwW9FhqK6htbIileVS1ddOVRiFnjAi1AprHKG6fLY8WfHD_c2mkHCYGNmjnnPN7JdVtUAEIL9HyA5lrPKn6E2OSR3IGZLu6holoN5NUgWtgJHcJB1K-WKaMkMozJbrU03rj_Kbo/s320/Arizona+128.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAy6JVr2YLWfdiEPkbPi6MM51STvDgBGFdsLV8OX9VUsBvd7PR4HX3NulfOuus7griha8L50xlY_f8a1j0B3VRROqBmvwZzp09YSSQJRGaz4lycUpJnzih16Rih6VptNPq6GFOTxCnl5s/s1600/Arizona+139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqX2uY5tkiGRJm4nG092oV6qVwD0bT9ubsfSX29meGqbB9mUWQaCFoirI6baQXuLPA0HXfCPplyan5R7u3v6HZoJ4pwUnG06VEyhUi_Soa3kapan8P6Vqyht00vbVvD57egCs5xwnauI/s320/Arizona+177.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9OpKxkQZpkUQbqDDMJUAJWZBcfz0ekL2faH0y7nG657LaER4LxIQArGURSYMxZW0CZDpAP9PVpVyir5UBIkyU9vUClRQlv4FsEacTa4OfkkcSvdxduSvT-84DoQTfaLrRJcDwTGs_X2Q/s1600/Arizona+182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9OpKxkQZpkUQbqDDMJUAJWZBcfz0ekL2faH0y7nG657LaER4LxIQArGURSYMxZW0CZDpAP9PVpVyir5UBIkyU9vUClRQlv4FsEacTa4OfkkcSvdxduSvT-84DoQTfaLrRJcDwTGs_X2Q/s320/Arizona+182.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Travis took us to a special place that was like a natural ampitheater in the rocks. Almost shperical, the acoustics were astonishing. We sat up on a ledge and Travis, (who'd brought a small traditional drum), waited until we had absorbed the utter silence of the place, then sang a sort of blessing in Navajo, while keeping a steady beat on the skin drum. It was simply chilling and beautiful... really the moment I'd been hoping to experience. Haunting.. especially considering something like 10,000 years that the Navajo and their predecessors, the Anasazi, had dwelt there. Travis showed us ancient Anasazi hand-marked pertoglyphs on roack walls. It was the coolest afternoon.... something I'll never forget.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iFKjL_CHTzKeBR3dT-9LP9QtWnoBdXqGe-U3gRmHDXU5Sh0KsDudGDjdAi9ckYOQJATDdeavfrHw26_uG-ZFkid7FZOrvL_9SR_983EyMLrBlnG_fM4dFnkj76iuITg69pF-t1plt9w/s1600/Arizona+153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iFKjL_CHTzKeBR3dT-9LP9QtWnoBdXqGe-U3gRmHDXU5Sh0KsDudGDjdAi9ckYOQJATDdeavfrHw26_uG-ZFkid7FZOrvL_9SR_983EyMLrBlnG_fM4dFnkj76iuITg69pF-t1plt9w/s320/Arizona+153.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3wyQ_-E0rkxSBure6VG0Dzgjh9gl1N_azAYQjouXa0C9LPAki6c-l-b0OmM1G2Fn5Kt-4eRId25MZcJDSa2NktezhBrVNSg8Rs23-SJP5Nmcg4gp4ymBUaS_SGwJ0izE3zyjBU_4KeA/s1600/Arizona+150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3wyQ_-E0rkxSBure6VG0Dzgjh9gl1N_azAYQjouXa0C9LPAki6c-l-b0OmM1G2Fn5Kt-4eRId25MZcJDSa2NktezhBrVNSg8Rs23-SJP5Nmcg4gp4ymBUaS_SGwJ0izE3zyjBU_4KeA/s320/Arizona+150.jpg" /></a></div><br />
On the way back Travis and I were yakking up a storm, mostly music talk, which we both agreed is the Universal Language. Along the way the old truck wouldn't start, and I jumped out with him and we ducked under the hood while the Europeans sat in the back confused. We looked at the tangle of wires around the battery box and both of us looked at each other and giggled; he was almost ready to accept that we were stuck out there (they'd given him one of the older machines). Finally we got it started and roared off across the sands, hooting ahd hollering.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7xEAP1hyrmaMB2a3FPntiS8zkwbh1PSPMTDrWwMwwXJvkqcLV-khJ9_ACLjUWJkvyx2xi1w8rg5_bt0a1izvyR3tLiTkSwqE0fe5n_LFIDy24eSak6To70LRh6EBhq4-MR67a7iF5K0/s1600/Arizona+164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7xEAP1hyrmaMB2a3FPntiS8zkwbh1PSPMTDrWwMwwXJvkqcLV-khJ9_ACLjUWJkvyx2xi1w8rg5_bt0a1izvyR3tLiTkSwqE0fe5n_LFIDy24eSak6To70LRh6EBhq4-MR67a7iF5K0/s320/Arizona+164.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Travis mentioned that there would be a Blues Festival of sorts in Kayenta that evening, and his band would be one of the groups. Because we had been talking closely for a couple of hours, I decided to take the opportunity to meet some local people.. and so went back and paid another hundred bucks for a hotel room. <br />
<em>A Navajo Blues Festival....</em><br />
<br />
Around dusk I took my motorcycle over to the community center where the action would take place, and Travis' band was already playing. The outdoor venue had a small stage, decent sound system, and capable lighting set up. During the night I estimate there were a few hundred people in attendance; teenagers, parents with their little kids.. (super cute, and apparently very happy and well-loved). After Travis came off I helped with his drum kit and he later introduced me to a number of people who were involved in music: his brother Ryan.. tour manager Jo (Ann)... some of his band mates.. etc. It was a really special evening form me, and I found everyone to be very modern thinking and friendly to me...with the exception of on slightly drunk guy with his girlfriend who were hanging around by my bike. He wasn;t, like, <em>threateneing...</em>but he made a point of wwarning me that there were people around who "might try to take your stuff"... or create problems for me somehow. I didn't know what to make of him... everyone else I met had been so hospitable.. so I just chalked him up as a guy soured on outside tourists. Nobody gave me anything except shy smiles and hospitality. I feel very priveledged to have some of these good folk as friends now... we have all contact info.<br />
At one point during the evening an adorable little girl, about two years old, came up to me and stared at me innocently. She then pointed meaningfully into the distance... towards the south. I pointed with her. She came back and did this same thing a couple of times... and finally I realized she was an angel who was directing the next leg of my trip. Southbound indeed<br />
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Moving along. <br />
The next day I rode out past something callled Mexican Hat, an odd geological formation. I stopped at a roadside shack to buy some very reasonably-priced silver pieces for my nieces, adn had a warm chat with a young married Navajo couple. Very modern and easy going. I really got such a charge out of those folks I met there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5KoTvLz7npyn2OVoCjSiL_D8yIn-yRuSKAhT6VUxWIXuRDUK0YpHS6yK9yG1tce33vSO4R7PSPR-fmfAJqcVhcdscHAUOopUped8mw0SIf0ehXBaiUV3vxNRcOId01dPDGMUGCovT2I/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5KoTvLz7npyn2OVoCjSiL_D8yIn-yRuSKAhT6VUxWIXuRDUK0YpHS6yK9yG1tce33vSO4R7PSPR-fmfAJqcVhcdscHAUOopUped8mw0SIf0ehXBaiUV3vxNRcOId01dPDGMUGCovT2I/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+027.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Out through the Reservation... and as I said, the Navajo Nation is vast. The landscape is wildly varied, but with these extremes of geological enormity and earth-hued vastness. Soon I was running through small, cottonwood tree'd villages with a gas station or general store. I came across some sort of a local festival... with a few small carnival rides and a whole lot of horse trailers... some sort of rodeo festival. I took a chance and motored on in... but quickly realized that this was a <em>Navajo </em>event, no tourists in sight... and although I'm quite sure no one would have minded, I felt like a New York guy on a Japanese motorcycle just didn't belong there. I kept rolling.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpjVHzngnDqrniN4PedGwGERrEyf_XUWMffHQ-Jcslr56jH7UszGYrW7DpDVpAyCjWndzvLfjz2WTKIVheWiEr9y8a0GPeOLsLAD298KUvr78CXotf4DkmtvlKBIbuXVX7fKa3l8ZKTI/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpjVHzngnDqrniN4PedGwGERrEyf_XUWMffHQ-Jcslr56jH7UszGYrW7DpDVpAyCjWndzvLfjz2WTKIVheWiEr9y8a0GPeOLsLAD298KUvr78CXotf4DkmtvlKBIbuXVX7fKa3l8ZKTI/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+042.jpg" /></a></div>Two stations in a row had no power, adn I was running low on fuel. At the second place I met a couple of Harley riders, out touring for a few weeks, now headed home to Texas. We ended up pal-ing around for a couple of days; going to Four Corners, a place where four states come together in one spot, (the only place in the US).. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMYNOTd26ZjmztB19Dug9TjaGXif3WSAA2URdNdfJXfvmgNOKnoB3SEbxWrik5-IT5K3JGMlqyn0rbDG73jiEfKBB0_uhR422xYtgHDpVLOp8jkZsEgGjKTk9RRdVgj7SLDwHgF3gHQg/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMYNOTd26ZjmztB19Dug9TjaGXif3WSAA2URdNdfJXfvmgNOKnoB3SEbxWrik5-IT5K3JGMlqyn0rbDG73jiEfKBB0_uhR422xYtgHDpVLOp8jkZsEgGjKTk9RRdVgj7SLDwHgF3gHQg/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+044.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXChjmDgCG2dXx5MHnP2SLoOxKtJvXaJPz6XLYgS-EBPBeVetk62qItxqfGNfUSm-HJqEbU5kXBzD6huX_C60w28N6HbI-eEGynXhJBgW_nkJdEFFV9sE0VqMTsCyltllDl8yBLt9u6zE/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXChjmDgCG2dXx5MHnP2SLoOxKtJvXaJPz6XLYgS-EBPBeVetk62qItxqfGNfUSm-HJqEbU5kXBzD6huX_C60w28N6HbI-eEGynXhJBgW_nkJdEFFV9sE0VqMTsCyltllDl8yBLt9u6zE/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+036.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3PHR4k8_EwS9rJDf7-rCctlsTOdT3T8Bx5UtAOJDD8_N6Uu7NWe-pAN-LWynnRbONjpR_RrA7FMu5k-TF91tW7C_9MTUQ0iVLxohUkYgHF0f5CjJgTYC8fLhBKpLx6_Pk8gj6BCuG4U/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3PHR4k8_EwS9rJDf7-rCctlsTOdT3T8Bx5UtAOJDD8_N6Uu7NWe-pAN-LWynnRbONjpR_RrA7FMu5k-TF91tW7C_9MTUQ0iVLxohUkYgHF0f5CjJgTYC8fLhBKpLx6_Pk8gj6BCuG4U/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+043.jpg" /></a></div>then travelled until dark... and due to mechanical reasons with "Bear's" bike (air cleaer dirty), we stayed over in a dumpy little town on the old Rte 66 named Grants. It had an Autozone shop where the kids working it were extremely helpful and generous... we fixed trhe air filter and Bear and GoJo decided to stay over. I'd aleready decided to stay in townb that night, so I was happy they got a room as well. Two guys in their Sixties (and in good stamina condition to make this trip), they are both serious "bikers", Bear used to be a full 1%'er.. I believe he said he was a member of ..... ah, well, it doesn;'t matter. A major, national bike club.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyxZyHSEBi_Fn53NkXaDcDju727AFdVf-W16oM_QmH-pG4ZIaUYh4MNsRzuHNPT-NrMnFHpR3N3UrqJyh4_8nWngQdjtIGdUPAb73C1eIRlF3jKiHcNbX03xh129srI8vl1d3Iw9gpEg/s1600/Navajo-+New+Mexico+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyxZyHSEBi_Fn53NkXaDcDju727AFdVf-W16oM_QmH-pG4ZIaUYh4MNsRzuHNPT-NrMnFHpR3N3UrqJyh4_8nWngQdjtIGdUPAb73C1eIRlF3jKiHcNbX03xh129srI8vl1d3Iw9gpEg/s320/Navajo-+New+Mexico+052.jpg" /></a></div> Anyway, we went out and found a deserted, funky bar and played pool and drank off the day's aches. Lots of fun, but we had to be careful on the way backl to the hotel, as the cops were on the move. The town was half a ghost-town; just one mine and a prison as economic supports, the place was decrepitating quickly, like most of historic Rte 66. Dingy, coroded, and dark. The hotel, although rather full, was a REAL dump, smelly and damp, with half the electric not working. Apparently the owner had died and his daughter was trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to make a go of it. It was a real crubling mess... the worst I've seen on this trip so far. <br />
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In the morning we got up around the same time and agreed to get coffee at a nearby Denny's. Had some laughs (pretty funny guys), and we ended up riding out past Albequerque together before I peeled off for the south. They headed for Amarillo and Points East. Good people, they are mover and shakers in a bike group of Free Masons. We exchanged adresses/e-mails... we'll be in touch. Two REAL bikers... not like the dozens and dozens of Europeans who rented shiney Harleys in LA for exhorbitant prices and were hanging around the hotels posing, blabbering away in French and acting tough.<br />
<br />
I headed south on a small red-line route, breaking away fro m the two Masons at a town appropriately named <em>Moriarty, </em>for those of you into the Kerouac thing. The ride was warm and scenic, but flatter and a little ... greener. I went through some small ghost-towns (places that just didn;'t make it and might have only a gas station still open. I started seeing more and more Harley bikers rumbling around in all directions; when I reached a tiny spot called Willard there was a cafe/bar by the crossroads that was FULL of Harleys... maybe two hundred., with more arriving. I thought for a second about pulling in and enjotying the moment... but I was deep in the countryside on a Jap motcrcycle with NY pl;ates... and it didn;t seem wise.<br />
<br />
A short time later I pulled up for gas at a nameless gas station that had a gravel lot and pumps left over from 1964... I was dismayed to realize that the whole driveway and pump area was filled up with <em>Bandidos, </em>a very serious biker gang, well known for their violence and "1%" attitude. I waited... <em>very patiently...</em>for all of them to fill up and move off on their own. A follow-vehicle was there, loaded with some serious, mean looking people, adn I thought, ahh... <em>weapons transport.</em> I slunk out of there quietly, making sure I was going the other direction. Remember; this is Waayyyy out in the vast countryside.... 50 miles between towns.... and as such you are extremely vulnerable. <br />
<br />
Many, many bikes on thje road; some guy at a rest area told me there was a big rally nearby. This is the Wild Wild West; soon I was on the Mescalero Apache reservation... and there are some very dangerous people out here in the open territorties. I'm ususally not concerned with "bikers", but there are scary looking Mexican and Indian dudes on stripped-down Harleys that do NOT look friendly. <br />
<br />
Alright. Went past Almogordo.. where they lit-up the first atomic bomb... but there was some serious police activity in the middle of town (with a helicopter hovering over a house), and they sent us on a detour. I could only take a photo of the plain where the bomb went off. <br />
<br />
Eventually I got farther and farther south, towards the western tip of Texas and El Paso. Along the way there were all sorts of signs of the national push to contain illegal immigration; helicopters overhead, long barbed-wire fences running for fifty mile stretches... Homeland Security police cars... and scary road check points exactly like crossing a national border...well <em>inside </em>the US. I had to go through one tonight adn for some odd reason a dog nearby started barking at me loudly after I was quizezed by well-armed militairy people under a Quanset hut in the middle oif the highway. Woof.<br />
<br />
Down into El Paso and it's a HUUGE city... but lovely colorful in the night, adn you can see Juarez Mexico stretching out in lights straight to the horizon. I made my way through El Paso on Rte 10, and ended up running right out of town... missed the normasl "hotel Row" (when you see the Hotel 6 signs you know you've found the Budget motels)... and just continued right out of town... into the darkness, now lit by a large, bright moon, shining brilliantly on the low, flat, puffy western clouds.. the shining lights of Juarez gllowing sharply across the Rio Grande Valley below... and I went farther and farther out of El Paso until I was back in total Wasteland again... and found myself high in some windy mountain range... finally arrived in this tin crossroads of ... uhh... <em>Sierra Blanca... </em>the White Mountain... and of course there's one motel here, just one... owned by, yup, a Hiundu inkeeper. <br />
$45... no tax... clean and quiet.... say my prayers in fantastic gratitude for this unbelieveable, spiritual experience.... will attach more photos to this installment later.. takes soi fuckinbg long...<br />
goodnightgwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-16781031263228815142010-09-19T00:59:00.000-07:002010-09-20T00:15:18.451-07:00GRANTS, NEW MEXICOPulled into town after dark this night along with two serious Harley bikers..one from Fort Worth, the other from Nashville. We'd been traveling from way up in the Navajo nation where we'd met at a defunct gas station. Good dudes, veteran riders who were off on a three week ride. Both were serious Freemasons... both in their Sixties.<br />
<br />
God I'm tired. It;s about 1:30 AM and this is one of the shitiest motels I';ve ever found. Those guys' room next door smelled so badly of piss that the Mexican woman running the joint had to go in and spray everyuthing heavily. Stinks like Lysol now. My room has carpeting covered with water from a leaky bathroom pipe. I have no TV because when I turned on the microwave to cook cheap hotdogs from the Rocket 66 Mart some fuse must ahve blown and now I only have one lightbulb and this compuyter for lumninescence.<br />
But we had a good time... found the only bar in this part of town open. The town is half a graveyard... most of the hotels are dark, as are most of the storefronts. We had to stop here because Barry's Harley had a clogged air cleaner (I did the diagnosis) and we needed an auto parts store. As it was after dark I wanted to find a cheap motel, and these two guys finally gave in and got a room also. They were originally going to run out past Albequreque.. but the air cleamer thing slowed them down, and now they expect to make a 700 mile run to Fortb Worth tomorrow. Ouch. That's a long way... even on a touring Harley.<br />
I left the Navajo township of Keyanta this morning... went oyut past Monument Valley and Mexican Hat... across hundreds of miles of dry, barren Navajo territory. At one point I came across a local Indian festival on a back road; a rodeo and some carnival rides. At first I entered the parking lot... but realizeed there were many horses that were skittish of the motorcycle. Also, looking around, I felt strong vibrations that this was NOT a place that I belonged... and yes, I have pushed my way into many strange places in Asia and Europe before... but this looked LOCAL and there were no Eurpoean Americans. Lots of lean Navajos dressed western-best in cowboy hats and western gear. I saw one guy on a horse, walking it sideways witrh ease... and I concluded that this was a Navajo-only event. This was far out in the middle of the reservation.... on a small road. Across the street, where I looked to buy gas, were a couple of dozen Harley riders... they all looked Native and they all looked grim... and I Vamoosed the hgell ouyt oif there.<br />
