On December 23, 2011 we ended our three and a half month circuit of the country.
We didn't know what to expect as we made the wide turn onto our driveway. But the gate worked. The gutters beside the driveway were not clogged with leaves. No fallen trees blocked our passage. The lawn was in decent shape. The big house and our garage apartment looked like it did when we left. No squatters had occupied the property. Our neighbors Alex and Delores had done a great job of maintaining the premises.
Our 840 square foot apartment felt palatial to us after those months in the motorhome. At first our dogs didn't appear to be excited, but they settled into their old routines pretty quickly. For Nancy and me it was weird being home, and it took a little time to realize that we didn't have to hook up the water and sewer hoses and electrical cable every day - that the handle for flushing the toilet was above the bowl, not below - that we didn't have to carry plastic poop bags whenever we took the dogs for a walk - that we didn't have to level our home every few days - that the stairs we use to exit the apartment don't retract and extend when we open and close the door - that we didn't have to strap down our dinette chairs so they wouldn't slide across the floor. Like that.
It was wonderful seeing friends and celebrating the holidays. The contrast with the scenery of the southwest we had driven through made us appreciate the beauty of California more than ever. It's fun being home. But we're still afflicted with wanderlust.
I'll take this opportunity to talk about some of the high and low points of our trip.
Our favorite city was Asheville, North Carolina. It's a beautiful place, the people are young, attractive, and friendly, and the climate is relatively mild, because it's around 2000 feet in elevation. Asheville is a college town, so there's a lot of music and culture.
We also liked Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, Walla Walla, Washington, and Missoula, Montana. Everywhere we went, people were friendly and interested in what we were doing. I think that the folks in southwest Louisiana were the nicest we came across. Now if we had talked politics or other controversial subjects, we might have a different opinion, but in general southerners were our favorites, for their kindness and gentle manners.
Our favorite driving experiences were Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park, the Blue Ridge Parkway, and the Natchez Trace. Just sublime, all of them, and Shenandoah was especially beautiful because of the recent snowfall.
For me, the loveliest sights were Glacier Park up in Montana and the Teton ranges in Wyoming. Of course the fall colors in New England were spectacular. The prettiest campgrounds were Poche's Fishing Camp in Breaux Bridge, La, Mama Gertie's RV Park in Asheville, NC, and the Elks Lodge in Waynesboro, Pa.
Our favorite museums were the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY, the Lyndon Johnson Presidential Library in Austin, Thomas Jefferson's Monticello in Charlottesville, Virginia, the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, and the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas.
We didn't eat out a lot, and many of our favorite meals were home grown, some cooked outside on our propane grill. The restaurant dishes we'll remember best are the Fried Shrimp Po-Boys in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, the taco lunch at the Trailer Park in Austin, the pork belly pizza and deep fried wild boar meatballs at the Driskill Hotel in Austin, and the bison cheese fondue in Missoula.
On the other side of the ledger, our worst driving experience was the poorly maintained toll roads in the suburbs of Chicago at rush hour. Frightening. The traffic we experienced in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee was the heaviest and slowest I'd ever seen anywhere, and we lived in the greater Los Angeles area some years back.
As I said earlier, the scenery on the drive home through Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and eastern California was just plain ugly and by far the worst of our trip. I apologize if I've hurt anybody's feelings. Things hit rock bottom when our dogs were covered by stickers in what we consider to be the armpit of the nation, somewhere near Alpine, Texas.
Another low point of our adventure was about a month into it when something on the motorhome seemed to be breaking every few days. Miraculously, at some point the glitches stopped, and we had no mechanical problems at all the last month and a half of the trip.
By the time we finally pulled into Ben Lomond, we felt like veterans of the RV lifestyle. We had discovered that we can live happily in what some would consider cramped spaces, that we enjoy sharing new experiences together every day, and that our dogs make us happy.
We are already talking about where we want to go next. Up north to Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia? A swing through Colorado and Utah? Yosemite? Tahoe? We'll let you know.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Paso Robles
Crossing the California border and heading toward home, it occurred to us that ever since the Mississippi River delta in Louisiana, we had seen very few trees. From Texas, through New Mexico and Arizona and even eastern California, the terrain had been flat and mostly ugly, to our eyes at least, with bare dirt and dormant grasses and scrub brush and not much else, except for occasional hills and small mountains in the distance.
.
We stayed one night at a campground in Bakersfield. The driver of the motorhome parked next to us was a middle-aged black man. Nancy, having recently spent a lot of time in the South, walked over and said to him, "I don't think we've seen a single colored person in an RV before, our whole trip!"
