Joyful

Joyful

Doug and I have fallen in love again. We are both in love with our tiny granddaughter who has left us breathless with wonder. We were warned, but skeptical as many of you described the wellspring of emotion that the birth of a grandchild creates. You were right on the money. I call it the "throw-myself-in-front-of-the-train" kind of love I feel for this child, just as I have for my own children. It is truly amazing to me how this type of attachment develops after spending a week with her. After all, she does squirm, yell, fuss, and celebrates bodily functions with wild abandon with no regard for time of day or need for sleep. Yet we all sit around the kitchen table, paying very little attention to what we are eating, each of us with our heads turned to watch her sweet face. Joyful, joyful, we adore her.

Zoom

Zoom
We are back and have been properly introduced to our new granddaughter. Judy is a much greater help than she thinks she is, and I—other than walking the dog and folding laundry—may be just the opposite. She, of course, is beautiful and seems to be growing before our eyes. But still, so small: her head is the size of a softball; her tiny feet no longer than my thumb.

Our return trip is still a bit of a blur of self-pump gas stops, bad coffee, and great ice cream cones. 2933 miles in four long days. Quite a difference from the seven leisurely weeks we took to drive from the Cape, via Florida, to California and the Golden Gate. Memorable eastbound stops included the Road Kill Café on old Route 66 in Arizona; the Sayre, Oklahoma, town campground; the about-to-become ghost town of Cotton Plant, Arkansas; and the lodge deep in Natchez Trace State Park in Tennessee.

For obvious reasons, we’re not eager to be on the road again for a while. The Tarheel State was home for nearly thirty years, and we’re glad to be back. -DN

Blasting Back

Blasting Back
Lord, this is a great country, but it sure is wide. I am writing this in the car, and will upload it as soon as we land back in the Carolinas. This is our fourth, and hopefully final day driving the interstates. The last three days have started around sunrise and ended after dark. From groves, to desert, to peaks, to hills, how fortunate we have been to stumble upon three wonderful, different places to sleep.
In Arizona we pulled into Homolovi Ruins State Park. I don’t remember much about it, and I never saw any ruins, but we slept on a wide plateau in our modified car, safe and sound under a million stars.
Night two we had decided to take our chances with a nondescript motel when we saw a sign indicating camping at the town park in Sayre, Oklahoma. What the heck; we drove into a scene from the 1950s. The sun was setting on a lovely, small lake, playground, miniature golf range, and tiny, dilapidated campground. It was just what we needed. Two RVs were there, so we felt safe and pulled in under the trees for another good night’s rest. The next morning I proved to the town of Sayre that I am a tough cookie by taking a cold shower in the buff in the men’s restroom which also served as a condo colony for beetles and moths.
Last evening was the weirdest of all. After dark we followed twisting, dark and empty roads ten miles to Natchez Trace State Park east of Memphis. We pulled in to the Wrangler Campground. What do we know? We’re not wranglers and didn’t even guess that we were entering the horse world. Doug describes it as a midnight scene in the Middle Ages –people on horseback emerging from the trees, along the road, others hunkered down around smoky campfires, ragamuffin kids running wild through the woods. We moved on; we just didn’t fit in; we didn’t bring our horse. The RV campground was almost as strange; not a site was empty and the big rigs were decked out in Christmas lights and other colorful paraphernalia. Feeling a bit discouraged, we drove further on to the park’s lodge. Ahhh, civilization! We were rewarded with a lovely, quiet, clean room and a good night’s sleep. Waking up today, we found we were on the shore of beautiful, serene Pin Oak Lake.
What lucky people we are! And don’t think for a minute that we don’t know it and thank God for our blessings. Especially that baby whom we are hurrying to meet!

Turning Around

Turning Around

Tomorrow we will turn around and head east. We've enjoyed San Francisco as we always do. The four of us hiked and lunched in Saratoga reminiscing about the wedding here just six months ago. It has been fun fooling around with Kate and Tom's border terrier, Banjo, a funny little guy who looks like he belongs in a Dr. Seuss book.