Long ride today past many barren landscapes where you would easily DIE if you got stuck. <br />
I'm beat... it's way late.... and I mustr sleep.... tales of the Blues Festival on the Navajo Nation next time.. made great friends... learned the Navajo Ways,,,,...... goodnbightgwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-9740005049166062992010-09-17T23:36:00.000-07:002010-09-17T23:36:25.283-07:00KAYENTA, NAVAJO NATION[jeez, what am i supposed do say about all <em>this...</em>]<br />
[...okay...i'm going to take a swing at it..]<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmzNZzuDqjSGYx8w-itJjrkY_5aMu-68Zj0How91gINDD_s0YAMxDpUUCdReajzanOWfDtqZA5qhjfYhuvAA6lVwveRU5gTmNYT8GpOB-Csy09Kv2B-ZXFI6jkEKQ65ZC56iui8pm60/s1600/Arizona+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmzNZzuDqjSGYx8w-itJjrkY_5aMu-68Zj0How91gINDD_s0YAMxDpUUCdReajzanOWfDtqZA5qhjfYhuvAA6lVwveRU5gTmNYT8GpOB-Csy09Kv2B-ZXFI6jkEKQ65ZC56iui8pm60/s320/Arizona+001.jpg" /></a></div>This is a slice of Kanab, Utah, as I was pulling out yesterday morning. Pretty little town on the western edge of Zion National Park. Hotels X-PENSIVE.. and quick to fill up. Scary when you're out on the road in wilderness after dark and that little refuge dot on the map has NO VACANCY signs all lit-up and gaudy red neon .<br />
<br />
Onward.. heading for northern Arizona border.. and I have spent the last two (three??) days back and forth between Utah and Az.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOFUPeuBRrZlfRruliq_3R0sCRpbWLpJtnQArH7V3hACCzi4DWF3K0wi5s-wSJgNJfDWuB9dZmMU2aWhFvFeCu8ZIMbpFJdrlStRslEe_RCsHcANalDg_unMC-ficHOJTYCbwgMDwy4k/s1600/Arizona+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOFUPeuBRrZlfRruliq_3R0sCRpbWLpJtnQArH7V3hACCzi4DWF3K0wi5s-wSJgNJfDWuB9dZmMU2aWhFvFeCu8ZIMbpFJdrlStRslEe_RCsHcANalDg_unMC-ficHOJTYCbwgMDwy4k/s320/Arizona+002.jpg" /></a></div>The landscape keeps changing steadily as you go east (or west, err).. in this case it got drier and more sandy ever since leaving Yosemite. Hills get more striated and more "mesa" flat-topped. Vegetation changes constantly with elevation and moisture availability. New Rider of the Purple Sage... now I AM one:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSFrwHShbZdsn2luzToaC19JuUm6EfFzVPBkdRfYCNxj-5Vj_74_65FqGPVyesJWAVWEm4TuerLG8FMaFaaPg2kHH7G2FckrmQogNWERoO4v-uV11bL4egpU8LWYzZxL1i-NsaYN8Aac/s1600/Arizona+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSFrwHShbZdsn2luzToaC19JuUm6EfFzVPBkdRfYCNxj-5Vj_74_65FqGPVyesJWAVWEm4TuerLG8FMaFaaPg2kHH7G2FckrmQogNWERoO4v-uV11bL4egpU8LWYzZxL1i-NsaYN8Aac/s320/Arizona+004.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I rode for a couple of hours, and though not wildly hot, it was exceedingly <em>dry. </em>Nice ride though; bike running smoothly and Mp3 blasting Merle Haggard or U2 or Richard Thompson or anything else into my now-shredded ear-balls. <br />
Stopped in a roadside "Land Use Bureau Information Site". Some skinny hiker with a Winnebego was peppering the gray-haired lady with non-stop questions until I <em>a-hemed</em> and he finally skulked off with many pamphlets of area trails. I made a point of not being a Dick and as such approached her slowly, quietly, politely...asked her where a dusty saddlebum should look for Cool Sites. She mentioned a "short hike" just off the road a couple of miles down, to view something called "hoo-doos" or "mushrooms". Besides that, she strongly advised, (since I was not prepared for any serious off-roading, with my lack of proper foot-gear and all).. to make sure I saw Monument Valley a couple of hours farther down the road. I'd been seriously considering this even before I left NY.. so that sealed it.<br />
Meanwhile I did pull off at the trailhead that she spoke of, to see the Hoo-doos. I really wasn't prepared to be hoofing through serious desert conditions... motorcycle road-racing boots... black cut-off t-shirt.. black jeans.. black baseball hat.. But hell, I needed to see SOMETHING off the road on this trip, and the gal assured me that it was only about a 3/4 of a mile walk.. easy to do".<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
If you're properly dressed, well-hydrated, and in some sort of decent physical shape. I took my little water bottle with me, (I watch <em>Man vs Wild </em>so I know these things), but it only had about a pint in it. I walked about 50 yards before wondering if this wasnlt a mistake... but I was determined and how bad could it really be, after all?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwVFZEwCY0nDkk6bBAacYHuW7vLBYpeSDauMKPHa5u1fjyAFPQ_sAshQUOulMehaj9D4Q7jwHhLUT3-A62DuLM4FJGp9VYizhvRy7kGPkzcr4RG9JIe_7tmi1CnMe8R4nlGf73xyp45Q/s1600/Arizona+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwVFZEwCY0nDkk6bBAacYHuW7vLBYpeSDauMKPHa5u1fjyAFPQ_sAshQUOulMehaj9D4Q7jwHhLUT3-A62DuLM4FJGp9VYizhvRy7kGPkzcr4RG9JIe_7tmi1CnMe8R4nlGf73xyp45Q/s320/Arizona+014.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvVAFFw5JbyEddcFS8H7mb56v9qr-h9qq801wS9JHzr3wKb2ddy1773Cl8mK0NySLM1q3REBbsbZweryDH2m9GpefE4A5uUpiDqq3mPDesw4CbLu5NuTzrgZZZJxnErJ5LdINogSMTZw/s1600/Arizona+041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvVAFFw5JbyEddcFS8H7mb56v9qr-h9qq801wS9JHzr3wKb2ddy1773Cl8mK0NySLM1q3REBbsbZweryDH2m9GpefE4A5uUpiDqq3mPDesw4CbLu5NuTzrgZZZJxnErJ5LdINogSMTZw/s320/Arizona+041.jpg" /></a></div>Bloody HOT... especially when I'd been used to 80 mph's worth of <em>breeze. </em>Now all was still and airless... the sun was crackling hot and relentless. My stupid armored boots slogged through loose sand and crumbling strata and within a short time I was panting. I keep forgetting the altitude in these places.. and at 5000 feet you're breathing heavily. The only "trail" there was amounted to previous footsteps...often hard to see. Basically I just followed the dry "wash".<br />
Eventually I did reach the first set of hoo-doos. No one else was around and I took a few pictures...made half an attempt to push onward, over a chalk-dry hill to see the next set, (as suggested), but soon gave up. I was 3/4 of a mile off the road, almost out of water, and wheezing and puffing in my beer-gut suit. It's like swimming in the ocean; if you get overwhelmed there's no calling TIME OUT. I turned back, feeling I'd done my best.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02fHXeU5sl-w57H2K-apmkLvWHCA3MAI0PYjc4ROPTmbQghyphenhyphenS1XK_lvqHwBVtJrfq__NQIrZOTD9skPQhxuM1vGIk3g32lM8Ra0VtUYEHX_oSrAYkLw8E-fZYJSlNQXuZgcfuT73pTHE/s1600/Arizona+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02fHXeU5sl-w57H2K-apmkLvWHCA3MAI0PYjc4ROPTmbQghyphenhyphenS1XK_lvqHwBVtJrfq__NQIrZOTD9skPQhxuM1vGIk3g32lM8Ra0VtUYEHX_oSrAYkLw8E-fZYJSlNQXuZgcfuT73pTHE/s320/Arizona+012.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFWQxwv5j4jbsLZJ15pticYKfPrx8Cw4OyAX959lLzMq4omuXRsilIUtTmNw6Q8g2LVRzVlzKtjPP0AnF8YO_C2r-_C8vZ0zKeghymDN4P28JuX2AHMpYo40JcZr21jL6EjSUXUlzuJ4/s1600/Arizona+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFWQxwv5j4jbsLZJ15pticYKfPrx8Cw4OyAX959lLzMq4omuXRsilIUtTmNw6Q8g2LVRzVlzKtjPP0AnF8YO_C2r-_C8vZ0zKeghymDN4P28JuX2AHMpYo40JcZr21jL6EjSUXUlzuJ4/s320/Arizona+018.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindZhKzi3G3PzhwfZLNKbsBz9y6zv3AwqelXMxM72zdVsFGrEOP1rjm1_2YiyVgLOfIKx0Y1dlfx2czBfeveSwDn2Xq07mrdOCFRh_XgBfgtHQmHi30114ssMNqOqxqyIYf4grad_Ta3k/s1600/Arizona+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindZhKzi3G3PzhwfZLNKbsBz9y6zv3AwqelXMxM72zdVsFGrEOP1rjm1_2YiyVgLOfIKx0Y1dlfx2czBfeveSwDn2Xq07mrdOCFRh_XgBfgtHQmHi30114ssMNqOqxqyIYf4grad_Ta3k/s320/Arizona+019.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2vmXUT8iaZYAN18ipOhP0GZCA1Pll4zJueksivfOs7fcK3hDTNxRGUOr6qZHCQwnPijj-S1twYNvonkk7lCW3ayafu6eA3MLSwF91MARvX7m0FgqR7yINWO0OQDSdk-_LMv9aMJXBu0/s1600/Arizona+049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2vmXUT8iaZYAN18ipOhP0GZCA1Pll4zJueksivfOs7fcK3hDTNxRGUOr6qZHCQwnPijj-S1twYNvonkk7lCW3ayafu6eA3MLSwF91MARvX7m0FgqR7yINWO0OQDSdk-_LMv9aMJXBu0/s320/Arizona+049.jpg" /></a></div>Besides this little lizard creature, the only other life-form I saw was a tiny kangaroo mouse (long bouncy legs), no bigger than my thumb, curled up under a little overhanginthe sand. He looked dead, but I gave him a little poke and his eyes widened slightly and his little paw moved a bit. Almost dead.. so I poured a little splash of water on him.. he moved a tiny bit more; so I filled up the plastic cap from my store-bought water and left it full, right at his mouth. A pathetic act.. at a pathetic moment. Ah well..I walked away, back to the bike.<br />
Back on the Road.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbZOnbKV6cJspuQ3pfnoIC1cARCXDeYUUsbxyFMOs63d6Xw1J6owHqYKyl6hx7d969lcCmFly81dNPr9eHd_RuD4oZ4cjRktzrDpGloJxskQfknJuzpUKK_TbK7UrTs5_ui0PrliZYu4/s1600/Arizona+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbZOnbKV6cJspuQ3pfnoIC1cARCXDeYUUsbxyFMOs63d6Xw1J6owHqYKyl6hx7d969lcCmFly81dNPr9eHd_RuD4oZ4cjRktzrDpGloJxskQfknJuzpUKK_TbK7UrTs5_ui0PrliZYu4/s320/Arizona+055.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRn0uuNScLtwaYMBNz8ojnB6tYAD7YsXhIFSQa_drEX-V6O4nfdJ_fN8IMu58hhyp8n_bRPzw7BqsyvedJzJeWSZRtlQJFR1JuDo0Y3jErSx9FS71MjycR25V4WlcRt4mal83VFy4KOM/s1600/Arizona+060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRn0uuNScLtwaYMBNz8ojnB6tYAD7YsXhIFSQa_drEX-V6O4nfdJ_fN8IMu58hhyp8n_bRPzw7BqsyvedJzJeWSZRtlQJFR1JuDo0Y3jErSx9FS71MjycR25V4WlcRt4mal83VFy4KOM/s320/Arizona+060.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_p38KBWgN0ONsZPAEDYn3Zjmr1MfCFZI75kQYt8NFnXpK9pjowet5WB1wyTlqzTg6L4YGQCWHPSu2GBB8KWl_vdpGBLbncaETCRwxV0p6fVpALUEfHl53MzbQH3xehXGkr9WNn14W4E/s1600/Arizona+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_p38KBWgN0ONsZPAEDYn3Zjmr1MfCFZI75kQYt8NFnXpK9pjowet5WB1wyTlqzTg6L4YGQCWHPSu2GBB8KWl_vdpGBLbncaETCRwxV0p6fVpALUEfHl53MzbQH3xehXGkr9WNn14W4E/s320/Arizona+063.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHgwKAk3oRINB1u0nqNS1tqq70SdpOwgmX5sCwzU0n6fMIA65Q2phAakCJuRTYhQ8MWKQtERwEmPzWjaEtI-LU6EMY70o4qqAAK9SxjkzG6QD8aw2g22syCOsw8e5EqRElHHRU_j6GfE/s1600/Arizona+065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHgwKAk3oRINB1u0nqNS1tqq70SdpOwgmX5sCwzU0n6fMIA65Q2phAakCJuRTYhQ8MWKQtERwEmPzWjaEtI-LU6EMY70o4qqAAK9SxjkzG6QD8aw2g22syCOsw8e5EqRElHHRU_j6GfE/s320/Arizona+065.jpg" /></a></div>Down past Lake Powell, a manmade lake caused by the damming of Glen Canyon River. The lake is extremely blue.. and there were a zillion boats being trailered into it, some quite large. Talk about pathetic... that lake looked neither long nor deep. I suppose when you live in a bone-dry land any mud-puddle is like the Atlantic.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-V692Kq4P6_DWX3VO8hp_8ueJ7huk4nJO9RPCNOhB32CwQPJyy0dWJjIH4jSbcNqmeGQxk1Dz4-4KbAUnDUJdBUUxiAnjWH1YKpRjYE1WC3nhpmm1XV-CoTcxBGeadiUbkcc6LrNzhE/s1600/Arizona+067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-V692Kq4P6_DWX3VO8hp_8ueJ7huk4nJO9RPCNOhB32CwQPJyy0dWJjIH4jSbcNqmeGQxk1Dz4-4KbAUnDUJdBUUxiAnjWH1YKpRjYE1WC3nhpmm1XV-CoTcxBGeadiUbkcc6LrNzhE/s320/Arizona+067.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S0l5eEDECURDaB15Z2SLG2sgFTJCR20ZTGxx4BZIcF1KlCwGZ4PRugPO77Pbe_dpfBunp8dvL9czAo282E4zg0gsFDdr-SyHRdCPfVJNENqQ8x73q2yMDd-ahQbBGIjHIGfu0LvSSec/s1600/Arizona+068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S0l5eEDECURDaB15Z2SLG2sgFTJCR20ZTGxx4BZIcF1KlCwGZ4PRugPO77Pbe_dpfBunp8dvL9czAo282E4zg0gsFDdr-SyHRdCPfVJNENqQ8x73q2yMDd-ahQbBGIjHIGfu0LvSSec/s320/Arizona+068.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQA02xR7lq42edzhnJHb8iFJ70Yh8aukx_ynJXLCK53rz-VfmIOHApXxcUK9T5ZdpMXZ4732zOnQhiJnjMwO6-xDuTuRVdWQnIv-D2hK2Thz8QIp3HJaoLMiQF8pHrm5PYekJ-lLRo3s/s1600/Arizona+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQA02xR7lq42edzhnJHb8iFJ70Yh8aukx_ynJXLCK53rz-VfmIOHApXxcUK9T5ZdpMXZ4732zOnQhiJnjMwO6-xDuTuRVdWQnIv-D2hK2Thz8QIp3HJaoLMiQF8pHrm5PYekJ-lLRo3s/s320/Arizona+073.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xlVwwktmJDfdYa3VZG8B9_lC58HXzJPnSQLJEDR8rmqfZZ4NhRCP0_MpUN4p8D09xNKcnxwI6j9sFuny9dy1Vt2xJb_mbcjO2wVAFs51Ff7PWAsEbyNf-UK6Y7jSUEciA6khXEEgmBo/s1600/Arizona+077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xlVwwktmJDfdYa3VZG8B9_lC58HXzJPnSQLJEDR8rmqfZZ4NhRCP0_MpUN4p8D09xNKcnxwI6j9sFuny9dy1Vt2xJb_mbcjO2wVAFs51Ff7PWAsEbyNf-UK6Y7jSUEciA6khXEEgmBo/s320/Arizona+077.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlrZa1Mc5_6NS-sZHMjhJ-4gEy51s7t6OpJRAJYm7Z_6cvKALiah_8fzqMaCE0Wk-4wtYE8NaOraE_jjptg1Iw3R-HwBuAqm-oePagsXH3aIoN5FIFlXPPcWj-RHl9tYW055o135Lj2g/s1600/Arizona+080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlrZa1Mc5_6NS-sZHMjhJ-4gEy51s7t6OpJRAJYm7Z_6cvKALiah_8fzqMaCE0Wk-4wtYE8NaOraE_jjptg1Iw3R-HwBuAqm-oePagsXH3aIoN5FIFlXPPcWj-RHl9tYW055o135Lj2g/s320/Arizona+080.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">BANDITS ON THE BLUFF</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-3872232958323742252010-09-15T22:48:00.000-07:002010-09-15T23:16:08.859-07:00KANAB, UTAHWOw.<br />
... time to catch-up on this blog again. So much territory and events going past.. if I get behind by one (or in this case, two) nights, it takes a lot of effort to get back on track. I'm taking something like 50 photos a day, and as such I have to load them onto the computer, go through them one at a time, write down a fewe that might be interesting,.. then WRITE something that actually might enlighten you guys to what riding a sportbike across these LARGE and varied states. All when I've finally found a hotel and am pretty much trashed from a full day of battling the Road.<br />
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Okay... no more excuses! Right now I am in a tiny mountain village on the razor southern edge of Utah, just outside Zion National Park. I have a decent motel, circa 1955, clean and well appointed. Outside the wispy desert sunset finally gave up and retired over these red cliff mesas... the word NAVAJO might give you an idea... more on that in a moment.. Lets RECAP:<br />
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Ah, yes.. leaving Tahoe, I think we did. Good. <br />
I rode all the way down the west edge of piney Lake Tahoe in crisp 65-degree sunlight... took a few shots of Emerald Bay.. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4YS3m3HmYr1b2_8WwhTmRZi83Og5D3EuvXpDx-ey4Jkx4BsNummEJjJ7mRQKrIQGC0ErKunU8ESbocGVZuF0wIZgPHyXY5nAY4_O4x0FcBVFQq4yBCgFW8SEBwQiqoPpvuyC0RQDe74/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4YS3m3HmYr1b2_8WwhTmRZi83Og5D3EuvXpDx-ey4Jkx4BsNummEJjJ7mRQKrIQGC0ErKunU8ESbocGVZuF0wIZgPHyXY5nAY4_O4x0FcBVFQq4yBCgFW8SEBwQiqoPpvuyC0RQDe74/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+004.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41aKzzZx9ok_qFUa7WDC9f3E7VaBdMpl8iLpMSz5icVm-Wfxg8V7qc1i3NMOVGykHC6Ye2jtkCHLRXJzkOb8ZedUoPZXOKuEwR5jIGm9FwTITNawaW7OAZLHXe_r18cJybs8_dtDzF7Y/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41aKzzZx9ok_qFUa7WDC9f3E7VaBdMpl8iLpMSz5icVm-Wfxg8V7qc1i3NMOVGykHC6Ye2jtkCHLRXJzkOb8ZedUoPZXOKuEwR5jIGm9FwTITNawaW7OAZLHXe_r18cJybs8_dtDzF7Y/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+005.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WGwRuHUqLE0M54ulQz-Gn8yP5ihD52aNIEa56Ir3SHMkOUvLEfy0PzUK9i9kwgp9OBUSCyOjhSjjVIWz1hNUGeSkbwEfIdteS5R9qT1s0g-cteLwC32UEHor1ersWHsuIsomb8s742g/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WGwRuHUqLE0M54ulQz-Gn8yP5ihD52aNIEa56Ir3SHMkOUvLEfy0PzUK9i9kwgp9OBUSCyOjhSjjVIWz1hNUGeSkbwEfIdteS5R9qT1s0g-cteLwC32UEHor1ersWHsuIsomb8s742g/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+007.jpg" /></a></div>...then passed through the town of Tahoe without even seeing it. Must have <em>grazed </em>it, somehow. Anyway, leaving town I got ruffled by a police checkpoint of sorts and missed a turnoff to take me east towards the Nevada line...ended up back-tracking almost an hour before I got straightened out. Then headed west again across the Sierras on Rte 4, total wilderness, almost no one else on the road.. and remember that this is the Great West; you don't pull over for a raspberry Slurpy anytime you want.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0LszFqSZ9nq9FfE1sm0iZT18Res9YpoABt1PMXFe71-9lQ6CrhtagQr3ngG4b3SMwMviSbboBKBOHaK3vEk_iQwE9E7r7JnV1NSbIW6QfHjUsPGciw8v60OMUrsEOzI72xc6IvQniUQ/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0LszFqSZ9nq9FfE1sm0iZT18Res9YpoABt1PMXFe71-9lQ6CrhtagQr3ngG4b3SMwMviSbboBKBOHaK3vEk_iQwE9E7r7JnV1NSbIW6QfHjUsPGciw8v60OMUrsEOzI72xc6IvQniUQ/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+011.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8049lBZk0r5EMgSmL6w9iZhKPlxd5zs1Ff2Kf9Q0RIPLTy1rvKVC9s-e7SYwiuLUOfq5A3rxuHezYrXgn9ml7yAClNceY2xHYYuMTHl9hKKJnP6GP3CDXjwEI-lGhHbgCU8j6sglmEE/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8049lBZk0r5EMgSmL6w9iZhKPlxd5zs1Ff2Kf9Q0RIPLTy1rvKVC9s-e7SYwiuLUOfq5A3rxuHezYrXgn9ml7yAClNceY2xHYYuMTHl9hKKJnP6GP3CDXjwEI-lGhHbgCU8j6sglmEE/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+014.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpR5QKWdEUIGV6NyDROmit9BDwtgsJkFseid2oLElTTZXMjdORrhqAkjtutrBmWtYlMECBz3s9-ABXpsc0y5UM8kZJQox3kQr4Os6J2qpn6ymqgnhRoE1PRtJKmr7sSCgDZgpllMBqxA/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpR5QKWdEUIGV6NyDROmit9BDwtgsJkFseid2oLElTTZXMjdORrhqAkjtutrBmWtYlMECBz3s9-ABXpsc0y5UM8kZJQox3kQr4Os6J2qpn6ymqgnhRoE1PRtJKmr7sSCgDZgpllMBqxA/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+017.jpg" /></a></div>Went over a tall pass in the Toiyabe National Forest, and you get a little hincty sometimes when you are so far into the wilderness areas by yourself, and well, The Mind plays imaginative tricks... worries about your stamina and the bike's running condition. I wound up and up and up to Ebberts Pass, 9000 feet, and everytime I get to these altitudes I forget that I have to BREATHE more heavily... <em>pant</em> a lot... the air is so thin. Near the crest were these gorgeous, gnarled pines... bristelcones, perhaps??... looked very ancient. <br />