Our 41st wedding anniversary was December 22, and we wanted to celebrate it in an area that we consider special - Paso Robles, which has a charming downtown, lots of fine restaurants, and is the fastest growing wine region in the country, I'm told. We had great crabcakes for lunch at Cass Winery, did wine tastings at a couple of the 150 wineries in Paso Robles, and our anniversary dinner was at Robert's, a wonderful restaurant in the downtown area. Nancy is a treasure in my eyes, and I consider myself damned lucky to have found her all those years ago. Spending three and a half months in an RV will test a marriage, and ours made the honor roll.
The next morning, as we prepared to leave on the last leg of our journey, back to our home in Ben Lomond, I found the water hose which runs from the spigot to our motorhome's water supply inlet frozen solid. I'd forgotten that California does get cold sometimes.
After the flat mostly desert landscape of the south central US, the rolling hills and vineyards around Paso Robles were very attractive, and when we approached and then turned onto Hwy 1 at Moss Landing, with its lush trees and views of the ocean and nearby mountains, we were reminded of just how beautiful California is. Our state may be destitute, but at least it looks good. And that's what's important, right?
.
We stayed one night at a campground in Bakersfield. The driver of the motorhome parked next to us was a middle-aged black man. Nancy, having recently spent a lot of time in the South, walked over and said to him, "I don't think we've seen a single colored person in an RV before, our whole trip!"
Our 41st wedding anniversary was December 22, and we wanted to celebrate it in an area that we consider special - Paso Robles, which has a charming downtown, lots of fine restaurants, and is the fastest growing wine region in the country, I'm told. We had great crabcakes for lunch at Cass Winery, did wine tastings at a couple of the 150 wineries in Paso Robles, and our anniversary dinner was at Robert's, a wonderful restaurant in the downtown area. Nancy is a treasure in my eyes, and I consider myself damned lucky to have found her all those years ago. Spending three and a half months in an RV will test a marriage, and ours made the honor roll.
The next morning, as we prepared to leave on the last leg of our journey, back to our home in Ben Lomond, I found the water hose which runs from the spigot to our motorhome's water supply inlet frozen solid. I'd forgotten that California does get cold sometimes.
After the flat mostly desert landscape of the south central US, the rolling hills and vineyards around Paso Robles were very attractive, and when we approached and then turned onto Hwy 1 at Moss Landing, with its lush trees and views of the ocean and nearby mountains, we were reminded of just how beautiful California is. Our state may be destitute, but at least it looks good. And that's what's important, right?
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Lake Havasu City
With the weather worsening in Flagstaff and Albuquerque, we stayed to the south, and parked one night at BlueWater Resort, an Indian casino in Parker, Arizona. Casinos, like Walmarts, are a source of free overnight camping. Of course there is no electricity or water, but most RV's are self-contained to one extent or other. Our GPS description of this casino said that anybody can stay in one parking space for three days, then they have to move to a different space, but can continue to park there. We learned that that three day rule had never been enforced. There were a lot of RV's, most of them pretty delapidated-looking. We talked with one fellow who had been there for a month, and he said that a camper just down the row had been there for two years. They have to drive about ten miles away to get free water fillups. Tough life, especially in the summer heat.
The next day we drove to a nice campground in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. That's the town where you can drive across the London Bridge. Back in 1967 London deemed its London Bridge unsafe for the high volume of vehicular traffic and dismantled it. The external masonry was bought by an American, Robert McCulloch, transported to Arizona, and used to build a replica of the bridge as a tourist attraction. Nancy and I happened to visit Lake Havasu City within a year or two of its reconstruction, in the small and primitive motorhome we owned at the time. At that point there wasn't much there except for the bridge and a sleepy little village.
What a change! Lake Havasu City is now a good sized city on a pretty lake, surrounded by mountains. The whole area is a mecca for RV's. This is one of the prime sites for "snowbirds" - the folks from cold climates in Canada and the northern US who head south for the winter. There may be just as many or more in Florida and the Gulf Coast, but you'd think half the RV's and half the mobile homes in America are there, packed in parks along the various lakes in the area, and up in the hills. Generally this isn't the kind of scenery that Nancy and I like, but the town has the feel of a beach resort, and it's rather attractive.
