New York

The final two days of this trip found us scooting along Lake Erie and the NY-Pennsylvania border. We found the town of Lorain, OH bursting with color right on the shores of the lake. Lake Chautauqua has the most elegant rest stop in the entire country! We wanted to pitch our tent right there. American painter Frederic Church's restored home, Olana, overlooking the Hudson River was another beautiful place where we could have easily spent the night. I enjoyed MOST of the drive, but there was this tiny little part of highway, a blue one, coming downhill over a bridge into Cleveland where this guy in boots and a helmet was standing in the middle of my lane. He aimed a gun at me and BLAM! With his speed gun back in the holster, he waved me over and I almost cried. You see, my children often say I impede the 'normal' flow of traffic with my adherence to posted speed limits. So I was aghast that I actually had exceeded 35mph. I was so miserable, I almost cried. I did not tell the officer that my tombstone is supposed to read She never got a ticket, but that is what I was thinking; it was a first for me. Happily, he felt sorry for me and gave me a warning and sent me on my way to New York. I did not ask him if I could take his picture for the blog, but that would have been cool, huh?

The Real World

We came back to the real world in Toledo, Ohio where we spent three wonderful days with our family Larry, Carol and Margaret. Spring is in full swing here with everything blooming; so many shades of new-growth green, and these winter-weary people are busy pruning, mowing, digging, taking down the storm windows, putting away the rock salt and snow shovels, walking, biking and basking in the welcome warmth. So we joined the neighbors working in the yard and strolled at Wildwood Park, toured the art museum for a bit, went to gymnastics practice, played Old Maid (sorry, Margaret), jumped on the trampoline (a first for both of us) and ate like kings. Here we are at our impromptu Kentucky Derby party. Pretzels and beer instead of mint juleps. It was such fun and we are so glad we dog-legged up to Ohio before heading to the Cape.

Red Highways

We traveled north for two days as we made our way to family in Ohio. It was a shock seeing so many deer on the roads, both dead and alive. It must be the season. It was sheer luck that we did not collide with one of them as they stood at the edge of woods, sprinted across the county roads, and even jumped the Jersey barriers on the major routes. Following several US highways, red on the map, and even the dreaded interstate, we ended up in Athens, Ohio at sunset. Triple A marked the town with a red tent, meaning camping at Stroud Run State Park east of town. The GPS told us to turn west and the road signs directed us north. It was a challenge that sent us wandering around the student housing section of this university town where a tent pitched on any green space probably would have not been noticed. Nevertheless, redfaced, we knocked on the door of the fire station and asked for help finding the park. Finally, we pulled in to an all but empty campground, pitched the tent and plopped down on our leaky air mattress. It was a fine night with no student yahoos disturbing the peace. On to Toledo...

Things We Learned

1. There are few non-smoking areas in Mississippi.
2. You can buy bagels almost anywhere.
   
3. Most people sleep later than we do. Most people go to bed later than we do.
4. It's wise to gas up at half a tank in the west.
5. Concrete block campground bathrooms double as tornado shelters. (We did not learn this first-hand.)
6. Powdered milk works fine on cereal.
7. Ice cream sandwiches are cheapest in Utah: 55 cents at the grocery store in Fort Garland.
   
8. Most of the time you don't need tent pegs.
9. Block ice lasts a lot longer than cubes.
10. Doing most westbound driving in the mornings (and eastbound in the afternoons) is easier on the eyes.
11. Librarians are unfailingly helpful.
12. Small items get lost easily.
13. Cell phones work just about everywhere.
14. Euros and Japanese do most of the hiking in national parks.
15. Mourning doves and vultures are everywhere.
16. AAA maps sometimes show ferries that don't exist.
17. Gasoline is most expensive in New York, California and North Carolina.
18. You can survive without a daily shower. (This was not summer.)
    
19. In California they put the definite article before the highway number: the 101, rather than 95 or Route 6.
20. April at Lake Tahoe is still winter.
21. Beware the chicken-fried steak.