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Wind down and down and down those endless, twisting corners...watch those cliff edges for Christ-sakes because you often have many hundreds of feet worth of drop-off two feet off the edge of the crumbly tarmac.<br />
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All the roads in the Sierra Nevada run Southwest to Northeast... there wasn't any way to get to Yosemite without riding back West again... hours in the dwindling afternoon sunlight, and you reqally don't want to get caught out in those wilderness areas after dark. LIONS and TIGERS and BEARS, ha ha. Don't even mention deer.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcxhOrcND2K2nyz6rs-jXct0876TfrHu6k21pX41msCmnyX_3VNOSyGYi81VVcDrHGsrWbGTDO4wEPOtaOmoPH5YKnl3bXOsc2iIXE_ld-vjPFbwMWH8M_pvCzVE3ibxFruf_IxW-PbI/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcxhOrcND2K2nyz6rs-jXct0876TfrHu6k21pX41msCmnyX_3VNOSyGYi81VVcDrHGsrWbGTDO4wEPOtaOmoPH5YKnl3bXOsc2iIXE_ld-vjPFbwMWH8M_pvCzVE3ibxFruf_IxW-PbI/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+018.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ezsE4Jv1I4PaMUFINLu5iom44ydZygnGMn8aiXqidO8nRjlS7ccVL8HNilP318FzVyvg2x3E3Y5Rc7mm-ZXtD6Nz7DqKULxgvLv86alDA6Ey7rnOmeGGBsNiWmrg6p8l1ZtDAI6mWz4/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ezsE4Jv1I4PaMUFINLu5iom44ydZygnGMn8aiXqidO8nRjlS7ccVL8HNilP318FzVyvg2x3E3Y5Rc7mm-ZXtD6Nz7DqKULxgvLv86alDA6Ey7rnOmeGGBsNiWmrg6p8l1ZtDAI6mWz4/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+020.jpg" /></a></div>Finally I rolled into Angel's Camp, California, an old mining town; still has the original architecture, but noiw glossed over with signs proclaiming a Wifi Hot Spot. This is Modern America: Even though a village might be utterly remote, the locals still have mobile phones... computer hook-ups... white Japanese SUV's and glossy pick-up trucks. It's sort of sad to find that there's so few places where Time hasn't ravaged... and when you DO find a spot that feels more... authentically antique... you stop and savor it for a long moment. Red Lodge Montana, just north of Yellowstone, was one oif thoise places, a place where Progress hasn't eroded the traditional interaction between human settlement and The Forrest. There's a few places like it... but not many. <br />
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Continuing onward... Miles to cover..<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91SZbqdc_YcNtNwwnWohonN2odblsJ4DaFiVsNysQtsdF6AcEzc5jBfwly4GyIohRs4g_pfrRI2K2zjjxRrCuVTReSWuob1uCQczAtuebeoBYiaKZmxmZfZ-xmwaWDJyroV3HGnVAM7E/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91SZbqdc_YcNtNwwnWohonN2odblsJ4DaFiVsNysQtsdF6AcEzc5jBfwly4GyIohRs4g_pfrRI2K2zjjxRrCuVTReSWuob1uCQczAtuebeoBYiaKZmxmZfZ-xmwaWDJyroV3HGnVAM7E/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+025.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqWxuhllqF91VX0F8rtQvTFmXYyXLAcLD9Ou_ro37lHoDnQsBZFWU1t6CD1aXBD4Ph2gi5zRUB8XK_N8DIn9gfpsnlWi6H1AbjthrIeOjUurOEyvvIhsMv_DY0tUuOQkf8KeGS73tCdE/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqWxuhllqF91VX0F8rtQvTFmXYyXLAcLD9Ou_ro37lHoDnQsBZFWU1t6CD1aXBD4Ph2gi5zRUB8XK_N8DIn9gfpsnlWi6H1AbjthrIeOjUurOEyvvIhsMv_DY0tUuOQkf8KeGS73tCdE/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+026.jpg" /></a></div>Okay, so rolled into Yosemite National Park at dusk. Your riding down this windey windey route and all of a sudden theres a break in the trees and OMIGOD there are these HUMONGOUS sheer granite cliff faces sticking up thousands of feet from a valley floor. The air is incredibly crisp and clean, due to to thousands and thousands of acres of pine forests..<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVS51qkeMW_VGhLQ2dPpXRlfycjZjRpv4NphBmjtMOyd6mnRQHPORkn3X6etg_K2xoZyzVFGvhRoXx-u2Z91P5Gw2yOeYD08ZFyGAxYWvetHOF_VROw-kV5F3QxtCCfK969IOGUmy__8/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVS51qkeMW_VGhLQ2dPpXRlfycjZjRpv4NphBmjtMOyd6mnRQHPORkn3X6etg_K2xoZyzVFGvhRoXx-u2Z91P5Gw2yOeYD08ZFyGAxYWvetHOF_VROw-kV5F3QxtCCfK969IOGUmy__8/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+028.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3uY4AwkgX_Ll_nWzpgTpVUkjNJYQH9CDbonEaBT2gadDyvOo5wobVC0Vaz6UHmSYIfT1MWh0b-LV0pn6gXINgacL_gfDETzVFnnBUg_LvUuyoV-yNP7HcO9SYe8zzHGowO-PcEvMPks/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3uY4AwkgX_Ll_nWzpgTpVUkjNJYQH9CDbonEaBT2gadDyvOo5wobVC0Vaz6UHmSYIfT1MWh0b-LV0pn6gXINgacL_gfDETzVFnnBUg_LvUuyoV-yNP7HcO9SYe8zzHGowO-PcEvMPks/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+029.jpg" /></a></div>Found my way to some place called "Housekeeping Camp"... where I had a ... uhh... shack?.. reserved. A permanent tent of sorts, with a thin wall across the back with noisy London punk hiukers behind me. I paid $2.50 for bedding (many people use their own sleeping bags), and signs everywhere shrilly cautioned against leaving ANY food out in anyway whatsoever. A video was playing in the little registration shack showing bears digging into bags, tents, even breaking the half-open window of a car.<br />
Dumped my stuff of and ran to some little lodge thing as I was told food would only be available for a very short time. Turns out it wasn't a big issue, and besides, they had a credible bar open. Tank Back. The lodge was packed with people speaking Germanic or Nordic languages... a bazillion Euro Toruists go to Yosemite it seems.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsruSO4x4IA6x8oqku6aDUfvT74Yk4sfNy4w4TsWL8dbebZ6iDlFn21oAw0LHi2ptp7AwftgROi65k2MGJkC5hP5Q3GqBynHwVF-4btRHm5eoQJx89mnN-f4vhkYHrxPRZB0NRDs_TA0/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsruSO4x4IA6x8oqku6aDUfvT74Yk4sfNy4w4TsWL8dbebZ6iDlFn21oAw0LHi2ptp7AwftgROi65k2MGJkC5hP5Q3GqBynHwVF-4btRHm5eoQJx89mnN-f4vhkYHrxPRZB0NRDs_TA0/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+031.jpg" /></a></div>Okay... so despite the loud London jerkoffs, I got a decent sleep, albeit a short one. The morning sun drilled through the huge pine trunks and was pleasant. I packed up and rolled out, expecting initially to be spending a fair amount of time in the park... but actually there isn't too far to go if you are staying on the roads,.. so you zip around a little and snap shots of El Capitan and Brilevail Falls and shit. Sort of like the Grand Canyon. Looks great for a few minutes until the tourists start to annoy you and you take a few shots and move along. Here ya go...<br />
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</div>I rode Rte 120 east, through the park for about thirty miles, and the views were wild and grand... it's still Yosemite, but not the "famous" sites. But as most of the Western leg of this trip has been, the landscapes are evolving rapidly and dramatically. Winding Winding Winding down and down through increasingly dry "western" looking mountains.... suddenly the world opens up in front of you and here's weird Mono Lake splayed out across the desert horizon.. looked to be a salt flat lake or soemthing. I dunno... go Wickepedia it or somnething. What do I look like.. a geologist or sumpin? I'm just a motorcycle rider, for crying out loud. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqHnnqnxluCaOJczVPgN8udzxYWsLnxEH-Oqi6W4d_9oxvcHhPI42TJMz_FdO3RKL9VAL5zVDBtEMjPS95LOMSOA7vLj5yTZq83H5iM1gDoHExKdbS3IKxfp7CWdT32h7GofX67Q_m3E/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqHnnqnxluCaOJczVPgN8udzxYWsLnxEH-Oqi6W4d_9oxvcHhPI42TJMz_FdO3RKL9VAL5zVDBtEMjPS95LOMSOA7vLj5yTZq83H5iM1gDoHExKdbS3IKxfp7CWdT32h7GofX67Q_m3E/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+076.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWC1e6qhnUjxDlSUncSjvWyb0fF3TjWKOFJlsovM680-Tl39sntUyM6CjUI0i9CGZa3Ensf_3FSi9G7iMkl8-S7ZzojiWBXJuHVdTRakNRtTN0fhfkv8PjyKIEiJ4t16un2gA9oJz6gA/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWC1e6qhnUjxDlSUncSjvWyb0fF3TjWKOFJlsovM680-Tl39sntUyM6CjUI0i9CGZa3Ensf_3FSi9G7iMkl8-S7ZzojiWBXJuHVdTRakNRtTN0fhfkv8PjyKIEiJ4t16un2gA9oJz6gA/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+088.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboAXQKcWry2cDFftZ7DzBzY80Cs1_qkm7qFULUqMD_SK4a8JQdT9WCnHozNRtBPV985g0W4C28F3sRUK29hG7UtvLk03a2F14v332a27qWSM1YDQWwtTEYHAvnapLNtIC1BBLSMQV39U/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboAXQKcWry2cDFftZ7DzBzY80Cs1_qkm7qFULUqMD_SK4a8JQdT9WCnHozNRtBPV985g0W4C28F3sRUK29hG7UtvLk03a2F14v332a27qWSM1YDQWwtTEYHAvnapLNtIC1BBLSMQV39U/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+097.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I continued out Rte 120, heading for Nevada, and as you can see, it became increasingly "desert". Also, <em>desert-ED...</em> as I was often on the road by myself. I crested the Sylvannia Mountains near Benton, CA, at 9000 feet... then dropped down again to the Nevada side at an area bordering Death Valley near the Funeral Mountains. The road I was on was long and deserted... no signs of human habitation for fifty miles at a clip. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFi0jcLqC2Hvn3rbHR8kwZng_NCOGCfjQFjXJ5fLpIflZbTqApajEVEPbo6CIScbt_tDoAoazf2M9okjZBdnGXc8Zdvq3-Xvz5DBcteeQKu_4TJLxLf3HDrCuzRfDSo0F5bNoiqIeGN0/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFi0jcLqC2Hvn3rbHR8kwZng_NCOGCfjQFjXJ5fLpIflZbTqApajEVEPbo6CIScbt_tDoAoazf2M9okjZBdnGXc8Zdvq3-Xvz5DBcteeQKu_4TJLxLf3HDrCuzRfDSo0F5bNoiqIeGN0/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+108.jpg" /></a></div>Suddenly the pavement changed abruptly to oiled gravel, and I saw the sign for Nevada flash past. After that it was a loooong run on that cheap "pavement", worrying about traction on a 500-pound motorcycle and also the odds of picking up some sharp tire-challenging object in that sticky tar. Meahwhile the landscape around me turned hostile and hot... and it really was just an ajunct to Deat Valley there. Tumbleweeds, gila monsters and shit...<br />
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And another ENDLESS highway run down Nevada Rte 95... on and on and on.... I was TIRED and everything hurt... my left clutch hand...right wrist... ass-bones...my ear-holes from the Mp3... and oh yes, especially my tortured NECK which now, if I have the earbuds in but no sound on, I can hear what sounds like <em>sand </em>in my neck vertebrae when I turn my head. All just part of the Fun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MLi9fC2MP-pd-9GTYvBj_9G8JFTKs1N7y4esVgE9YR9fS7ufBIDvquWMmTlxRtCmkCeeYmNN37hVczyVfne6Wd9Fjt0cNHOQ6LV7GS4gOh7NtqPnb0E-e2yvboBWTIzY_8sQxNvojQg/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MLi9fC2MP-pd-9GTYvBj_9G8JFTKs1N7y4esVgE9YR9fS7ufBIDvquWMmTlxRtCmkCeeYmNN37hVczyVfne6Wd9Fjt0cNHOQ6LV7GS4gOh7NtqPnb0E-e2yvboBWTIzY_8sQxNvojQg/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+127.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmmvX5RGaLFzsz4F0ohCAKfiHerf9MbL28xmzikcixhgBs_n2EWI_HqprGXOuPqR5gGBHVMJ0rButZ8WFyV3fRRpJ1a-_yZm4V-qFMIzbrS-s1YyT594umEXoA0iAvXJ-vGnYVROg6Nw/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmmvX5RGaLFzsz4F0ohCAKfiHerf9MbL28xmzikcixhgBs_n2EWI_HqprGXOuPqR5gGBHVMJ0rButZ8WFyV3fRRpJ1a-_yZm4V-qFMIzbrS-s1YyT594umEXoA0iAvXJ-vGnYVROg6Nw/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+129.jpg" /></a></div>Another crusher of an evening run, down into las Vegas. I can't convey the mile after mile after fucking MILE....just droning down a staright line in the darkening empty desert... try hard for a moment though... HEY! a little SYMPATHY over here!<br />
<br />
ah. So,,, BANG suddenly I'm in downtown urban Vegas.... covered with dust and eyeballs still vibrating from staring into the blackened desert night... and whammo, The Strip. I had no idea of what to do or where to go. Jena had mentioned some place "one street off the Strip"... but I couldn't remember the name and I was bonkers exhausted. The bike grumbled under the sudden change to city-hot stop-and-go traffic...and I had not the slightest clue about how to find a ..<em>motel..?...casino hotel..?</em> I stopped into a gas station and aske the fat kid but he got weird and sadi he really didn't know of any hotels in the area. <em>what?? </em>We're one BLOCK fromn the Strip... where do peoiple STAY... Casar's Palace has that many <em>rooms?? </em>I even stopped a beat cop on patrol... he scratched his head and even <em>he </em>had no suggestions. What the hell is going ON in this town.. <br />
Finally I trundled down the Strip and low and behold, right between all the big casinos were a batch of cheapo, drive-in normal MOTELS. What kind of people the <em>got </em>working out there.... I picked a crumbly joint with good old fashioned, park-outside-your-room style... paid a little more than I probably needed to ($45)... but was happy to be finally settled in somewhere. Showered and changed into the only collared shirt I have and headed out... for Sinatra's stomping grounds. Next stop: Caesar's Palace. <br />
Which turned out to be a lavish rip-off. They <em>all </em>are... and I don;t need to go into the pros and cons of casinos here, but it's all just one big tourist shuck, on steroids. I crusied through a few pl;aces.. the Flamingo... Bally's... had one drink and didnt gamble... until finally I took a taxi back to the Sahara, which was walking distance to my hotel.... started boozing there (hey! I thought drinking was supposed to be <em>cheap </em>in Vegas!).. and sat down at a $5 Blackjack table with some noisy midwestern dudes... <br />
I'm not much of a gambler and last night proved it... lost $100 sitting there. Fun,, yeah, I suppose... but I'm already over budegt on this trip and I didn't need to blow $200 last night..(remember those drinks? I also had to do IHop at 4AM)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKPG8RBeVzjnu-0BVnfqqaw-y6fijfJedyVAxHMGGfKViUn1EpRC6zG_A_TSifa4rqrPjoIUC2EVNwUN5kfeho1r-CCfLd4-uVhgednJQihWYanJ47yxTie45MpZSZ7HWqIJIALGK9oI/s1600/Yosemite-Nevada+132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKPG8RBeVzjnu-0BVnfqqaw-y6fijfJedyVAxHMGGfKViUn1EpRC6zG_A_TSifa4rqrPjoIUC2EVNwUN5kfeho1r-CCfLd4-uVhgednJQihWYanJ47yxTie45MpZSZ7HWqIJIALGK9oI/s320/Yosemite-Nevada+132.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmMkR_q30GasL7_U8Wf1xy5IAkylYeYL-UcuO6JiVwY2JhWHq4PM2ncERZTqM2SO7UWo3C5U3RCbxtw_PYVpGEJBWdPaHIkiHN2iup_OcA9aURnQorc8HyWdPRhp9Vtyja0GKDRD8LTY/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmMkR_q30GasL7_U8Wf1xy5IAkylYeYL-UcuO6JiVwY2JhWHq4PM2ncERZTqM2SO7UWo3C5U3RCbxtw_PYVpGEJBWdPaHIkiHN2iup_OcA9aURnQorc8HyWdPRhp9Vtyja0GKDRD8LTY/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+001.jpg" /></a></div>Woke up late and hungover... managed to pull my gear together and rolled my bike out the door before the chambermaid came and noticed the chain-lube stain on the carpet. Rode across the street to Ihop once again and had a blahh breaksfast but the waitress really cxaught my eye withe a lower-lip stud and a gorgeous blonde braid that went down past her butt.. ahh... What Happens in Vegas... I wanted to get out. Vegas isn;t for me... just a big Tourist Trap, complete with pulp ads for hookers everywhere ("$69!! College girls! No obligation! Photo is actual! Gauranteed to be in your room and naked within half an hour!!")<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmcBqOPJHGj2djmTConUUNl0ehyphenhyphenJp51AHXxwnseX0eQOAuqFWqOdYKZ7YFjisSeUYSoYT8Nawr0xH7jyS1d_wipebuMC9Y7zHg6fxIHNP2f69q_2l-kj_mujVf-EzfBIeCCv6F4t5Kno/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmcBqOPJHGj2djmTConUUNl0ehyphenhyphenJp51AHXxwnseX0eQOAuqFWqOdYKZ7YFjisSeUYSoYT8Nawr0xH7jyS1d_wipebuMC9Y7zHg6fxIHNP2f69q_2l-kj_mujVf-EzfBIeCCv6F4t5Kno/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+009.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Alrighty then... I finally detached and somehow wound my way out to I-15, heading for Utah. It was HOT... and here we go again with that South Dakota shit again.... giant hair-dryers blowing 110-degree 80-mph wind on you all day. But this time I was hungover... dizzy and tingly.... slightly panicked to realize the immense desert I was heading into... found a Heaven-sent hot dog truck 30 miles outside of Vegas, and the nice Mexican lady sold me cold bottles of water and cheered me up. Back to the Intense Hydration thing again.... pour that shit into yourself until you want to puke.... at each and every stop. Even still you get dizzy and edgy.\<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5gyvPCMd5ehENf-VkjjhF4Ma8Rz0XztQh_IOLmRCGYFnuKrG64EB8_n8caqEmGwWBY68HxbmbC9Oh0fX6GEzxHGWn3OSRZPsPe-5aHISTHfBf9pJ2iqO0ZX_ItATekbRIXnpP0kEG5U/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5gyvPCMd5ehENf-VkjjhF4Ma8Rz0XztQh_IOLmRCGYFnuKrG64EB8_n8caqEmGwWBY68HxbmbC9Oh0fX6GEzxHGWn3OSRZPsPe-5aHISTHfBf9pJ2iqO0ZX_ItATekbRIXnpP0kEG5U/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+011.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCrbo4rk6u6rE_GCuhDbJJYNC7I-NDWRLBcp0f1E_dSsnonhja5kdZTpCok85nms-_6zXFMhlbPJZmmMo5fHs54w5nf1PQ5NDH4jfZrf5FUI1s8CGGmXOylg8CF95532yx7i4OV02Ygo/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCrbo4rk6u6rE_GCuhDbJJYNC7I-NDWRLBcp0f1E_dSsnonhja5kdZTpCok85nms-_6zXFMhlbPJZmmMo5fHs54w5nf1PQ5NDH4jfZrf5FUI1s8CGGmXOylg8CF95532yx7i4OV02Ygo/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+017.jpg" /></a></div>Ride Ride Ride..... into the bleached-out boneyard mountains of Nevada... catch a slice of Arizona then your into Utah. Reading this here... especially for you non-riders... can't give yo a sense of being <em>vulnerable "</em>out there". Everyone flips past you in their fully air-conditioned BMW cars, flipping through magazines and peering at you apothetically, while you're trying to hold onto a big heavy bike and your Sanity in that never-ending, hellish blast-furnace. Surreal.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRJnlOGgWS4E76vBysxt-XoX5ZbAkpDVaxHmDSP85D-f4waH7OPhK7mj0rHPSQ-_4Ejjzn82UeaZ53sHFJbB0XPgx4DJCitkX-kj4gv_RBOvniSSZYF9WxKv7iur_Mfeei_zZAyzlfIk/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRJnlOGgWS4E76vBysxt-XoX5ZbAkpDVaxHmDSP85D-f4waH7OPhK7mj0rHPSQ-_4Ejjzn82UeaZ53sHFJbB0XPgx4DJCitkX-kj4gv_RBOvniSSZYF9WxKv7iur_Mfeei_zZAyzlfIk/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+014.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uSdqNsnPyVgMsqxxcAjLER-jmeHo028uk8B59p0TzqDBoHh_FBtlPwml1ZePCmbVi0roytJHqZEMOQnep7BfDdwDSqeoES-r_nnWv0pGOgI5GxKDPPXOgufqvmftCQ7j-ArfheuF-UE/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uSdqNsnPyVgMsqxxcAjLER-jmeHo028uk8B59p0TzqDBoHh_FBtlPwml1ZePCmbVi0roytJHqZEMOQnep7BfDdwDSqeoES-r_nnWv0pGOgI5GxKDPPXOgufqvmftCQ7j-ArfheuF-UE/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+024.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Into the mountains and the desert lanscape changed and changed again... various styles of stratified rock cliffs and mesas... changing shape and hue. Past some clever little towns that have managed to carve out a toe-hold in a seemingly very inhospitable place... <em>faux-adobe </em>Spanish/Indian-Misson style of architecture... but places like Mesquite and St George and Hurricane... tidy little modern oasis. <br />