We had our first In-And-Out burgers since we left California, and we took a ferry across the lake to Havasu Landing, which features a casino and resort on the California side. We had a cheese plate and Lemon Drop cocktails at a picnic table at our campground while we watched the sunset. Other than interfacing with our fellow RVers at the campground, there wasn't much to do in Lake Havasu City, except for the excitement of the 49er-Steelers game on TV.
It's beginning to hit us that we're going to be back home, back to the real world, in less than a week. Bittersweet. Of course we look forward to seeing friends for the holidays, but we've learned that we really, really like motohome living. Every day was an adventure. Some of those adventures were small, some were big, many were wonderful, a few were frightening, but we were never bored. We find ourselves daydreaming about another - shorter - trip, in the spring of 2012.
The next day we drove to a nice campground in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. That's the town where you can drive across the London Bridge. Back in 1967 London deemed its London Bridge unsafe for the high volume of vehicular traffic and dismantled it. The external masonry was bought by an American, Robert McCulloch, transported to Arizona, and used to build a replica of the bridge as a tourist attraction. Nancy and I happened to visit Lake Havasu City within a year or two of its reconstruction, in the small and primitive motorhome we owned at the time. At that point there wasn't much there except for the bridge and a sleepy little village.
What a change! Lake Havasu City is now a good sized city on a pretty lake, surrounded by mountains. The whole area is a mecca for RV's. This is one of the prime sites for "snowbirds" - the folks from cold climates in Canada and the northern US who head south for the winter. There may be just as many or more in Florida and the Gulf Coast, but you'd think half the RV's and half the mobile homes in America are there, packed in parks along the various lakes in the area, and up in the hills. Generally this isn't the kind of scenery that Nancy and I like, but the town has the feel of a beach resort, and it's rather attractive.
We had our first In-And-Out burgers since we left California, and we took a ferry across the lake to Havasu Landing, which features a casino and resort on the California side. We had a cheese plate and Lemon Drop cocktails at a picnic table at our campground while we watched the sunset. Other than interfacing with our fellow RVers at the campground, there wasn't much to do in Lake Havasu City, except for the excitement of the 49er-Steelers game on TV.
It's beginning to hit us that we're going to be back home, back to the real world, in less than a week. Bittersweet. Of course we look forward to seeing friends for the holidays, but we've learned that we really, really like motohome living. Every day was an adventure. Some of those adventures were small, some were big, many were wonderful, a few were frightening, but we were never bored. We find ourselves daydreaming about another - shorter - trip, in the spring of 2012.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tucson, AZ
Well, there was a border checkpoint on the freeway out of El Paso - but it was so far out of town that there must have been all sorts of ways to avoid it, if we had been so inclined. With our honest faces, they just waved us through, which was a relief to Maria, Corazon, and Rosalita hiding in back.
We stayed that night in Deming, New Mexico, partly because of a billboard advertising St. Clair winery as the producer of the best white wine in America, according to somebody or other. The campground we stayed in turned out to be, we learned, the national headquarters for Loners on Wheels, an RV singles club. Nancy said that the people she talked with at the bunkhouse - the general meeting room - were extremely sweet and invited us to a potluck supper. Luckily, none of the gentlemen singles there won her away from me.
After our experiences in Texas, we weren't expecting much from the St. Clair tasting room, but we learned that the winemaker is French and that most of the grapes are indeed grown in the area. Surprisingly, the wines were good, and reasonably priced.
The weather reports on the internet the next morning were not encouraging. Heavy snow was falling in Flagstaff and Albuquerque, which were at higher elevations, so safety dictated that we head to Tucson, Arizona, instead. Still, our driving weather was bad, and when we climbed over a summit near the Arizona border, the rain turned to snow.
Our campground in Tucson was a big one, with lots of palm trees. Over a thousand sites, most of them mobile homes. With all the rain, the gravel base was a little soft, but we got settled in a nice big space in the RV section.
Just after five o'clock we noticed some commotion in the next row. A motorhome that had just pulled into their site had sunk about a foot into the gravel. We later learned that some digging had been done there recently, without compacting, and the heavy rain had resulted in a quicksand effect. A tow truck was called, and the RV park had to foot the bill.
We awoke the next morning to clear skies, with beautiful snow-covered mountains in the distance. We visited the Desert Museum, where you walk outdoors among the flora and fauna of the Sonoran desert. The highlight of the day was when the handlers brought out five magnificent raptors - Harris Hawks - which flew from Saguaro cactus to tree branch to plucking prey out of the air. Often they passed within what seemed like inches over our heads. We also toured the International Wildlife Museum, which features the taxidermist's art, plus an astonishing display of trays of butterflies, moths, beetles, and other insects. The primary lesson of both museums was the absolutely incredible diversity of animal and plant life that evolution has given us.