-DJN

Homeward Bound

Timing, we all know, is everything. Early this week as we crossed the continental divide east of Mesa Verde we realized that we're ready to be back again with things familiar: home, family, friends.
It has been a wonderful two months and 9700 miles (so far) of new places and remarkable experiences, but the prospect of another mountain or another night in a very small tent is losing its appeal.
Happily, we seemed to to arrive at this point at the same time. In any case we're now driving more and touring less. We're looking forward to seeing little Claire in North Carolina by the weekend, and returning to the Cape in early May. -DJN

Relocating

We have just passed through Cimarron, Kansas 67835, which is the exact midpoint (as the crow flies) between Tom & Kate in Sunnyvale and Wendy & Jon in Durham: 1188.6 miles each way.
So if we decide we want to live equidistant from our children, look for us in this quiet southeast corner of the state, herdin' cattle or raisin' corn. -DJN

Ruins

We have had a great few days visiting archaeological sites in Utah and Colorado. Capitol Reef, Natural Bridges, Hovenweep, and Mesa Verde National Parks and Monuments. The ruins were very accessible and the early spring weather made for very few visitors. So Doug and I were able to walk around these very old Puebloan villages carved out of the cliffs and rocky overhangs early in the mornings, feeling the sun on our faces, hearing the first bird calls.

Today it is Kansas and we are spending a few minutes in a county library waiting for threatening thunderstorms to pass. I feel more at home in this flattened landscape where the smells (of cattle) and signs of spring are in the air.

Speaking of ruins, our air mattress (which makes tent or car sleeping possible) has just sprung a leak - somewhere. Today's job is to find the hole and patch it up before sunset.

Conversations

Hiking
D: My legs hurt.
J: What from?
D: Probably that hike we took yesterday.
J: Where?
D: I have no idea. Where were we yesterday?
J: I haven't a clue. Mountains somewhere.

In the tent
J: Did you lock the car?
D: I don't know. Did you?
J: I don't remember.
Pause
D: I can't find my keys.
J: They should be in your back pack.
D: They're not there. I'm going to shoot myself.
10 minutes later
D: I can't find my pencil. What did you do with my pencil?
J: Zzzzzzzzz

Driving
D: I'm hungry.
J: Again?? You just ate half a box of Graham crackers.
D. Whatever. I'm hungry. What have we got?
J: There's an apple in the food box and two yogurts probably floating in the cooler.
D: What about the peanuts?
J: You ate them all yesterday.
Ten miles later
D: Do we have any beer?

Hoodoo

Ten years ago we visited Bryce Canyon. So we almost passed it by. How glad we are we didn't! It will definitely be on our Top 10. We spent two frosty nights in our tent perched on the rim, but the days have been glorious.

The main feature of Bryce is these fire-colored spires of eroding rock that glow against the deep blue sky. And though I couldn't coax J out of her warm sleeping bag to look over the rim under last night's full moon, it was other-worldly.

Two related memories: J, who you likely know will strike up a conversation with the complete stranger behind her in the grocery checkout line, met her match at Inspriation Point. She turned to a group of tourists looking out at the hoodoos and asked if they were inspired. The Russians replied We do not know this word. What does it mean? And later, as we left the lodge after dinner, a suggestion to the couple (who turned out to be Frenchies) at the next table that they skip the main course and go directly to the hot fudge sundaes.

They stared at her as if she were nuts. What do you think? --DJN

Lucky

We’ve been lucky in Nevada and lucky in Utah! Actually, I wasted a whole twenty-five cents on the nickel slots in the casino at the historic Hotel Nevada. Doug watched while sipping his complimentary margarita. I couldn’t find a bingo table, so I cut my losses and enjoyed sleeping in a real bed.

The skies have smiled down on us – no rain, no snow, no clouds – along the very long, very winding roads through spectacular canyons and dizzying heights. I’m sure you’ve seen road signs warning drivers of cattle or deer ahead. In Utah Doug and I shared the road with the beasts. Truly, the two-lane highways, speed limit 65, are sprinkled with black cows munching or worse and hundreds of sheep showing us their south ends. It was laugh-out-loud funny. If we honked the horn, the animals not on the road already would look at each other and say, “Hey! I guess she wants us to cross over!” and onto the highway they would stroll, joining all the others before us. So, we just nudged them along for a few miles. Still, the prospect of a couple hundred tons of yarn or burger around the next curve kept us on our toes. M-o-o-o-v-e over! We’re heading east!

