June 30: Driving Day, Part II

Thank God for the Midwestern accent. Something about it gets me really excited. Something about the nasally “a”s and the long “o”s just tickles my fancy, and I don’t use that phrase lightly. Maybe I’ve just seen “Fargo” one too many times, ya know?

I was hoping that I would meet someone with a really strong accent today, since we finally made it up to the Midwest. Luckily, our waitress fulfilled my dialect needs. It wasn’t too strong, but it was just enough to make me smile when she said “Yoo guys doing ookee?” and “Mountain Doo.” (Please excuse my awful phonetic spellings.)

Anyway, we covered 651 miles today, jumping from the desolate hay bales of South Dakota to the roaring corn fields of Minnesota, and finally into the cheese sauce of a little town called La Crosse, Wisc.

We crossed the Mississippi again today. It’s really starting to feel like we’re coming back home. We’re out of the mountains and the farms and hills are starting to look like eastern North Carolina.

Tomorrow we will head to Milwaukee and meet up with my friend Becca from UNC who lives in Wisconsin. We will also check out Summerfest, a massive music festival that happens every year. It should be good times!!

I will wrap this post up here since I don’t have anything else to report from the day. Unless I forgot something, which is always possible.

June 28 +29: Man-Made Nature

I’ve been really slack recently, I know, but we didn’t get to our hotel last night until 10 p.m., and I was in no mood to post after avoiding seven deer on a back-country highway in Wyoming. Three I had to brake for to avoid, two walked across the road way ahead of me and got off in time and two were standing on the side of the road just watching me. Talk about nerve-wracking.

But before my deer run, we took the few hour trip from Missoula, Montana, to Yellowstone National Park, right in the northwest corner of Wyoming. I talked to a friend of mine who is working there for the summer and got the lowdown on the high points to hit in the park. We knew about Old Faithful, but we knew there had to be more to it.

The park is massive! A lot bigger than we thought it would be. A lot of it was just normal mountain driving, which we’ve seen plenty of on this part of the trip. Our first recommended stop was at Tower Falls. It’s a beautiful waterfall with a nice overlook in front of it, near the top. There were trees all around it so you could barely see where the fall hit the bottom. There is a path that goes down to the bottom part of the fall, but it was closed and you couldn’t see the waterfall from it now. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a waterfall before.

We also stopped at the Calcite Springs overlook, which is where the springs have bleached the side of the mountain by the river because of the chemicals that are released through the spring. All along the road there were beautiful overlooks on valleys and rivers. The road climbed up to the tops of the mountains, giving a great view of the park. There was still snow on the ground all over the place. It is so thick that it still hasn’t melted, even though it was 70 degrees. Water was rushing from under the snow where it was melting at the bottom. It was really funny to see kids in shorts and T-shirts throwing snow balls.

The best part was going to see Artists Point. If you’ve ever seen a picture of the park — other than Old Faithful — it was probably from here. The point sits over this beautiful canyon that is painted all shades of white, yellow, red, orange and purple because of the deposits from the springs. At the far end of the canyon, right in front of the point, is a massive waterfall. It was gorgeous. Pictures should be up soon, we took plenty of them.

It took us from noon until five p.m. to get down to the south part of the park where Old Faithful is. On the way, we had to slow down because there were a bunch of park ranger cars on the side of the road. I thought it was just a wreck. As we were creeping by the cars, Madison looked up and saw a bison sitting right on the edge of the road, up on a hill, not 20 feet from the car. He looked like he owned the place and he was making a good point.

Old Faithful goes off about every 90 minutes. Earthquakes over the years has gradually lengthened the time between eruptions because it changes the internal plumbing of the geyser. When we got there, the next scheduled eruption was in 30 minutes, so we took some time to walk around the visitor center and gift shop. About 20 minutes before it was supposed to go off, we found a seat by an older couple on the front row.

After a few minutes, the man beside me looks over and asks if we saw the bison. That got us talking for a bit, and then he said, “We’ve been traveling around for a while. We started in North Carolina.”

I couldn’t believe it, this is the second couple that we have sat down next two that has been from North Carolina. I found out that they lived in New Jersey for a while before moving down to Stokesdale a few years ago. They were essentially taking a longer version of our trip, heading down south and coming back through the north. But they were hitting all the states in the middle. They had been on the road a week longer than us and didn’t plan on going back until the beginning of August. They were even driving a Cadillac, just one year newer than ours.

While we were talking, I started to notice the steam coming from Old Faithful getting thicker, then I saw some water starting to spray out. Suddenly, a powerful burst of water pushed out of the geyser and towered above us. I’m not sure how tall it was, but it was bigger than I expected. The most impressive thing was how long it lasted: about 4 minutes, continuously pushing out water.

As great as it was, I still took more away from Artist’s Point. You can’t beat a view like that.

