tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689104055168978132024-03-14T04:43:26.081-07:00A View from the PierSWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-30053485964730859582015-06-01T13:15:00.000-07:002015-06-01T13:51:51.613-07:00The passage of time and poison ivyHello Everybody. <br />
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I certainly have neglected this spot for the last few years...</div>
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It's a cliche to say that life gets in the way...but I honestly think that I let the last three-plus years get by me in a whirl of events, mostly happy and some sad.</div>
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There have been changes in my immediate family, including a wedding, and most recently, a new grandson. His name is Roy Christopher, and we are thrilled to welcome him into our fold.</div>
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Sadly, there have been some funerals. I've lost family and friends since I last wrote. All of these special people were way too young to leave me.</div>
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Time marches on...spring is coming to an end and summer 2015 is nearly here. </div>
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Last weekend John and I spent our first overnight on Cinnamon Girl. Yay!</div>
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While I was walking the other morning along a local road, I spotted a tree that was covered in poison ivy. This is the least welcome sign of summer.</div>
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I've learned to identify the weed ... Three leaves on one stem. It's everywhere. Campers, highway crews, kids chasing baseballs into the weeds, gardeners-all are at risk for an encounter with Toxicodendron radicans.</div>
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When I was little and spending every summer at the cottage in Luna Pier, I always got at least one case of poison ivy. Just touching it brought on the familiar red rash that worsened with every scratch. One year I had such a bad case that it ended up all around my eyes and they swelled shut. I was warned not to scratch because scratching it caused it to spread. </div>
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Mom put all kinds of ointments on it but none of them seemed to work. I was miserable. </div>
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Not everyone in the family got the rash. I think about one half of us were susceptible. Brother Pete used to grab a whole bunch off a tree and rub it all over his arms, just to show how tough he was. Apparently about 15% of the population is insensitive to it and will never develop a reaction. Go figure.</div>
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I've taken up the sport of golf...been enjoying spending time outside on beautiful greens...however I will be looking for poison ivy any time I hit a ball in the wrong direction and have to go hunting.</div>
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See you soon.</div>
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SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-15856172568367329062011-12-21T14:39:00.000-08:002011-12-22T17:43:44.248-08:00Christmas MemoriesI baked Christmas cookies today. <div>First, my specialty: Candy Cane cookies. I have made these yummy treats for over thirty five years. They are a huge hit, delicious and buttery, with a peppermint flavor.</div><div>Next, I made some shortbread cookies with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dragees</span>, and mixed the dough for rich roll cookies. I'll cut them out tomorrow and decorate them with some help from John and Jay. (I hope.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I love this time of year and the build up to Christmas, Being in the kitchen today brought back so many memories of my childhood and growing up in the big house on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Scottwood</span> Avenue.</div><div><br /></div><div>We decorated three Christmas trees in those days. The main tree was enormous and was placed in the living room, in a spot where it could be seen all the way from the library across the entrance into the living room. It also could be seen from the large dining room. Dad loved the idea that the tree was visible all through these rooms. </div><div><br /></div><div>The second tree was smaller and prominently displayed in the huge bay window on the second floor, facing the street. The third and smallest tree was in a third floor window directly above the second floor tree. The effect was lovely because those two trees could be seen from the street.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dad would pile us in the car one evening after he came home from work, and we would all help choose the trees. Purchased from the local nursery, they sat on the back porch until Christmas Eve. Then, and only then, were they decorated. </div><div><br /></div><div> I loved the beat up old boxes filled with various ornaments that made their appearance once a year. We kids squealed with excitement as we unwrapped these treasures and decked the halls, all the while arguing about whose ornament it was or where it came from and how. This project took the whole day and during this time, Christmas music played on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">HiFi</span>. We had a collection of records by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Trapp</span> Family, a very slow and romantic album by Jackie Gleason, a few Ray <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Conniff</span> and the Ray <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Conniff</span> Singers, and lots of choir music. But mostly I remember Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians' rendition of "Twas the Night Before Christmas". Sweet and mellow, it was sung almost like a lullaby, the perfect listen after a bath to make young children sleepy. That group also did a wonderfully fun arrangement of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer", complete with sound effects. I'll never forget it, I still smile when I think of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>We were packed off to bed as early as our parents could get us all fed and bathed, being scolded all the way to be good because Santa Claus was coming to town.</div><div>I remember being so excited, I couldn't sleep and waiting until Mom and Dad had gone to bed, then tiptoeing down the steps to try and catch Santa in the act of coming down the chimney. Alas, I missed him, the gifts were already under the tree sitting silently waiting to be received with joy. I loved that the whole house was so dark and quiet, it calmed me, and when I crawled back into my bed, I fell at once into a nice, dreamy sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>We arose early, as children always do, especially when they are excited. The five youngest of us would gather in the upstairs hall, near the big bay window, next to the tree and argue with one another about whom of us should go in and awaken our parents. This assignment usually fell to Chris, don't know why, but he did it. They cheerfully came out in their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">PJs</span> and we'd all go down to see the living room filled with dolls, stuffed animals, trucks, toy army tanks, football helmets, hockey sticks and boxes wrapped in silver, red and gold containing new sweaters, scarves and mittens. At long last it was Christmas morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>My older brothers and sisters usually appeared a few minutes after we went to open our gifts. We were instructed to wait until they came down. Being teenagers and college students, they had been out late on Christmas Eve, seeing friends home from college and attending midnight Mass. We waited for everyone at gather and then the fun began. One Christmas all I wanted was a "bride doll", i.e. a doll dressed up in a big white dress and veil. Santa granted my wish. There she stood under the tree. All beautiful, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">blond</span> and covered in lace even with little white high heels. I was over the moon. Christmas was the best day ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>After we opened our gifts, we went to Christmas Mass, followed by a big breakfast of pancakes and bacon. The rest of the day was spent playing with our new things and eating candy. Our parents were busy preparing Christmas dinner and too occupied to notice that we were stuffing ourselves with junk. How fun is that? When we sat down to a big feast of turkey and all the trimmings, I was always seated at the kids table-not so bad because no one noticed that all I ate was a bite of turkey and two rolls. No cranberry sauce, no potatoes, no green beans, and no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">brussels</span> sprout. The only day of the year I wasn't told to "clean my plate".</div><div><br /></div><div>When I was around the age of ten, Mom decided that we would start a gift exchange system called "Secret Pals". At Thanksgiving we threw each of our names into a hat and we each drew a name. That person became our "Secret Pal", meaning that we had to buy that family member a secret gift costing no more than $10.00 and no less than $5.00. Also we were not allowed to divulge the name of our "secret pal" until Christmas. I remember very clearly how excited I was with the whole mystery of it all. On Christmas day, before dinner, we would gather near the tree and, starting with the eldest, go around the room, each revealing who their pal was and presenting that person with a gift. It was great fun, and added an extra moment of warmth and togetherness to our family. That first year, my secret pal was my sister Mary, who gave me a tan leather shoulder bag and a pair of red and white striped knit gloves. I loved them and felt that they were just so very grown up and chic. </div><div><br /></div><div> My parents made Christmas fun and festive but they always reminded us of the reason for the season. The Holy Family played a very important part in our celebration. I remember observing Advent, my brothers singing in the Chancel Choir, my brothers serving Christmas Mass, midnight Mass, the beautiful Creche at our parish, the Christmas pageant at Cathedral school. (I played the Blessed Virgin one year-eighth grade I think.) Often on Christmas day, Dad would drive us around to other churches to see their Creches.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will be reminded again this Sunday of Christmas in Ohio and of the good times we had. I have tangible reminders too. Several years ago after our parents had passed away, my siblings and I met one lovely fall weekend and divided up what was left of our parents belongings. There were lamps, pieces of silver and dishes, some furniture and various <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">knick</span>-knacks. Somehow I ended up coming home with my mother's set of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Spode</span> china in the Romney pattern. It is beautiful and old fashioned, with lots of red tones and rich colors. Perfect for Christmas. I set my table with it every year and love using it because it makes me feel that my parents are near. I have one more reminder. That same day I took the family Creche which was purchased in Italy by Mom and Dad in 1950. As I write this, I am looking at it across the room. The figures are chipped here and there, but all the pieces are still in tact, even the donkey with his skinny little legs. It is old, elegant and I treasure it. These items give extra meaning to me on Christmas and I am thrilled to own them.</div><div><br /></div><div> Merry Christmas everybody.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-81548525347738180422011-10-27T11:07:00.000-07:002011-10-27T11:57:06.889-07:00The Prize!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZ7pY2ogr3y9MlVIP8pfj0KF61ht2uGtEkt2wYZXXPzHG_KVgJSJ-JQbaZBAiNR-l3wfSaT2f0nX70TeHwMNxh4fErCDbTe7p1utWgcuaxifPEKN1LfQubashFBUpTEfUliPfshvFLw/s1600/IMG_0118.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZ7pY2ogr3y9MlVIP8pfj0KF61ht2uGtEkt2wYZXXPzHG_KVgJSJ-JQbaZBAiNR-l3wfSaT2f0nX70TeHwMNxh4fErCDbTe7p1utWgcuaxifPEKN1LfQubashFBUpTEfUliPfshvFLw/s200/IMG_0118.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668247324371373250" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CLfyXHWSRK-GF9my6kFeNmwRkLNLfowVWyC7mLdP8RINtr0HhFYJ2Rcur_8yNLjhC9EWDzybV90iWl-WMZYgmwveSoF7XVXaCaKXodFymTInWvCrY1L5zZBqKhZp09Kzo3dfRgA5Ug/s1600/IMG_0082.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CLfyXHWSRK-GF9my6kFeNmwRkLNLfowVWyC7mLdP8RINtr0HhFYJ2Rcur_8yNLjhC9EWDzybV90iWl-WMZYgmwveSoF7XVXaCaKXodFymTInWvCrY1L5zZBqKhZp09Kzo3dfRgA5Ug/s200/IMG_0082.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668247047965055970" /></a><br />Sadly, after the trip on the steam engine in Colorado, we knew we had to get back to reality, so we began to head east.<div><br /></div><div>It had been a wonderful trip, filled with fun adventure and new discoveries beyond our expectations. The trip home would be long, 2150 miles to be exact; we made plans to make it back home in four days, taking us from Colorado to Texas to Missouri to Ohio and finally Connecticut.</div><div><br /></div><div>So off we drove through the mountains to the plains of the dry state of Oklahoma. We had stopped in Weatherford, OK on the way out and knew we would pass through it again that first day of our trip back. We stopped for gas and to have a yummy lunch at Lucille's Roadhouse, where the locals eat. It was crowded with men in cowboy hats and oil service workers enjoying burgers and fried chicken, all served with a smile and a "How y'all doin' today?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Just as we were getting back into the car, I spotted a shop next door called "Boot-tique". I told </div><div>John I just wanted to check and see if they had the elusive cowboy boots I had been looking for at every stop along the way for over four weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well let me tell you, I was in luck. Lo and behold, there they were! A beautiful pair of size 7 boots with my name on them. A lovely shade of tan with stitching in a perfect shade of turquoise. I tried them on and they fit to a tee. Comfy and ready to live in Connecticut. </div><div><br /></div><div>So back in the car with my new boots, we continued on our way, happy and grateful to have been able to take such a trip. 7,200 miles together in the Edge.</div><div><br /></div><div>And guess what? We're still happily married.</div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-18376327738977934822011-10-19T09:21:00.000-07:002011-10-19T12:01:21.682-07:00Look Up: Zion National Park<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDO780HGkMCATttAX1LRA92g-hPGyzEvP-aGSCz8M0zjE7f3e_4wVMGQQlWs53uUUdP8lgCugqjjlc7RaTDzv9Nb0uNL1jHQArchPpHfl9mDIgK9jl1EC7VUgNe2zYBnKgzT_L39hhw/s1600/DSCN0738.