Nevada Tourist Attractions

On the long drive between Lake Tahoe and Bryce Canyon, we chanced upon two of the Silver State's less-publicized destinations.

In The Middle of Nowhere (actually forty miles east of Fallon along Route 50) was the Shoe Tree (click on the photo to enlarge it), with hundreds if not thousands of old boots and sneakers hanging from its branches. There it was--no roadside sign, no explanation, just a tree full o' shoes.

Next, on a a hill outside old mining town of Austin, we stopped for a picnic lunch at the ruins of Stokes Castle, a three-storey granite tower build by a wealthy mining and railroad tycoon and used for just one year. Its current owner, who inherited the Castle from a family friend, happened to be at the site. He's applying for a grant to restore the building and make it a State Landmark.

Not surprisingly, we were the entire crowd at each spot--a far cry from the Strip in Las Vegas 250 miles south. -DJN

Hot Techies

Today while Tom and Kate went to work, we headed in to San Jose to the Tech Museum of Innovation. The Tech, as it's known locally, has all kinds of hands-on exhibits, including one that takes your picture after spray-painting you in primary colors.
Not. It's actually an infra-red image of us which shows body surface temperature. (Cool legs; warm shoulders.) Other good stuff included a room which simulates earthquakes of varying intensities; a roller coaster that you can build, virtually, and then ride; a 'space chair' that you move around in by activating hand-operated jet packs; 3-D facial scans; and going into a clean room and getting a readout of how many dust particles are on you. And more useful stuff like that.
All of which was topped off with an IMAX movie of the Alps, which gave us vertigo but may condition us for crossing the Rockies over the next two weeks. -DJN

Hungry as a Bear

Lest you think this trip has been all peaches and cream (there I go, thinking about food!) or a bed of roses (it is definitely not even a bed!), I will tell you just how hungry I have been. Many days we are in pretty remote sites and it is a chore trying to keep perishables cold. Some campgrounds have no water. Our food box is very small and so is our stash of edibles. Lots of crackers, cookies, pretzels. And our entire cooking supplies consist of one can opener, a stove the size of a cantaloupe (ah, cantaloupe....) and a two-cup pan with aluminum foil for a lid. At dinner time I ask Doug if he prefers the catch of the day (a can of tuna) or the pasta entree (a box of macaroni and cheese made with one third the water due to pot size). We have learned to love powdered milk. And peanut butter goes with everything.
Once every day or two we eat out and make it count. But recently we have been really scraping the bottom of the bin, and I was craving real food. So, the night before we reached Tom and Kate's home, we camped at Manresa State Beach, near Monterey, and treated ourselves to dinner in a swanky area called Seascape. There we found an upscale Mexican restaurant overlooking the Pacific and it was heavenly. I looked at my salad and almost cried, it was so appetizing. Then my chicken fajita dinner came and I said to Doug, "I LOVE my fajitas!" When the waiter strolled by to check on us, I gave him this silly grin and said, "I LOVE refried beans and I LOVE rice!" We scarfed up every morsel and were totally satisfied. And when dessert was offered, I uncharacteristically said, "Yes, I LOVE key lime pie!" and dove in!
Ridiculous, huh?

In the Desert

This is out of sequence as we are now on the on the left coast, comfortably lodged with Tom and Kate in Sunnyvale, California, where we biked along the Baylands Trail today and got more sun than we should have. But I wanted to say a few words about the plant namesakes for the two national parks we visited in the past week.