At my insistence, we decided to detour a bit and go out the south entrance of the park so that we could drive through the Grand Teton National Park. My friend at Yellowstone said it was worth it and I’ve had other friends say the same thing. Since we were so close, I couldn’t pass it up. We pulled over into a roadside vista point, and I was simply amazed. These massive, rocky, snow-capped mountains towered over a crystal clear lake. It was breath taking. The reflection of the sky and mountains in the water just added to it. It reminded me of some pictures I’ve seen from the Alps, but I may have just made that up in my mind. Either way, I’m glad we went there.

Since I got us off track, I had to pay for it by driving two hours east while the sun went down in my rear view mirror. We stopped in Riverton, Wyoming at about 10 p.m.

This morning, we got up a little later and enjoyed a nice breakfast before setting off on the five or six hour drive to Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota. We got here around four and checked into a hotel a few miles from the park. Paw-Paw talked to people working the front desk and found out that they have a lighting ceremony for the monument at night. We had to see it.

But we wanted to see it during the day, too, so we went down there to check it out. The entrance is a massive marble walkway with pillars that have all of the state and territory flags on them. Just farther up is a statue of the Rushmore sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, done by his son. The path led to the main view point, right in front of the mountain.

I’ll be honest, as impressive as it was, it was lot smaller than I expected. I was waiting for it to blow me away with it’s size, but it didn’t. I found out in the museum area that each face is about 60 feet tall. That put it into perspective. They are massive. It’s an amazing feat in engineering and art. According to a video we saw, 90 percent of the carving was done using explosives. Only the really small detail work was done with chisels and drills. I can’t imagine being able to manipulate dynamite in a way to make such an intricate sculpture. Truly genius.

We left and got some dinner, then waited around in the hotel until the monument lighting, which started at nine p.m. When we got there, we were shocked to see the massive amphitheater slam-packed. We squeezed into a couple of seats right before the program started. A ranger came out and started talking about the American flag and its history. Then she started talking about the national anthem. She read all the verses (there are actually 4, we only sing the first) and sang the last one. It was an amazingly strong voice for such a little girl. The third verse is my favorite, since it basically makes fun of the British for not being able to take the fort in Baltimore during the War of 1812.

After she spoke, there was a quick movie about the mountain and the presidents — Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt — that were carved into the stone. At the end, “America, the Beautiful,” played while light slowly started to shine on the monument. By the end, the monument was covered in a golden glow, giving it a completely different look from when we saw it during the day. It seemed larger, grander.

Everyone stood while they played the National Anthem. Then they asked veterans and current military personnel to come down to the stage. We got Paw-Paw to go down there (Madison ran down to take pictures). After a long round of applause, the ranger asked some of the veterans to take down the flag that was on the stage. They folded it — after some instruction from fellow veterans and the ranger…I guess it’s been a while — and handed it to the ranger. She thanked them all, as well as their families and asked for another round of applause. She then asked that all the veterans touch the flag as they left the stage. It was a touching moment, and I know Paw-Paw appreciated it.

We fought traffic, got out of the park and retired to our hotel.

Tomorrow we will be mostly driving, just to get closer to Milwaukee. I will be meeting a friend there and I convinced Paw-Paw to stay there for a bit so that we can go to Summerfest, a yearly music festival in Milwaukee. We should be there on the first of the month. We’ll probably stay one night and then make the short trip to Chicago.

I’ll try to make a quick update tomorrow and throw some long overdue pictures up!

June 27: The Backstretch

I’m sitting here trying to figure out why the elevator at the La Quinta Inn in Seattle was so angry at me. It was like that grumpy old man that sits in a rocking chair on the porch and yells at the kids running by, or the insubordinate, long-haired teenage bus boy with a crooked cap that grunts and complains at every suggestion that he does some work.

Our relationship went something like this: I insert my room key to call the elevator to the basement parking area. There’s a ding signaling that the elevator is here. WHAM! The door flies open and slams against the inner wall, shaking the claustrophobic contraption. We hesitantly step into the still vibrating elevator and I hit the “2” button. The glowing light just stares at us, the elevator doesn’t move. I nicely depress the button again. WHAM!! The door slams closed with even more force than it opened with, giving new life to the shaking that had until then almost died out. With a jerk, we soar at seemingly astronomic speeds to the first floor, where the door slams open again. Remember, we hit the “2” button. No one is waiting for the elevator. The “2” button glows vacantly while we wait for something to happen. Finally I hit the button again. WHAM!! Rocket engines take us the 10 feet to the next floor and the car stops with such severity my stomach is caught somewhere in my upper rib cage. When the door violently opens, we run out and take cover in our room.

It was like this every time. So angry. So unnecessary. Now to be honest, I don’t really know why I’m writing about this today. I was just thinking about it, and not much else happened today. Instead of just making a short post, I ramble on about stuff like I’m getting paid by the word, which, by the way, would be awesome.