Our dogs had gotten a little dirty and stinky, so we had a personal grooming day for them. At a self service dog washing salon, Nancy washed and blow dried Tammy Faye, and I did Sophia. Nice job, humans.
We stayed that night in Deming, New Mexico, partly because of a billboard advertising St. Clair winery as the producer of the best white wine in America, according to somebody or other. The campground we stayed in turned out to be, we learned, the national headquarters for Loners on Wheels, an RV singles club. Nancy said that the people she talked with at the bunkhouse - the general meeting room - were extremely sweet and invited us to a potluck supper. Luckily, none of the gentlemen singles there won her away from me.
After our experiences in Texas, we weren't expecting much from the St. Clair tasting room, but we learned that the winemaker is French and that most of the grapes are indeed grown in the area. Surprisingly, the wines were good, and reasonably priced.
The weather reports on the internet the next morning were not encouraging. Heavy snow was falling in Flagstaff and Albuquerque, which were at higher elevations, so safety dictated that we head to Tucson, Arizona, instead. Still, our driving weather was bad, and when we climbed over a summit near the Arizona border, the rain turned to snow.
Our campground in Tucson was a big one, with lots of palm trees. Over a thousand sites, most of them mobile homes. With all the rain, the gravel base was a little soft, but we got settled in a nice big space in the RV section.
Just after five o'clock we noticed some commotion in the next row. A motorhome that had just pulled into their site had sunk about a foot into the gravel. We later learned that some digging had been done there recently, without compacting, and the heavy rain had resulted in a quicksand effect. A tow truck was called, and the RV park had to foot the bill.
We awoke the next morning to clear skies, with beautiful snow-covered mountains in the distance. We visited the Desert Museum, where you walk outdoors among the flora and fauna of the Sonoran desert. The highlight of the day was when the handlers brought out five magnificent raptors - Harris Hawks - which flew from Saguaro cactus to tree branch to plucking prey out of the air. Often they passed within what seemed like inches over our heads. We also toured the International Wildlife Museum, which features the taxidermist's art, plus an astonishing display of trays of butterflies, moths, beetles, and other insects. The primary lesson of both museums was the absolutely incredible diversity of animal and plant life that evolution has given us.
Our dogs had gotten a little dirty and stinky, so we had a personal grooming day for them. At a self service dog washing salon, Nancy washed and blow dried Tammy Faye, and I did Sophia. Nice job, humans.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
West Texas
A lady in Fredericksburg told Nancy that Alpine, Texas is a real pretty college town, and the roads to and from it are scenic. So we decided to head there on our way west.
Along the way we pulled into a rest stop, and I took Tammy Faye and Sophia out to do their business. They wandered out into the underbrush, generally a better business environment than concrete. Suddenly they stopped moving, and I couldn't get them to even walk back to the motorhome. They had stepped into a sticker patch, and their coats were full of nasty stickers. When I tried to pull them off, it hurt me as well, for each little kernel was covered with sharp needlepoints. There were stickers in our dogs' pawpads, which was the reason they were unable to walk. I had to carry the two of them, one under each arm, back to the motorhome.
Nancy and I spent almost an hour removing the stickers from the dogs' coats and paws, combing, pulling, and cutting them out. It was awful, but we got them all.
We stopped for the night at a campground near Ozona, Texas. The campground manager, who stank of alcohol, told Nancy that the area was full of stickers, and that our dogs should not, under any circumstances, be allowed off the gravel. That evening, when they had to do their toilet duties, we carried them to the gravel driveway beside our site. But after only a few steps, they became immobilized again, and we had to extract more stickers from their pawpads. The whole area was infested.
The only solution was for Nancy and me to each carry a dog in our arms about a hundred yards to a concrete area that was nowhere close to any dirt or underbrush, and thus, we hoped, safe. There, after much coaxing, our dogs were able to perform, and remained sticker-free. We repeated that process, with good results, the next morning, before we left.
That part of Texas is an absolute hellhole for long-haired dogs and the men and women who love them.
We drove into Alpine, Texas that afternoon. It was a one-horse town, and the horse was lame. Alpine did indeed have a college, but that's about all. Nancy had been misled. We had planned to stay there for several days, but soon realized that it wasn't a three-day town. After one night at a campground there, we drove to El Paso. The landscape along the way was stark, almost treeless, with cactus and sagebrush and dormant vegetation. Ever so often we'd see a house out in the middle of nowhere and wonder what could lead a person to settle there.