The Saguaro, reaching as high as 50 feet after more than a century, is the largest cactus found in the US. Its root system, however, is surprisingly shallow—three inches below the surface, designed to catch the limited desert rainfall. Woodpeckers and flickers live in nests they excavate in the fleshy trunk; red-tailed hawks build nests in upper branches. The Saguaro’s fig-like fruit has been used for centuries by people of the desert. Even after the cactus withers and dies, its woody support ribs are used to build shelters and fences. But what I like best about the Saguaro is that it’s what we all come up with when asked to draw a cactus. I still have a green-crayoned Saguaro on a yellowing sheet from kindergarten that looks very much like what we’ve been looking at in southern Arizona.

The Joshua Tree, in southeastern California, isn’t really a tree at all but a yucca. (Yipes: we have yuccas on the Cape!). It grows even more slowly than the Saguaro—less than an inch a year, which means a 20-foot Josh is about 250 years old! Mormon settlers supposedly named it after the Biblical character, pointing them on to Zion. The coolest thing I’ve learned about this strange- looking plant is that the loggerhead shrike, a bird found in the park, uses the tree's sharp pointed leaves to impale mice, lizards, insects and even small birds while it rips them to shreds and eats them. We missed this park activity, however, which is probably a good thing. –DJN

So Much of a Good Thing

I just can't take it all in! So much sensory stuff bombarding me, I know I can not write about it all. My eyes saw the deepest blue skies over Joshua Tree National Park, the most gorgeous turquoise waters of the Pacific as they crashed onto the rocky shores, the starry nights, and the fields of blue and yellow wildflowers. I heard coyotes yipping and howling in the dead of night, the whirring of hummingbirds, cooing of quail and snorting of elephant seals. I have felt dusty, dirty, hot, cold, refreshed, hungry, satisfied, and scared. But the other afternoon I had a most wonderful peaceful experience. I was doing the driving over the Little Santa Maria Mountains coming into San Louis Obispo after a long day in the desert. The sun was setting ahead of us, the road just climbed, then dropped, wound around these unbelievably folded, green and flowered hills. I put on Enya music and it was lovely. I thought about how sweet little Claire was born just a year ago this week and how grateful we are to have her in our lives. Those miles and minutes were, like Claire herself, a true gift. I am getting to be such a softie! Actually, I wish I had a soft-serve ice cream to top off the sensory experience!

Coastal Blue Highway

El Paso may have been a great city, but California is one amazing entire state. After a night overlooking the Golden State from an Arizona campground on the Colorado River, and a visit to Joshua Tree National Park and its remarkable rock formations that look like sets from the Lone Ranger, we have arrived on CA Route 1 along the Big Sur coast—arguably the most scenic highway in the US of A.

A phone call with Tom, who has hiked and camped here, left us with a number of suggestions on where to stop on our way north, and we are now watching the sun set in Kirk Creek Campground on a bluff overlooking the Pacific. We started the day in Morro Bay, a commercial fishing (and tourist) town very much like Chatham, but with a rock rising 580’ above the sea at the entrance to the harbor, and will continue tomorrow to Santa Cruz and possibly Año Nuevo State Park and its colony of sea lions.

I only wish our approach to Tom and Kate’s didn’t mean that we are about to reach the turnaround point of our trip, though (unlike last year) we hope to see some of the places we missed on our 2007 express run to North Carolina to see Claire Frances Kimball, the new granddaughter, whose first birthday is a week from today. -DJN

The Pass

I have a new favorite city. On our 40th day on the road, and our fifth and last day driving across Texas, we have reached El Paso.
Why is El Paso so great?
Reason #1: The Wyler Aerial Tramway, which we rode this morning to the top of 5600-foot Ranger Peak and a 360° view for over a hundred miles.
Reason #2: A Wal-Mart (I can’t believe I’m writing this), appearing like an oasis in the desert right when we needed it for camping supplies, groceries, ice, and even a bottle of Pinot Noir.
Reason #3: Franklin Mountains State Park, where J and I comprise 67% of the campers in this 24,000-acre wilderness in the hills overlooking the Rio Grande and beyond...where all (5) campsites are ‘primitive’ tent sites, which means no electricity, no water, and no 40-foot RVs. We are boondocking here, watching the sun set over New Mexico and anticipating a starry night like we’ve never seen before.
If you look closely or can enlarge the photo (click on it), you'll find us below the shelter on the side of the mountain. -DJN