For the first time in two and a half weeks, the little digital compass in the rear view mirror of the Cadillac glowed “E” in that digital green that we’ve come to know and love. We’re on our return trip. It’s pretty crazy to think that we’ve already come this far. As far as we can tell, Seattle was the halfway point of our trip, so it should be about two or three more weeks. Of course, that is always subject to change.

When we finally made it on to the interstate from Seattle — I hate one way streets — we jumped on I-90 east toward Spokane. Paw-Paw was stationed outside of Spokane near a little city called Medical Lake, where he lived after he left Roswell, N.M. What Paw-Paw had described as a “small town where everyone knew each other” had turned into a sprawling suburb of Spokane. It even had it’s own high school. Needless to say, he didn’t remember anything. We went on to the base that has since turned into a reserve unit. It was very large and well taken care of and still had a lot of the same buildings that were there when Paw-Paw was there. He was even able to show us the hangars that he used to work on the massive bombers.

We rode around there for a while, then got back on the highway after grabbing a quick lunch. We wanted to get somewhere relatively close to Yellowstone so that we could get there and have sometime to go around it tomorrow afternoon. We made it to a town called Missoula, Montana. It’s a decent size town, but I’m sure it’s the big city for anyone that lives on this side of the state. There’s nothing out here. I refuse to believe that 997,000 people live in this state.

We did lose an hour today somewhere around the Idaho/Montana border. But we couldn’t tell since the sun didn’t go down until about 10 p.m. It really throws off your whole evening.

Tomorrow, we will be heading off to Wyoming to check out Yellowstone Park.

June 25 + 26: Washington

Sorry for not posting last night. The internet was a little screwy in our room and I was exhausted after a long day of driving. I’m going to try to make this one short too since I’m using the public computer in the hotel. We’ll see how that works.

After crashing in Oregon, we drove north to see Mt. St. Helens. It was a fairly short drive (not too many mountains…) and we got there a little after noon. After checking out the visitors center, which is still 50 miles from the mountain, we decided to go ahead and drive all the way up to the last observation area to look at the mountain. It was another two-lane road with hairpin curves and cliffs just a few feet from the outside lane. These roads were fun at first, but even I was starting to get a little sick of it. It took a little less than an hour to get up to the last observation deck, which is on a ridge (Jackson Ridge?) only a few miles from the summit. Now, a few miles may seem like a lot, but with a volcano this huge and standing on a good size ridge, a few miles makes you feel like you’re up close and personal.

Looking at the volcano is spectacular. There was still snow on the ground in a lot of places, including the observation deck. You can clearly see where the side of the mountain just collapsed during the eruption in 1980. There’s just a massive crater where the peak should be. It’s a little unsettling, and I couldn’t imagine being there when it actually happened. The ground directly below the mountain used to be covered with trees, but now it’s mostly just bare, dry land. On the way up to the observation deck, most of the hillsides and mountainsides only had ragged stumps where the tree had just been torn down. Farther away you could see where some of the trees were starting to grow back.

We went inside where they were showing this video about the eruption. It was a pretty good video and described exactly how this explosive eruption happened. (I won’t go into that here, but look it up. It’s pretty interesting.) The best part was at the end the screen went up and so did a curtain behind it, revealing a glass wall where you could see the volcano perfectly. It was beautiful and totally unexpected. We just thought it was a regular theater.

We walked around for a bit more, then decided to head back to the car and make it up to Seattle, which we did after a few hours and fighting traffic in the surprisingly busy Tacoma.

Apparently, according to Madison and Paw-Paw, this is my part of the trip and everything was on me to plan. I just though it would be a cool place to stop. I like big artsy cities. This morning we got up and I decided that we should check out the Seattle Center, where the main part of the World’s Fair was when they held it in Seattle (1964). All that I really knew that was there was the Space Needle, and I figured that was worth the walk. It was just a few blocks from our hotel. We got there at about 10 and bought tickets to go up to the top observation deck. Since it was fairly early there was no one around and we got there pretty quickly. The O Deck is 520′ above Seattle and gives a gorgeous view of the Puget Sound and Lake Union (which, by the way, is one of the largest sea plane airports in the country…fun fact. You could see them taking off every few minutes).

It was surprisingly chilly today — and I’m too stubborn to accept it, so I wore shorts, a polo and flip-flops — so I got a hot tea at the top of the Needle and we sat inside to warm up some. Back at the bottom, we saw this funky shaped building that I just had to look into. It was a mass of colors and weird shapes and looked like it was made out of metal. Turns out it was the Experience Music Project and the Science-Fiction Museum. Being a music nerd, I had to find out what the EMP was. Paw-Paw didn’t seem to interested, but he encouraged Madison and I to buy tickets to go check it out. The first part was a history of the Seattle Music scene. Seattle is a crazy music community, and has been for years. Just to name a few artists who grew up or got started here: Jimi Hendrix, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Presidents of the U.S.A., Heart, Minus the Bear, Modest Mouse…you get the idea. They also had a guitar room that showed the evolution of the electric guitar, along with a full room devoted to Jimi, including the guitar he used at Woodstock. In the main hall they had a statue made completely of guitars, banjos and drums that stretched from the floor and expanded like a funnel to the ceiling…and it played music. Some guitars were set up with robots that played pre-recorded music live.