<br />
Headed for Zion and the temperatures became cooler heading into the mountains. I never actually thought about it before, but all these places, Zion, Yosemite, Yellowstone... they're all <em>high in the mountains. </em>That's what the glaciers and whatever eroding funk carved them out from. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHk_hvdNQ5HCKpn_g0ai5PuKoDkFzGYYFhf8_Eux_ixWp-YdiDuQiKIq_ytdQQQ52gw3biC0BXKI_xaGzmLQxAt11QThep-phyRWW_OmxOL2dN-mBIN7j8zCvUBHT2P_f43aG3waBDWjo/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHk_hvdNQ5HCKpn_g0ai5PuKoDkFzGYYFhf8_Eux_ixWp-YdiDuQiKIq_ytdQQQ52gw3biC0BXKI_xaGzmLQxAt11QThep-phyRWW_OmxOL2dN-mBIN7j8zCvUBHT2P_f43aG3waBDWjo/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+040.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmN0iHQ-YxSgQH01fiO6Q-QumFKZ1QMt12TfPw8oD3NlGZRQZX_nFENoLNuisIosBdLby5S348IqVT0bp4q5iYAJ6dIgGufQUciWSHztb84WdM6sVexMJxROJQ-e9oK5SwfYVzOEaPPY/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmN0iHQ-YxSgQH01fiO6Q-QumFKZ1QMt12TfPw8oD3NlGZRQZX_nFENoLNuisIosBdLby5S348IqVT0bp4q5iYAJ6dIgGufQUciWSHztb84WdM6sVexMJxROJQ-e9oK5SwfYVzOEaPPY/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+043.jpg" /></a></div>$12 gets a bike past the gates of the National Park... then up tiny gravel roads...Okay. look at photos. I'm running out of steam... the bed is calling. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCpDf3NT6WJYREeHMZN6CKLjdHw6Mza0dyn-WQ8OXz7kCfSk44ZrCjrCZqwr2gs24aWbJb9x_rEebf9yPJzHz7jCIJz5pI8DLPM1Nos4d4LLaGjI1NV6NsUbn92L3H6oAMVXKf0WwuYE/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCpDf3NT6WJYREeHMZN6CKLjdHw6Mza0dyn-WQ8OXz7kCfSk44ZrCjrCZqwr2gs24aWbJb9x_rEebf9yPJzHz7jCIJz5pI8DLPM1Nos4d4LLaGjI1NV6NsUbn92L3H6oAMVXKf0WwuYE/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+050.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeNN9abumAA2TSbwx68Zry4tW7vOPl5yaz7q4CQHyAMhe4VlUxDIWBYKfa_HcjhASmWhOh0LEB7W5VOr9k5a9a5bDAgLP0dD00szWxYkQUcvajcQh3imFbVtRHkJ3s68IpqpClC6ZXWI/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeNN9abumAA2TSbwx68Zry4tW7vOPl5yaz7q4CQHyAMhe4VlUxDIWBYKfa_HcjhASmWhOh0LEB7W5VOr9k5a9a5bDAgLP0dD00szWxYkQUcvajcQh3imFbVtRHkJ3s68IpqpClC6ZXWI/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+053.jpg" /></a></div>Right. So after I get to the top of the gravel road it suddenly turns to good pavement and the park disappears. Gone. No sign of Leaving or any tolgate or anything.... I'm OUT. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZLHPdtsjcUiOPk9bKQR7qyOAgXP9V9nlxMfExJag8JJlNcJpUGnLAACwpctqVLn1ksfIMop2JmnKiXtmS7JimnJxilHZJKjiEN54UEprU5KxKK_GraGQiJloMMGBBhNz9wUO7bP3T7Y/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZLHPdtsjcUiOPk9bKQR7qyOAgXP9V9nlxMfExJag8JJlNcJpUGnLAACwpctqVLn1ksfIMop2JmnKiXtmS7JimnJxilHZJKjiEN54UEprU5KxKK_GraGQiJloMMGBBhNz9wUO7bP3T7Y/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+057.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2oygVPvtBvxcesOyXR8AS3Sh-XMIuwi0KYc0Ax0G2dIZYm-EGI1KuyzA2ZIsSexLwD27dIW_NcHSWBpxiUiCA-BXQfJQ6KGq-LU-DehSTz6GOqIxIIUxMsqbetTSZnDJhOyd2X708NI/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2oygVPvtBvxcesOyXR8AS3Sh-XMIuwi0KYc0Ax0G2dIZYm-EGI1KuyzA2ZIsSexLwD27dIW_NcHSWBpxiUiCA-BXQfJQ6KGq-LU-DehSTz6GOqIxIIUxMsqbetTSZnDJhOyd2X708NI/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+059.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_a1ygL7EPggUhaT7d6VgOD3vSzZRPlOYXMZ9BQltl1hU4L-4IYIFSLDs-18Sj1MFuE9kqTC-hpVJBgnN46XMCkzlUlRxK7baSpXdhjzqQLyTGEeGcmZYeUr99bMBNgRkSTF9EaIh5DI/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_a1ygL7EPggUhaT7d6VgOD3vSzZRPlOYXMZ9BQltl1hU4L-4IYIFSLDs-18Sj1MFuE9kqTC-hpVJBgnN46XMCkzlUlRxK7baSpXdhjzqQLyTGEeGcmZYeUr99bMBNgRkSTF9EaIh5DI/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+062.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMWhAwSrCVNJhs_Tbvz1N1Fy4rzTU2sQc1Yileb9QQfPV8ai38k_SQ2VwKWDufMfvzWT4fzKrim_VV4yKsk_ytqdn5GLYN7OS3RL20B8v8xYdbQfSOh_X-O5HuAGzKic6jodey9YKpr8/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMWhAwSrCVNJhs_Tbvz1N1Fy4rzTU2sQc1Yileb9QQfPV8ai38k_SQ2VwKWDufMfvzWT4fzKrim_VV4yKsk_ytqdn5GLYN7OS3RL20B8v8xYdbQfSOh_X-O5HuAGzKic6jodey9YKpr8/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+065.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M729mwTMmnT8Gt8-HVCK8P3Iiap8aLT2WoowvWs-OyMUdsVn2H3V_TBmxhtH6t8nC5yVoLWzcmQ2vGKFbQJizWOfEaFeXMsKthgz4_LmpPDyOTm60s_OXvF3WJw2fEg3r5uXRhjBgtU/s1600/Nevada+-+Utah+077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M729mwTMmnT8Gt8-HVCK8P3Iiap8aLT2WoowvWs-OyMUdsVn2H3V_TBmxhtH6t8nC5yVoLWzcmQ2vGKFbQJizWOfEaFeXMsKthgz4_LmpPDyOTm60s_OXvF3WJw2fEg3r5uXRhjBgtU/s320/Nevada+-+Utah+077.jpg" /></a></div>So I peer at the map and see this tiny speck called <em>Kanab ...</em>near the,well, <em>Kanab Indian Reservation...</em>and it's another tidy little town in the midst of this John-Wayne red-rock-mesa gorgeous secenry. Kind of surreal, but the rib-eye buffet was great.<br />
<br />
Oh, one quick horror-story as a bonus for those of you who actually made it this far:<br />
Riding along at 60 mph in a long construction zone today... those big, heavy plastic orange marker barrels every 25 feet, and the truck ahead of me clips one. Zing... immediately the thing does a little pirouette and for a split second I flash that it's bounced away from my path but nuh-UHHH it does a little flip and angles <em>straight into my driving line </em>and I have no time to think or react.... b-b-BLUNNNGGG...I clip it as it rolls in front of me, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY it was a few degrees off of center and it sort of skidded away after bashing the front of my bike. Scared the crap out of me, doing 60.<br />
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Goodnight.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-6438565811348736892010-09-12T23:11:00.000-07:002010-09-12T23:46:29.080-07:00TAHOE CALIFORNIA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmKOqhiiFp1wW1NN-SJlWG_uIeFubb9nWRSqME7m58r-YRHf5L5jBEN0Ct5Hbuv5vxTQ1tSmhjsIU5_9tyNLI9YoCFzB6Z53I9CmnJsghKVXOvQFX5Bv9-ELBgGTG7C-8ff8il3hPEPw/s1600/NorCal+3+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmKOqhiiFp1wW1NN-SJlWG_uIeFubb9nWRSqME7m58r-YRHf5L5jBEN0Ct5Hbuv5vxTQ1tSmhjsIU5_9tyNLI9YoCFzB6Z53I9CmnJsghKVXOvQFX5Bv9-ELBgGTG7C-8ff8il3hPEPw/s320/NorCal+3+022.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Finally, a chance to access this blog again. I've stayed with friends who had computer service, but no WiFi.. so I couldn't load photos.<br />
Problem is that now I have too MANY photos backed-up.... so here's a little update and then some shots.<br />
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I left Jena and Vic's lovely home in San Rafael about two PM today, and now, around 9:30, I'm in north Lake Tahoe in a little town called King's Beach. <br />
Time for a re-cap on my Bay Area experiences ...<br />
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I spent about a week there, based again, ou of San Rafael, a suburb of San Francisco 15 miles north of the city across the Golden Gate Bridge...a town made famous due in part to Jerry Garcia and other Dead members living there. <br />
First, the Coast. Here are some shots coming down from Eureka, up north in California, including redwood forests:<br />
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</div>Okay, here're some pictures of San Francisco proper, including Haight Ashbury, where I spent a few days lolli-gagging around.. not quite the same as 1967 of course, but still a loit of young grimy panhandlers... head shops... cafes and bars. A fun place to people-watch... Also, a "Power to the Peaceful" event happening in Golden Gate Park just yesterday (Saturday). California girls really ARE the Most.. many unbelieveable beauties.. <br />
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I took a few rides up the West Marin coastline, past Muir and Stinson Beaches, and up to Point Reyes National Seashore. The ride up Cal Rte 1 was twisty-insane... one of the pay-off reasons why I'm riding a sportbike across country. California, outside the rather widely-separated cities, is raw wilderness. This is what gives it such character... and the SCALE of the landscapes is truly stunning. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwZ63nOL1V8IAHi1vpMAqozPK4AoyBNISw0L8HGPXGjHCMEFTdM2vNY-aJkOreSXJ1GbH-Q1kOHq7lLMrb1difIiIftOoiDF-i-NtYY-Aajg3r9FVPKEcfVV76PhRsSPbVyqUlgtvZ2E/s1600/NorCal+2+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwZ63nOL1V8IAHi1vpMAqozPK4AoyBNISw0L8HGPXGjHCMEFTdM2vNY-aJkOreSXJ1GbH-Q1kOHq7lLMrb1difIiIftOoiDF-i-NtYY-Aajg3r9FVPKEcfVV76PhRsSPbVyqUlgtvZ2E/s320/NorCal+2+003.jpg" /></a></div>Up at Point Reyes I stood on a thousand-foot precipice and wacthed whales spouting far below. Nearby North Beach (not the city place) was crisp and wild...the Pacific there is heavy cold and beautiful and grand.<br />
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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQW4upcq4F88lpTDlosUbqb_mwoSygTxtf2Kd2lKNXgcxQlExI5WIxbEgS2w5GeL8Uf5dVqQ-QD7z-94GMtDX9fluBI6gXrRN1dRX1UW5tK3Yrk7QAOy3ROVkf29QJz1E6nUi9BUhO5hs/s320/NorCal+2+057.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">what else.... I did a lot of stuff in a week.. toured all over the Bay area on the bike... got to know my around SF quite well... pretty easy city to navigate. Little town called Bolinas in a corner of the Point Reyes peninnsula... tiny place set back in time... sat in the local bar with scruffy fiushermen locals and we tore it up pretty good. Went to a great arts fastival in Sausalito; had Paul Kantner, Slick Aguilar and David Frieberg from Quicksilver, doing Airplane and Starship tunes, with a great female vocalist. Small venue, beautiful against the backdrop of the SF Bay. Maybe will get photos later... (how 'bout it, Jena?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Got Religion last Sunday morning and decided to attend morning service at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church over in posh Belvidere; this is the same church where Jerry Garcia got married and had his funeral. The minister looked unsettlingly like Phil Lesh (talked like him, too). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1vu-juLsOb_G-iqErk1_3VPATZTgEkxo4uMvLz1tO1C8-uGup5CfpAv1EAHR8SCJjaZYdGqRKVb0SPxGkVW8viijUD4vMFurJDiJLp9AesrP6jLfBIGFNouuaNYAI5HVkGwHCdo3X5M/s1600/NorCal+2+064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1vu-juLsOb_G-iqErk1_3VPATZTgEkxo4uMvLz1tO1C8-uGup5CfpAv1EAHR8SCJjaZYdGqRKVb0SPxGkVW8viijUD4vMFurJDiJLp9AesrP6jLfBIGFNouuaNYAI5HVkGwHCdo3X5M/s320/NorCal+2+064.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIZO3jKvUcx9Gwt3s5yIIxMlMLgO6xOBaFWHGfYMvMvKaCF1wLk7HgY0YOrw2B0XsNQCIJFoXBXmKvjwQPR-T0AU4vTEwqxlSpzDeTB_yLgWMoqZW5bBRtw145ZEOnawrdne7R4xs81Q/s1600/NorCal+2+065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIZO3jKvUcx9Gwt3s5yIIxMlMLgO6xOBaFWHGfYMvMvKaCF1wLk7HgY0YOrw2B0XsNQCIJFoXBXmKvjwQPR-T0AU4vTEwqxlSpzDeTB_yLgWMoqZW5bBRtw145ZEOnawrdne7R4xs81Q/s320/NorCal+2+065.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqk57QX81rIzol_rWrNqBevsNEUMiwUczhLBkHd8FBE9POvKrSgLixU2L0cFomFLcpnYAHxeAgf4rEJaCwC-SYx48K2bbwsnx20Xe-_-EuZIgzXBIilRODjwnMhYdF1SCC7b8FFUcLxsw/s1600/NorCal+2+067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqk57QX81rIzol_rWrNqBevsNEUMiwUczhLBkHd8FBE9POvKrSgLixU2L0cFomFLcpnYAHxeAgf4rEJaCwC-SYx48K2bbwsnx20Xe-_-EuZIgzXBIilRODjwnMhYdF1SCC7b8FFUcLxsw/s320/NorCal+2+067.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMKhOMsV3-XBRe8KaZgaNc2uKuUS68iDqqkDDfA3jNsPdefxuMvpyEdEY-y1Ei3Glj6NLGEwg0MtYD4EtngxDAc0NI1J-pAvVVj3IqD3fLcVBF5vA12H1t0fmUTuT1LuP8GmV_RsM1cA/s1600/NorCal+3+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMKhOMsV3-XBRe8KaZgaNc2uKuUS68iDqqkDDfA3jNsPdefxuMvpyEdEY-y1Ei3Glj6NLGEwg0MtYD4EtngxDAc0NI1J-pAvVVj3IqD3fLcVBF5vA12H1t0fmUTuT1LuP8GmV_RsM1cA/s320/NorCal+3+011.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ahhh. lastly but not leastly, a fun shot of my ver magnanimous hosts in the Bay, Jena and Victor, working towards their Carnegie Hall show coming up. THANKS GUYS...love ya.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXo6O4Z1VC7rFWh8w7DyaBC5ep8AJ9neW9J5vUjYGz0kKm3XwnQN3rYVG899_EKGGjZLzaCf6SxgdUZr2qsm-alHSu6mjp8pZzB6Iccc6-C-VujoClvH4MPa48T5kaRHdA9VbRXySFlA/s1600/NorCal+3+078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXo6O4Z1VC7rFWh8w7DyaBC5ep8AJ9neW9J5vUjYGz0kKm3XwnQN3rYVG899_EKGGjZLzaCf6SxgdUZr2qsm-alHSu6mjp8pZzB6Iccc6-C-VujoClvH4MPa48T5kaRHdA9VbRXySFlA/s320/NorCal+3+078.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Okay. Bonus Footage.... </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I left my Heart in San Francisco and ripped East (a new direction) towards Lake Tahoe. A hot ride, once I was off of the Coastal Range. One the way I rode across the infamous Donner Pass, where a wagon train of early settlers heading for California got stuck just short of a pass in the Sierras, due to a huge snowfall, and ended up eating each other. Here's some shots of the Pass and Donner Lake. </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After that it a shot of Lake Tahoe as I was coming in tonight. </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9hHu9ViOyYM1XdSkl6Oem-fN287WnZSppCvUzg1Sx2mYhWu4l0171CxyiD_AaMSk0tluhyphenhyphenYCQy1mkFnAmWD-mVgwC2S20gBSJ3F00EW_q1N-yAh51V-8eieiHEDVy-PJkvoU4CTJi_Q/s1600/NorCal+3+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9hHu9ViOyYM1XdSkl6Oem-fN287WnZSppCvUzg1Sx2mYhWu4l0171CxyiD_AaMSk0tluhyphenhyphenYCQy1mkFnAmWD-mVgwC2S20gBSJ3F00EW_q1N-yAh51V-8eieiHEDVy-PJkvoU4CTJi_Q/s320/NorCal+3+084.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMkIBLxdBmKFHVJyuzDOrTTjTxQu1U-DpClsICiTm9TcSOhQLz2EsSAQv5A0WuY9quF6jraSkUVt4sUU9GpyiiuCpceLAUjQW7rYq9z3WwtdS29UgF04FVYandojrX3a6ck2D8omOMi4/s1600/NorCal+3+093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMkIBLxdBmKFHVJyuzDOrTTjTxQu1U-DpClsICiTm9TcSOhQLz2EsSAQv5A0WuY9quF6jraSkUVt4sUU9GpyiiuCpceLAUjQW7rYq9z3WwtdS29UgF04FVYandojrX3a6ck2D8omOMi4/s320/NorCal+3+093.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkahoUMOBXqoqCeWL6dOq_0N8LpeKg_Ov69sJAOmmrd-frJ3OgH7GuZRCExD3-r6OuGeFeVi9rWfbI8t1vh-jIPE2XfEGnPn41FbN4YtX0om05ntmDds5O7ZRnrwdVd7AjDTNjfdibVZ8/s1600/NorCal+3+097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkahoUMOBXqoqCeWL6dOq_0N8LpeKg_Ov69sJAOmmrd-frJ3OgH7GuZRCExD3-r6OuGeFeVi9rWfbI8t1vh-jIPE2XfEGnPn41FbN4YtX0om05ntmDds5O7ZRnrwdVd7AjDTNjfdibVZ8/s320/NorCal+3+097.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-389HKfsi0XpVcDYI2SRY1chhwM-hhA3Py1vUZ9hxWHSdkvQXzYvmME_oezmUe6h9ERz1ueYm91VSSGmyc54G87fUzMOdpEzJTGEccf9ZwJZi9364rSvb0jMMI1EOJvU9FmbMYsTNiW8/s1600/NorCal+3+098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-389HKfsi0XpVcDYI2SRY1chhwM-hhA3Py1vUZ9hxWHSdkvQXzYvmME_oezmUe6h9ERz1ueYm91VSSGmyc54G87fUzMOdpEzJTGEccf9ZwJZi9364rSvb0jMMI1EOJvU9FmbMYsTNiW8/s320/NorCal+3+098.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qQ3ZvxBJc1RzMcAXEsJY3crdK7dHyZXHytSqntgAboY3G9hjCOjeHzMdgaeZLOUpgZpDJuHg9OZm8IRfHKqJ7A7iwPjZdM5i94Awbg9vYZu5hBcbuvahDMfHeMxY0Csnsdz9hiwJoCQ/s1600/NorCal+3+100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qQ3ZvxBJc1RzMcAXEsJY3crdK7dHyZXHytSqntgAboY3G9hjCOjeHzMdgaeZLOUpgZpDJuHg9OZm8IRfHKqJ7A7iwPjZdM5i94Awbg9vYZu5hBcbuvahDMfHeMxY0Csnsdz9hiwJoCQ/s320/NorCal+3+100.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RGtgc2guEDm_hUlVIPjJPSqqWWVmUV1HhFeC691JjGT7-nUxMC-sfnIFbnCf889YnFlNlZ1pvcuIfMISTaHk9usW1JmdYKSTeDi4M4IBu7E4zks10so53I6icvhE7nODG9F6eSS-Yic/s1600/NorCal+3+103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RGtgc2guEDm_hUlVIPjJPSqqWWVmUV1HhFeC691JjGT7-nUxMC-sfnIFbnCf889YnFlNlZ1pvcuIfMISTaHk9usW1JmdYKSTeDi4M4IBu7E4zks10so53I6icvhE7nODG9F6eSS-Yic/s320/NorCal+3+103.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFzclVybOYNygUxEfYD6DjK9917nqkrQs5jN27VVe-H5Hgw7gmhPWh2XvfO1Iu7YlAW-_vUuPZNvMC6orwNwst7EdsgUHyFh1Ye2H_LXqjCfyWwn7PrSYqejgleALm2UN6DRNgoFbb6w/s1600/NorCal+3+108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFzclVybOYNygUxEfYD6DjK9917nqkrQs5jN27VVe-H5Hgw7gmhPWh2XvfO1Iu7YlAW-_vUuPZNvMC6orwNwst7EdsgUHyFh1Ye2H_LXqjCfyWwn7PrSYqejgleALm2UN6DRNgoFbb6w/s320/NorCal+3+108.jpg" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ahh.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Noiw Caught Up. Basically. </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No complaints, please.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tomorrow heading for Yosemite.</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-75416026512010108202010-09-09T12:17:00.000-07:002010-09-09T12:17:31.373-07:00SAN RAFAEL CA IIStill in the Bay Area... my friends Jena and Victor have been wonderful hosts and pals, and I've put off my Escape from San Fran a little longer. There's a festival of sorts happening down in Golden Gate Park this Saturday that looks likely to have whatever is left of the Bohemian Element surface... so my plan is to attend that event then head out again soon after. <br />