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDO780HGkMCATttAX1LRA92g-hPGyzEvP-aGSCz8M0zjE7f3e_4wVMGQQlWs53uUUdP8lgCugqjjlc7RaTDzv9Nb0uNL1jHQArchPpHfl9mDIgK9jl1EC7VUgNe2zYBnKgzT_L39hhw/s200/DSCN0738.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665275744642695922" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHP7BgvBe3VaQKj1G-BA9w1vg9j5AJDEkoiIiXXYmKrMd8ae91V-nGqc2F3yOWBsv6goLQgZJgUce-B09MWVCZTyS46joapjhctyOkJ_mdjE5dn5Dhyphenhyphenz9mTSK0KBCtBmejqlrTd8uWQ/s1600/DSCN0731.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHP7BgvBe3VaQKj1G-BA9w1vg9j5AJDEkoiIiXXYmKrMd8ae91V-nGqc2F3yOWBsv6goLQgZJgUce-B09MWVCZTyS46joapjhctyOkJ_mdjE5dn5Dhyphenhyphenz9mTSK0KBCtBmejqlrTd8uWQ/s200/DSCN0731.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665274570307579778" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a5xlA8bVh2XPdQ5-jdJkN4Vp6uVZLfIUN8hD89XciY2rptPUX2IZFy4Y9SmqtqqQ_H90bdromUxIxfIyPSaam5T2YY9cq9B-ck5wxOtmAF99QcMTr4ssNtWwDKrM8Y4vcDV9rTZsOg/s1600/DSCN0733.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a5xlA8bVh2XPdQ5-jdJkN4Vp6uVZLfIUN8hD89XciY2rptPUX2IZFy4Y9SmqtqqQ_H90bdromUxIxfIyPSaam5T2YY9cq9B-ck5wxOtmAF99QcMTr4ssNtWwDKrM8Y4vcDV9rTZsOg/s200/DSCN0733.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665260733928934498" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeEvBagaMS9WOFyV2-prH-JYV2tdklPhcyytZGGA7pTdVwkJpPEKGEtNW62RhRQ4vsn9c9xJtA5cmEwgFYkfN0BvvedZPmM11y-0FFawGP48wo2645XCWSe0hM20n7CUcc3TGz6tn0w/s1600/DSCN0737.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeEvBagaMS9WOFyV2-prH-JYV2tdklPhcyytZGGA7pTdVwkJpPEKGEtNW62RhRQ4vsn9c9xJtA5cmEwgFYkfN0BvvedZPmM11y-0FFawGP48wo2645XCWSe0hM20n7CUcc3TGz6tn0w/s200/DSCN0737.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665246823873945474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtrOlLhgraKUzdXHRPJ83ysi1jbG34crZUIMAD5ptMvLsWMGGHnaUTniLtysbkCKsYsEtROYvHRQY7lF0MVx7Mhk_B22sESDNIoT_5jEzJbQXaezKw8sHuUhAVJt2Sg4SHkyS4CVstw/s1600/DSCN0729.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtrOlLhgraKUzdXHRPJ83ysi1jbG34crZUIMAD5ptMvLsWMGGHnaUTniLtysbkCKsYsEtROYvHRQY7lF0MVx7Mhk_B22sESDNIoT_5jEzJbQXaezKw8sHuUhAVJt2Sg4SHkyS4CVstw/s200/DSCN0729.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665245740393441522" /></a><br />The way Zion NP and Bryce NP are described is "Look Up, Look Down". Simply said, it's an apt description for at Zion you are in a valley looking up at wonderful rock formations while at Bryce you're on top of a mesa looking down. Truly vertical experiences. Of course you can hike either up (Zion) or down (Bryce) which we did.<div><br /></div><div>Zion Canyon has a human history as early as 500 AD but human civilization disappeared around 1300 AD, likely as a result of flooding of the Virgin River. Standing at the base of 2,000 feet of shear rock in the Virgin River Canyon you can understand why humans were attracted here. Nineteenth Century settlers were so awed that they turned to the Bible to find names for formations like The Three Patriarchs (Abraham, Jacob and Isaac). It's not the height of the walls that soar above the canyon but the character of the sandstone domes, fins and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blocky</span> massifs that capture your senses. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hiking only enhances the enjoyment. We took the Virgin River <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Narrows</span> Trail as far as we could. The trail ends when the canyon narrows to about a five</div><div>foot width which requires further exploration by wading in the river, not allowed when we visited due to a heavy rain which made further progress very dangerous. We passed on the most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rigorous</span> hike, a 4 hour climb to Angel's Landing. Instead, we trekked to Emerald Pools and were rewarded with a lovely waterfall view. A nice level walk from the The Grotto to Zion Lodge got us hungry for lunch, A brief uphill trek to Weeping Rock concluded our Zion hikes.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the pleasures of Zion is that auto traffic is banned in most of the Park in season and the Park Service runs an excellent shuttle service with drivers who double as tour guides. Each stop from the Visitor's Center to the end of the road at the Temple of Sinawava offers different perspectives on the sandstone formations. As with all the Parks, it's all about the time of day and the light on the formations that make up the experience. Plus, there is so much to see that it's easy to develop Stendahl Syndrome! For instance, just outside our hotel window was a huge formation aptly called The Watchman. We enjoyed seeing it at first light and as dusk spread through the Valley. It was a different looking formation each time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our next stop was Bryce. <i>Look Down!</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-84962890935888956672011-10-18T13:47:00.000-07:002011-10-25T12:19:32.797-07:00Choo Choo!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGutL6jxqF2ZqTt2xLGdagMVA629E90vIlyifZAanbaL93L898rvzlqzp788MxkLfpSlkvsXDcvO7TnuyWPVE_uHcZ1vrRLFzouFYcyPL7MoGcfCGibdv7gv0SVOoysvgS-_-PYuttw/s1600/DSCN0836.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGutL6jxqF2ZqTt2xLGdagMVA629E90vIlyifZAanbaL93L898rvzlqzp788MxkLfpSlkvsXDcvO7TnuyWPVE_uHcZ1vrRLFzouFYcyPL7MoGcfCGibdv7gv0SVOoysvgS-_-PYuttw/s200/DSCN0836.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664941006933089714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RCp975f6SFkYLMfyIcBNcR1LdgJCMtq_nE7l_utMN3R7vm57LJtt-_7ldfqUJsl5Nx84tVnaCyIrhvepc7qITDx_WkqQGZ-ThHrqkJPbgdihB6mh_Y98eg2P3XN1sSkDWD84FtXccA/s1600/DSCN0829.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RCp975f6SFkYLMfyIcBNcR1LdgJCMtq_nE7l_utMN3R7vm57LJtt-_7ldfqUJsl5Nx84tVnaCyIrhvepc7qITDx_WkqQGZ-ThHrqkJPbgdihB6mh_Y98eg2P3XN1sSkDWD84FtXccA/s200/DSCN0829.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664940775497911682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOygKmN31wwLAxzOrOzu0UBbpSmxl8SddnxQXeucFp2vsmnOQRr54491y6s0QkYBzo_zw_axjhXMIAEuNtDwPgsHSy-BymWVZnNZm_UJEod_KaS3AHGA-VOI2W-kq4Rl103tBvJd8mA/s1600/DSCN0828.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOygKmN31wwLAxzOrOzu0UBbpSmxl8SddnxQXeucFp2vsmnOQRr54491y6s0QkYBzo_zw_axjhXMIAEuNtDwPgsHSy-BymWVZnNZm_UJEod_KaS3AHGA-VOI2W-kq4Rl103tBvJd8mA/s200/DSCN0828.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664940344034017010" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJJ4tCau-CV_eMF0ODPzRVjPsbUCZ7XN6nq1TmzPsswJ_dhfJq2iCWI4ojtIcCY-b6ygu6ixzC0L_KxjU-zk_2KzgRpOP3J5WBCszU7gXWUAPg0x-BG3FgctCUtBDbPdHRTXcXmb7kw/s1600/DSCN0814.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJJ4tCau-CV_eMF0ODPzRVjPsbUCZ7XN6nq1TmzPsswJ_dhfJq2iCWI4ojtIcCY-b6ygu6ixzC0L_KxjU-zk_2KzgRpOP3J5WBCszU7gXWUAPg0x-BG3FgctCUtBDbPdHRTXcXmb7kw/s200/DSCN0814.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664939924459276562" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2nZ_Y4qbGhDlW1897FTvOfEO_IK6ddYfWrK6G3KGVLgg2w0CcqsjzuzBJ6MSFdlvtlPvhn3SuS2RuhguewdfrNcPwfxiYX15JNy4R7TRgKwcNn8qdKNs_p0dQZMw1jXURsKAQE5yeA/s1600/DSCN0812.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2nZ_Y4qbGhDlW1897FTvOfEO_IK6ddYfWrK6G3KGVLgg2w0CcqsjzuzBJ6MSFdlvtlPvhn3SuS2RuhguewdfrNcPwfxiYX15JNy4R7TRgKwcNn8qdKNs_p0dQZMw1jXURsKAQE5yeA/s200/DSCN0812.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664939528346814610" /></a><br />Oh boy, a bucket list trip for certain! This has been on my radar screen for many many years. My Dad (a rail fan who would actually wear his engineers hat around the house) and I had aspirations of this trip for years. Until now, only my sister Janet and her family had made the trip when her children were younger as part of camping vacation. Her raves came echoing back as I contemplated being less than a four hour drive from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Durango</span>, CO. How could I pass it up? Sarah was all for it so off we went from John Ford Country.