On the other side there was a room with all kinds of artist interviews and performances. You just went up to a computer and picked who you wanted to hear talk and they told stories about songs, albums, music in general or personal stuff. There was even a booth where you could record yourself talking.

And my favorite part: the demo room. Upstairs there was a massive room filled with guitars, drums, keyboards, basses, samplers, mixing boards and vocal booths. You could just walk up and play anything. They had tutorials if you wanted them, or you could just play for fun. I don’t have a guitar with me on this trip, so this gave me a chance to get to play some. It was so much fun. The stations were set up so that three people on three different instruments could jam together. I could have spent hours in there.

After we left, we grabbed some lunch and headed down to the famous Pike Place Fish Market. This is the place where you always see the people throwing the fish around. We watched that for a while, then started walking around the rest of the market. It’s basically the biggest farmers market you will ever see. It has a lot of restaurants and tons of fruit and vegetable vendors. They also had a wind-up toy shop (and that’s all they sold), a magic shop and an old record store. I spent about 30 minutes going through the records. We walked around that for a while, then finally went back to the hotel.

I think Paw-Paw was pretty tired, so he just decided to relax for the night while Madison and I walked over to Lake Union. It had a little park, but nothing else there. We did get to watch a sea plane take off though. We decided to look for some food, so we went back down to the market only to find everything closed. It was only like 7:30 (it gets dark really late here…like 9:30). We talked to a cop and he said there were some restaurants down on the waterfront, so we got some seafood at this little fish and chips place on the Puget Sound.

We came back to the hotel exhausted and our legs hurting.

Tomorrow we’ll be heading out early and going to Spokane, where Paw-Paw was stationed for a while. We’ll either stay there or head a little farther east towards Yellowstone National Park, which is our next big stop on the trip.

June 24: The Redwoods

Today was mostly a driving day, but it was a great driving day that took us through the Redwoods in northern California. On the way up there, just north of Santa Rosa, there was smoke all over the place from wildfire nearby. The smell of burning trees was really strong. Luckily it didn’t stop our drive any.

After a couple hours of driving, I started noticing the trees around us getting bigger and thicker. Before I knew it we were surrounded by trees that stretched to the sky with trunks as thick as I am tall. If you’ve never seen these, it’s hard to imagine how big these trees are. Pictures don’t do it justice. I pulled onto a scenic parkway off the main highway called the Avenue of Giants. Madison rolled her eyes and said “Leave it to Corey to take us on some pointless drive,” or something like that.

I think I changed her mind. The Avenue of Giants is named this for a very good reason. I can’t think of anything to compare these trees to. You just have to see them. We got out of the car at a turnoff to take pictures near the trees. We took pictures (which should be on the pictures page) of us standing in front of the trees to give you reference of how huge they are. We walked around for a minute and found even bigger ones deeper into the forest. One had fallen over — I’m glad I wasn’t there when it happened — and Madison and I could comfortably stand in it’s roots. It was unbelievable.

We kept driving through them and never really saw any bigger than the ones we stopped for. I guess we got out at the right place. There were fun little roadside attractions like the House Tree, Mystery Hill, Living Chimney Tree, and even Hobbiton, USA. Oh, mountain folk.

I drove most of the way through more windy, narrow and cliffhanging roads through the mountains. I was still enjoying it. I don’t know if I can say the same for Madison and Paw-Paw. I think I’ve gotten my fill of mountain driving though. By the time we got to Oregon I was exhausted and moved over to let Paw-Paw take the wheel.

We made it all the way to Roseburg, Oregon before calling it a day. And what a long day it was. I’m not sure why this post is so short compared to the other ones. Either nothing really happened today or I’m just really tired. Or maybe both.

Anyway, we’re heading up to Mt. St. Helens tomorrow and probably ending up in Seattle before the day is over with. We figure that Seattle will probably be the halfway point of our trip. We just started our third week today. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long!

I’m going to try and put pictures up now. Enjoy!

June 23: My Driving Day

[I posted twice tonight, so scroll down for the June 22 entry that I missed last night.]

The day started off innocently. We left out little motel in Pismo Beach at around eight in the morning and got breakfast at this little place called the All American Cafe right down the street. We sat at booth with a little gold plate that read: “In Memory of James Dean, a true friend and loyal customer.”