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In the past few days I've had a slew of important maintenance tasks completed on the Bandit; down in San Francisco (15 miles away... an easy run, except for the devasating wind and liquid fog pouring off the Golden Gate headlands near the bridge). Golden Gate Cycles changed my tires, chain and sprockets, and I bought brake pads, oil filter, and front caliper pins (the ones that stripped out in Urbana Ill.) from them. They sort of rooked me on the service fees, adding costs for tire valve stems and wheel weights on top of an already pricey estimate for labor. The mechanic added oil (the wrong type and weight for what I had in there) without asking, adn they initially wanted to charge me for <em>that..</em> there are no wheel weights on the front wheel which makes me nervous, as it's unusual that a tire would balance-up "0-0-0" across the balancer machine without weights... they were supposed to call me back but never did.<br />
Anyway, tires and chain changed... yesterday I changed the oil and filter myself, as well as brake pads up front. Finally... back to Suzuki pads. Yay.<br />
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So today is a bit of a test ride... maybe swing back up the coast towards Bolinas near Point Reyes again, where I saw whales from the cliffs.<br />
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Sorry no photos at present; when I get to a Wifi place (motel) I will load some pretty stuff.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-10458318885941045212010-09-03T12:27:00.000-07:002010-09-03T12:27:10.534-07:00SAN RAFAEL CALIFORNIAA quick tide-yaz-over, until I can get photos loaded from my computer, as I'm typing on my friend's machine. <br />
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Safe & Sound in the northern San Francisco suburbs, staying with pals Jena and Victor. SOOOPer DOOPer nice people; gentle, evolved, aware.. pragmatic, (in relation to many S.F. dwellers, I would say). <br />
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Just an awesome ride down the coast from Eureka, a beautiful pacific coast town with a whole lot of scary-looking transient bag-people asking me if I can provide any Spare Change, free rides, or stale Vicodins. <br />
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California Route 101 is the main drag heading north and south on the western edge of the state; after about an hour you flip right at Leggett across 28 miles of the twistiest road in the world, towards wild and wonderful California 1 that runs along the cliffs all the way to Los Angeles. The colors are other-worldly; the absolute richness of the blue hues in the sea are contrasted wildly with the sharp browns and tans of trhe cliff faces, as well as the bold, craggy rocks jutting freakily up from the water.<br />
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Arrived in San Rafael late dinner time... Jen and Vic awesome hospitable.. they have a really lovely ranch house on the side of a VERY steep hill overlooking the Bay.. tidy, well-kept house full of all sorts of artsy knick-knacks and fun collectibles (BEATLES FUN PACK! BIG!).. musical instruments, etc. A really great port on this long sea cruise.<br />
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Yesterday went into SF city on the bike to arrange changing tires, chain, sprockets, front brake pads (got get back to STOCK! Will never buy anything but stock pads for this bike again). There's now only three Suzuki dealerships in bay area.. and the downtown one was as close as any... I was afraid of the prices here, and rightly so; the parts I need (including tires) came to most of $500... and then it will cost another 200 to install all. Ouch. But needs to be done.<br />
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Went over to Haight Ashbury afterwards and walked up and down for a while. Many nice shops... including head shops... mixed in with "normal" local stores like hardware, cafes, etc. I parked the bike right at the intersection of H/A streets, (there were motorcycle parking slots, fortunately)... went to a neat bar one block up Haight St. that had a big plate-glass window and had drinks for an hour or more. Cute Eurasian bartender gal... had a chat wiht a (seemingly) normal guy next to me who came from Maine a long time back.. lives out by "the beach". The air was cool, the sun clear and crisp... and I looked out at the unique, flat-topped Victorian architetcure and tried to imagine the place during 1966. Once in a while got a brief flash... Otherwise I got to watch the Giants playing the Pats there, ...and how often do you get a chance to load-up a jukebox in Haight Ahsbury?<br />
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More on this all later... including photos.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-2675711714637700112010-08-31T23:51:00.000-07:002010-08-31T23:51:12.045-07:00EUREKA CALIFORNIAAnother drug-murder motel... this one in the Pacific coast town of Eureka. I pulled in tonigt just as the sun was dropping into the chilly Pacific, and dug up another roach-haven; this one called the "Heritage Motel". I'm not sure whose lineage we're talking about here...the woman looked Lebanese and there was a large Baghivad-Gita scripture on the office wall. Twenty feet outside my bathroom cars are pulling up to a Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. Feels good to be home.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQNFldOxH3Sm0hSrm-Fa9yMpzPm9nKhfzrZmx6idpx7niZBfZ4rxPv98rm3tuJhmUKTfc80PGYXpfTSXbOcf_razY9H99mIN97B5B8DZmsuylUzxf2EkknCleHGZiPUCN6RoEgzn-uq0/s1600/Dexter+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQNFldOxH3Sm0hSrm-Fa9yMpzPm9nKhfzrZmx6idpx7niZBfZ4rxPv98rm3tuJhmUKTfc80PGYXpfTSXbOcf_razY9H99mIN97B5B8DZmsuylUzxf2EkknCleHGZiPUCN6RoEgzn-uq0/s320/Dexter+004.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQcNhyphenhyphenNy2dSiCOz2VOoR4Q5b4A9Um2-hUaq7xT9uK3BZ0OGCpKD4MDCJdWzbpM2xAmDtEo5QJoCuO-rNXt_HIP7thDjTbsGCdvnu70Vlvlhw_3_oGvesHkm-qPj_lf24VbiinqDwYqY4/s1600/Dexter+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQcNhyphenhyphenNy2dSiCOz2VOoR4Q5b4A9Um2-hUaq7xT9uK3BZ0OGCpKD4MDCJdWzbpM2xAmDtEo5QJoCuO-rNXt_HIP7thDjTbsGCdvnu70Vlvlhw_3_oGvesHkm-qPj_lf24VbiinqDwYqY4/s320/Dexter+016.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFHeE908WrFrOJsSigQg6fA66hKmfLm2oCAS8KfoZQG5LFELCWQ7KQoEeQ8EIFGmh_VkZzdjm54lf8SF6bSA5wI0CXyRStjFLLyy249guSaFH3Ls_6ceKjeCunT_bL4329C93OdjONpo/s1600/Dexter+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFHeE908WrFrOJsSigQg6fA66hKmfLm2oCAS8KfoZQG5LFELCWQ7KQoEeQ8EIFGmh_VkZzdjm54lf8SF6bSA5wI0CXyRStjFLLyy249guSaFH3Ls_6ceKjeCunT_bL4329C93OdjONpo/s320/Dexter+015.jpg" /></a></div>I left Babbs' late morning today. In total, I was based out of his ranch for about five days.. hanging around watching baseball games, getting motorcycle parts, doing some work on his house and maintenance-challenged cars. Although we are a full generation apart and from very different backgrounds, we found enough "Deadhead" philosphy in common to have a few good laughs together. I'm really happy to haver been invited to spend some short time there; Babbs is a very special dude that has been in the midst of some fantastic places and spaces.. and, if he has already had his coffee, is a gas to pal around with.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZehOyrjXS1jzT65b_OjWRYzTbTRDVENWjZzRWZ_vQJI704zb2KtT7S1Bl34flZYJdZvAoNavuJDezgug8UBodk3gDi6EnNgSSwDrLBUT1ItsIh30XjCKqApH7u2ejrCahwNJcOw4tnXE/s1600/Dexter+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZehOyrjXS1jzT65b_OjWRYzTbTRDVENWjZzRWZ_vQJI704zb2KtT7S1Bl34flZYJdZvAoNavuJDezgug8UBodk3gDi6EnNgSSwDrLBUT1ItsIh30XjCKqApH7u2ejrCahwNJcOw4tnXE/s320/Dexter+023.jpg" /></a></div>So after a full Prankster breakfast of Eggs and Trout (yep), I packed up and bid adieux while Babbs donned his obligatory blue gloves and dove into his leaky lawn tractor. Don't scrimp on the brake cleaner, Ken!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsmlLYMKXs14HoxigEKvPLJS_mVTTDOTZWFMSVFYYHUPKtlOsFOmSgpU7lweP6VdcnlAWruJQYqU_pJnWenQ8ZAcu5aSj_a43-zR2QkHJrlNM9Tx1_NyJ0KGtwcBOedMtkvLBBKXEoME/s1600/Dexter+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsmlLYMKXs14HoxigEKvPLJS_mVTTDOTZWFMSVFYYHUPKtlOsFOmSgpU7lweP6VdcnlAWruJQYqU_pJnWenQ8ZAcu5aSj_a43-zR2QkHJrlNM9Tx1_NyJ0KGtwcBOedMtkvLBBKXEoME/s320/Dexter+024.jpg" /></a></div>Off down I-5, heading south for Roseburg... Grants Pass... the California line. The weather was dry and clear, (good fortune, considering the Pacific Northwest), and the bike was running smoothly and crisply, especially now that I'd changed the brake-line bolt that was wrong ever since Urbana, Illinois, which had made the front brake like squeezing a sponge. I ordered the $12 bolt through a Eugene Harley dealer and they ended up charging [rooking] me an extra $45 for shipping and "fees". Ah, well... all part of the Fun, and at least it finally works properly. I also added a lighted toggle-switch that makes it possible to turn the headlight on and off, (impossible on a modern motorcycle). This is helpful when signalling semi-trucks on the Interstates at night; they like to be told when they can pull right again after a pass.<br />
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So all was running smoothly and I was really enjoying the swoopy, 80-mph curves in the southern end of the state. Really, I am very pleased with the performance work I did to the bike; the results are exactly as I had hoped for: gut-sucking Torque at full highway speeds. If I'm rolling along at, say, 70 mph and quickly roll the throttle open, the bike leaps forward and there's all sorts of neat G-forces to play with, once you get the Flow. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaGVgx9b5UaMFhMdrXoccmSJn4XdumFx-GWR_K84IAPQXOEfbwd2ONc2mtqyihFGjotnDgNEMRRj-podoZiNmMBvLDFM6ctoa23BtCEi7HoHGMNc7M9b-Smd6mVd1ilR536lRJmQ7B_8/s1600/Dexter+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaGVgx9b5UaMFhMdrXoccmSJn4XdumFx-GWR_K84IAPQXOEfbwd2ONc2mtqyihFGjotnDgNEMRRj-podoZiNmMBvLDFM6ctoa23BtCEi7HoHGMNc7M9b-Smd6mVd1ilR536lRJmQ7B_8/s320/Dexter+030.jpg" /></a></div>Off the highway at Grant's Pass, where I had broken down on my first-ever cross-country motorcyle trip, 29 years ago to the week, in 1981. I took Rte. 99 south towards Cave Junction, then turned left onto Rte 86 heading over past Happy Camp and the Indian Resevations. Awesome road; I've ridden in back and forth three times now, including my trips from San Francisco on rented bikes. Not much to report, other than a slight friction just before the Oregon border. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-n6zh6PgoUyDfe14kWw0Kcgps4U2c30ld3Kj4j1l44dEBJ9-mTg-amcVReJ8W05OjS5_Gtt7imRnrfxzRX580Z1JltcttaG7yEY4bCfFiDbIhD7Dwg_ec7pL6BLfjxV8Gt7cUpDrm5aQ/s1600/Dexter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-n6zh6PgoUyDfe14kWw0Kcgps4U2c30ld3Kj4j1l44dEBJ9-mTg-amcVReJ8W05OjS5_Gtt7imRnrfxzRX580Z1JltcttaG7yEY4bCfFiDbIhD7Dwg_ec7pL6BLfjxV8Gt7cUpDrm5aQ/s320/Dexter.jpg" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So I wound around for about six hours, through the Klamath and Siskyou National Forrests and the Six Rivers Wilderness areas, everntually reaching the coast and Eureka just at sunset. Finished a fine Chinese buffet dinner and now....for some sleep.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's today's shots:</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKheeh6Djr51x8RZerhIZrn0CxHuIZ0zHIFRAXxO3VYyofLyLGrkNfAYsK1-k5lVdsvlOtW-KXqRpErpttQJsqKV-IruWWSpjQjEqk_wNiFiYZDh9tPKUGc2KeOC-sP4uKRHonNq-KCaY/s1600/Dexter+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKheeh6Djr51x8RZerhIZrn0CxHuIZ0zHIFRAXxO3VYyofLyLGrkNfAYsK1-k5lVdsvlOtW-KXqRpErpttQJsqKV-IruWWSpjQjEqk_wNiFiYZDh9tPKUGc2KeOC-sP4uKRHonNq-KCaY/s320/Dexter+037.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt6FTVCiNqR6pNvHvZ7xzdQ5le_yoP3dY-JaSpqe76ZQLicbMEYWO9g2mKzu4Gdcy7_a3CSDhTsXJfkiPtFYB3-2gkf07EVd-GVmbKJoP7N0-CuHEAzVDwnHMNn8qjyOEQB4gMkiS2WI/s1600/Dexter+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt6FTVCiNqR6pNvHvZ7xzdQ5le_yoP3dY-JaSpqe76ZQLicbMEYWO9g2mKzu4Gdcy7_a3CSDhTsXJfkiPtFYB3-2gkf07EVd-GVmbKJoP7N0-CuHEAzVDwnHMNn8qjyOEQB4gMkiS2WI/s320/Dexter+039.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJUy7GcRGU_x2AKyggDfnjfCxKcfr4Oap2uYDlorOB6u9i3fMHC8H8fniK_v0nIKPQ7Vmzz5pFyBspGi1m3PDjZGsnJ-BkuifzFDhgY1E-b6R_mzzpaBujYWmQprxoc3HQfy898c5UlU/s1600/Dexter+048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AzPYjEXaALISoSkTKoR8GoG0dTvlxWbgfqL_KAIodTmJi1UvZgVhFqmM47X86icH5VAiW-mgzHlQBVIjPx3kClMHJjRObDnxD-I6bZ7q0IeGJRgLBVTWbK7W-BbhD3AmVsPWIgp183A/s320/Dexter+085.jpg" /></a></div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-89781005843851111962010-08-30T12:32:00.000-07:002010-08-30T21:34:34.568-07:00DEXTER OREGON<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY65_11D2srASzbiaijZC93BRnsr4vmiKKAlgwDJPzmha-FoF13ARCzrholixuNy2FyDKdssswO5dhT371Aa16ftW76Lfnc7YHJdHvkfJYdoHE_VthMaJ6jtJguubvbnrleNoxDHHqvsk/s1600/Oregon+2+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY65_11D2srASzbiaijZC93BRnsr4vmiKKAlgwDJPzmha-FoF13ARCzrholixuNy2FyDKdssswO5dhT371Aa16ftW76Lfnc7YHJdHvkfJYdoHE_VthMaJ6jtJguubvbnrleNoxDHHqvsk/s320/Oregon+2+004.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1BcuErriiuk2SWsibXw7jD_SVX9kmWqUK2Q6BWzfMZdl95DJbRVIsFchUsRJHW4oQQ17772zIN9EcD6lGj6zbe0h8ULEgNV0CDJ1WsvsxMBGdFTq7JNa7qN6VdOAi-fL4GYvY1bY3sc/s1600/Oregon+2+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1BcuErriiuk2SWsibXw7jD_SVX9kmWqUK2Q6BWzfMZdl95DJbRVIsFchUsRJHW4oQQ17772zIN9EcD6lGj6zbe0h8ULEgNV0CDJ1WsvsxMBGdFTq7JNa7qN6VdOAi-fL4GYvY1bY3sc/s320/Oregon+2+006.jpg" /></a></div>The ride over from Bend to the Eugene area was really scenic... large-scale vistas off the mountain roads, out across the valleys. I'm in love with these Oregon roads here; they're almost all beautifully-paved and whoever designed them made sure they all have very constant-radii corners. When you lean it over at 80 mph you can rest assured that there will be no mid-corner surprises... just roll it on and put the bike on it's ear with confidence. Beautiful. Nary a copper to be seen, neither.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIDn4ZEq-BfY71tkp357pmEebAo37ivYdSck6oVi3cgke7hYPRA6UNRRwxiGZ-4uQ7j-BgdWNX5S1_rSiYEY3JZiiyX5tOAqnROpwVkC7bK6xOr5doX4Bk_Mpqa9WsLqC9RcMQn_-CHs/s1600/Oregon+2+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIDn4ZEq-BfY71tkp357pmEebAo37ivYdSck6oVi3cgke7hYPRA6UNRRwxiGZ-4uQ7j-BgdWNX5S1_rSiYEY3JZiiyX5tOAqnROpwVkC7bK6xOr5doX4Bk_Mpqa9WsLqC9RcMQn_-CHs/s320/Oregon+2+008.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijra8sHkQKawdexcMgpzsDhfxn19PvOkuvuG3HY-ilzxBWKUgWbTCfqodiN35T8oCb3o-ddrWuXLIS-aVT6CAoHrWCT62VHPzgdseWrSGWEAGesjtK-3Mbk8NquJRjaWtJWe0L2I8XDTE/s1600/Oregon+2+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijra8sHkQKawdexcMgpzsDhfxn19PvOkuvuG3HY-ilzxBWKUgWbTCfqodiN35T8oCb3o-ddrWuXLIS-aVT6CAoHrWCT62VHPzgdseWrSGWEAGesjtK-3Mbk8NquJRjaWtJWe0L2I8XDTE/s320/Oregon+2+009.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Arrived at Ken and Eileen's Babbs’ place mid-afternoon, which worked out well. I could potentially have slugged it out and done the entire length of the state in one shot... but this was much easier all around. I rolled into their "farm" and got a warm welcome as I sputtered to a stop.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ezhhSsmX8FZlh0R_Bg_DCzSuMVjFr3VBQyx6_-KlFrQwWxZlJIZVn6Va8lmLYFBRN5yg-cXHEH93XqF_v357agyv6vW6FfNnz5oGqvgM84FOoxLsPNmlmlVJXKH4MzAsCW2tPepuTA0/s1600/Oregon+2+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ezhhSsmX8FZlh0R_Bg_DCzSuMVjFr3VBQyx6_-KlFrQwWxZlJIZVn6Va8lmLYFBRN5yg-cXHEH93XqF_v357agyv6vW6FfNnz5oGqvgM84FOoxLsPNmlmlVJXKH4MzAsCW2tPepuTA0/s320/Oregon+2+013.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTNtReRYcJ9RDiVw0iwFhGrtciiGti-iCzYgVrXuMy9dVl9T769xe_pm9bUStf9p-Oz8RLcVxi58sndzQmkvYL-QBXhY7an6Rc_3sCg4xlhEdkCLktJucHEzpnRtbqvUPzBnjsd-Illw/s1600/Oregon+2+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTNtReRYcJ9RDiVw0iwFhGrtciiGti-iCzYgVrXuMy9dVl9T769xe_pm9bUStf9p-Oz8RLcVxi58sndzQmkvYL-QBXhY7an6Rc_3sCg4xlhEdkCLktJucHEzpnRtbqvUPzBnjsd-Illw/s320/Oregon+2+014.jpg" /></a></div>Babbs is well-known as one of the original Merry Pranksters, for those of you don’t know, a loosely-knit band of cutting-edge thinkers, author Ken Kesey (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, etc.) among them; who were renowned in the mid Sixties for experimentation with ...new ideas... new forms of art... consciousness... living. They drove a wildly-painted 1939 bus, wired to the gills with electronics and experimental lab drugs, across the country in 1964, Beat-era wheel-man-extraordinaire Neal Cassady at the wheel. They later put on the (in-)famous Acid Tests... where many new horizons were to be hatched, (including a little-known garage band who, in the midst of the Acid Tests, re-named themselves<em> Grateful Dead</em>). <br />
I'd been chatting with Ken online for a while from China over the years, and he kindly offered me a bunk a couple of times on the way past, out in an old-but-clean school bus by the creek. These foks have been super-deluxe in making me feel welcome; Ken's wife Eileen is a sweet lady, originally from Staten Island. Her Mom actually knows a family back in New City, whose kid I was friends with in grade school. Nice folks... but careful! Fast and spontaneous, these folks are true-blue but highly intolerant of shallow thinking or egocentric-games. I found myself working hard to be open and direct with Ken, while still maintaining some sort of Guest Ettiquette that Momma taught me. I did, unfortunately, walk a flapjack of Jack the Dog’s crap into the kitchen on my shoe-sole. I was typing at my computer and thought I smelled dogshit; looked down and was mortified to find a grassy mud-pie sticking to the rubber. I’d just walked across the kitchen floor to get some coffee, too. <br />
Babbs took it in Country Stride, fortunately.<br />