<div><br /></div><div>We made hotel and train reservations on the way and when we arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Durango</span> we were rewarded with the sweet lonesome sound of a steam engine whistle. Nothing else like it. I hurried down to the station which was only two blocks away and quickly found myself wandering the train yards and roundhouse. This all took me back to my youth, visiting my grandparents in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Shamokin</span>, PA. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pennsy's</span> main line to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Williamsport</span> ran through town and the trains were loaded with ore headed for the Bethlehem Steel plant. The line had tough grades and curves and only steam engines could handle the heavy ore trains. What a kids delight, two huge engines at the front of the train, two in the middle and two pushers at the rear. The engineers communicated by train whistles in that age before electronic communication. I would hear the whistles as the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">trains</span> rounded into town and rush from my grandparents house to the nearest crossing, standing in awe as these six monster engines huffed past me, blowing steam from their relief valves and the six engineers playing tunes on their steam whistles. What a sight, what a sound!</div><div><br /></div><div>The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Durango</span> & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Silverton</span> is a narrow gauge railway built to serve the mining boom in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Silverton</span>, CO in the 1880's and makes the 45 mile trip from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Durango</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Silverton</span> by following the Animus River. One section of the railroad, The High Line, runs over 300 feet above the Animus River on a narrow shelf that was blasted out of the mountain side to make room for the rails. It's quite a sight to be literally looking straight down into the gorge from your seat on the train. A bit scary too!</div><div><br /></div><div>The train stops twice to refill the tender with water. It takes a lot of steam to make it up the 2.5% grade to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Silverton</span>. Each of these stops is a photo-op for the rail fan.</div><div><br /></div><div>We looked for elk, bears and other wild life along the way. Mule deer grazed along the tracks, oblivious to the noise of the train.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a scenic 3 hour ride through the Animus Valley, mountain gorges and along the Animus River bed we made it to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Silverton</span>, a shadow of the once bustling mining town that was served by four rail roads. We lunched at the Bent Elbow and shopped for hand crafted Indian jewelry on Main Street with Sarah scoring a sterling silver bracelet inlaid with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">turquoise and </span>jasper (the great boot hunt was again unsuccessful).</div><div><br /></div><div>On the return trip I was able to shoot several IPhone video clips including one catching the train whistle which were promptly sent to our grandkids, Jasper and Magnolia.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we packed the car to start the return East I reflected on the many years that this train trip had been subliminally in my mind. I thought, <i>Dad, you would have loved it</i>!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-38865568455363147802011-10-17T08:38:00.000-07:002011-10-23T08:07:53.817-07:00John Ford Country<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4d7LjJNdumQTFuyIAM8ENKWVL9gPGxRUXWyC0rmYtP3pAtickgXJ9EPRDrOoxAWbf84W9cjZYmWO85W4YOMZmuot2s7GoQ5q5kac634A-viv0Q7yZQSsViF-6wkkrgBZoTUZW7600g/s1600/DSCN0810.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4d7LjJNdumQTFuyIAM8ENKWVL9gPGxRUXWyC0rmYtP3pAtickgXJ9EPRDrOoxAWbf84W9cjZYmWO85W4YOMZmuot2s7GoQ5q5kac634A-viv0Q7yZQSsViF-6wkkrgBZoTUZW7600g/s200/DSCN0810.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664503776007900290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOAgWU2sgkHbAdOVgdmIEXCNcfH7FwFwFX1BuleaZlowkPeEFdNDD6kPSUkNf0NCv_eLmEj59BPb8tx2eSnTksK0FHZQLo1PpFFHL8REzv0dQ_S9aYSVqpmKCleCZiGv6oRWTZS_81g/s1600/DSCN0808.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOAgWU2sgkHbAdOVgdmIEXCNcfH7FwFwFX1BuleaZlowkPeEFdNDD6kPSUkNf0NCv_eLmEj59BPb8tx2eSnTksK0FHZQLo1PpFFHL8REzv0dQ_S9aYSVqpmKCleCZiGv6oRWTZS_81g/s200/DSCN0808.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664503443705106434" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWf2m4_kXgh8d_uuRuv87zkcIdZJlJEPo9gxhfAzAh3aRjX90Wr7P5vjMJBzCtCIiua5Bw1eBgT9fv5UEg2vnYdG-OXiKtJUarzoSTitLw9lXX1dBfeWAk9n-025wBXGlcJmNniuLVQ/s1600/DSCN0807.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWf2m4_kXgh8d_uuRuv87zkcIdZJlJEPo9gxhfAzAh3aRjX90Wr7P5vjMJBzCtCIiua5Bw1eBgT9fv5UEg2vnYdG-OXiKtJUarzoSTitLw9lXX1dBfeWAk9n-025wBXGlcJmNniuLVQ/s200/DSCN0807.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664503226469682210" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9HkmkcEmgpfva4K2p1kfNIVK9kifKr0Qzh-XAlT3jcMKErq_2PISeB-8d48Y20J86XRT31UZ9tHBd46Vj9UaQAKfolzkHY7yrUfMamSNm3DOdkp6BkWyApjjg8l7ZxYYD_2qhbeY2w/s1600/DSCN0804.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9HkmkcEmgpfva4K2p1kfNIVK9kifKr0Qzh-XAlT3jcMKErq_2PISeB-8d48Y20J86XRT31UZ9tHBd46Vj9UaQAKfolzkHY7yrUfMamSNm3DOdkp6BkWyApjjg8l7ZxYYD_2qhbeY2w/s200/DSCN0804.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664500183323656386" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisINC4ePb-_Qc75x33D9GQQFMAguCCEWuAYBLdJD3Dm4jqkTNSzemmDgkpfe8zNfECWtxqoq5bHfJFB6DYJprsrrsbh-cCIuDPiWENCM-51yIZRo6KW_ukbHubraRoC0zjxDq-38XtEQ/s1600/DSCN0803.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisINC4ePb-_Qc75x33D9GQQFMAguCCEWuAYBLdJD3Dm4jqkTNSzemmDgkpfe8zNfECWtxqoq5bHfJFB6DYJprsrrsbh-cCIuDPiWENCM-51yIZRo6KW_ukbHubraRoC0zjxDq-38XtEQ/s200/DSCN0803.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664499958443769442" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhTD1_j43gI-eO33MiTqFDZZIE7mtEWnxUixNCM274R9OPppxiLqZfub0Wfmzugw-DcAncN9SEUWlsPvR5y6oAhohr-w5cTkCWV88Kx0JBE2-lmnK0FV0-bdwVS9hBYz1QFBeQzi9Og/s1600/IMG_0092.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhTD1_j43gI-eO33MiTqFDZZIE7mtEWnxUixNCM274R9OPppxiLqZfub0Wfmzugw-DcAncN9SEUWlsPvR5y6oAhohr-w5cTkCWV88Kx0JBE2-lmnK0FV0-bdwVS9hBYz1QFBeQzi9Og/s200/IMG_0092.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664490345538136834" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicABfvyhjwMobzcnxy5oNOgCZQjCvE5FYm6F7swJe8nXeZwz6XfC1AnkYZ7haZyODF1Ka7z1YcdD42V3sI0IfjODD4c41DzVdx4RE0kYZ9p-w9zPUex1MTwTeG4J2-NjsbCXdnxscxuA/s1600/DSCN0806.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicABfvyhjwMobzcnxy5oNOgCZQjCvE5FYm6F7swJe8nXeZwz6XfC1AnkYZ7haZyODF1Ka7z1YcdD42V3sI0IfjODD4c41DzVdx4RE0kYZ9p-w9zPUex1MTwTeG4J2-NjsbCXdnxscxuA/s200/DSCN0806.