Cowboys and Indians

First, Cowboys. West of San Antonio, everyone except us tourists from ‘somewhere north of Dallas’ wears a ten-gallon hat.
As for Indians, the local Apaches and Comanches often disagreed with the 19th century Anglo settlers who had the habit of picking the choicest land in the region and calling it home. To protect these settlers, as well as stagecoach travel across Texas, the U.S. Army built a line of cavalry posts here in the 1850s. During this time, an experiment with camels as work animals instead of horses in this arid land failed, but mainly for political reasons. The forts—and the camels (a wild herd is still said to roam the hills east of Marfa)—were abandoned in 1861 with the onset of the Civil War.
We walked the ruins of Fort Lancaster today, along the Pecos River, the only visitors in this desolate and very quiet place. -DJN

Lizard Lips

I should be describing the lovely scenes at Texas's South Llano River State Park where the hummingbirds filled the air and wild turkeys scurried across pecan groves along the stream. The walk-in tent site was empty and the weather was beautiful.
However, my overwhelming impression of the last several days is DRY, Baby, DRY! The bridges span empty gravel beds, the lizards are a dusty gray, and the yucca plants are drooping to one side. We have been driving across parched land where dust devils (isn't that what these little tornado-like whirlwinds are called?) sweep across and stop at the rocky horizon.
But that is not all that is missing water. After tenting it for a week, many places without water or, ahem, facilities, I am one dusty cowgirl. I keep a hat on to hide the brillo pad hair; my skin looks like a lizard's. I am steering clear of mirrors and plate glass windows so I don't scare myself. Poor Doug, huh? He has to look at me, but he deserves it since yesterday he drove me up five gruesome, rocky, heart-stopping, switchback, mountain miles to camp at 7000' where bears hang out. Plus I have removed three disgusting ticks from my poor, flaky self.
Wish you were here (instead of me. ha ha. just kidding. sort of....)

Attwater's Last Stand

You may not know that there are only 72 Attwater's Prairie Chickens living in the wild today. A hundred years ago there were over a million along coastal Louisiana and Texas. Fifty-two of these last survivors of the species reside in the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge, an 8,000-acre preserve in east Texas, not far from the LBJ Ranch.
During mating season (this is mating season) male APCs inflate the orange air sacs on their necks and 'boom' while dancing frantically in circles--all to attract an attractive APC of the female persuasion.
We hiked in the Refuge yesterday and this is our official wildlife count:
--White-tailed hawk: 1
--Killdeer: 2
--Armadillo: 1
--Buffalo: 46 (recently introduced by the Wildlife Service)
--Attwater's Prairie Chicken: 0
Alas, no boomers for us. -DJN

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Note #2: I have no more excuses. It is now operator errors. Pretend it is a video; what can I say? JN

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words and sometimes a picture just doesn't do one justice. Both are true in this case. In the video to the left, a 'Blue Highways' first (!), I am singing a thousand words and it does not do justice to my talents. Well, musical talents, that is, because it is obvious I have not yet mastered the audio component of video. So, as you watch my performance, sing along to the theme from Mr. Rogers's Neighborhood: "It's a beautiful day in Galveston, a beautiful day in bunker land. If you like millipedes, crabs and gnats, then you can be my neighbor!" I am not complaining; Galveston Island State Park, smack dab on Texas's Gulf coast, was naturally beautiful in a wild way, the rangers were most helpful, and we were thrilled to have the 'bunker' option to tent campin on a stormy night. But, honestly, aren't these just the ugliest things you've ever seen? I saw one motorcycling couple almost join us in this deserted loop until the woman went into the bunker, quickly came out, had a heated discussion with her partner, and left. We were told our cozy cement cube had just been renovated. That meant we had screens, a broom and a light bulb. But I do have standards, low as they are, and despite seeing gorgeous roseate spoonbills and osprey, I could have done without the millipedes IN MY SLEEPING BAG and the land crab IN MY SHOWER! I am outta here! - JN