Our goal was to get somewhere north of San Francisco so that we could set up for our drive through the Redwoods and our stop in the mountains of Oregon/Washington. On our way, we decided to stop at the Hearst Castle in San Simeon, Calif. This is one of the many (and supposedly, favorite) homes of William Randolf Hearst. If you don’t know who that is, Google it, but suffice it to say that he was a publishing machine during the late 1800s and early 1900s. He owned newspapers across the state, a few magazines and even movie companies. The Hearst corporation still owns a large chunk of the media we consume. So with his boat load of money and land that his wealthy parents bought soon after he was born, Hearst built a massive home up in the hills of California, complete with a full ranch and even a private zoo. Unfortunately, the zoo is no longer in operation.

We took a tour through part of the estate, namely the outside pool, one of the three guest houses, a few of the major rooms in the main house, and the indoor pool. The drive from the Visitor Center to the actual house was a five-mile journey up the mountain on a dangerously small and windy road. The property itself was a mix and match of every possible type of architecture in history: Roman columns, Greek temples, Egyptian statues. The place was beautiful, but the decorations were almost too gaudy. The best part of the place was the view, which was breathtaking, overlooking the mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other.

But I started to wonder what the motivation was for the decor. Were the massive tapestries meant to show Hearst’s devotion to Catholicism? Did the massive fireplace show his appreciation of French renaissance stonework? Did the ceiling in the billiard room reflect Hearst’s love for 14th century Spanish woodwork? Or was it all just a reflection of what he thought he should be, the assumption successful millionaire should appreciate these things. They were crammed in this house in such a random and seemingly uncalculated way that I had to assume that he just looked for the most expensive and foreign things he could find and just threw them into a house, creating one massive status symbol.

The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle.

We couldn’t continue up the Pacific Coast Highway because wildfires about 50 miles north of the castle had closed down the road and forced evacuations. We headed south for a few miles before cutting across to the east and hitting U.S. Highway 101 to keep going north. The ride was nice, continuing through the hills, ranches and wineries that make up central California. To the west, an ominous cloud cloud of smoke hovered over the mountains, casting a sweet and sour honey glaze on the fields. It’s amazing how such devastating events can create such beautiful scenes. We ran into a group of tall trees and they almost scared me. I haven’t seen trees like this in over a week.

Highway 101 led us right into the heart of San Francisco. Since Madison and I will be coming back here at the end of next month, we were just going to pass through the city. But while we were here, we figured that we would drive across the Golden Gate Bridge. After fighting through downtown traffic for a few minutes, we hit the bridge and cut across the bay. The tops of the bridge supports were clouded in white smoke. I wasn’t sure if it was smoke or clouds. Off to the right, Alcatraz sat abandoned and shrouded in haze in the middle of the bay.

Once we got off the bridge, we had the choice to continue driving on U.S. 101 or to jump back on California Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway. Since I was driving and I love scenic highways, I picked CA-1.

After cutting through a little town, the road turned into a dangerous, narrow and winding path up countless mountains. I loved every minute of it. I couldn’t go much faster that about 20 mph without risking hitting the mountain or plummeting down the cliff. Every corner was blind. I just had to hope no one was in my lane. I felt like Dale Earnhardt Jr. on a road course. I always wanted to be a race car driver. This was fun for the first 20 minutes. The road ran right along the coast, hanging on a cliff at least a hundred feet above the Pacific Ocean. You could look out and see water stretching on forever. Below us the surf lapped against the rock walls. The sun was getting low in the western sky.

But after driving this way for about 45 minutes, Paw-Paw and Madison started getting restless. It was getting late in the afternoon. Madison was hungry and sleepy. I think Paw-Paw just wanted to stop. They obviously didn’t get the same enjoyment out of the awesomely fun sharp curves that I did.

We finally got to a little town: Stimson Beach, population 751. Too small to stop in. We wound on.

Pt. Reyes Station: population 350. Nope.

Marshall: population 50. What…

Dogtown: population 30.

At this point, I thought Madison was going to start eating the seat cushion. Judging by the map, there wasn’t anything on this road for miles. There were barely any crossroads. My fun drive was starting to turn into a mistake, at least in their eyes. I was still making engine noises with my mouth as I jerked the car around 90 degree turns.

We finally found a way to get off this empty coastal road and back to U.S. 101, i.e. society. Santa Rosa was our Californian oasis. We found a Best Western and settled in. This hotel room is surprisingly the best we’ve seen on the trip so far — even better than the MGM Grand. We went downtown and got some pizza. I gave the leftovers to a grateful homeless couple. I bought ice cream for Madison to make up for my joyriding.

This seems like a nice little town, but after a long day of driving, we were too exhausted to explore more than a small section of downtown. Time to turn in.

Through the redwoods we go tomorrow.

June 22: Pacific Coast Highway

[Sorry this didn’t go up last night. The little motel we stayed in didn’t have internet. I typed this last night so that it was still all fresh in my head. Pictures from the last few days are up now and pictures from this day will be up soon.]

“Something I have long wanted to do is visit the Motel Inn in San Luis Obispo, California.”
~”I’m a Stranger Here Myself” — Bill Bryson

Although the quote isn’t directly related to our trip, we did go through San Luis Obispo, California right about the time Madison read this part of Bryson’s book (yes, Madison is reading).