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664488164697846450" /></a><br />We left Bryce Canyon early on a morning with low clouds scudding the 9,000 foot elevation. Our route to Monument Valley, another bucket list item, took us through the New Mexico and Arizona desert country. <div><br /></div><div>Fittingly, we stopped for breakfast at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Thunderbird</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Restaurant</span> in Mt. Carmel, UT. Maybe I was intrigued by the "Ho Made Pie's". <i>Really</i>?</div><div><br /></div><div>From there our route took us through the Grande Staircase - Escalante National Park. Yet another geologic wonderland featuring multi-hued cliffs, serpentine stone canyons and vast lonely plateau's. The Grand Staircase is composed of a series of cliffs (Vermillion, White and Pink) that from certain viewpoints strongly resemble a staircase. Major dinosaur fossils abound.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then over the Glen Canyon Dam on Lake Powell just over the New Mexico border where we made a mundane but necessary provisioning stop at a Wal-Mart for water and other minor purchases (Yes, a Wal-Mart in the middle of the Navajo Nation!). From Lake Powell to Kayenta, New Mexico, our base for the Monument Valley, we were in the Navajo Nation. The mesas gave way to desert intersperced with buttes.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Navajo Nation is largely a vast, undeveloped desert landscape without a single dwelling from horizon to horizon. Sarah had the AAA Indian Country map and she was an able navigator pointing out various buttes and rock formations that made this a scenic trip.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kayenta turned out to be a dusty, poor looking community of single and double-wide trailers with three motels catering to the Monument Valley tourist crowd. After checking in our motel we made a bee-line for the Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park with it's picturesque sandstone buttes and mesas that tower over the desert floor. A classic Indian County landscape, made famous by Hollywood filmmakers since the 1920's. Of course, some of my favorite films were shot on location here. John Ford was contacted by Harry Goulding and his wife "Mike" who had settled in the area in 1923 to set up a trading post to trade with the local Indians. The Gouldings suggested that Ford check out the landscape for western films and Ford fell in love with the scenery. He shot <i>Stagecoach</i> in the Valley in 1939 and over the years followed with several classics such as <i>Fort Apache</i>, <i>She Wore A Yellow Ribbon</i>, <i>My Darlin' Clementine</i> and the <i>The Searcher's</i>. More recent films include <i>Forrest Gump</i> and <i>Windtalkers</i>. I've always loved these western films and the landscape provided instant recognition. Sarah too as she grew up with brothers who watched Million Dollar Movie on TV in which all of Ford's films were featured.</div><div><br /></div><div>After touring the Goulding's original trading post and the Navajo exhibits we returned to our motel. As I was looking at the map I realized that we were within striking distance of another bucket list trip, a ride on the Durango & Silverton narrow gauge railroad in Durango, CO. <i>Woo Hoo!</i> We could get there via Four Corners (the only place in the U.S. where the boundries of four states intersect) and Shiprock, the butte in the middle of the desert that wagon train pioneers could see for several day's before they actually got there. Nothing like a quick course correction to keep us on our toes! That's the beauty of having your own transportation and control of your time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Four Corners turned out to be another opportunity for the Navajo's to charge an entrance fee (they wouldn't accept our National Parks pass) and set up booths selling native made items. After the obligatory shot of me standing with my feet in four states we made a few purchases to help the local economy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like the pioneers, we could see Shiprock from a long ways away. Unlike them, we couldn't find a way to actually get to it. We found out later that Shiprock is culturally significant to the Navajo people so they haven't let it be developed as a tourist site.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time I had a full head of steam in my boiler and we turned the Edge towards Colorado and the Durango & Silverton. We arrived as the early train was returning from Silverton and I giddily shot photos of the roundhouse and engines in the yard. Suddenly I was our grandsons age as the sound of the steam engine whistle echoed over Durango!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-29457818382665272112011-10-17T07:49:00.001-07:002011-10-18T13:28:46.115-07:00Vegas Baby!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23vcD569HP9B7_N7_BKM-OptN2irfMgOkyxu8op1xt6YHqndBOStlRPiMhuBV0hzgmI2myE-dQF2QN5z5ZgSKjY_eJJ05ltDhiCSG1xkRdHATAiBr4GAi_kvA6OaT88a5OwyDNT9zAg/s1600/DSCN0712.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23vcD569HP9B7_N7_BKM-OptN2irfMgOkyxu8op1xt6YHqndBOStlRPiMhuBV0hzgmI2myE-dQF2QN5z5ZgSKjY_eJJ05ltDhiCSG1xkRdHATAiBr4GAi_kvA6OaT88a5OwyDNT9zAg/s200/DSCN0712.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664551946352473970" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iG5ZHlGtJl6Tb-p2hjws266EGXSlIL5Z4b0xtxGuNRLViVts4CJQHqjCJ704nB9RIVAkGp1mPM0MIWqetAl6vEzPjfoqLhPn_DIMMnBgFuAc5cJ5vFoiO9_hRLgV9ajvh-K00emfww/s1600/DSCN0700.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iG5ZHlGtJl6Tb-p2hjws266EGXSlIL5Z4b0xtxGuNRLViVts4CJQHqjCJ704nB9RIVAkGp1mPM0MIWqetAl6vEzPjfoqLhPn_DIMMnBgFuAc5cJ5vFoiO9_hRLgV9ajvh-K00emfww/s200/DSCN0700.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664550899479923666" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwHdI2bByDbZaoIB5FpTxqKvoymgMJeiLbWzxwnvEiRpE1YWwi7N67PLgeOrZfheT0kQCJvFXzv0ADG9mNCawiDmmk4pRJ7u31LJPFUJ_uhaOXnDB6Nd1Jg7fc9isgTssdujn1eUXUw/s1600/DSCN0716.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwHdI2bByDbZaoIB5FpTxqKvoymgMJeiLbWzxwnvEiRpE1YWwi7N67PLgeOrZfheT0kQCJvFXzv0ADG9mNCawiDmmk4pRJ7u31LJPFUJ_uhaOXnDB6Nd1Jg7fc9isgTssdujn1eUXUw/s200/DSCN0716.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664550652238725586" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7-xTujFSMAIDrlAHICY6P-AyUx2xmMVmPZ5t0Ern8n3UxBbyiirvNDbY3WuYTGhCQ3LuLvR7An5JJkMgK-yksVtuPgo3QxinSUrSXp6lrm2CpFNXKegYyNWlYdz11QKiDsNJNpyQaQ/s1600/DSCN0727.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7-xTujFSMAIDrlAHICY6P-AyUx2xmMVmPZ5t0Ern8n3UxBbyiirvNDbY3WuYTGhCQ3LuLvR7An5JJkMgK-yksVtuPgo3QxinSUrSXp6lrm2CpFNXKegYyNWlYdz11QKiDsNJNpyQaQ/s200/DSCN0727.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664476302554498882" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQTKYVM7jxzZClftKND7wFp-try9BXhrwtqOhbmHGBOM-UP2XaG8yoJrvEzo29XnN51gOZkr77R2gPJWO4RSs1mxaI_NHPYgBXyQG83yVZrnYU5Ip9bopSdspveLnE5x60PqNUgM_fg/s1600/DSCN0722.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQTKYVM7jxzZClftKND7wFp-try9BXhrwtqOhbmHGBOM-UP2XaG8yoJrvEzo29XnN51gOZkr77R2gPJWO4RSs1mxaI_NHPYgBXyQG83yVZrnYU5Ip9bopSdspveLnE5x60PqNUgM_fg/s200/DSCN0722.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664476092632774978" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsGOX40kKTFrO9QJy92vtuJqOD71lH5plHs9ol_KtBF2Dbd3jIfNPPJ46GpfCjIc-1pDHhY7NiuUyDts9KMY5VJ8hh-gJ46taRu11xO3GrMIBkxn1U0GM-uRvbhn5H2VNYujW1rm0qg/s1600/DSCN0719.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsGOX40kKTFrO9QJy92vtuJqOD71lH5plHs9ol_KtBF2Dbd3jIfNPPJ46GpfCjIc-1pDHhY7NiuUyDts9KMY5VJ8hh-gJ46taRu11xO3GrMIBkxn1U0GM-uRvbhn5H2VNYujW1rm0qg/s200/DSCN0719.