What's Hot

In the late 19th century, E.L. McIlhenney began raising peppers on his settlement outside New Iberia, Lousiana, and making a Tabasco sauce that has become world famous. Still a family enterprise, the company has opened it’s 700-acre Jungle Garden to the public, and it made for a wonderful two-hour bike ride.
In addition to hundreds of varieties of camellia, azalea, palm, bamboo, live oak, and other subtropical plants, the Garden is home to a breeding colony of 20,000 snowy egrets, visible in trees and artificial roosts rising from a small lake. There are so many egrets that every spring thirty truckloads of sticks and branches are brought in for them to use to build their nests when they return from winter in South America.
All this atop one of the world’s largest salt domes... and an active—though very well hidden—oil field. –DJN

March Madness

Last night we found a secluded campsite along the Biloxi River in the DeSoto State Forest in Mississippi. But Davidson--a (very) small school in North Carolina and our daughter's alma mater--was an improbable survivor after the first two rounds of the NCAA basketball tournament, and was playing Wisconsin, and we had to see it. So after pitching our tent and rolling out our sleeping bags, we headed into Gulfport and the Lookout 49 saloon, where we enjoyed po-boys (your choice of fried seafood on French bread) and brewskis while the underdogs pulled off yet another upset! -DJN

The Five People You Meet in Campgrounds

We do meet some fascinating people on our trip. Some we give a wide berth to, and others we think about for a long time afterwards. Sometimes, both. I can still picture the war-injured Vietnam vet who is traveling across the country photographing our national forests. There was the tiny man who was tending many pots of petunias, pink and purple, outside his RV. A couple traveling with their pet had him tied to the picnic table, but he liked to climb on top. It was a goat! I especially liked the crusty old guy who used a chain saw to get his firewood just right; later I saw him playing chess with another weathered veteran camper. Perhaps my favorite was the music fan who not only played opera at full-blast, but sang it at the top of his lungs for all the campground to enjoy(?). I really liked the Mississippi shrimp boat captain, who, while not a camper, taught us more than we ever thought we'd know about commercial fishing on the Gulf coast. I feel that I lead a very sanitized life compared to many of these eccentric, interesting people. But it is one of the best parts of a trip like this, learning how wildly different this country and the people who call it home are.

Siesta Time

Another year, another visit to friends on Siesta Key, just south of Sarasota. Wonderful meals, a long walk at sunrise in the fine powder sand of a magnificent beach, and an afternoon kayaking on the canal network of the Key. Up until midnight--not exactly like us, but a great time. Thank you, Louise and Richard. -DJN

Citrus Roadkill

After three mostly non-camping weeks with J’s parents, we are once again on the road and heading west. Not too far west—halfway across central Florida on our way to Sarasota. Tonight we are in Highlands Hammock State Park, a lesser-known gem just outside Sebring, a town known more for car racing than camping. On our way here we found ourselves behind a large open truck filled with oranges, which spilled a hundred or so as it rounded a turn on Route 68 south of Yeehaw Junction (I did not make that name up). As there was no other traffic in sight, we pulled off the road and scooped up a couple of dozen and will have fresh juice in the morning!

This park has a very interesting small museum commemorating the work of the Civilian Conservation Corps, which hired young men from across the country during the Depression and put them to work building facilities such as this: roads, trails, lodges. They were paid a hefty $30 per month for their labor, of which $25 was mailed home.

As remote as we are here, we may have a situation tonight. Just east of us is the Avon Park Air Force Test Range, and we have seen—and heard—a number of military jets zoom overhead in that direction. But we are watching a beautiful sunset, Judy is building her usual campfire, and our air mattress has yet to spring a leak, so all’s well. -DJN

Alliteration Nation

Last year we wrote about the endless miles of Florida entrepreneurs whose shops had the funniest names, from the Soap Opera Laundry to Mustard's Last Stand. Now I have noticed that many of these businesses hope customers might be lured by their use of that poetic device, alliteration. As early as Georgia I noted Laundry Land and Wheeler's Warehouse. Florida is the champion with Cocoa Kayakers, Yuppy Puppy, Accurate Archery, Roses R Red, and Chopper Dropper. Doug could spend a day eating his way from the Pita Pit to Huddle House to the Mighty Mushroom. I am hoping we don't have to patronize Collision Crafters, Slug a Bug or Paragon Plumbing. And nobody in this house is allowed to spend a dime at Phantom Fireworks or, God help us, Bare Assets Adult Entertainment (no alliteration, but worth mentioning). If they do, Mom and I will send them off to Resurrection Ranch. Wishing you an Easy Easter!