We had a nice breakfast with Meg and LL this morning before heading up the coast for the next part of our trip. I’d like to thank Meg and LL, now that they’re reading this, for housing us the last two nights and being such great hosts. It was nice to have some home-cooked meals.

After we got through the L.A. area and it’s crazy traffic – even on a Sunday – started heading up California Highway 1, the classic Pacific Coast Highway. It’s a great old road that runs up most of the California coastline and through all kinds of small beach villages. We hit Malibu first, with all its nice beachfront houses and mansions up on the mountains and hills. There were also quite a few public beaches that were packed with tourists and surfers. I have never seen so many VW Buses in my life.

After Malibu, the ride calms down until Ventura Beach, where we sat in traffic for almost 20 minutes while about a thousand cars crammed onto the off-ramp. It had better be good surfing to make me wait in traffic like that…. When the road finally gets out of the bigger cities, it becomes an empty back road. There are more cows than people out there. The road wound through the mountains and into this massive valley with farms stretched from one end to another. It’s the part of California that you don’t think about: the part between L.A. and San Francisco.

Madison and I have been going through beach withdrawals since we missed our annual week-long camping trip to Emerald Isle. We decided to get our fix by finding a little beach somewhere before San Francisco where we could spend the afternoon on the beach and stay the night before getting into northern California. After staring at a map for way too long, we decided on a nice little town called Pismo Beach.

Pismo Beach is a cute little beach town that has – luckily – stayed away from commercial development. It’s the classic old town with mom and pop shops and restaurants and all independently owned hotels. Other than a couple of banks, there are no chains of any kind in this town. I haven’t recognized the name of a single business. I think it’s amazing that this town has continued to thrive without being invaded by a Walmart. It’s a rare thing these days.

As we were driving up the coast, we noticed that the temperature was getting steadily colder…and I mean colder. When we got to Pismo Beach, it was a solid 70. Madison and I walked down to the beach and it felt great! The sun warmed us up just enough and it was comfortable lying on the beach. The water was a different story. We had to get in just to say we have been in the Pacific Ocean. Even though it was cold and June, we illogically figured that the water wouldn’t be too bad. Oh…how wrong we were. It was like ice water. Literally. And our bodies didn’t get used to it like we though they would. We stood out there idiotically for about 10 minutes, hoping that we would eventually get used to it. No such luck. We ran out and spent the rest of the afternoon warming up on the beach and doing some reading.

I still can’t get used to the mountains running right up to the coast. There are very few beaches here: just a few lucky stretches of sand between the rocks. When we looked to our right on the beach, there were huge hills that ended in a pile of rocks that the surf slammed into. Farther into the distance, over the water, you could see a mountain looming in the shadows. It’s surprising and beautiful. Behind us the town was piled up with buildings clustered together and seemingly growing out of the huge hill. It reminded me of pictures of seen from Spain or Italy…or both. Either way, it looked vaguely European. These are the kind of things that I really think I could get used to out here. There is no shortage of amazing scenery.

Madison and I finally got back to the hotel just in time to find out that UNC had blown another chance to win the College World Series. Three years in a row coming up just short. Always next year?

We went to the Pismo Beach Fish and Chips restaurant about a block from the beach and enjoyed a great dinner. Now we’re crashing at this nice little motel before heading out tomorrow morning to try and make it to the other side of San Francisco. With any luck we’ll be near the Redwood forest tomorrow evening.

June 20 + 21: Perris…not the French one.

I know I’ve said this before and it’s turned out to be a complete lie, but this will be a short post tonight.

We’ve been in Perris, Cali., the last two days staying with Meg and LL, friends of Paw-Paw. They’ve been amazing hosts and we’ve had a great and very relaxing time here, a good break from the road. Perris is a little town that’s tucked between some mountains west of Los Angeles. It’s a nice little town, but beastly hot (the last few days have been 108). We have been spoiled before this by being up at higher elevations, which of course means lower temperatures. But according to LL and the TV weatherman that I just overheard, the temperature should be going down soon. Finally. But I have to say I like this dry heat a lot more than the humidity in the Southeast.

Anyway, nothing exciting to report, which is why I’m keeping this post short. The time difference is crazy for me. I watched the Heels play baseball today at four in the afternoon. That’s a normal start time for games here since the east coast has them at seven. I couldn’t get used to that over here. Back home the games come on after school/work. Here they’re right in the middle of the afternoon! And football at 10 a.m. on Sundays? Psh. I’m not even awake then.

We’re headed out of town tomorrow morning and will hit California Highway 1 — the Pacific Coast Highway — tomorrow and hoping to stop in some little beach town north of Santa Barbara so that we can enjoy the beach over here and get in the Pacific Ocean. We’ll be traveling up the coast this way for a few days, and plans are kind of up in the air since we have no definite stopping point until Seattle, Wash.