El Paso is right on the Mexican border, across from Juarez, which has mostly been taken over by the drug cartel. Entering the city, driving on a freeway, we saw a fence just over to our left and suddenly realized that this was the border fence erected by the US to keep out illegal immigrants. It didn't look tall enough to be of much use, but later we saw that there was a deep concrete ditch on the other side.
Our campground for the next two days was a mobile home park in the barrio with some campsites for RV's. There was a wall around the place, with barbed wire on the fences, and a security guard at night. Very confidence-inspiring. Once, when Nancy took our dogs out for a toilet run, a flock of squawking guinea hens came charging at them, and they had to retreat back to the motorhome, venturing out again only after the band of birds had departed.
We drove into the city and saw a large number of people walking across a bridge from Mexico into the US, and most of them were shopping at stores on the US side. At a tourist information center a few blocks away, we were told that it's easy for Mexicans to get shopping passes, and they like to come over and buy our goods, which is great for the local economy. The lady said that there are checkpoints on all the roads out of El Paso, and there's good recordkeeping, so it's not easy to leave the area, thus few illegal aliens come across that way. I remain skeptical.
We asked about local sports bars so I could watch the 49er game. Our information lady told us that there is a 49er support group in El Paso, that they meet at a bar every week to watch the game, and that this week they would be at Smoky's. We went to Smoky's on Sunday afternoon and indeed there were a number of 49er fans, some of them wearing the jerseys of Michael Crabtree, Vernon Davis, Patrick Willis, and others. Most of them were Hispanic, and one was a border guard who told us about his work. Unfortunately, San Francisco lost that football game, but it was fun sharing the experience with my El Paso brethren.
As we were preparing to leave our barrio campground, Nancy had a conversation with the lady manager and learned that during the construction of the border fence, there was gunfire from the Mexican side, and some of the El Paso buildings still bear the scars. And that many of the border shops and businesses in Mexico had shut down, because they either paid protection money to the cartel or were forced out. And that there were eight murders in Juarez this past weekend. Sounds to me as lawless and dangerous as Somalia.
Along the way we pulled into a rest stop, and I took Tammy Faye and Sophia out to do their business. They wandered out into the underbrush, generally a better business environment than concrete. Suddenly they stopped moving, and I couldn't get them to even walk back to the motorhome. They had stepped into a sticker patch, and their coats were full of nasty stickers. When I tried to pull them off, it hurt me as well, for each little kernel was covered with sharp needlepoints. There were stickers in our dogs' pawpads, which was the reason they were unable to walk. I had to carry the two of them, one under each arm, back to the motorhome.
Nancy and I spent almost an hour removing the stickers from the dogs' coats and paws, combing, pulling, and cutting them out. It was awful, but we got them all.
We stopped for the night at a campground near Ozona, Texas. The campground manager, who stank of alcohol, told Nancy that the area was full of stickers, and that our dogs should not, under any circumstances, be allowed off the gravel. That evening, when they had to do their toilet duties, we carried them to the gravel driveway beside our site. But after only a few steps, they became immobilized again, and we had to extract more stickers from their pawpads. The whole area was infested.
The only solution was for Nancy and me to each carry a dog in our arms about a hundred yards to a concrete area that was nowhere close to any dirt or underbrush, and thus, we hoped, safe. There, after much coaxing, our dogs were able to perform, and remained sticker-free. We repeated that process, with good results, the next morning, before we left.
That part of Texas is an absolute hellhole for long-haired dogs and the men and women who love them.
We drove into Alpine, Texas that afternoon. It was a one-horse town, and the horse was lame. Alpine did indeed have a college, but that's about all. Nancy had been misled. We had planned to stay there for several days, but soon realized that it wasn't a three-day town. After one night at a campground there, we drove to El Paso. The landscape along the way was stark, almost treeless, with cactus and sagebrush and dormant vegetation. Ever so often we'd see a house out in the middle of nowhere and wonder what could lead a person to settle there.
El Paso is right on the Mexican border, across from Juarez, which has mostly been taken over by the drug cartel. Entering the city, driving on a freeway, we saw a fence just over to our left and suddenly realized that this was the border fence erected by the US to keep out illegal immigrants. It didn't look tall enough to be of much use, but later we saw that there was a deep concrete ditch on the other side.