Doug and I took the train into town today and walked along the wharf area. I love the "bush man." He is a guy who sits on the sidewalk near Fisherman's Wharf, surrounding himself with five-foot long leafy branches. When someone walks by, usually a group of tourists or teenage girls, he jumps out at them yelling "Boo!" Everybody laughs and folks drop a dollar or two in his money bucket.

We swore that we had seen enough rocks to last a lifetime, and therefore planned to drive back East via the more northern route through Salt Lake City, Denver, St. Louis. But today I looked at the weather forecasts for Utah and Nevada, so we are heading back through the garlic capital of the world again (Gilroy, CA) and taking the southern route, retracing our steps as far as Flagstaff. More wind, but no snow. And our car door is reattached! Let the drive begin...again.

Grand Daughter

Grand Daughter

We are blessed with a grand daughter and now with a granddaughter! She was born as we left the Grand Canyon. We are so grateful that they are well and surrounded with love and support as we sit here 3000 miles away! So our trip plans have been altered a bit. We are skipping the tour of the Southern California coast, and spending a few days with Tom and Kate south of San Francisco before heading back. It is wonderful to see them again. They were gracious to welcome us several days before expected, and we enjoyed an easy day of walking, talking, playing outdoors and being teary listening to the new babe make her new-life sounds via cellphone. Tomorrow we are spending the remainder of our trip budget on having the car door reattached after the wind damage (not too far from the truth!).

Grand

Grand
Three things we learned at the Grand Canyon:

1. The rock layer at the bottom is the oldest rock on earth: 1.8 billion years.

2. Ravens--there are thousands--will peck into an unattended cooler and eat everything in it but the canned goods. (We witnessed the results of this at the campsite across from ours.)

3. Last fall a man drove over the South Rim. He landed 4,460 feet short of the 4,500 foot-deep Canyon, but he--and the car--were pulled out.

We walked for miles along the Rim Trail, watched a coyote trot past our tent and elk cross the road at 6am, and looked up at night at more stars than we'd ever seen before. It was a beautiful visit. -DN

Up and Down

Up and Down
Driving across southern New Mexico is like riding a 400-mile rollercoaster. Up and down across mountain ranges--Guadalupes, Sacramentos, San Andres, Organs (look it up), Mimbres, Mogollons, San Franciscos--and, with them, temperatures from low 30s to mid 80s in the space of an hour.
The morning began 750 feet underground at Carlsbad Caverns on a mile-long 'trail' through chamber after chamber of back-lit stalactites and stalagmites, bats, and ending with a restaurant. (When the elevator was built in 1931, it was the longest in the world, and replaced a four-hour hike with a two-minute ride.)
For once, we were blessed with bad weather. Going over the Sacramentos (I think), the weather dropped, the snow began, and the prospect of pitching a tent in the woods became a lot less attractive. In the tiny village of Cloudcroft we found a lodge with the name The Lodge, and it turned into a wonderful evening. Victorian on the outside, Bavarian on the inside, reads their brochure, and it was just that. We were the only guests on the top floor, and it was either very romantic or very spooky. -DN

Unsung Heroes

Unsung Heroes

I think it was Ben Franklin who suggested that America choose the turkey as its national bird, wasn’t it? But, honestly, is there any species that demonstrates hard work and ecological conservation better than the vulture? Really, these guys are as ugly as sin, but they do the job they were born to do, serving their country by cleaning up the place. They’re downright patriotic, eating roadkill and then soaring through the skies just as majestically as any eagle. And from far below, one can’t see how unattractive they are with their small, slick, wrinkled heads and clumsy feet. We have watched them from Florida to New Mexico, and lots of them, so they must be able to adapt to whatever we humans throw at them, figuratively and literally.
This week we camped in the Gila National Forest at another treasure of a campground. After white-knuckle driving for a nauseating hour on hairpin curves, we came to Lake Roberts campground. ($3.50 per night, what a deal!) We pitched the tent on a ridge overlooking the white-capped lake (wind again). Swallows were sweeping through the sky eating their dinner, an eagle soared overhead for awhile, a wild turkey gobbled across the lake. Then came my big guys – the vultures! And they were having a blast for themselves. Looking like a squadron of B-24s, they were using winds and updrafts, gliding back and forth across the lake. They had to be having a grand time; you could almost hear them cackling with glee.
The Vulture, Official Bird of the Blue Highway.