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Just about as soon as I got there we turned around early the next day and headed back over to Bend. Bob Dylan was to play there that night. I hopped into the back of Babbs’ Sebring convertible and we took the three-hour ride back east. I froze in the windy back seat, but all was fine, and we played music off my Mp3 player on the stereo. I feel pretty happy to be in company with these ...pretty special people... and perked up immediately whenever I heard anecdotes about the Kesey/Bus days… driving around with Jerry Garcia, etc.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnubN3TrtTzd9RJOQT4q6nQSYKDeLI4lMZeC8f-tTf2xNZ06ESIjEij82IW0mjLW8QpUFC_VPeSUSifVTT6gUPFBAT0n_qBdw5I4DaoHZwMXxr5KgUk_khDl9QWLy8amQ_-E47w4cv3TU/s1600/Oregon+2+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnubN3TrtTzd9RJOQT4q6nQSYKDeLI4lMZeC8f-tTf2xNZ06ESIjEij82IW0mjLW8QpUFC_VPeSUSifVTT6gUPFBAT0n_qBdw5I4DaoHZwMXxr5KgUk_khDl9QWLy8amQ_-E47w4cv3TU/s320/Oregon+2+015.jpg" /></a></div>The Dylan show was a treat; I wasn’t expecting to make it to any concerts on this little hejiera, but I’m a big Dylan fan, so naturally this was an unexpected pleasure. Especially noting the company I was keeping. Between the cost of the Cascades Motel (again) and the price of the concert ticket, my “daily budget” went pretty much out the window… ahh, but well worth the expense. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNfNR_ScpxQ_nkj0YpZTqwsf3PhSP3WcmPRkoZyVnH3EJ0-ltFU-EMVFLPb66x5-N_ikXl7PE78FRxSzTpoD3sBmRwu7pgPEb7vRmIDnrd_IhK77KuEmvS6gxfnFi6EULE86c7CTBK3M/s1600/Oregon+2+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNfNR_ScpxQ_nkj0YpZTqwsf3PhSP3WcmPRkoZyVnH3EJ0-ltFU-EMVFLPb66x5-N_ikXl7PE78FRxSzTpoD3sBmRwu7pgPEb7vRmIDnrd_IhK77KuEmvS6gxfnFi6EULE86c7CTBK3M/s320/Oregon+2+016.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The Les Schwab Amphitheatre in Bend is a gorgeous, new, outdoor venue, covered with soft lush grass. There were about 4000 people in attendance; all sort of homogenous-looking (they drink a lot of milk out here) people who were, like the other Or-Gunian people I’m meeting, highly kind to one another… but strangely enough, very placid in response to the music, almost catatonic at times, compared to a fired-up East Coast crowd. Not many dancers… they seemed to be observing, for the most part. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FOXwwK5Rb2SRU9eJ7HiWGpoJoARxChLeUVBOnA5S61SDpmhEgeZ7Fm0E7y4Q2GHSJ1eQP1VEiara66ImixBTjGBWOhi2hSciiyIkwi8dTESBLiKtdR0tgtwQplghBX-Bv-2-hNKWl8c/s1600/Oregon+2+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FOXwwK5Rb2SRU9eJ7HiWGpoJoARxChLeUVBOnA5S61SDpmhEgeZ7Fm0E7y4Q2GHSJ1eQP1VEiara66ImixBTjGBWOhi2hSciiyIkwi8dTESBLiKtdR0tgtwQplghBX-Bv-2-hNKWl8c/s320/Oregon+2+020.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Dylan was typically… Dylan.. Started the show sounding like a box of gravel rattling in a phone booth…but eventually smoothed out into a more mellifluous vocal groove. His back-up band was great, with a strong rhythm section laying down a fat groove. As always, you can’t really be sure of what song he’s playing until you hear a clear string of lyrics. We made our way up to the front of the General Admission/Lawn area… Eventually we moved back as Ken thought it was overly loud and distorted. A standout for me was Dylan’s Lovesick, which, once again, had a thick rhythm line driving through.<br />
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After the show the three of us headed off into downtown Bend to a small bar of sorts where we met one of their good friends for a drink and a plate of extra-gooey nachos. Ken and I were slightly lit from the concert and had a hearty, quip-laden exchange, with him insisting that I look for “the proper mountaintop” along my travel and use it to commune a Spirit-Quest experience. Hmmm…<br />
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Spent a night back in the luxurious Cascades Motel; woke in the morning to cold, gray skies. No swimming-pool splash as I’d hoped, but okay. Ken & Eileen arrived with the convertible, (now pleasantly buttoned-up), and we tripped back over into the Eugene area, listening to Beethoven’s 6th, played loudly while Ken riffed on the German army’s push onwards to Moscow or something. Spontaneity was Key to the Moment, and Babb’s is fast on the edge of erupting thought. I offered occasional flashes of my own, but generally let him make way. The skies cleared increasingly as we got over the mountains and back down to Dexter. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2fVPPIjJVolFa5l6Ztr7m3x0SEgseh7wfMgwGOcLrJzvOWh2m3yFj-0vIeAVX9q2AHNPcP6kU6QJ4xqv0-Yh0GHGuGy8HCgavYIlCyfxocT2-8IwlnWqiAZhGFdmbqQLKzIPj3919G8/s1600/Eugene+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2fVPPIjJVolFa5l6Ztr7m3x0SEgseh7wfMgwGOcLrJzvOWh2m3yFj-0vIeAVX9q2AHNPcP6kU6QJ4xqv0-Yh0GHGuGy8HCgavYIlCyfxocT2-8IwlnWqiAZhGFdmbqQLKzIPj3919G8/s320/Eugene+001.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSsTNkdt19hrY6hdpPl_nHfzGyKBE8MqnPXRfINJD1GwxbeDTABoKFFIvneIWlaCzhutR87Echg0Tkum-UGYLOO14ZBGrQl2FdHynoCwhhTnrOVZFOZRcYRgI8EFQ-6QASudavuyCroU/s1600/Eugene+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSsTNkdt19hrY6hdpPl_nHfzGyKBE8MqnPXRfINJD1GwxbeDTABoKFFIvneIWlaCzhutR87Echg0Tkum-UGYLOO14ZBGrQl2FdHynoCwhhTnrOVZFOZRcYRgI8EFQ-6QASudavuyCroU/s320/Eugene+003.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKldRMrLXASw3Ai_iNuxABr6l_vg_nP-gonm6_Xh1aAGZ4updVV8Lehbmf0l14WkVlskgqesuKaMvcmKSrC-NXf-kqM7sJs81wNNp0g9pU2of8J8fwYuOiNR7faZGUOzgjyE0T-lnKYo/s1600/Eugene+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKldRMrLXASw3Ai_iNuxABr6l_vg_nP-gonm6_Xh1aAGZ4updVV8Lehbmf0l14WkVlskgqesuKaMvcmKSrC-NXf-kqM7sJs81wNNp0g9pU2of8J8fwYuOiNR7faZGUOzgjyE0T-lnKYo/s320/Eugene+008.jpg" /></a></div>Next night I took the bike down into Eugene, to a weekend-long street festival that was going on. Pretty nice situation; the whole middle of town was blocked-off and there were vendors lined up all up and down. Bands were playing at the ends of the blocked-off streets in many places, and in one open field a large, professional stage had been set up. Numerous bars were open, (one place ran it’s happy-hour well into the night; Vodka Grapefruits at $3 each), while beer and wine vendors were within easy reach. I wandered around, looking at the highly-interesting faces; lots of college students from U Oregon down the street…a smattering of long-hair Granola’s…a few bearded mountain men. I frequently saw some very tall women in attendance; one gorgeous dame in a miniskirt had to have been six-foot-three… and built astoundingly well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DJRXI9yNCNLtMqU7JMRBfLuGPPSSpehEeZMMI0RCh_Tyi7catfNF8R9RiHE9FmikZ8T-Ap1-1YGMD9iEOrS6Npao3sW31vKARUQRDhDXOTazoA1aCWJ_Fx18RJ4E8kkDBeGLKMWMHPc/s1600/Eugene+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DJRXI9yNCNLtMqU7JMRBfLuGPPSSpehEeZMMI0RCh_Tyi7catfNF8R9RiHE9FmikZ8T-Ap1-1YGMD9iEOrS6Npao3sW31vKARUQRDhDXOTazoA1aCWJ_Fx18RJ4E8kkDBeGLKMWMHPc/s320/Eugene+013.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn9_zj_O3yAIpOa4iDP5e2tWinBKG7cMJg_EnkCLrG62DDCYEh6KyrzSKuz7ZSLQCZsblSviKIUIhI9ZfrFP1D7HkSMmBOjQno2z2r-pjHhbQCAUkNARFM0ffnOq1S53sXS8olWppvVs/s1600/Eugene+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn9_zj_O3yAIpOa4iDP5e2tWinBKG7cMJg_EnkCLrG62DDCYEh6KyrzSKuz7ZSLQCZsblSviKIUIhI9ZfrFP1D7HkSMmBOjQno2z2r-pjHhbQCAUkNARFM0ffnOq1S53sXS8olWppvVs/s320/Eugene+021.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Eventually I made my way over to the concert field, as it were, where the Kesey “magic bus” was parked, and an all-girl, AC/DC cover-band was firing up. After chatting with Kesey’s son, Zane, for a few minutes, I waded through the dense crowd to watch the band. Excellent. I think the name was, Hell’s Belles, out of Austin. What a pisser. The lead guitarist seems to be channeling Angus, and she was simply on fire. The crowd, once again, was surprisingly mellow for this sort of act, although clearly involved and focused. I stayed around till the end, then filtered my way back out of town to my cozy bus by the creek, where I ate a cheapo roast-beef sandwich that I had bought along the way and dozed off to the sounds of the Oregon brook bubbling nearby.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-39230907708005055872010-08-26T00:07:00.000-07:002010-08-28T18:47:40.297-07:00BEND OREGON<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2miqXc0N54dNsy2BFP2o6ZSsZAes6TF4vPDjEnYLjcDrkcDJpChgJwfD57SBtF3A9Q2Q6ujIhwQJgADxVN5M9RaIfPTKbwc-aPuz3-fT_JMJ_7yEhLWp6oEkCK8sivUaVlBg8MdNsHU8/s1600/Oregon+1+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2miqXc0N54dNsy2BFP2o6ZSsZAes6TF4vPDjEnYLjcDrkcDJpChgJwfD57SBtF3A9Q2Q6ujIhwQJgADxVN5M9RaIfPTKbwc-aPuz3-fT_JMJ_7yEhLWp6oEkCK8sivUaVlBg8MdNsHU8/s320/Oregon+1+008.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3b-NMMeF7y53zr2hbQZJbc-7GcqjaudcGb-M3HEWEgnzdXr9lNNIt5F-bDUFuGu0S1K0Y6xkNewvlGEk9xnjW0CzgJ_OQUvn9Oj8x1zyqzzbWBY7OkY3zSZJ2wNdCr7x71pPzhNxmic/s1600/Oregon+1+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3b-NMMeF7y53zr2hbQZJbc-7GcqjaudcGb-M3HEWEgnzdXr9lNNIt5F-bDUFuGu0S1K0Y6xkNewvlGEk9xnjW0CzgJ_OQUvn9Oj8x1zyqzzbWBY7OkY3zSZJ2wNdCr7x71pPzhNxmic/s320/Oregon+1+011.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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yeah... Bent in Bend.<br />
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Left the El Dorado Motel in Baker City on the eastern edge of the state around 11:30, after the perfunctory late checkout and greasy, diner breakfast. Chose Route 7 heading south then over to Route 20 west across the state... and, like so many states before, Oregon is looong. The map said 375 miles to Eugene, so I sent a message to my friends/hosts over there, saying that I'd take an extra night so's not to show up late at night burnt like a glazed potato. Overnight it in Bend.<br />
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Heading east in Oregon it got hotter... but I'd chosen a scenic route through the middle of rather the state rather than big Highway... which turned out to be a great choice. But yeah, hot. Not nearly as bad as the South Dakota, with its 110-degree, Betty-Crocker Bake-Off, blast-furnace temperatures... but a steady 100 degrees nonetheless, enough to wilt yer lily.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UhSlJYYV68cMmH_aJUWu6PrCnCk5yfYc_6vjiOIv8G9D00Xw8NS7RuDh6F2ybdIG-jfqcJkX4YtG8OBvA6NE7J8o1hJxVeCJ1eqiOnkZ3QmzEewPoT3q6hT-iqbWxa89qpyFi9eXqaA/s1600/Oregon+1+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UhSlJYYV68cMmH_aJUWu6PrCnCk5yfYc_6vjiOIv8G9D00Xw8NS7RuDh6F2ybdIG-jfqcJkX4YtG8OBvA6NE7J8o1hJxVeCJ1eqiOnkZ3QmzEewPoT3q6hT-iqbWxa89qpyFi9eXqaA/s320/Oregon+1+001.jpg" /></a></div>Not much to report in terms of action or plot... stopped a few places for gas and water and the people were really honest and kindly... what I'd expected and have been experiencing out west. There seems to be much more timne for <em>civility; </em>if you walk past a stranger in a supermarket you should be prepared to get a smile and a curteous howdy-do. Nice. Takes a little more effort than out east, but <em>nice. </em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J6G4MdSD4Oi2XdTPz1islAHq9MXDNfYk1cpNbjLPZUjRz-UNaNUphzX4bcZGVC1_1H-9iT1hVI-ln4G3zRkH7uxaBbuQwZ3JlgWV-VKoa_ebIN4lp0qPauvBUixvekBAGGA1hrO0XIg/s1600/Oregon+1+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J6G4MdSD4Oi2XdTPz1islAHq9MXDNfYk1cpNbjLPZUjRz-UNaNUphzX4bcZGVC1_1H-9iT1hVI-ln4G3zRkH7uxaBbuQwZ3JlgWV-VKoa_ebIN4lp0qPauvBUixvekBAGGA1hrO0XIg/s320/Oregon+1+007.jpg" /></a></div>Went past a lot of geological scenery... including three national parks. Here's the photos... do it yourself. I'm tired.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXr3YzgazDG-wIWUqmVGSbzWWqGiiqKXytiKsINILaswmV0cODIWJlmrkH4ZAxIg-XdRoD385hs4rdqnzDcikqlWFTMzYTAAnotzADxNyXGxGJwaFwcDEwsLepDfsP4GTUpaPg0EiPjg/s1600/Oregon+1+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXr3YzgazDG-wIWUqmVGSbzWWqGiiqKXytiKsINILaswmV0cODIWJlmrkH4ZAxIg-XdRoD385hs4rdqnzDcikqlWFTMzYTAAnotzADxNyXGxGJwaFwcDEwsLepDfsP4GTUpaPg0EiPjg/s320/Oregon+1+015.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS99FtkA0UrYBeaD1QnU_Cs8DT7TCvN5QzonHHTaLis6rxLfCnokZJ8Lw2r9BTw83ahWi_-EkwUR_GsDt5hvD4-KzSrssAmfCMmC7X49-DPdZtXyXLWORAjWFL0rE9qiVtgRyTYssM408/s1600/Oregon+1+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS99FtkA0UrYBeaD1QnU_Cs8DT7TCvN5QzonHHTaLis6rxLfCnokZJ8Lw2r9BTw83ahWi_-EkwUR_GsDt5hvD4-KzSrssAmfCMmC7X49-DPdZtXyXLWORAjWFL0rE9qiVtgRyTYssM408/s320/Oregon+1+019.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXElqxtrue09ndYzpvKH1XyJY0FLv9AJJzR8cdElK4X3anXKYSBUOlJ0aOlx5pXWgo0BRWCg-ylXYinCCBluKGHtIGmHkI02Sknk_9ExspGzH4EHdI7G4Y6uBWePvzS6zDoY1GSozEPqE/s1600/Oregon+1+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXElqxtrue09ndYzpvKH1XyJY0FLv9AJJzR8cdElK4X3anXKYSBUOlJ0aOlx5pXWgo0BRWCg-ylXYinCCBluKGHtIGmHkI02Sknk_9ExspGzH4EHdI7G4Y6uBWePvzS6zDoY1GSozEPqE/s320/Oregon+1+026.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefIoHy-_OxMmxAxt1VkcAUPSmQqudl6I5si5QXj7JkLjlE10QxdFj2aFHUmGLjXvq5Ty4q6Usg5FpyOge2KdKk1DhXi6aFVFjgazoTIUj4yrPeq7wTGzNmyPrFqrzm7ScRfMHQYBVwfo/s1600/Oregon+1+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefIoHy-_OxMmxAxt1VkcAUPSmQqudl6I5si5QXj7JkLjlE10QxdFj2aFHUmGLjXvq5Ty4q6Usg5FpyOge2KdKk1DhXi6aFVFjgazoTIUj4yrPeq7wTGzNmyPrFqrzm7ScRfMHQYBVwfo/s320/Oregon+1+030.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP8bkgFAQVAF75k1iK8d7hfRrTsI___aISZ576NGiUS3ehvZdKCNkcXPNbNsXyiHv1KhFFl_V22UtdwykpRZtEeZAjFh3pp_wly-jYy6eIlNOjJHjFvZTcxlFQcAgCVKflPUNw9XWlZY/s1600/Oregon+1+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP8bkgFAQVAF75k1iK8d7hfRrTsI___aISZ576NGiUS3ehvZdKCNkcXPNbNsXyiHv1KhFFl_V22UtdwykpRZtEeZAjFh3pp_wly-jYy6eIlNOjJHjFvZTcxlFQcAgCVKflPUNw9XWlZY/s320/Oregon+1+035.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjto5w9XgtMfoa_e76m9lWv1j3jjIVZe4p5UyJ3Z3-h_mVxcrux4z3WcgfwE48BGj-wxl86raielgkzOKXfd1J-H_z09_SQNbPwzIYB-ON5nZSBvHUndIekrBfNTvtB48o6HeN4dRaxYuI/s1600/Oregon+1+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjto5w9XgtMfoa_e76m9lWv1j3jjIVZe4p5UyJ3Z3-h_mVxcrux4z3WcgfwE48BGj-wxl86raielgkzOKXfd1J-H_z09_SQNbPwzIYB-ON5nZSBvHUndIekrBfNTvtB48o6HeN4dRaxYuI/s320/Oregon+1+037.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sn82G8djJ63hFUKUjhams-Z05PhjoPw5sSc1LLP43hr_Am6IuG77x1-d2F0c01yepqL1pFjssyPnyPm3j3OwSO9F1s_M9HeaL6qQC_J2jrBD9iIWc_9kHzWlCA-RNkkY9DMNw02FMPM/s1600/Oregon+1+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sn82G8djJ63hFUKUjhams-Z05PhjoPw5sSc1LLP43hr_Am6IuG77x1-d2F0c01yepqL1pFjssyPnyPm3j3OwSO9F1s_M9HeaL6qQC_J2jrBD9iIWc_9kHzWlCA-RNkkY9DMNw02FMPM/s320/Oregon+1+040.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhcjiqqsXufdKThx0bYWHxlSEkt3jc2GTF9pgVvzmY9GmtSrpzVehPHzwkqD4qATZNTyby5uhYY1npy3LN0k0swl9vNsxQDdz1pC9j-Mgav982EP44srsqGeySLMmSwGLE3-Zr4uN2DM/s1600/Oregon+1+046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhcjiqqsXufdKThx0bYWHxlSEkt3jc2GTF9pgVvzmY9GmtSrpzVehPHzwkqD4qATZNTyby5uhYY1npy3LN0k0swl9vNsxQDdz1pC9j-Mgav982EP44srsqGeySLMmSwGLE3-Zr4uN2DM/s320/Oregon+1+046.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMPYFptxYPEDZj383FLtXKbgPZCaTHoqptLEbek9DQ3sHXqPju5RpEdbu1ja-orqzCIps77yWcU-19Vhs0Vylppzp4_hQPwqUOAD_b6Z3bTCO2hEYc-9L-DPenhyphenhyphenD4XiNX8blgH9GUuI/s1600/Oregon+1+047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMPYFptxYPEDZj383FLtXKbgPZCaTHoqptLEbek9DQ3sHXqPju5RpEdbu1ja-orqzCIps77yWcU-19Vhs0Vylppzp4_hQPwqUOAD_b6Z3bTCO2hEYc-9L-DPenhyphenhyphenD4XiNX8blgH9GUuI/s320/Oregon+1+047.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7llWbQfjW1e2dEmSvALdf-gMLyr646iFwCnjRW3bjApGxe80yjRmvW9FCDjV05Z4T_BJtfJs6sYSmhd9tWKoEETqtNpP1Crj1dbIlY979PguNu4xh76yG3MAB-HeRsvi7fEGcz3RTArw/s1600/Oregon+1+049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7llWbQfjW1e2dEmSvALdf-gMLyr646iFwCnjRW3bjApGxe80yjRmvW9FCDjV05Z4T_BJtfJs6sYSmhd9tWKoEETqtNpP1Crj1dbIlY979PguNu4xh76yG3MAB-HeRsvi7fEGcz3RTArw/s320/Oregon+1+049.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now finally in Bend... found a cheapo motel.. a real Classic called the Cascade Motel...1950's traveler kitsch...Dad, Mom, and the Plymnouth Wagon pulling a Fred & Lucy trailer. Big pines overlooking a C-shaped, flat motel with a proper old-fashioned, concrete swimming pool in the middle, which I plopped right in and soaked for an hour. Then went out for bad Chinese food and drank $3 Pabst tall-boys in a little bar with a garage band that was short on talent but long on enthusiasm. Crosby Stills & Nash...Creedence.. etc.<br />
<br />
I'm just waiting for my shadow to catch-up with me.... it's kind of difficult to know where I <em>am</em> with all this geographical change going past me... but good, good, good.<br />
<br />
That's it; now I'm finally caught up.Hopefully this will get more literary as I progress... but I doubt it. <br />
Goodbye.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-23036527043157549452010-08-25T23:23:00.000-07:002010-08-25T23:23:24.795-07:00BAKER CITY, OREGONUhh... let's see..<br />
Okay. Got into Diggs Idaho late at night, and the whole town was closed.<br />
<br />
Except one bar, the Lonely Wolf or something. The only lights still on... and it turned out to be one of the coolest places you can imagine: a small, tasteful bar in a tiny town... the bartender went to University of PA... local people at the bar were friendly and happy. Two crazy local chicks came in and gave the bartender a CD of great old '70's stuff... second-string Motown, etc. I biught them shots but I think they were lesbians as they gave me shot afterwards foir my shorty ponytail. Bartender Ben was cool and we went outside to smoke... he told me a little about Life in Idaho...basically <em>rural.</em><br />
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Next day<br />