I should be posting tomorrow night with a lot more to say. Get excited. I would like to apologize for my excessive wordiness when I write. I know it’s a lot of reading. My friend said that he was going to keep from doing school reading by reading my blog and was disappointed to find that my post was nearly as long as his reading. Oops. I guess I just get carried away, like I am now.

On that note, I’m out.

I lied. One more thing. I found the busiest burger joint in all of America. Look no further than the In-N-Out Burger in Barstow, Calif. I saw the sign and I had heard of the burger place before, so I figured it was somewhere we should try since there aren’t any (at least that I know of) on the east coast. The place was packed. It took about 30 minutes to get food and people were fighting for tables (like Lenoir at lunch, for all you UNC kids). It was good, but crazy. From what I could tell by the order numbering system, they served 100 orders in the 45 minutes that we were there.

June 19: Las Vegas

“When you bring an act into this town, you want to bring it heavy. Don’t waste any time with cheap shucks and misdemeanors. Go straight for the jugular. Get right into felonies.”
~”Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” — Hunter S. Thompson

Don’t worry, we didn’t commit any crimes…that we know of. I just love this book and this line to me encapsulates the feel of Las Vegas: no limits, go bit or go home.

But lets not get ahead of ourselves. We left early from Williams and took I-40 to U.S. Highway 93, which took us up to the Hoover Dam. If you’ve never seen it, it’s absolutely massive. Standing at the top and looking down at the river is magnificent but also terrifying. Madison and I looked at taking a tour, but the line was really long and it didn’t seem worth it. We walked around the visitor’s center and learned about how the dam was formed and how hydroelectric power works, which was fascinating to me. It even had interactive exhibits. I’m pretty sure I enjoyed this a lot more than Madison.

We continued north up U.S. 93 and in 30 minutes were driving down the Las Vegas strip. Seeing it in real life was a lot different then seeing it on movies and in pictures. It seemed a lot more cramped here. For some reason I always imagined it being more spread out. We ended up checking into the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino right on the strip after driving all the way down Las Vegas Blvd once. (I tried to convince Paw-Paw that we didn’t need to spend that much money and we could get a hotel just a block off the strip, but he wouldn’t listen and decided we should stay here.)

When we finally got settled in, we walked down to the lobby of our behemoth hotel and were in awe of the sheer size of this hotel. There are at least seven full restaurants, dozens of stores, a couple of night clubs, five pools and even a lion habitat. After a quick lunch (at about 4 p.m.), Paw-Paw surprised us by handing us a few bucks and telling us to have a good time. He was going to stay in and play some slots.

Madison and I headed out onto the strip and started walking in the different casinos. We went in the New York New York, Caesar’s Palace and some others that I forget. These things are insane, each one like a mini city. Some of them even have malls inside of them. You could spend weeks here and never leave your hotel. That’s scary.

We decided to see if we could catch a cheap show, so we headed down to the half price ticket place. We wanted to see Carrot Top, but unfortunately it was an 18+ show so Madison couldn’t get in. We decided to take a chance on this guy named Steve Wyrick. We went all the way back to the Planet Hollywood Casino and after walking aimlessly and getting lost for 30 minutes, finally found the box office.

When we got into the theater, I started talking to the couple beside us. The guy saw my UNC hat and asked if I was from there. Turns out that they were from Wilmington and the man had graduated from UNC in the 70s. Go figure.

The show started right at nine and was surprisingly good. The comic was funny and talented (he kind of reminded me of Dane Cook). He did everything from some slight of hand card tricks, to cutting a woman in multiple sections and pulling her apart, to making a leer jet and helicopter appear on stage. We were sitting in the last row, but it was only row K so we were still very close to the action. The craziest part was when he drove a motorcycle onto the stage and drove it into a cage. The cage lifted into the air and with a bang it disappeared. Next thing we know, he is sitting on the motorcycle directly behind our seats. I could reach out and touch the bike if I wanted to. I have no idea how he did it. I guess that’s kind of the idea.

It was a fun show, but we were exhausted when we got out at like 11. We came back to the hotel and retired to our room. Paw-Paw was here waiting for us. He apparently had a decent night in the casino, claiming to have won about $100. I’m kind of glad I’m not 21 yet because you can get sucked into this place and it will drain the life out of you while it drains your wallet.

I worry about some of the people here. There are of course the rich people that come here to have a good time, see a show and throw some money and cards around. That’s fine. The ones that scare me are the poor ones: the ones who cash a pay check and throw it down on the craps table, then walk home with no money. They’re here, and I feel like I could point them out. They look dejected. With it’s flashing lights and the sound of falling coins, Las Vegas dangles the “American Dream” in front of these peoples faces. Strike it rich! Get the girls! Win this car! Live in luxury! But for most of them, the dream is becoming a nightmare and they won’t wake up and realize it.