Blowin' in the Wind

Blowin' in the Wind

Tuesday, April 10th, found us fighting the wind – again. But this time the sun was brilliant, the sky was Carolina blue and it was warm, relatively speaking! So we visited White Sands National Monument, New Mexico. Towering piles of gypsum are really all the monument is, but I loved it. We took off by foot, climbing the ever-shifting, glaringly white dunes. The ‘trails’ are marked with weighted rods sticking out of the sand, but the wind was wreaking havoc with that plan. So we wandered around the ridges, conscious of the fact that you could get lost in the whiteness. Perhaps I miss the beach, or maybe it just seemed so clean (camping makes one dirty), but for whatever reason, this was one of my favorite stops. Missile museums and military installations dotted the highway as we headed out. Put this place on your “to do” list.
PS - In case you folks think I am exaggerating about the wind, I’m not. Until we find a Buick dealer in California, I will exit the car by climbing over the center panel and out the driver’s door. The wind nearly tore the passenger side door off its hinges the other day and it does not close tightly now. Bummer. But if Doug missed his convertible, he can now pretend we’re in it, with the sounds of rushing and whistling air as we drive along.

Roswell

Roswell
We are close to Roswell, NM and can feel it in our bones and in our blog. The photos are not uploading properly and some of you may see a weird message about the content. Be assured, I am not posting anything inappropriate!

Big Bend

Big Bend

Doug and I spent Easter at Big Bend National Park. Those folks on the Rio Grande don't have religion! There was no sunrise service because "no one has requested one." So I did, but I got neither the service nor the sun. Nevertheless, we counted our blessings and felt very happy that we were staying in a warm stone cottage. The weather was wild - wind, rain, mist, snow, ice. I must tell you that the place is gorgeous and we can only imagine what it is like in good weather. Tall cliffs, rocks and desert plants, deer and hawks. We had a couple of good hikes and cheered when the sun came out Monday morning as we headed north and west.

Out in Space

Out in Space

It is an interesting contrast in living spaces. When we sleep in the modified back of our car, we have 24 square feet of space. If we are able to set up the tent, we have 28 sq ft. Today, Good Friday, we are splurging with a palatial 200+ at the Chisos Mountains Lodge in Big Bend National Park. But no matter where we lay our heads for the night, outside we are always surrounded by big space. The Gulf of Mexico. Dozens of deer spread out on a lush meadow. Big skies over deep canyons. Vast, star-studded jet black. Even the racing clouds of an approaching cold front give me the feeling of lots of space. Sometimes that is invigorating; other times it makes me feel a bit on the homesick side. (uh-oh) I remember NY friend Bill Simon saying he would think twice about the proposed Nantucket Sound windmill project because it would alter that feeling of vast space that you get when you gaze out at the sea. You can’t really put your finger on it, but you know what I mean. Just rambling while we wait out the fog...and rain...and wind...and snow (!) in Big Bend.

East Side, West Side

East Side, West Side

Finally, Texas. Starting in the morning rain on the Galveston shoreline, we managed to find a blue highway (State Rt. 6 via Alvin, home of Nolan Ryan to you beisbol fans) to Houston, where we visited with our dear North Carolina friend Erin and her family before continuing on to look for a place to pitch our small tent. If anything has made us feel like small-town rubes, it was driving on the network of highways leading out of the city. Five lanes of traffic at 80 mph was good to get behind us.