Same drill: beat the Maid out by bare minutes. I split and headed west ... further and further into the Idaho desert.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvt7YxDKJJQhu5yt_yQt2DDZ2qMo4UVcEWdWNvT8ITCeYYI-_-LpJgWEynXbBBm4-RE071aKAoz4qyRxXbdNVXTEgUIZqMMpiZwpDgnTnHy59XYUGnDM7tiiL-BgSPYnlxLGL9hvzDww4/s1600/Idaho+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvt7YxDKJJQhu5yt_yQt2DDZ2qMo4UVcEWdWNvT8ITCeYYI-_-LpJgWEynXbBBm4-RE071aKAoz4qyRxXbdNVXTEgUIZqMMpiZwpDgnTnHy59XYUGnDM7tiiL-BgSPYnlxLGL9hvzDww4/s320/Idaho+005.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphen6PLhtsv77BIkrEL7pBq2ZqSXdcApo2sckqvTfb6mWSqQkWk8q4DziHb7ZI0wZUhmnYJfbsM_npcB5OEga3sC4EuAfSnXqYOxs_x66dTNBq7gGDHTFg351ojj3MSh8SB2aYrc2i0R_Y/s1600/Idaho+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphen6PLhtsv77BIkrEL7pBq2ZqSXdcApo2sckqvTfb6mWSqQkWk8q4DziHb7ZI0wZUhmnYJfbsM_npcB5OEga3sC4EuAfSnXqYOxs_x66dTNBq7gGDHTFg351ojj3MSh8SB2aYrc2i0R_Y/s320/Idaho+010.jpg" /></a></div> Although previous places had bveen very hot, this was the first area that I would consider as <em>desert. </em>The highwhay went on and on and on.. and despite how small Idaho looks on a national map, riding across it was a monumental task. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KGvrEraxgGVCsEB4w2L0ewlgYFuI7J6b-11npO3y8XQyVN5Gt5sdaUqTh6b5-0Hsp6A5DVDmlrqDzEvY7Q6jqCVDHlxbjhMz7p37MoR8tA4b5Bovf_Yk6YmgIPZU4efjAgFzG0SUty8/s1600/Idaho+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KGvrEraxgGVCsEB4w2L0ewlgYFuI7J6b-11npO3y8XQyVN5Gt5sdaUqTh6b5-0Hsp6A5DVDmlrqDzEvY7Q6jqCVDHlxbjhMz7p37MoR8tA4b5Bovf_Yk6YmgIPZU4efjAgFzG0SUty8/s320/Idaho+015.jpg" /></a></div>I went past the Idaho National Laboratories, site oif the first ever nuclear reactor, and obviously there is still a modern nuke development program from all the seccurity signs near the entrances. This was in heavy, wide desert.<br />
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Long long long... endless stretches of isloated desolation.. and of course you have to play down thoughts of breaking down out there... it would drive you mad thinking about it. The motor continued to run strongly between 75 and 100 mph.. although there's been this everpresent vibration that I'm chalking-up to a worn chain.<br />
<br />
Idaho is giant and dry. Horses and cattle graze in seemingly desolate places... I suppose they manage to make their way back to their barns at some point, but damned if I know how. Wide vistas of increasingly flat-topped mountain mesas... exhausting stretches of horizon-to-horizon road-scape.<br />
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Crater of the Moon National Park. En route. Paid four bucks to drive seven mile loop. Amazing how expansive an area that lava flow covers... my guess is 200 square miles. The signs said there have been repeated volcanic explosions over many millions of years... the last one only 2000 year ago, and they're expecting more. The lava fields go on for dozens of miles, as far as the eye can see.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSWefujwWjC8Tq2JeVqmHZA0N02I7uQniSF-HyHP4FzWMgZAb7W0krcMUM7JRSGYcCu3g9_MxHoDcexV1mYfuaFeapFMc_lNLyH0trqH4DX4ffr1iKgc-v2nvtwEXaJYP8ojThfJBEkY/s1600/Idaho+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSWefujwWjC8Tq2JeVqmHZA0N02I7uQniSF-HyHP4FzWMgZAb7W0krcMUM7JRSGYcCu3g9_MxHoDcexV1mYfuaFeapFMc_lNLyH0trqH4DX4ffr1iKgc-v2nvtwEXaJYP8ojThfJBEkY/s320/Idaho+016.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17lRfKMe-NNfETPu4ybWkjnu69R_y0SYkyI28Wai9FzAQFLksbReUsJkSa8shqu_Ww6APhbqx5U8BR8d3Bmri6TYIFI0nrVxdsnsAwCPkQ1QFViV4u-EQ_vrN3P1NR4eMJFIGWK9d2tQ/s1600/Idaho+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17lRfKMe-NNfETPu4ybWkjnu69R_y0SYkyI28Wai9FzAQFLksbReUsJkSa8shqu_Ww6APhbqx5U8BR8d3Bmri6TYIFI0nrVxdsnsAwCPkQ1QFViV4u-EQ_vrN3P1NR4eMJFIGWK9d2tQ/s320/Idaho+019.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymqSlVfIFnuJO7Rh1AOiYRrFWOVa0q3AdwENx9BrwbvuZgEz7nV-nJ2HnvhthQfRSfwRhz9-ESk-8cgybh8C5tvUKfnGKDqwfphloNePeaXIVK1X5gzbCrbaozMploTjcBPQvtJdzHxE/s1600/Idaho+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymqSlVfIFnuJO7Rh1AOiYRrFWOVa0q3AdwENx9BrwbvuZgEz7nV-nJ2HnvhthQfRSfwRhz9-ESk-8cgybh8C5tvUKfnGKDqwfphloNePeaXIVK1X5gzbCrbaozMploTjcBPQvtJdzHxE/s320/Idaho+024.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYg9VRHwxY6857ndX1KikYQ_WLvaaVxnXk0S1uxe4kOxyyVIhULqm0tbhr45158YPFhYS4TU7aaj4Y912K6Xv3gBpG3iQAzKF4AemVaCEfpjeWh9PiT332Y0t06XNlRsXVOdsbEKCHdI/s1600/Idaho+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYg9VRHwxY6857ndX1KikYQ_WLvaaVxnXk0S1uxe4kOxyyVIhULqm0tbhr45158YPFhYS4TU7aaj4Y912K6Xv3gBpG3iQAzKF4AemVaCEfpjeWh9PiT332Y0t06XNlRsXVOdsbEKCHdI/s320/Idaho+021.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Small cross-roads towns 40-50 miles apart. I pulled into one that had a little supermarket of sort for the locals.. combination supermarket/deli/gas station/repair shop. The girl behind the market register was suddenly beauitiful.. long braided blonde hair and clean-cut Anglo face... nice legs beneath those jean-shorts. She smiled nicely and I had a hard time walking away.. what was I going to accomplish, passing by this remote village, hmm... get an e-mail address??<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizUZ0eTiOTRgtDYHANonQ39NU3OukY2Okuf5blOEbkVgqazwk3eGqNbvQRDbEsrl0hZXRLjd89gm6UqadOWMpEmhEQMhHG06_5QDY1XRXICkqO_MBdnOiyskFaj417j-gj5_d856GR4Y/s1600/Idaho+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizUZ0eTiOTRgtDYHANonQ39NU3OukY2Okuf5blOEbkVgqazwk3eGqNbvQRDbEsrl0hZXRLjd89gm6UqadOWMpEmhEQMhHG06_5QDY1XRXICkqO_MBdnOiyskFaj417j-gj5_d856GR4Y/s320/Idaho+026.jpg" /></a></div>On and On... twist the throttle and find the seating position of least resistance. The thing about this bike though, in comparison to a Harley (which I saw bazillions of), is that it is light and VERY fast and can lean hard into mountain corners... makes the chore of sitting on a sportbike for weeks at a time worthwhile.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHjXpnHUvuhT-DS6TnDyn2O0UQDs0_-C6O5Tzps-1XCparw31yP73tndNiNfyDRXt8ywscA6fRAizXKzYlsVF-SI4zHcyJBVRm2kbY7DhiQORLKgauJb2qJakXkUHDvq5Zn54bb9-QPo/s1600/Idaho+044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHjXpnHUvuhT-DS6TnDyn2O0UQDs0_-C6O5Tzps-1XCparw31yP73tndNiNfyDRXt8ywscA6fRAizXKzYlsVF-SI4zHcyJBVRm2kbY7DhiQORLKgauJb2qJakXkUHDvq5Zn54bb9-QPo/s320/Idaho+044.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9pJ5LL6hlNBKY2QMbCcd-dZLVwc7lENUFmz7JY3E-C4D-QAEl1bMFCUdkne-DXmmxUn76QsHTQOXClYUDjPVhPJIDUKD7PhWXbMMTl1g6EMs9cIwbB5bL5lAUY_CTP0M3YWRkotmMA0/s1600/Idaho+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9pJ5LL6hlNBKY2QMbCcd-dZLVwc7lENUFmz7JY3E-C4D-QAEl1bMFCUdkne-DXmmxUn76QsHTQOXClYUDjPVhPJIDUKD7PhWXbMMTl1g6EMs9cIwbB5bL5lAUY_CTP0M3YWRkotmMA0/s320/Idaho+035.jpg" /></a></div>Ahh... past the Sawtooth Mountains... desolate highway stretches, fifty miles at a clip...eventually I came out of the mountains at Mountain Home...near Boise.. and picked up the Interstate for the border of Oregon.<br />
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Once over the border I stopped at a rest area.. and it was like I'd crossed over into Elysium. The sun was setting low... the rest area had tons of soft green grass, and the highway became smooth and scenic and sensuosly curvy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9OwkCN5qcvVZ-TujnWkgVhnTa47sD33fSu25K08n0VezIlF-BDcYeYvWMOIklv9ZgLWNjuLZWASjLaZE9z425XqOyu6SoEoYytuvQVRAA80UxjMHtvAVboZy5QKUXvU7suVHJ6hbjgY/s1600/Idaho+049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9OwkCN5qcvVZ-TujnWkgVhnTa47sD33fSu25K08n0VezIlF-BDcYeYvWMOIklv9ZgLWNjuLZWASjLaZE9z425XqOyu6SoEoYytuvQVRAA80UxjMHtvAVboZy5QKUXvU7suVHJ6hbjgY/s320/Idaho+049.jpg" /></a></div>I stopped in a tiny gas station ten miles into Oregon and a full-bearded mountain man came out and together with his dentally-challenged pick-up truck buddy, we tossed the breeze... and these were heart-felt people... fully open and friendly.. no sign of suspicion or guile. Open hearted... that's how I would label the Oregonians so far.<br />
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Finally pulled into Baker City and scrounged for the cheapest hotel... expensive at $55. Sometimes you just have to take it... your ass and arms ache so bad. <br />
Couple a beers in the Best Western lounge and then to bed.gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-35738542256303479692010-08-25T10:26:00.000-07:002010-08-29T21:54:46.537-07:00DRIGGS, IDAHOThe moon was coming up full and rich to my left over the immense Yellowstone valleys and crags. I’d left Old Faithful just before dusk, thinking that it shouldn’t be too a long ride out of the Park down into Jackson Hole. <br />
<br />
<br />
I was wrong.<br />
-------------------------- <br />
I woke up sharply in the Billings Montana Motel 6. Something was wrong… I was panting deeply. <br />
<em>What the</em>…. Then I remembered that I was no longer on the flat plains and I was hungry for oxygen at 5000 feet.<br />
<br />
I ate a crappy breakfast at some horrible chain joint called Cracker Barrel, more corporate sleaze, having a fetid room up front selling all manner of Pot-Pour-ee, nauseating candles and tourist gimcracks. Paid up fast and got out...Out onto the highway, Rte 90 again, and what a difference from the brutal heat of the day before. It was about 60 degrees and windy. Clear bright day;an far-open horizon and flat-bottomed, snow-white Western clouds. I stopped quickly and pulled out some warmer gear. I pointed it down Route 212 towards Yellowstone. The wind was gusting fiercely and I had to ride close to the shoulder so that I wasn’t blown suddenly into the oncoming lane of traffic.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnYMxbgnZhdfdXvmMr__Gn-_Z6WyANndHrcX3fjR5fhUP3ArDdk4b4ef9hgEscKWWQC6d9U_e-QEr4fn1XF3hcYunRI_OTbY0o4ah77EyyQj4sTQ5H_pdvJGw8AH_pCh0BsdQCVcqg_U/s1600/IMG_4918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnYMxbgnZhdfdXvmMr__Gn-_Z6WyANndHrcX3fjR5fhUP3ArDdk4b4ef9hgEscKWWQC6d9U_e-QEr4fn1XF3hcYunRI_OTbY0o4ah77EyyQj4sTQ5H_pdvJGw8AH_pCh0BsdQCVcqg_U/s320/IMG_4918.jpg" /></a></div>It was a long ride over to the park… maybe two hours at 70mph. The distances can be vast out here…and those little paper lines on a map don’t always give much idea of scale. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oTnfwEPwTpezFupLhxP0-gqxa7kEs7aBrPbQZ71Wqw-0BObjj2PTjLeYzyxmZjlXX7B-ZibhTh3fyu2SpCV_g52Pq2FbnYCWmCJBWqvL83a5PvzVJeQOdg-OvTEya5-5Fy10eoJabN8/s1600/IMG_4922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oTnfwEPwTpezFupLhxP0-gqxa7kEs7aBrPbQZ71Wqw-0BObjj2PTjLeYzyxmZjlXX7B-ZibhTh3fyu2SpCV_g52Pq2FbnYCWmCJBWqvL83a5PvzVJeQOdg-OvTEya5-5Fy10eoJabN8/s320/IMG_4922.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It was getting colder. I ran through tiny mountain towns and got a hot lunch in some wooden café in Red Lodge. Smoked brisket sandwich, baked beans, hot coffee. Not cuisine but warming. Before I pulled out I saw a custom motorcycle shop just across the street and long-sleeve white t-shirts hanging in the window..something I’ve wanted, to protect me from the sun on the hotter rides. I ended up buying that shirt and a pair oif deerskin gloves, (cheap at $20), and the chick behind the counter was helpful. <br />
“You’d better be careful up there,” she warned about Yellowstone. “The weather changes fast and furiously, and buffalo look at small black vehicles and think they’re competition for the females.” <br />
Great. <br />
Who thought about Yellowstone Park as being “up there”? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CDzcFkR7oiQ0Cp-wcx2nm2YoHJox_BfSJNaE-gsiGgae7ZwDJRdeKM95xI9-40j_ZlTk_vRCB6I1psLeB8FF5FxFqu_RUYNkeSqUHSJw0nwg2DUqIg88ZzAzNu8PoFlsc5LmeEUnCv0/s1600/IMG_4924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CDzcFkR7oiQ0Cp-wcx2nm2YoHJox_BfSJNaE-gsiGgae7ZwDJRdeKM95xI9-40j_ZlTk_vRCB6I1psLeB8FF5FxFqu_RUYNkeSqUHSJw0nwg2DUqIg88ZzAzNu8PoFlsc5LmeEUnCv0/s320/IMG_4924.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
..but, Up we Go. <br />
It took almost another hour before I finally reached a Lincoln-log blockhouse where some Smokey-the-Bear ranger dude demanded $20 entrance fee from me. He wasn’t very friendly…don’t know why.<br />
<br />
Up and Up… the roads were beautiful for a bike, swooping back and forth. Traffic was light and it wasn’t a problem getting past. There aren’t many police out West, compared to the East Coast, so you can usually do what you will.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpKU8g8OmDbre8ZJAF40tpTfSlBk9z-lMcMjIK3t6us6cog8i79W6M8ptdtpE_mr-ZfWyI_3spUwdSNu3NorLGkatTdkmXeN32Z9FMtMrsM5-01nts9h1isne2F_5MQnb_-NYNC0Fy08/s1600/IMG_4932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpKU8g8OmDbre8ZJAF40tpTfSlBk9z-lMcMjIK3t6us6cog8i79W6M8ptdtpE_mr-ZfWyI_3spUwdSNu3NorLGkatTdkmXeN32Z9FMtMrsM5-01nts9h1isne2F_5MQnb_-NYNC0Fy08/s320/IMG_4932.jpg" /></a></div>The scenery, of course, was getting grander by the minute. Huge, craggy mountains looming ahead. The road became increasingly twisty, real hairpins now, and the elevation became extreme…I crested the pass at 10,000 feet. It was cold…maybe upper 30’s, and what a difference from a day before when I almost baked under that relentless 110-degree furnace in eastern Dakota. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwODPndEwjNsWzJRuczI1jl-qj4KklcS_R3xuT78co59n7Dd90P_ou7M3uW3Y8TiFnOwibi15uqM6kSFGb41jOXZnhuK8SH1OY-Lj02-BvsQb9SVNP0vh6YlbHswGcfmN2vA6DgnRLt7s/s1600/IMG_4937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwODPndEwjNsWzJRuczI1jl-qj4KklcS_R3xuT78co59n7Dd90P_ou7M3uW3Y8TiFnOwibi15uqM6kSFGb41jOXZnhuK8SH1OY-Lj02-BvsQb9SVNP0vh6YlbHswGcfmN2vA6DgnRLt7s/s320/IMG_4937.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oJSAmhUbQFFxzi-_GIeHctVYcfiSKmK3dfFRN4fIgQ5S3qguQMbeHdqO73rccp5dMOIicGsP_2svc96s7-c6WPpeOO2QTZKuAHjVV_alM8Sqjd_EwpYdtKzsu96vFTZhH2MsxKTQNV4/s1600/IMG_4947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oJSAmhUbQFFxzi-_GIeHctVYcfiSKmK3dfFRN4fIgQ5S3qguQMbeHdqO73rccp5dMOIicGsP_2svc96s7-c6WPpeOO2QTZKuAHjVV_alM8Sqjd_EwpYdtKzsu96vFTZhH2MsxKTQNV4/s320/IMG_4947.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Then it started to snow.<br />
Not heavily, thankfully, but it certainly <em>was </em>snow falling around me, little swirling white flakey things, and you’re waaay away from civilization Up There. I stopped a few times to take photos or change gear and just getting off the bike and back was a major chore… huffing and puffing heavily from a pure lack of O2. The scale of the vistas was huge and incredible above the treeline.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYa1ADX7Vq3pCOhYli0xn9stci3dSKu_JbMeTWdq0mZRLworFJdXxop9yjq2MiMoGuWcGWGDyuq6o9atjFcMJ7eggnuFar6fChVWcviEAvQUu1PPZ4o4P1Ukb715eqNM4W6skBI0dsDs/s1600/IMG_4952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYa1ADX7Vq3pCOhYli0xn9stci3dSKu_JbMeTWdq0mZRLworFJdXxop9yjq2MiMoGuWcGWGDyuq6o9atjFcMJ7eggnuFar6fChVWcviEAvQUu1PPZ4o4P1Ukb715eqNM4W6skBI0dsDs/s320/IMG_4952.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Eventually I crested the passes and started winding down the other side. Fantastically swoopy roads, crisp and twisty and freshly paved… the reason why I chose a sport bike to do this trip on to begin with, (other than it's the only bike I've <em>got</em>). The ride reminded me a lot of the Alps... going through various mountain scenes and vast river valleys… too much to list here (once again I need to flee this Motel before the maid knocks). I’ll have to send some photos another time.. I have plenty. But like all scenery photos, you have to understand that they can’t possibly do justice to such wide-angled vistas.<br />
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<br />
Herds of buffalo lounging by the roadside... brown eagles over the sharp-cliffed mountains, soaring straight upwards for thousands of feet. Lodge-pole and Ponderosa pines like toothpicks on the immense cliff edges, contrasting against the brilliant, dark-blue sky.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qrDEOrSp2dE43yFjnqr3B0UIES1en5__ifibyg3DubrtiDNbUFR_tsVqGQMtJgX212XXYuATkcYh-S_Sr2RanuLmHtZKr_qwI4UtALmn0D_6TLG_En23gnV36fb6PqG_C1drduDze7A/s1600/IMG_4959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qrDEOrSp2dE43yFjnqr3B0UIES1en5__ifibyg3DubrtiDNbUFR_tsVqGQMtJgX212XXYuATkcYh-S_Sr2RanuLmHtZKr_qwI4UtALmn0D_6TLG_En23gnV36fb6PqG_C1drduDze7A/s320/IMG_4959.jpg" /></a></div><br />
[No time here for this jabber, the maid is next door]<br />
---------<br />
[now re-continued in the PM. This gets difficult.. I’m lagging on this blog ... not much time]<br />
Ah, Yeah… so the whole Yellowstone thing is grand… a lot like the Adirondack park…but three of four times larger, in size, height, and scale. Incredible expanses of natural beauty. I got off to walk across a short meadow towards a photogenic cliff and I found myself sinking dangerously into bubbling sulfur marsh…it could have easily been Quick-mud... and I was far enough away from the road that no one would haveevery found me or heard my yelling if I became stuck. The meadow <em>looked </em>so solid and innocent... Could have been a bad move. I sank in quickly.<br />
Now I doubt that I’ll ever get all the sulfur out of those boots.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9h3HhiO4oIoOBlbC-Q6MMBnSKV1Zx7eaRt6xdBy34d_sqFw9_QVxgY0k1J9VxptoCUuLU6m2NRAWYE0BPYWUU2UO22FqnaIK0jNTq6YiKpRLLdLMGzX4g6uNP4CHsLPxTRoIerTsVqf4/s1600/IMG_4976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9h3HhiO4oIoOBlbC-Q6MMBnSKV1Zx7eaRt6xdBy34d_sqFw9_QVxgY0k1J9VxptoCUuLU6m2NRAWYE0BPYWUU2UO22FqnaIK0jNTq6YiKpRLLdLMGzX4g6uNP4CHsLPxTRoIerTsVqf4/s320/IMG_4976.jpg" /></a></div>So.<br />