Our campground for the next two days was a mobile home park in the barrio with some campsites for RV's. There was a wall around the place, with barbed wire on the fences, and a security guard at night. Very confidence-inspiring. Once, when Nancy took our dogs out for a toilet run, a flock of squawking guinea hens came charging at them, and they had to retreat back to the motorhome, venturing out again only after the band of birds had departed.
We drove into the city and saw a large number of people walking across a bridge from Mexico into the US, and most of them were shopping at stores on the US side. At a tourist information center a few blocks away, we were told that it's easy for Mexicans to get shopping passes, and they like to come over and buy our goods, which is great for the local economy. The lady said that there are checkpoints on all the roads out of El Paso, and there's good recordkeeping, so it's not easy to leave the area, thus few illegal aliens come across that way. I remain skeptical.
We asked about local sports bars so I could watch the 49er game. Our information lady told us that there is a 49er support group in El Paso, that they meet at a bar every week to watch the game, and that this week they would be at Smoky's. We went to Smoky's on Sunday afternoon and indeed there were a number of 49er fans, some of them wearing the jerseys of Michael Crabtree, Vernon Davis, Patrick Willis, and others. Most of them were Hispanic, and one was a border guard who told us about his work. Unfortunately, San Francisco lost that football game, but it was fun sharing the experience with my El Paso brethren.
As we were preparing to leave our barrio campground, Nancy had a conversation with the lady manager and learned that during the construction of the border fence, there was gunfire from the Mexican side, and some of the El Paso buildings still bear the scars. And that many of the border shops and businesses in Mexico had shut down, because they either paid protection money to the cartel or were forced out. And that there were eight murders in Juarez this past weekend. Sounds to me as lawless and dangerous as Somalia.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Fredericksburg, TX
Fredericksburg, Texas, not far from San Antonio and Austin, is a town settled in the 1800's by German immigrants. We saw brochures indicating that it is a prominent Texas wine area and has other attractions, and we decided to stop there on our way west.
We found a very charming tourist town. Lots of pretty buildings, many of them very old and made of light-colored locally quarried stone. A variety of interesting shops along the main drag, including wine tasting rooms. And most importantly, one of the finest museums I've ever visited - the National Museum of the Pacific War.
This is a large complex that includes the Admiral Nimitz museum (Chester Nimitz grew up in Fredericksburg and as Commander in Chief of the US Pacific Fleet was the American signee of Japan's terms of surrender) and the George H. W. Bush Gallery (Daddy Bush was the pilot of a bomber shot down in the Pacific in WWII). It's easy to spend hours in the Bush Gallery, which consists of what seems to be a never ending series of irregular rooms, each telling a story about some aspect of the conflict. I learned a lot. For example, I wasn't aware of how militarily aggressive Japan was long before the war. Submarines, planes, boats, artillery pieces, and tanks from both sides, some of them heavily damaged, were displayed. If you're a World War II buff, Fredericksburg might be worth a special trip.
By coincidence, we were there on December 7, the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Some survivors of that attack were honored at a big ceremony on the grounds of the museum, which featured a flyover by vintage prop planes.
There are a number of wine tasting rooms along the main street. At one of them, D'Vine Wine, all the wines were somewhat sweeter than we're used to, and even though the grapes were from California, the wines were not of high quality. Our sommelier revealed that he had been taught how to make their wine in the back room, which I don't think is the way they do it in Bordeaux.
We popped into another tasting room down the street - one which featured a variety of the locally grown, locally bottled product. Unfortunately, what was poured - cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, or merlot - had nothing in common with the corresponding varietals we enjoy back home. And we're easy graders.
Surprisingly, the weather was bitter cold. Ice on the windshields. Well below freezing at night. We had the fireplace, which is really an electric space heater, running all night at full bore, supplemented by our gas furnace. Nancy is pleased, in a way, because this means that we won't be able to stay at any more Walmarts until the cold snap breaks, since we need a campground's electric service to stay warm. In fact, the internet told us that Albuquerque, New Mexico, which we had planned to visit next week, was running nightime temps in the low teens, with heavy snow, and we may have to reconsider our route.
But the local people were great. At a grocery store the employees were so incredibly friendly that as we were walking out, I whispered to Nancy that we were going to have to re-evaluate our low opinion of Texans. A lady just ahead of us started laughing. I was mortified.
We found a very charming tourist town. Lots of pretty buildings, many of them very old and made of light-colored locally quarried stone. A variety of interesting shops along the main drag, including wine tasting rooms. And most importantly, one of the finest museums I've ever visited - the National Museum of the Pacific War.