Tomorrow we head out to California to stay with some of Paw-Paw’s friends. We may have internet, but we may not. I’ll at least try to post the one of the two nights that we are staying there.

June 18: Grand Canyon

“See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out”
~”Beautiful Day” — U2

After a nice day of relaxation, it was back on the road again. We headed west on I-40 (makes me feel like I’m back at home) and then up some state highways to get to the Grand Canyon in northern Arizona. It took about five hours to get up there, driving through a lot of empty land and forests. Except for a couple of very small towns, I saw maybe four houses on U.S. 180 and state highway 64. I couldn’t imagine living up there, not just because there’s nothing to do, but because there also is no one up there to do it with.

We drove up into the Grand Canyon National Park and went up to the visitor’s center and an overlook on the South Rim. We walked up to one of the points on the canyon and the view was breathtaking. Red clay and rocks, in all formations, stretched out in front of us for miles. Brave pine trees grew out of the side of the rocks. The Colorado River charged through a deep trough in the middle of the canyon. The other side of the canyon was just a small line along the horizon. Seeing this wonder for the first time is something hard to explain.

We stood out there for a while, just enjoying the view. You could look for hours and still find something new to see. We decided that the easiest and fastest way to get the full effect of the canyon was from the air. So that’s exactly what we did.

Back at the Grand Canyon Airport, just outside of the park gates, we signed up for a helicopter tour of the canyon. Just before four p.m. we climbed into a six-seater helicopter, strapped on our headphones and lifted off. Madison was lucky enough to get the front seat beside the pilot. She had by far the best view, with a full window in front of her and even glass at her feet so that she could look down and see the canyon. Paw-Paw and I were in the back facing forward, while a German couple (one of them was a foreign exchange student studying in L.A.) sat facing us.

As we took off and flew toward the canyon, the pilot played some music through the headphones, songs that seemed very fitting at the moment. It started off with U2’s “Beautiful Day,” then switched to Lenny Kravitz “Fly Away.” A minute later, as we soared over trees on the way to the canyon, we heard “Clocks” by Coldplay (the line “And nothing else compares” fittingly came right as the canyon came into view on my right). Finally, right as we got to the edge of the canyon, the pilot started to play Strauss’ “Also sprach Zarathustra” (the main theme from “2001: A Space Odyssey”). It was awesomely cliche.

The pilot took us over a large part of the canyon while an automated voice told us about the canyon and how it was formed. One of the most interesting things is that they believe over 2 billion years of geologic history can be seen using the different rock layers that have been exposed.

After going through the recording once in English, we got to hear it again in German. Even though I don’t know a single word of German, it was actually pretty interesting to listen to. It’s a very cool language, sounding like someone mumbling in English. At one point I was convinced that it was English being spoken very quickly and with a weird accent, but not so.

As the recording said, the canyon is a very peaceful place for introspection and reflection, as is most of this country out here. It is so open and so beautiful. I could be happy just sitting on the edge of a rock out here and watching the sunset splash purples, oranges, golds and browns onto the landscape all around me. The natural beauty out here really just puts you at peace.

After about 20 minutes of flying around the helicopter made a sharp U-turn and headed back to the airport. On the way back we got to hear — scratch that, we were forced to hear — two Train songs (“Calling All Angels,” and “Drops of Jupiter”). We made a soft safe landing and bought a souvenir picture of us standing in front of the chopper.

We tried to find a hotel right outside of the park, but they were all booked full. Paw-Paw seems determined to continue moving quickly to the west coast, so we decided to leave the canyon behind and went 70 miles back down highway 64 to this little town on old Route 66 called Williams.(Route 66, by the way, is no longer an official highway. We’ve traveled on and off on parts of this historic road over the last few days. It runs right down the middle of Albuquerque and follows I-40 west for a while. You can still follow most of the old route by using other roads, which are well marked as “Historic Route 66,” but there is no way to ride the length of it anymore, from Chicago to L.A.)

Williams is a cute and awesome little town tucked up in the mountains. All the people we met were extremely friendly. It had a nice little downtown area that was set right on old Route 66. We decided to eat at this little restaurant called the Pine Country Restaurant. We were greeted at the front by a brass band made up of mostly young kids dressed up in old Civil War uniforms. They played a song and then, thankfully, left the restaurant. Not that they weren’t good, but a full brass band blasting in a small restaurant can be a bit much. When we left we saw them walking down the street.

We have a hotel here for the night and plan on heading out tomorrow to go to Las Vegas, Nevada. We figured the helicopter tour let us see more of the canyon than anything else we could do and it was time to move on.

We’ll be hitting the Hoover Dam first, then hopefully getting to the strip in the afternoon/evening. We gained another hour today, so I’m officially in the Pacific Time Zone. It’s pretty strange how one hour can really mess with your day.

Pictures will come soon, but, as usual, Madison and Paw-Paw are already asleep as I’m writing this. I guess they’ll go up tomorrow.