I wander around the park in an S-pattern, hoping to get out and south before it gets too late. I kept stopping at the many "paint-pots" and geyser viewpoints...bubbling sulfuric mud and boiling cobalt water.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg033Uvrwm8k4BjQU7E282EHyCZDeNSRPU2Vtj1jxJj7zPjQ09Pd4xEzfENLLBPisIcvU-3FKPhP2F6OKZIW-DoEo2GMvH15t1o4OrC1vawUWxKPvmzLDHjKqOKceqdKV8GGsU_wTM6eD4/s1600/IMG_4982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg033Uvrwm8k4BjQU7E282EHyCZDeNSRPU2Vtj1jxJj7zPjQ09Pd4xEzfENLLBPisIcvU-3FKPhP2F6OKZIW-DoEo2GMvH15t1o4OrC1vawUWxKPvmzLDHjKqOKceqdKV8GGsU_wTM6eD4/s320/IMG_4982.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8d4Us-pHxT6EnBT09dT-xs0FYP3DT4hYhg2GHByNIQWp1huQYZq0sBkcM1J6zfIkoxFr5wTp02RnlqeSwAQifJ6jAWLjyEHsvxwzrFpOfoU69v633ld3fuBBgXYq30Qj7TAuMCcioCE/s1600/IMG_5010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8d4Us-pHxT6EnBT09dT-xs0FYP3DT4hYhg2GHByNIQWp1huQYZq0sBkcM1J6zfIkoxFr5wTp02RnlqeSwAQifJ6jAWLjyEHsvxwzrFpOfoU69v633ld3fuBBgXYq30Qj7TAuMCcioCE/s320/IMG_5010.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82qcF7V0iPu-jkO6kJQdYy8xkYCBGxS7g2il6AStTey1jgI65to6bSrxLBcdZc-O4Mnx4GQcZvW50HcDbrIU_XYTgUpoQO3eBfCfyyP9oezrC0xGyBZZHFekGxENPE1KKXGtbxgX3_3c/s1600/IMG_5007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82qcF7V0iPu-jkO6kJQdYy8xkYCBGxS7g2il6AStTey1jgI65to6bSrxLBcdZc-O4Mnx4GQcZvW50HcDbrIU_XYTgUpoQO3eBfCfyyP9oezrC0xGyBZZHFekGxENPE1KKXGtbxgX3_3c/s320/IMG_5007.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Unfortunately, the SCALE of the place is so big that I got lost in Time & Space, and eventually, at Old Faithful, I started to heading towards the South Entrance. The geyser was scheduled to go off in another 20 minutes…but the sun was setting quickly, HIGH in the mountains at 9000 feet; and I figured I can always see it later on Youtube, <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib53-_FKLKZK6zRExMJP5zBifFRmORjmPWCRATzyAYwX4b9O4iGjrEdq8x-fji7y9NHjG8P-Js5jDmQOAD6U18DwDYLsq7UYs_zxofzsbI5NqSjM49LZEsa-0eOfCJYcJiOB12IVS4eKM/s1600/IMG_5016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib53-_FKLKZK6zRExMJP5zBifFRmORjmPWCRATzyAYwX4b9O4iGjrEdq8x-fji7y9NHjG8P-Js5jDmQOAD6U18DwDYLsq7UYs_zxofzsbI5NqSjM49LZEsa-0eOfCJYcJiOB12IVS4eKM/s320/IMG_5016.jpg" /></a></div><br />
This is when it got really cold. A brilliant, full moon rose over the valleys to my left, and it was mind-bendingly beautiful. Really, really full and rich… <br />
<br />
….but also really really dangerous, as you had these tiny roads to run down, forrest to either side, and all sorts of Fauna like THIS crazy thing wandering around near the road..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4bAtnUaHsv4owPhgTF9NywT-wVsQ1rdG7DBde2jIQXZhOPCy635yDT7IMwnw3WR-ZX1bxdY917UpV9MDISe9AcI_S5yi-DW6u82VIZVvG9w_Ldqm0LBgUYKdDAGSYw-weArLZB_cLhM/s1600/IMG_5028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4bAtnUaHsv4owPhgTF9NywT-wVsQ1rdG7DBde2jIQXZhOPCy635yDT7IMwnw3WR-ZX1bxdY917UpV9MDISe9AcI_S5yi-DW6u82VIZVvG9w_Ldqm0LBgUYKdDAGSYw-weArLZB_cLhM/s320/IMG_5028.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Colder… and colder. I wasn’t ready for this level of temperature drop. Twenty-four hours before I had been in such a hot place that I really became worried about heat stroke issues; now I was into a full-tilt hypothermia situation. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxV6tf2GW6EkqovaiEydwSks2czYduvYj7Oj7Vr8rkRE8gDp63FsZDkNjMSD0bZWL_30OY-kXQr34pVGwT3hRBZOCxdv8UtB9AOPuNLuYPdlfm4etoRFZ8EdulhyphenhyphenecbarvKIQnDeVguM/s1600/IMG_5021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxV6tf2GW6EkqovaiEydwSks2czYduvYj7Oj7Vr8rkRE8gDp63FsZDkNjMSD0bZWL_30OY-kXQr34pVGwT3hRBZOCxdv8UtB9AOPuNLuYPdlfm4etoRFZ8EdulhyphenhyphenecbarvKIQnDeVguM/s320/IMG_5021.jpg" /></a></div><br />
After the sun was essentially down, I finally reached<em> just thed edge of the park</em>. A wooden sign pointed south and said, “Jackson Hole- 77 miles”.<br />
<em>Seventy-seven MILES???</em> <br />
That’s three-quarters of the way to <em>Albany</em> from where I live… and this was to be on highly twisting and treacherous one-lane forest roads, night-time black, with Wildlife abundantly carousing. The two things I had in my favor were the Love of Jesus and a perfectly full moon. Oh, and heated handgrips, that I’d just installed before this trip… but they didn’t do much.<br />
This was one scary ride. I headed onward and onward, slowly leaving huge Yellowstone, working my shivering way down through the passes into the <em>next </em>formidable obstacle: Grand Tetons National Park. By then it was well after nine o’clock, and there's no one on the road; just some demented New York motorcyclist peering vainly into the freezing mists for any threatening sign of Animal Movement that could spell instant tragedy at 75 mph. Meanwhile, that fat marshmallow moon shone fiercely against the craggy faces of the Tetons, just across the river. It was picture-postcard beautiful, except for the potentially deadly conditions.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHB-wQxPJC5tO9LeJEjPrFPUHJHxhljKXpqlWVkL1RWOPgtC9GTgmY3RHSo28rjng_EyGX-FRI8M8beqdFq2t9kY3Zpv1NAr7tWifn6NEOIU9eRRWKNOeGHsjVIydHtFGPLWzwOdqIfuc/s1600/IMG_5029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHB-wQxPJC5tO9LeJEjPrFPUHJHxhljKXpqlWVkL1RWOPgtC9GTgmY3RHSo28rjng_EyGX-FRI8M8beqdFq2t9kY3Zpv1NAr7tWifn6NEOIU9eRRWKNOeGHsjVIydHtFGPLWzwOdqIfuc/s320/IMG_5029.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I’ve been frightened before on long motorcycle trips. There was the freaky rainstorm west of Kansas City in 1998 where I prayed for my life as fat lightning bolts crashed onto the flat desert around me. Or the time I got lost in downtoen Oklahoma City, and the Brothers there were in no way shy to express an interest in my motorcycle. But this was a new chapter; after two solid hours of riding in blowing 38-degree weather, with no signs of Human Settlement for 77 miles, I was getting scared. There was nothing left to do but forge on. I was concerned about the level of shivering wracking my body, and the effects that shivering might have on my arrythmic heart-beat condition. Ga-BLURP. It was truly bad out there; three, 75 mph, ice-cubed hours through some tiny forest lane that I’ll never forget.<br />
Finally… finally I saw the lights of Jackson approaching in the long distance ahead. I was shivering badly as I pulled shakily into a Shell station, where I stumbled over to the coffee machine. The pretty blonde Russian girl behind the counter took pity on me and gave me the coffee for free. Her boyfriend/whatever came out of the back room and directed me over the mountain into Idaho, where a hotel room waited in Diggs. I’d done the right thing and paid online for this room… I could only imagine what it would have been like if the NO VACANCY signs had gone up outside of Yellowstone, as often happens in the summer. I found a pair of cheap, white, knitted gloves in the store for $1.99 to put inside my gloves; bit of a miracle, and wrapped a bandana across my face bandito-style for the one hour ride over the mountains to Driggs. These two things helped a lot, as did the knowledge that within aan hour I’d be safe and sound in a plastic Super 8 Motel.<br />
Driggs was a tiny cross-roads town, and it had all gone to sleep before I arrived. All except the Lonely Wolf Bar, it seems, which turned out to be just my medicine. The bartender was a cheerful University of Pennsylvania graduate who told me tales of driving the immense journey from PA to ID in a matter of two days of insane torture. The people in the bar where Idaho Hip… the music was cool and I bought shots for the crazy two local chicks who came in to rip the place up. The bartender came outside with me to Imbibe, and he clued me in on the basic happenings of eastern Idaho. A fine evening, and how absolutely bizarre it feels to be locked into a three-hour, potentially deadly situation then suddenly be snug and comfortable in a partying place where people are laughing gaily about mundane issues like their phone bills. In the end I spent $38 for a close interaction with the Idaho Species… then headed back up the road to my motel and crashed-out heavily. <br />
<br />
Shit, here's another bloody <em>maid</em> bustling outside my door....gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044938258823283949.post-42452435567797824132010-08-23T00:24:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:24:45.778-07:00BILLINGS, MONTANAWhew. .<br />
Long day. <br />
These states just keep on getting bigger...and BIGGER<br />
Started off on Sunday morning into the Black Hills from Rapid City. Hot as hell already as I gassed-up. Had to navigate the back roads of downtown before escaping into the hills out oif town on Rte 45 heading north. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKhfh3phmU29lFw6r3m6WuiRsHRSMZNYqly316ieQNMte7ZOKTD9UEiP1D0MyrgN1OLFBDnZ6wxFbF8L8v-h_UexwOzAtOQ4nMncNraYlaAneP5B6QG7ztsjsHz7qs_rdgrQ_CWJuYDw/s1600/Dakota-Montana+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKhfh3phmU29lFw6r3m6WuiRsHRSMZNYqly316ieQNMte7ZOKTD9UEiP1D0MyrgN1OLFBDnZ6wxFbF8L8v-h_UexwOzAtOQ4nMncNraYlaAneP5B6QG7ztsjsHz7qs_rdgrQ_CWJuYDw/s320/Dakota-Montana+003.jpg" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Next stop: Deadwood, some 30 miles north.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7m6MSIeTeThqz49O0kFy6CO1oYccprQXxhgCASeHCTPsUVF5ewvarJAg8Q1oxTIRzSNTxB8GUSQAbTYjRfiKcKwW2ux2pmEPu6phjhc3ifyhp6rg9LMk6gUixw0a5H7Ud_NsN-2Tbn0g/s1600/Dakota-Montana+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7m6MSIeTeThqz49O0kFy6CO1oYccprQXxhgCASeHCTPsUVF5ewvarJAg8Q1oxTIRzSNTxB8GUSQAbTYjRfiKcKwW2ux2pmEPu6phjhc3ifyhp6rg9LMk6gUixw0a5H7Ud_NsN-2Tbn0g/s320/Dakota-Montana+011.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Deadwood was cool, figuratively... wandered around the center of town for a while, and went into a local, official museum where they had small but very intersting diusplays relating to Calamnity Jane and Wild Bill Hickock. Calamnit Jane was a serious drunk and an active prostitute (whenever she could get the business), who essentially died drunk in a ditch but was given the biggest funeral Deadwood had seen to date.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bill Hickok's gun, belt, lucky stone and boot-razor were all on display. I took a fast look around and to the clerk-lady's dismay, left within twenty minutes. Who the hell wants to stand around in air-conditioning looking at old dead history rather than jump on a 150 horespower snorter and go out and MAKE some..?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrHEdTa0umbQUp46uywALb00bs9wyVdnQ1Nsilx49qnXJPCtmbBOjDj0owlAx2MkjsfsxCmz-hH_43rYIREpxhaZlO0mZLo6i3c9VA_SWLrqRj9CWkIUhgioNP80fYPsNCMVBsofAdnw/s1600/Dakota-Montana+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrHEdTa0umbQUp46uywALb00bs9wyVdnQ1Nsilx49qnXJPCtmbBOjDj0owlAx2MkjsfsxCmz-hH_43rYIREpxhaZlO0mZLo6i3c9VA_SWLrqRj9CWkIUhgioNP80fYPsNCMVBsofAdnw/s320/Dakota-Montana+018.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLRNC55t45ADe-KGm-0ddPn-7VVNM2GJD_GFBUeTfdqj5lGGqRULtvGZyNvVfFzpNVZGwALSkTlka8zxU6Ua_r0a9Kc5_fyHzEFXS8PGoE04qbnIqG9nnNOp_6ooVqwfBOnAiCoVClac/s1600/Dakota-Montana+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLRNC55t45ADe-KGm-0ddPn-7VVNM2GJD_GFBUeTfdqj5lGGqRULtvGZyNvVfFzpNVZGwALSkTlka8zxU6Ua_r0a9Kc5_fyHzEFXS8PGoE04qbnIqG9nnNOp_6ooVqwfBOnAiCoVClac/s320/Dakota-Montana+027.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After Deadwood I headed north towards Spearfish and the state line. Sturgis was only a dozen miles to the east, but I had no interest in going there. I'd been there ten years before (co-incidentally the week after the big rally... exactly the same as this trip)..... but I had better buffalo burgers to fry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlqB29GnKCZg28KAPVrFTQSZfydR5b2vLq3YWqnn7s5CC0gO5HYO-D2TrvpuH2tmGM9X04kFfV2kE2CT4J2GIS0rBIq_nbyJNyWE0ny2PWigSpA3sF_x7d-8Grf_mulVbrxfZb-Rg0zc/s1600/Dakota-Montana+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlqB29GnKCZg28KAPVrFTQSZfydR5b2vLq3YWqnn7s5CC0gO5HYO-D2TrvpuH2tmGM9X04kFfV2kE2CT4J2GIS0rBIq_nbyJNyWE0ny2PWigSpA3sF_x7d-8Grf_mulVbrxfZb-Rg0zc/s320/Dakota-Montana+029.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once you leave Interstate 90 things get more rudimentary; I took state Route 212 out northwest towards the corner of Wyoming, into Montana. It was goddamm hot. BAD hot. The fierce wind buffeting you costantly had to have been about 110 degrees coming off the roadway... and it just didn't STOP. I had to pull over at any gas station go water myself as deeply as possible, inside and out.. Still, it was brutal and frightening... distances between towns were now up to 50 miles, and God help you if you were to have a problem in between. YES, there ARE buzzards flating above. PS... I also saw numerous<em> antelope</em>... a first for me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPD14VmowXKKkwnA2bgTgsHzj8X08pG8krvRl0GBd37jdFfILI0PpmIZaWRVGwVjHgpnTzqoj3SCck-4AoEMvUiPffgGAcqHwsaRk6cQm5VFcsa1A9-kXE6l4m8QwAZbb28W4UGlNOMIA/s1600/Dakota-Montana+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPD14VmowXKKkwnA2bgTgsHzj8X08pG8krvRl0GBd37jdFfILI0PpmIZaWRVGwVjHgpnTzqoj3SCck-4AoEMvUiPffgGAcqHwsaRk6cQm5VFcsa1A9-kXE6l4m8QwAZbb28W4UGlNOMIA/s320/Dakota-Montana+034.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXJrsen0lU5mWjrW2F3efCDeNwT4qsQtRyvXLwtCnumS4pI_LJT9DyaAMWdjJJHZzPlPCqUpFpfDveGZ3h04NgKff5Xgd7tlUbexkq2W0f_f45UJth0O1AHTzVqhBi0XOzeS0WmwWblY/s1600/Dakota-Montana+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXJrsen0lU5mWjrW2F3efCDeNwT4qsQtRyvXLwtCnumS4pI_LJT9DyaAMWdjJJHZzPlPCqUpFpfDveGZ3h04NgKff5Xgd7tlUbexkq2W0f_f45UJth0O1AHTzVqhBi0XOzeS0WmwWblY/s320/Dakota-Montana+035.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3cUyvqL2qTydorh3mHocNeINWvWKALI3RUz8uZ4yPs4RR_HhSFwohYcon8VXpcVvqFkmHs0igqgDlnBvBEyxvyK3BYhO1l-thYzeyABZ_8_iYTSPJNhEbACt-22Jam6ciXHyGTSl38w/s1600/Dakota-Montana+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3cUyvqL2qTydorh3mHocNeINWvWKALI3RUz8uZ4yPs4RR_HhSFwohYcon8VXpcVvqFkmHs0igqgDlnBvBEyxvyK3BYhO1l-thYzeyABZ_8_iYTSPJNhEbACt-22Jam6ciXHyGTSl38w/s320/Dakota-Montana+036.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Eventually I got into Montana ... after an hour through the corner of Wyoming.. and it was massively hot. The pictures can't give yoiu any idea. I stopped at a tiny place called Azuma with a simple store (the gas pumps had GAS and DIESEL options... and of course you paid cash)... and two other bikers came in in serious straits. Dehydration and sugar imbalances are serious matters out here. Could KILL you no shit, and the nearest "hsospital" would be many hours away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Eventually I made my way into the Indian nations... Cheyenne and Crow. Beautiful, beautiful country, but immense western clouds threatened. I met a couple of Cheyenne dudes at a general storte on the edge of the reservation and asked if I would get hgit by the rain, heading for Billings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Nawww," said the one young dude, in a sort of California/Latino accent. "That storm is heading north.. you will be fine!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He was very interested in my bike and we chatted for a few about the trip I was on. He was totally imporessed and shook my hand on the way out. I suppose life on the reservation is pretty limited, in terms of meeting unusual people. I worked my way across the nations, taking out my rainsuit and putting it away again repeatedly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgueS8k34P3SiGYdzQ9-pGMW_QPuUpxBpFiI_W-m4SJXczZxksWZWvUcL8iIEdU2Ri-CJcjL2iSc1zBVr31ax_HrRhvD-poVeK3N8KXj_9e60dSgqdwK8-SJlSS9nSdQbz8y6mSBUbp3s/s1600/Dakota-Montana+045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgueS8k34P3SiGYdzQ9-pGMW_QPuUpxBpFiI_W-m4SJXczZxksWZWvUcL8iIEdU2Ri-CJcjL2iSc1zBVr31ax_HrRhvD-poVeK3N8KXj_9e60dSgqdwK8-SJlSS9nSdQbz8y6mSBUbp3s/s320/Dakota-Montana+045.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfavnMXnvtW6lTj-HFOBfno-yQB6e9hTbHPDwMM9Im1peR-m8wWKaN-Hj851JNgszy-VtqCfD_JHuq9oIz6Us4M3HUoXRxzOk5O5XUXgbsQ_CW4UyHbdCplOZs7Yq9SAUB2rQzSOchHHw/s1600/Dakota-Montana+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfavnMXnvtW6lTj-HFOBfno-yQB6e9hTbHPDwMM9Im1peR-m8wWKaN-Hj851JNgszy-VtqCfD_JHuq9oIz6Us4M3HUoXRxzOk5O5XUXgbsQ_CW4UyHbdCplOZs7Yq9SAUB2rQzSOchHHw/s320/Dakota-Montana+043.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmF7guTqSbHlijqXnC9_dv2LXXBgnMcEwQ9t2xRQsr-ipXakMjhIJBqMYTMF9xeRPRcvcgT8RqSCdbl0uHMyvUMe9IDJ68-TEwPGiaOc4ttH28hyphenhyphenkXgvqHyytnZTDFSSt_g1juXNd9RUI/s1600/Dakota-Montana+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmF7guTqSbHlijqXnC9_dv2LXXBgnMcEwQ9t2xRQsr-ipXakMjhIJBqMYTMF9xeRPRcvcgT8RqSCdbl0uHMyvUMe9IDJ68-TEwPGiaOc4ttH28hyphenhyphenkXgvqHyytnZTDFSSt_g1juXNd9RUI/s320/Dakota-Montana+055.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eventually...(remember that disances are huge out here) I came across the Little Big Horn battlefield, and pulled over as rain clouds were gathering. I'd seen chain-lightning across the sky on the way... the skies are huge and changeable. I pulled in to the national site and as it was after 6PM I got in for free... the site was numbing. I couldn;t get my brain around what had happened on that spot... but the one thing that chilled me was how FAR AWAY from any kind of european settlement those young soldiers had been, surrounded by combat-veteran Cheyenne, Sioux, and others. all armed with rifles. When they began to realize how truly cut-off and doomed they were,... to be scapled or worse.. must have been a real Kodak Moment.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUXOFhwxxikrY7SQHVF8o8SGMRJfJhHlNSzjoc8AEdbaKcQFmBaqyuYuLZxCJXVuh9LlHPEHMZBdpI09dW99sW9Un5bYtNzPY6muhsvOhf4GOZJmXnSUlwEtrkrC-ETvt-CXtEnQxxRQ/s1600/Dakota-Montana+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUXOFhwxxikrY7SQHVF8o8SGMRJfJhHlNSzjoc8AEdbaKcQFmBaqyuYuLZxCJXVuh9LlHPEHMZBdpI09dW99sW9Un5bYtNzPY6muhsvOhf4GOZJmXnSUlwEtrkrC-ETvt-CXtEnQxxRQ/s320/Dakota-Montana+063.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once again, the photos can;t give you a scope of the vast plainj that surrounds here; visibility for fifty miles... and truly desolate, deep in her heart of the Indian nations.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Made it into Billings in the rain... got an (expensive! $64!!) Motel 6... a few draft beers and a buffalo burger before retiring back here. I'm BUSHED and I hope to Christ some one out there likes reading this becaus its about 1:30 AM and it's a chore..</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>gwebbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03724812824510292289noreply@blogger.com0