This is a large complex that includes the Admiral Nimitz museum (Chester Nimitz grew up in Fredericksburg and as Commander in Chief of the US Pacific Fleet was the American signee of Japan's terms of surrender) and the George H. W. Bush Gallery (Daddy Bush was the pilot of a bomber shot down in the Pacific in WWII). It's easy to spend hours in the Bush Gallery, which consists of what seems to be a never ending series of irregular rooms, each telling a story about some aspect of the conflict. I learned a lot. For example, I wasn't aware of how militarily aggressive Japan was long before the war. Submarines, planes, boats, artillery pieces, and tanks from both sides, some of them heavily damaged, were displayed. If you're a World War II buff, Fredericksburg might be worth a special trip.
By coincidence, we were there on December 7, the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Some survivors of that attack were honored at a big ceremony on the grounds of the museum, which featured a flyover by vintage prop planes.
There are a number of wine tasting rooms along the main street. At one of them, D'Vine Wine, all the wines were somewhat sweeter than we're used to, and even though the grapes were from California, the wines were not of high quality. Our sommelier revealed that he had been taught how to make their wine in the back room, which I don't think is the way they do it in Bordeaux.
We popped into another tasting room down the street - one which featured a variety of the locally grown, locally bottled product. Unfortunately, what was poured - cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, or merlot - had nothing in common with the corresponding varietals we enjoy back home. And we're easy graders.
Surprisingly, the weather was bitter cold. Ice on the windshields. Well below freezing at night. We had the fireplace, which is really an electric space heater, running all night at full bore, supplemented by our gas furnace. Nancy is pleased, in a way, because this means that we won't be able to stay at any more Walmarts until the cold snap breaks, since we need a campground's electric service to stay warm. In fact, the internet told us that Albuquerque, New Mexico, which we had planned to visit next week, was running nightime temps in the low teens, with heavy snow, and we may have to reconsider our route.
But the local people were great. At a grocery store the employees were so incredibly friendly that as we were walking out, I whispered to Nancy that we were going to have to re-evaluate our low opinion of Texans. A lady just ahead of us started laughing. I was mortified.
Monday, December 5, 2011
San Antonio and Austin
We thought of Texas as mostly a lot of miles to get across, except for two cities - San Antonio and Austin.
I remembered the San Antonio River Walk fondly from a business trip many years ago. Created back in the 1920's as part of a flood control program, it consists of walkways along the banks of the San Antonio river, running one level below the streets of downtown San Antonio. You walk alongside the water, no barriers to prevent an impaired celebrant from falling in, and mostly what you see is one pretty restaurant after another. No fast food, no T-shirt shops, no gee-gaw stores, just mid to upper class restaurants, hotels, and bars. The river - which here is really a canal dug for commercial purposes - winds back and forth in a picturesque way, and it's exhilarating to stroll along, taking in the sights and sounds at night. When we were there, some of the trees had been wrapped with Christmas lights, and it was all pretty spectacular. One night we ate at Salt Grass Steak House, another at a Tex-Mex place. Lots of charm.
During the day we took the dogs along on a part of the River Walk that was fairly new and hadn't been commercially developed yet. We talked with a cop on a bicycle who told us that his primary duty was to keep homeless people from sleeping and congregating on the walk.
On our last morning in San Antonio we toured their other big tourist attraction, the Alamo, and learned its history. San Antonio is a nice town, and only about 80 miles from Austin, the state capitol, which was next on our list.
We'd heard a lot of nice things about Austin. Our campground, within the city limits, was McKinney Falls State Park. It rained off and on both on the way there and during our stay. We dropped into a tourist office downtown and asked about the drought we had read about. The lady said that this rain, and some last week, was the first they had gotten in almost a year. They had thirty days straight of over 100 degree heat this summer and were still experiencing rolling blackouts.
She told us that they would be lighting the state Christmas tree the next evening. I asked if the governor would be there. When Nancy made some disparaging remark about Governor Perry, the lady said that there were bumper stickers quoting Molly Ivans, saying, "I TOLD you not to elect a Texan president!" As we were leaving, the black employee holding the door for us told us that a local columnist had said that Rick Perry and Ron Paul would make us miss George W. Bush.
I'm just reporting the conversations, folks, not making a political statement.