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664475813707838466" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUI2dAdnOnr3e48v_ovhTGy73a8uKtmIxBiZOc5EmC_1hhL5_06x_i_gPdh9xnDUIuZA-SVy1uV-t9nZd3WaJiuCsrq_Fxf5UWy-VvLsa_sjI64AB0UfGSIsadoddVt6kupY0hh3756A/s1600/DSCN0718.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUI2dAdnOnr3e48v_ovhTGy73a8uKtmIxBiZOc5EmC_1hhL5_06x_i_gPdh9xnDUIuZA-SVy1uV-t9nZd3WaJiuCsrq_Fxf5UWy-VvLsa_sjI64AB0UfGSIsadoddVt6kupY0hh3756A/s200/DSCN0718.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664475621366515330" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Rv0TcAwfFbX7EbfS1_zrG_k21Xe-66plD3PDQP_W67mOwJxLO73Xhz4Rns3TaN1qMZZAe1KN1yIrUiiFRLF2jBDTGWd4aOJFXtV2llU9SIg4epjDvoNvGG4BWSAmJqJDVCj1S5vZlA/s1600/DSCN0714.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Rv0TcAwfFbX7EbfS1_zrG_k21Xe-66plD3PDQP_W67mOwJxLO73Xhz4Rns3TaN1qMZZAe1KN1yIrUiiFRLF2jBDTGWd4aOJFXtV2llU9SIg4epjDvoNvGG4BWSAmJqJDVCj1S5vZlA/s200/DSCN0714.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664475420781901122" /></a>Is spotting a rainbow on your way into Vegas a sign of good fortune? We certainly hoped so!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_4r3fFUeliNMziOJSQ_vZQYsW6PliQO0oIto7wbmwQPFuAfG5e7jBulUSv2mzB-FErATOyiH45OSlH7kAwlQnyerrM0lIzKsXf6NNE6KGDpu6YGRpa2J3LX1S5_9RKdIP2OazwRqIg/s1600/DSCN0713.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_4r3fFUeliNMziOJSQ_vZQYsW6PliQO0oIto7wbmwQPFuAfG5e7jBulUSv2mzB-FErATOyiH45OSlH7kAwlQnyerrM0lIzKsXf6NNE6KGDpu6YGRpa2J3LX1S5_9RKdIP2OazwRqIg/s200/DSCN0713.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664475182690512562" /></a><br /><div>I never thought in a million years that I would end up visiting Las Vegas and actually liking it.<div><br /></div><div>Before I hear a collective groan from most of you, let me explain.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we were planning this trip, John was insistent that we go to Vegas. I had always heard negative comments about the place, and was sure I would hate it, but felt that as long as we were out that far west, why not see for myself what all the fuss was about.</div><div><br /></div><div>We left Yosemite National Park on a Monday and drove the 410 miles across the desert to Vegas. When I say desert, I mean Las Vegas literally sits in the middle of it. It pops up on the barren horizon like Oz in the famous film. It had rained a bit and there appeared a gorgeous rainbow in the sky. A message that said "have fun, keep smiling, and enjoy".</div></div><div><br /></div><div>We drove along the "Strip" as they call the main avenue in the city. Large hotels line the way, each with a theme. One is called The Venetian, another Paris, still another New York and so on. I know there are people in Vegas who actually think they have been to Venice or Paris or New York after their stay in one of these hotels. We were booked into the Tropicana which is located at the far end of the Strip. An older hotel, but it has recently been nicely renovated to make guests feel like they are in some sort of tropical paradise.</div><div><br /></div><div>We walked that evening, our idea being that it was the best way to get a real feel for it all. The spectacle is amazing. Vegas is not just for gambling anymore, although every hotel has a casino on the ground floor. These days one can gamble-in one form or another-in nearly every state in the union. Las Vegas is a place to see even if you don't gamble. I could feel the energy and adrenaline everywhere I looked, and I was stunned at the variety of gambling and entertainment outlets, the dealers, the level of stakes and the sheer number of players at the tables. </div><div><br /></div><div>The people watching is sometimes beautiful and famous looking, sometimes middle of the road, and sometimes beyond description. It was fascinating to observe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Food is big there. There are scores of world class restaurants of all cuisines. Emeril, Wolfgang Puck, Mario Batalli all have five-star restaurants in Vegas. We had a wonderful meal at B&B, one of Mario Batalli's many eating establishments. The difference between Vegas and New York is that we could literally walk in without a reservation and be seated. In New York you'd have to wait six months on a reservation list.</div><div><br /></div><div>We wanted to see a show and asked at the hotel what tickets were available. Elton John was sold out, but we were able to get in to see Cirque Du Soleil. Amazing show with acrobats swinging high above our heads-a little frightening as they don't use nets, but we loved it.</div><div>After that we walked under a starlit sky, among throngs of people past the Bellagio where we stopped to see the famous fountain spectacle we all marveled at in "Ocean's Eleven".</div><div>A perfect ending to a short visit in Sin City.</div><div><br /></div><div>Will I go back? Don't think so. Maybe. I prefer the real Paris and the real Venice, however</div><div>I liked Vegas's fun, crazy, <i>Candyland</i> attitude, and the idea that I forgot any reminders of daily routine. </div><div><br /></div><div>The flamboyant, sometimes seedy Vegas is like nowhere I've ever been.</div><div><br /></div><div>A must see side trip was to the Hoover Dam and the recently opened bridge connecting Nevada and New Mexico that is an engineering marvel. We loved the art deco of the Dam and the beauty of the new bridge. Then it was back to Vegas and the casinos!</div><div><br /></div><div>Breakfast at wacky <i>Hash House A Go Go </i>which is so popular that the venue is now in several casino's in addition to it's original location. This was a recommended "must do" from John's long-time friend and colleague Diane Newell. Thanks Diane!</div><div><br /></div><div>After two whirlwind days of visiting man-made marvels we were ready for a return to natural beauty and Zion National Park, our next destination, was sure to fit the bill!</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-5863536528363969162011-10-16T13:06:00.000-07:002011-10-16T16:02:32.335-07:00Yosemite National Park<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkstmutw3sQXUXQ34CbxInqIpWyFzJZGHenwhgI56A02pZTcQx303_mOF4yyZ1nXeXvi0bNkYAl2_L9Hll3wsclOyE-hgAL-SFoxYwds7fyF_H2n1SI6i7t-Vh6eL5ulbACbqNOqoKA/s1600/DSCN0710.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkstmutw3sQXUXQ34CbxInqIpWyFzJZGHenwhgI56A02pZTcQx303_mOF4yyZ1nXeXvi0bNkYAl2_L9Hll3wsclOyE-hgAL-SFoxYwds7fyF_H2n1SI6i7t-Vh6eL5ulbACbqNOqoKA/s200/DSCN0710.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664228493973403522" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ05MSIkV2ieNpW_VTUjNOCbocbsF6pM5zMYjhCo8_xrXeHcwRk13pH-25q4JnAU-hw99em_xkwMNprWdgZu8C5Xv3RvMWfqCcFbsC28lq3xWFAHUjtYias_con0nYDtmDEDNKfkpRw/s1600/DSCN0708.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ05MSIkV2ieNpW_VTUjNOCbocbsF6pM5zMYjhCo8_xrXeHcwRk13pH-25q4JnAU-hw99em_xkwMNprWdgZu8C5Xv3RvMWfqCcFbsC28lq3xWFAHUjtYias_con0nYDtmDEDNKfkpRw/s200/DSCN0708.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664225322956874274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLT9G7LeKByz_55EW_JKCN18o1LTB_HZByxshhCrqZt7ons8BdV4m8mcXChVWuUbjHpA98RoQRKdSb3R0rmgGs90wTd6QJW9okFb2sU7qj1E40bWOmHiGRRhQV3MeArqtu-st_nsrHcw/s1600/DSCN0706.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLT9G7LeKByz_55EW_JKCN18o1LTB_HZByxshhCrqZt7ons8BdV4m8mcXChVWuUbjHpA98RoQRKdSb3R0rmgGs90wTd6QJW9okFb2sU7qj1E40bWOmHiGRRhQV3MeArqtu-st_nsrHcw/s200/DSCN0706.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664215105980999506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHe7_XiuaGOCgTjQLQxpmCJWCA-X1c3i8Rwb8OZMcu4gz-nfpN4Qu1DtpcDBxC_TmsX9MV_cwqJx9TPZkZMtQaWt6omjXavSo2c3wMICgm9PLh8gpAb0RMXJD_RhKla17I3sbN3ZxLpw/s1600/DSCN0705.