Just an hour out of Houston, though, we found Stephen F. Austin State Park and an almost empty, wooded campground on the Brazos River with white-tailed deer roaming everywhere. It felt like an oasis, and we slept soundly after dining on a can of Progresso clam chowder, cheese crackers and applesauce. In the morning, we took the bikes off the roof and followed a trail along the river until we bogged down in mud and had to turn back.

On the road again, we found ourselves through San Antonio and back on a blue highway west toward the Rio Grande sooner than we’d expected. Following a grocery-and-ice stop in Del Rio we continued a few miles on to Seminole Canyon, a small state park—eight tent sites—on the Mexican border. Dry and rocky but with fifty-mile views in every direction, it was a stark contrast to the previous night. Before leaving for Big Bend the following morning, we hiked to the canyon wall where we watched hawks and vultures (a lot more of the latter) circling in the updraft. Jackrabbits, but no roadrunners yet. -DJN

No Whiners in Louisiana

No Whiners in Louisiana

This is a quick and dirty entry, folks. April 6 finds us at a tiny museum on the side of Rt 90 in west Texas. However, I do want to tell you that coastal Louisiana was shockingly desolate, mostly due to Hurricane Rita of a few years back. We slept in the Rendezvous in the middle of what used to be a community of 300+ homes. Now it is nothing but gravel, a few rebuilt cottages, and maybe a dozen trailers. Nancy and Dick of Johnson Bayou came out of their rebuilt home, offered us a plot of grass to camp on and shared their before and after pictures. They were so positive and vow to make a life again there on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. These Louisianans wouldn't take a penny for their hospitality, suggesting we "pass it on to someone along the way who needs assistance." We will. Early the next morning we made our way through a maze of natural gas and oil refinery 'stuff' and over the bridge to Port Arthur, Texas. More on Texas later.

Segwaying into the Next Phase

Segwaying into the Next Phase

After three relaxing weeks on the Florida east coast with J's family, we have turned west. Two days with wonderful friends on Siesta Key, where we kayaked among herons, pelicans and cormorants, walked the beautiful wide beach, shared wonderful meals, and went for a sunset cruise on their classic pontoon boat.

Next was an overnight stop with my brother and family, vacationing from Ohio. Joining the baseball fans among the many thousands of Florida visitors this time of year, we took in a spring training game, cheering on No. 3, left-fielder and leadoff batter, Ted N. of the Green Bears. -DN

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

Sunday, April 1, Doug and I enjoyed a wonderful drive from Sarasota to Panama City. Once off I-75 and onto blue highways, there was minimal traffic. We crossed the Sewannee River, hugged the Gulf coast and watched the setting sun. Panhandle towns like Sopchoppy and Carabelle haven't lost their Southern charm since my days at FSU. The day was a very good one.

Then our luck went South. There wasn't a camp site to be found and the rates at dumpy motels, where the spring break crowd dominated, were too high. So, we did what the tough do when the going gets tough - we camped in a Wal-Mart parking lot! Yikes! We actually did. And I must tell you the truth; it wasn't that bad! The employees couldn't have been nicer, even the trash zamboni driver who cruises the parking lot all night seemed sensitive to our presence. Still, there is nothing like shuffling into a 24-hour Wal-Mart in your pajamas to brush your teeth at 4 am. Or watching Doug semi-melt down as we 'made camp.' It is an experience.

Finally, our very early breakfast the next morning should have been our once-a-day meal splurge. Waffle House is open 24/7. They mop their floors at 4:45 am, diners or no. And you can have your hashbrowns smothered, scattered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, topped, or scattered all the way. Our dining splurge wasn't really good, nor was it actually bad; it was ... well, you know what I mean.

Spring Shower

Spring Shower (March 24)

Thanks so much, Lara.

Thank you, dear Katy.

What a delightful party

For the soon to come baby.

Such wonderful gifts!

So many good wishes!

We had so much fun.

The food was delicious!

Rosalie? Frank?

Her name isn't set.

But a favorite relative's

Is my inside bet.

So Wendy and Jon

Now await their new cutie,

Who I hope will announce,

"Hi, there! Just call me Judy!"