Austin is an impressive city, with a few magnificent skyscrapers, but a downtown that's easily and pleasantly walkable. Sixth Street, only a few blocks from the capitol building, has a bunch of nice restaurants and bars with live music - and Austin has an incredible amount of high-quality music. It reminds you of Bourbon Street, but without the girlie shows. We had a lovely dinner at a fine old hotel, the Driskill, and observed the local population. It's a city with a lot of well dressed young people and appeared to me to be number one among the places we've visited in the attractiveness of its citizens, for those of you keeping score. The womenfolk are particularly well turned out.
We visited the Lyndon Johnson Presidential Library, which is beautifully done, and came away with an appreciation of what an outstanding president he was, in many ways. The quantity of important legislation under his watch was unprecedented. Of course his escalation of the Vietnam War made him unpopular and hurt his legacy.
Austin was the birthplace of Whole Foods, and we shopped at their flagship store, which may be the greatest grocery store we've ever seen, though not the cheapest. For lunch one day we went to the Trailer Park, which is a semi-permanent collection of food trailers. Nancy said that the shrimp taco may have been her favorite Mexican meal of all time.
The weather didn't allow us to explore Austin as much as we would have liked, but Lord knows they need the rain. Another reason not to complain is that we heard about the high winds and power outages back in the Santa Cruz area at the same time. Our overall impression was that Austin would be a great place to live, but not in the summer.
I remembered the San Antonio River Walk fondly from a business trip many years ago. Created back in the 1920's as part of a flood control program, it consists of walkways along the banks of the San Antonio river, running one level below the streets of downtown San Antonio. You walk alongside the water, no barriers to prevent an impaired celebrant from falling in, and mostly what you see is one pretty restaurant after another. No fast food, no T-shirt shops, no gee-gaw stores, just mid to upper class restaurants, hotels, and bars. The river - which here is really a canal dug for commercial purposes - winds back and forth in a picturesque way, and it's exhilarating to stroll along, taking in the sights and sounds at night. When we were there, some of the trees had been wrapped with Christmas lights, and it was all pretty spectacular. One night we ate at Salt Grass Steak House, another at a Tex-Mex place. Lots of charm.
During the day we took the dogs along on a part of the River Walk that was fairly new and hadn't been commercially developed yet. We talked with a cop on a bicycle who told us that his primary duty was to keep homeless people from sleeping and congregating on the walk.
On our last morning in San Antonio we toured their other big tourist attraction, the Alamo, and learned its history. San Antonio is a nice town, and only about 80 miles from Austin, the state capitol, which was next on our list.
We'd heard a lot of nice things about Austin. Our campground, within the city limits, was McKinney Falls State Park. It rained off and on both on the way there and during our stay. We dropped into a tourist office downtown and asked about the drought we had read about. The lady said that this rain, and some last week, was the first they had gotten in almost a year. They had thirty days straight of over 100 degree heat this summer and were still experiencing rolling blackouts.
She told us that they would be lighting the state Christmas tree the next evening. I asked if the governor would be there. When Nancy made some disparaging remark about Governor Perry, the lady said that there were bumper stickers quoting Molly Ivans, saying, "I TOLD you not to elect a Texan president!" As we were leaving, the black employee holding the door for us told us that a local columnist had said that Rick Perry and Ron Paul would make us miss George W. Bush.
I'm just reporting the conversations, folks, not making a political statement.
Austin is an impressive city, with a few magnificent skyscrapers, but a downtown that's easily and pleasantly walkable. Sixth Street, only a few blocks from the capitol building, has a bunch of nice restaurants and bars with live music - and Austin has an incredible amount of high-quality music. It reminds you of Bourbon Street, but without the girlie shows. We had a lovely dinner at a fine old hotel, the Driskill, and observed the local population. It's a city with a lot of well dressed young people and appeared to me to be number one among the places we've visited in the attractiveness of its citizens, for those of you keeping score. The womenfolk are particularly well turned out.
We visited the Lyndon Johnson Presidential Library, which is beautifully done, and came away with an appreciation of what an outstanding president he was, in many ways. The quantity of important legislation under his watch was unprecedented. Of course his escalation of the Vietnam War made him unpopular and hurt his legacy.
Austin was the birthplace of Whole Foods, and we shopped at their flagship store, which may be the greatest grocery store we've ever seen, though not the cheapest. For lunch one day we went to the Trailer Park, which is a semi-permanent collection of food trailers. Nancy said that the shrimp taco may have been her favorite Mexican meal of all time.
The weather didn't allow us to explore Austin as much as we would have liked, but Lord knows they need the rain. Another reason not to complain is that we heard about the high winds and power outages back in the Santa Cruz area at the same time. Our overall impression was that Austin would be a great place to live, but not in the summer.
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