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHe7_XiuaGOCgTjQLQxpmCJWCA-X1c3i8Rwb8OZMcu4gz-nfpN4Qu1DtpcDBxC_TmsX9MV_cwqJx9TPZkZMtQaWt6omjXavSo2c3wMICgm9PLh8gpAb0RMXJD_RhKla17I3sbN3ZxLpw/s200/DSCN0705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664213913820164114" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8mgJduUQSZ3RXiQiUb1WvuRDvFCB2utIR7K0-K0HzlFtPQkczP_uOjUjQnBW1PERl9doHDccw1Qo6-iZbUvA-D3c-T-nwhBtr1cU_C3mBaat92LdhgLT9uWz0moNnqNUPzDbyrjD4g/s1600/DSCN0704.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8mgJduUQSZ3RXiQiUb1WvuRDvFCB2utIR7K0-K0HzlFtPQkczP_uOjUjQnBW1PERl9doHDccw1Qo6-iZbUvA-D3c-T-nwhBtr1cU_C3mBaat92LdhgLT9uWz0moNnqNUPzDbyrjD4g/s200/DSCN0704.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664213140983506002" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPr_oF8QkqIXdQHiVz4mrK7hdj_Ec2yT9uRibVNsrmOwioU-n7WBtcCfkVhUr119GGP99hyK8x834mtzhiSxUN5TQoemzHzDw_XlOM8jzpOBRVnFvVkr_jRdi03hdK2Hl_33sevC8eOA/s1600/DSCN0703.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPr_oF8QkqIXdQHiVz4mrK7hdj_Ec2yT9uRibVNsrmOwioU-n7WBtcCfkVhUr119GGP99hyK8x834mtzhiSxUN5TQoemzHzDw_XlOM8jzpOBRVnFvVkr_jRdi03hdK2Hl_33sevC8eOA/s200/DSCN0703.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664212220958884802" /></a><br />We met Jay for breakfast that Saturday at Mel's Diner, a Hollywood institution. This place is a total throwback to the 50s and made famous in the movie "American Graffiti". The walls are covered with photos of movie stars, and our waitress informed us that there is a Hollywood Museum on the premises, she assured us that is is the best sight in Hollywood. We didn't have time to tour the museum, but promised ourselves we would "next time".<div><br /><div>We had a delicious meal, visiting with Jay, and then it was time to say goodbye. After two weeks in LA with him, I found it difficult to say farewell. How I wish he didn't live so far away, but he is following his dream and is happy in California. Get a grip Mom. So, as I wiped a tear away, we drove off with a wave to meet our friends, Jaqui and Steve Zwick in Yosemite.</div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived at our hotel, and our pals met us with wonderful Sonoma wine, cheese and warm hugs. We spent the afternoon catching up on each others' lives and enjoying the warm sunshine. Dinner was at the local spot: The Miner's Inn, where a prime rib dinner is $12.99!</div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning we were out and at the park bright and early. Our friends know Yosemite well, as they have been going visiting for years, in fact, they Honeymooned there in the 60s. They wanted to show us around and we were happy to let them.</div><div><br /></div><div>We started out seeing El Capitian, rising 3,593 ft.-more than 350 stories-above the Valley. It is the largest exposed-granite monolith in the world. People have been climbing its entire face since 1958, and we could see tiny, moving adventurers with our binoculars. Then we drove to Glacier Point for a bird's eye view of the entire Valley. And then there is Half Dome, another astonishing "rock" of granite that tops off at 4,700 ft. above. Again, with our binoculars, we could see tiny spots of color climbing to the top. This is done by hiking 8.5 mi. (one way) on a trail whose last 400 ft. must be ascended while holding onto a steel cable. No thanks. We were happy with photos.</div><div><br /></div><div>After lunch we hiked up the Mist Trail to get a good view of Vernal Falls. The trek up and back is about 3 mi. of steep, rugged, rocky trail. It was a hot day, and we were happy to have the Merced River tumbling down the falls on it's way to a tranquil flow through the Valley, cooling us as we panted on our way. The breathtaking falls and view at the top was well worth the hike. None of this trail has guard rails and the drop offs are intimidating at the least. On our way, we noted a poster and photos of two "missing" hikers who fell in August this year. Some times people think they can step out on the edge of one of the slippery rocks that jut out over the river, accidentally slipping to their deaths. We were told that the park looses one or two visitors a month on average. Respect for these dangerous heights is important.</div><div><br /></div><div>The topography of Yosemite is so spectacular, that words cannot describe it. I have never seen a place where the landscape literally takes over the sky. It totally overwhelmed me with it's magnificence, beauty and sheer size. Remarkable and amazing. I could not stop exclaiming, I ran out of descriptive adjectives.</div><div><br /></div><div>That night we had dinner at the famous, historic Ahwahnee Hotel. Opened in 1927, this grand hotel boasts the Grand Lounge, 77 ft. long with magnificent 24 ft. high ceilings and all manner of Indian artwork on display. It is the most special interior space in Yosemite. What a perfect day. We saw the beautiful, awe inspiring Park, and spent it with special friends, laughing and enjoying time together.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next morning after breakfast, we bade our friends a fond adieu and drove out by way of the scenic Tioga Road. Few mountain drives anywhere can compare visually with this 59 mi. seasonal road. As we climbed 3,200 ft. up to the 9,945-foot summit of Tioga Pass, we encountered broad vistas of the High Sierra with it's craggy but hearty trees and shrubs. Just a bit too rugged in my opinion-steep, steep drop offs and (naturally) no guard rails. Lots of hairpin switch backs and narrow lanes of traffic. I loved it, but was happy when we finally reached the end and were on turf that was somewhat flatter.</div><div><br /></div><div>We headed to a very different place indeed. Vegas, here we come! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-1796288690357405392011-10-16T10:57:00.000-07:002011-10-21T12:19:22.390-07:00Leaving Zion<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8f_fWKlwnmHF1fYBqgyl3FVVVG5lAvZ69tCrQ1qyhQsE8tTNIoIQXc31sVjiM-uedY_lsVldaJRG_6SL6XBZqOZukbyXBc2_yCGy2wZsguSxG4a0zot4huryy7JdDNqS6aOc9lKw9xw/s1600/DSCN0757.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8f_fWKlwnmHF1fYBqgyl3FVVVG5lAvZ69tCrQ1qyhQsE8tTNIoIQXc31sVjiM-uedY_lsVldaJRG_6SL6XBZqOZukbyXBc2_yCGy2wZsguSxG4a0zot4huryy7JdDNqS6aOc9lKw9xw/s200/DSCN0757.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664161344802845730" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QnVivXjslBPTWpJ9Pwj5JjXC1dEHQVcAajP1lJlvrUPWhlzu_As4bI8ksa7wiEntWy0518Zoe5cCvvBEK9ivU0pYMblLoqhJH7STMPU3puEqfM5W3GKLwRjSR0Y_PBOOxaLMDvP_0Q/s1600/DSCN0754.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QnVivXjslBPTWpJ9Pwj5JjXC1dEHQVcAajP1lJlvrUPWhlzu_As4bI8ksa7wiEntWy0518Zoe5cCvvBEK9ivU0pYMblLoqhJH7STMPU3puEqfM5W3GKLwRjSR0Y_PBOOxaLMDvP_0Q/s200/DSCN0754.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664160385345456162" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmdnSghiHb1v34gFqUL1jXHYQyhgtZkRCAg49s9t5fRqJ1U_x0X5Y3DBMW8D9GBPdYZIi8qwH5VHF-_cPwEceebFIld9stWphytXu8AmprKk-bRMNruvsrweiFUQw6eXCiP749_hqRQ/s1600/DSCN0753.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmdnSghiHb1v34gFqUL1jXHYQyhgtZkRCAg49s9t5fRqJ1U_x0X5Y3DBMW8D9GBPdYZIi8qwH5VHF-_cPwEceebFIld9stWphytXu8AmprKk-bRMNruvsrweiFUQw6eXCiP749_hqRQ/s200/DSCN0753.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664159713585986450" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxv3ZfP6roL3NW4gamvo11xLYtUskk0GIxumLjkpnKR1rXsj3__z6KHZCABRIrZ8UmAiCULzbo71Xsc-n98hgA7DLSKbR8qqywHUb7p-J6KLZbZQtbDNA1lsTQnJZ1xGXid7w6BTG2w/s1600/DSCN0748.