Stoopit Tolls

Florida may have palm trees, grapefruit, Disney, spring training, and miles of beautiful beaches, but it also has the dumbest toll road system in the universe. Many of the exits have just EXACT CHANGE and SUNPASS ONLY lanes--no real person in a toll booth. And you don't know this (not that you'd do anything different) as you exit the highway.
So what to do if you have two credit cards, sufficient currency and traveler's checks for three months on the road, but only a dime, two nickels and six pennies and the toll is 50 cents (exact)? Duh. And the buzzer goes off and a bright yellow light spins around and presumably the State of Florida takes a snapshot of your rear license plate. And when you find the right phone number to call to ask what you can do to avoid the "$100 FINE FOR TOLL EVADERS," you're told by a sweet 20-something with a southern accent to wait for a bill in the mail and send a check for the amount of the toll.

Next stop.... Alabama. -DJN

Bingo

If you get nothing else out of this blog, you should benefit from the following advice I received today. When your computer gives you a message saying it no longer recognizes the device (your digital camera), it is (past) time to think about giving your camera’s memory card a good wash. Now, many of you might be chuckling to yourselves, thinking what kind of numbskull is she that she never formatted her memory card. But I am willing to bet my rusty nail collection that there are several friends who, like me, had no idea this was something I should have been tending to periodically. So, after buying a card reader that allowed us to move the photos from the card to the computer, we were ready to start fixing the card. Here is how it worked on mine; perhaps it will help you. Turn on camera. Set to “picture taking mode.” Choose “menu,” then “tools.” Scroll down till you see the option to “format.” Then do it! I was given the analogy that even though we remove pictures from the camera each time we download, there is still the layer of images, like chalk dust on an erased blackboard. By formatting, we are giving the board, or card, a hose down. That’ll be fifty cents, please. These camera pros were so helpful, that upon commenting on some great wildlife shots on display, we followed their directions to nearby wetlands. There we enjoyed a great bike ride complete with gators (I won the “who ever sees one first is the winner” contest), otter, ospreys, and ibises, gallinules and herons galore. ps-Despite the smiling face, I have NOT won a single cent at bingo yet!

Back to the future

Shortly after my father graduated from college in 1938, he took a job with General Motors and joined the Parade of Progress, a traveling road show of twelve Futurliners (the 'e' was dropped for trademark purposes) designed to show the wonders of GM automotive engineering during the pre-television age.

These red and chrome behemoths each weighed thirteen tons and carried a driver--in a single center seat--and two team members directly behind him in an aircraft-like cabin sixteen feet above the pavement. On arriving in a town, the twelve Futurliners would circle like wagons in a city park, usually around current GM models on loan from local dealers. Large panels on either side opened to reveal displays of futuristic themes--focused, one suspects, on GM's role in them.

Though his days with the Parade ended with Pearl Harbor, he often talked about 'his days on the caravan'--throughout the U.S, Mexico, and even a trip to Havana. Until today, however, I had never seen one, but a photo in the weekend section of the local paper showed fully restored Futurliner No. 10 currently on exhibit at an auto show here in Melbourne.

I even got to climb the stairs and sit in the driver's seat. Way cool. -DJN

Rambling

So sorry that we have deserted our faithful readers! All two of you. "Bugs" have assaulted us - our bodies (viruses), our camera (is not recognized by the computer anymore) and our computer (connection problems). The bodies are recovered, and once we solve the techno glitches, I will communicate more frequently and hit you with some Bingo photos! Nevertheless, we have been busy and here is what's been going on. Wendy and Claire were here last weekend and it was lovely to have four generations of women together. We walked, swung, strolled, swam, laughed and talked. And ate - one of us is addicted to Cheerios.

Doug and I took off for a few days of camping in the Ocala National Forest where we had such a good time last year. This time we stayed in a small, uncrowded campground at Clearwater Lake. No Disney folks here; just people fishing, playing chess, building wood fires, and hiking. Nearby Mt. Dora is a gorgeous area for biking and we took advantage of the lakeshore road to pedal all the way to Taveres. I love going along a railroad track where the trains still run and you can smell the honeysuckle and orange blossoms for miles. It was just lovely. So many lakes in this part of Florida! Very early one morning we walked the Lake George trail at Silver Glen Springs and were treated to the sight of several bald eagles perched right above our heads. The path was covered by huge trees drooping masses of Spanish moss; warblers, ibises, herons, kingfishers and pileated woodpeckers were the only sounds we heard. It was a favorite!

Doing Lunch

Just before noon today, along the marshy bank of the Indian River in Florida, we watched as a great blue heron (not very visible in front of the rocks in the center of the photo) caught, killed, and ate—in one huge gulp—a not-very-small but very unfortunate rat. We often see these patient hunters standing in the shallows, stock-still, waiting for a small fish to swim into view, and then spearing it with a lightning-fast jab of their pointed bill... but never anyone from the rodent food group.
It was an extraordinary sight. Without going into unnecessary (as in ‘gross’) detail, it took a while for the heron to figure out how to swallow its catch. When it did, the bulge was clearly visible going down the heron’s long, curved neck.
I’m pretty sure I involuntarily shivered when it was over. And wasn’t quite as hungry as I might have been for a while afterwards. -DJN

This Blogger Is a Fraud!

Not a total fraud, but I must come clean. That little map on the sidebar has been giving me fits. So, while we were in Maryland last week, Tom tried to teach me the ins and outs of creating a personal Google map, using those little thumbtacks, and drawing lines. I have mastered thumbtacks and lines, but putting those little photos of places on the thumbtacks has stumped me. So Tom has taken to just fixing my online messes. It is always a surprise to see what I have created overnight!
PS - When I showed my dad this picture, he said "Who is the fat old man on the right?" Can you believe it?!

Alligator mississipiensis

Ocala National Forest is a wonderful gem that we visited last year. This week we pulled out of the Christian Motorcyclers Association entourage at Salt Springs and took a short hike to one of the lakes that have formed along the St. John's River. Bird Nerds that we are, we were lucky to hear and see a pileated woodpecker (Doug thinks it was the extinct ivory-billed), as well as the threatened, but no longer endangered alligator. Did you know these guys date back 150 million years, having outlived the dinosaurs by a long shot? As scary as they are, I-95 was a lot more intimidating as we completed the last 50 miles to Palm Bay.

Okefenokee

I had high hopes for the swamp area of southern Georgia. And we may have missed the true swamp experience by passing up an opportunity to drive deep into the bogs and muck of this unique part of the country. Nevertheless, we camped at the northern end of the Okefenokee Swamp at Laura S Walker State Park and had a very pleasant, but not especially thrilling stay. It was just, well, boring. The weather was fine, the campground was adequate, and we slept like logs from 7 to 6. So, who am I to complain? We just didn't see much in the way of wildlife and we were the ONLY tent campers in a sea of RVs! Our neighbors were two cowboys bound for Daytona's Bike Week and "Velda & Lucy Ho" in their '50s trailer. So, on to Florida.

Oh, Baby!

We have made it to North Carolina! After a short, bonus visit with Tom, who was working in the DC area, Doug and I hustled South to spend these last few days with Wendy, Jon and Claire. It is ridiculous how we spend every moment doing 'baby stuff' - making faces, rolling on the floor, bouncing her on our knees. We did bask in some relative warmth at the Duke Gardens and Doug biked the American Tobacco Trail. Tomorrow it is on to the Okefenokee Swamp via the back roads of Georgia.