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxv3ZfP6roL3NW4gamvo11xLYtUskk0GIxumLjkpnKR1rXsj3__z6KHZCABRIrZ8UmAiCULzbo71Xsc-n98hgA7DLSKbR8qqywHUb7p-J6KLZbZQtbDNA1lsTQnJZ1xGXid7w6BTG2w/s200/DSCN0748.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664159104444443954" /></a><br />The drive out of Zion on SR 9, the Zion-Mt. Carmel Highway, is a special transition from the towering rock formations of the Park to the striations of the volcanic upheavals on the 24 mile breath taking stretch of road carved in the mid- 1930's that includes two tunnels. One is 1.1 mile in length and has three portals carved as "window's" that offer glimpses of cliffs and canyons. As you emerge from the tunnels you find that the landscape has dramatically changed. Of course to reach the tunnels, as at Yosemite, you must successfully navigate many "switchbacks", some without guard rails and plunges of 2,000 to 3,000 feet. As the drops were on Sarah's side, I was happy to be driving and on the "inside"!<div><br /></div><div>The highlight of the trip to the Eastern Entrance/Exit of Zion is the Checkerboard Mesa. The distinctive pattern on this huge, white mound of sandstone was created by the combination of vertical fractures and the exposure of horizontal bedding planes by erosion. While the area is home to lots of big horn sheep we only saw other awed tourists! </div><div><br /></div><div>After exiting Zion we dropped almost 2,000 feet to the valley before starting the long climb to Bryce National Park which tops out over 9,000 feet. Even driving you can feel the change in elevation and minor efforts are much more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">noticeable</span> as the air is so much thinner. It began to turn colder and we went from a/c to heater. As we approached Bryce we noticed snow on the peaks, then on the steep hillsides and finally on the side of the road! This was not something we had anticipated when packing over three weeks ago. Both Sarah and I had brought technical "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hoodie's</span>" but not much more. Arriving at Bryce we noticed that most people, especially the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Europeans</span> (Oh did we mention that half of Germany is traveling the Western U.S. this year?) were comfy in ski garb. "Yikes" we thought, how's this going to work out?</div><div><br /></div><div>Then we saw the <i>Hoodoo's</i> and forgot about the cold!</div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-82093235255502169742011-10-08T16:07:00.000-07:002011-10-22T11:01:53.938-07:00Look Down: Bryce Canyon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SQlG70LzVmzCWfPZsETWsDi7b8ZkGX7zO5hQztXUlJ5cUWrxqhMQbCRPQn5WbZtYdQKOCzIz9_rwjBpbf69J1L36PWG8l_pxmiVOjg3mSebTAGoF0f0pW1RU2OKVU0J58OTpiBhOiw/s1600/DSCN0766.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SQlG70LzVmzCWfPZsETWsDi7b8ZkGX7zO5hQztXUlJ5cUWrxqhMQbCRPQn5WbZtYdQKOCzIz9_rwjBpbf69J1L36PWG8l_pxmiVOjg3mSebTAGoF0f0pW1RU2OKVU0J58OTpiBhOiw/s200/DSCN0766.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664143453267150514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeKPY5DVd2lznI5zdirTk2oZqGC-8yD3_sgyy1uJS4j_JbWkcFV82D2eURvTCGE08w585udZ3Ht7jXnu40HHgZiItLSbOdQVtRlSe3RpVxar0gQV0mKKBNu4AjkI5K11CxBViB7zd8A/s1600/DSCN0800.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeKPY5DVd2lznI5zdirTk2oZqGC-8yD3_sgyy1uJS4j_JbWkcFV82D2eURvTCGE08w585udZ3Ht7jXnu40HHgZiItLSbOdQVtRlSe3RpVxar0gQV0mKKBNu4AjkI5K11CxBViB7zd8A/s200/DSCN0800.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664141831544848482" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_lyhwXqJTffsXo8nCTgHbtPnfR20gUcJaTXBrUHOk5BKUa9WPaUFxvkTkDjcPKXIcjFj6HzuLS92MQWeV1LPWHfv87ciZgkoElxqOBzNh3VFk5aDvdRY_9MwjBVdfd6iJLCFwM1glw/s1600/DSCN0765.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_lyhwXqJTffsXo8nCTgHbtPnfR20gUcJaTXBrUHOk5BKUa9WPaUFxvkTkDjcPKXIcjFj6HzuLS92MQWeV1LPWHfv87ciZgkoElxqOBzNh3VFk5aDvdRY_9MwjBVdfd6iJLCFwM1glw/s200/DSCN0765.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664140648823753298" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4uq_rIbgt_RgYNmhoIE4h9o9VqpO7rJA5DjW5IsSpz7QZYTpvb_PO8LJpfOF2CMPq4pd1hS0lPAr8tJi4NdU-5Y0lGKQsOoWQoX6mA31ji6sXHU5GAHG_k7sp1hZ8E834cIc8ukviQ/s1600/DSCN0782.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4uq_rIbgt_RgYNmhoIE4h9o9VqpO7rJA5DjW5IsSpz7QZYTpvb_PO8LJpfOF2CMPq4pd1hS0lPAr8tJi4NdU-5Y0lGKQsOoWQoX6mA31ji6sXHU5GAHG_k7sp1hZ8E834cIc8ukviQ/s200/DSCN0782.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661274693166524258" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTtwsTM5PtPNq9LAGjBspyHN5RDYQ9CoHlXNYE6GotS61_xWdCGmQmHwcmqJXBvZ90XvJYNmQunQNsRL2WzsaZrxCFuLT9FOFk6biZidtMKCN-RjrkhPsEBz_pCDAb23h0_ImgBnNuw/s1600/DSCN0777.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTtwsTM5PtPNq9LAGjBspyHN5RDYQ9CoHlXNYE6GotS61_xWdCGmQmHwcmqJXBvZ90XvJYNmQunQNsRL2WzsaZrxCFuLT9FOFk6biZidtMKCN-RjrkhPsEBz_pCDAb23h0_ImgBnNuw/s200/DSCN0777.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661268684953291394" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkztbQaT4hN9xo7meYO-H37T-Z7zgbGQWV3LckwVQXx4s2mYKlkT-rCKFdR5ZD1ZMhJaIcJmw6GYo4rrhPEyQmZGcbaRgz-kXGD5eOCxDutHPgWWO2N7R66V56n4vGDrDLpv9uRIqQw/s1600/DSCN0797.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkztbQaT4hN9xo7meYO-H37T-Z7zgbGQWV3LckwVQXx4s2mYKlkT-rCKFdR5ZD1ZMhJaIcJmw6GYo4rrhPEyQmZGcbaRgz-kXGD5eOCxDutHPgWWO2N7R66V56n4vGDrDLpv9uRIqQw/s200/DSCN0797.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661268377916892818" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCcn6PqlEjXks2jYyNZ1Kt6YVSZQTzPnWMJjITisuvsEBSzBHI9G4Y4u637PDo_kifgGiQbdoklQWN9GCXPLoxKfgy53uhiHbFSZ3M1M9QSo-RbXpnpMSSSpv8867JdeVzMN4OgaJRQ/s1600/DSCN0784.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCcn6PqlEjXks2jYyNZ1Kt6YVSZQTzPnWMJjITisuvsEBSzBHI9G4Y4u637PDo_kifgGiQbdoklQWN9GCXPLoxKfgy53uhiHbFSZ3M1M9QSo-RbXpnpMSSSpv8867JdeVzMN4OgaJRQ/s200/DSCN0784.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661268045320276306" /></a><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5IjVlRCidQ4l0NGUcqiqX8aV5jIwLB0yv0NBOBXLFcXgm6UKfc31vGKOPQzXpBCh35kGfw2_tftDj4CuyrNsaWVvGx6c5LfaEIXnnVwJvwcjkLzGlxqab2cyqpvpgVryUY7xnQtiEw/s1600/DSCN0789.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5IjVlRCidQ4l0NGUcqiqX8aV5jIwLB0yv0NBOBXLFcXgm6UKfc31vGKOPQzXpBCh35kGfw2_tftDj4CuyrNsaWVvGx6c5LfaEIXnnVwJvwcjkLzGlxqab2cyqpvpgVryUY7xnQtiEw/s200/DSCN0789.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661267729315012866" /></a>From Johnny G:</div><div><br /></div><div>Bryce is the smaller and younger sibling to Zion NP. The Park is named for Ebenezer Bryce, a hard luck pioneer rancher famous for his saying that Bryce is "a hell of a place to lose a cow!". The land he describes captures your imagination with it's fanciful <i>Hoodoos</i>. Bryce is actually an amphitheater and the Hoodoos took on their unusual shapes because the top layer of rock, the "cap-rock" is harder than the layers beneath it. As the softer layers underneath the cap-rock erode, the <i>Hoodoos</i> are formed. "<i>Hoodoo</i>, a pillar of rock, usually of fantastic shape, left by erosion. <i>Hoodoo</i>, to cast a spell.". These shapes were formed starting 10 million years ago and the process of erosion results in new shapes and continues every season. As you look upon them, especially as the light changes during the day, these formations take on new shapes as if by a <i>magic spell</i>.</div><div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Diametrically</span> opposite of Zion National Park, at Bryce one looks down into the canyon and the shapes and forms of the <i>Hoodoos </i>formed by millions of years of erosion. The most fantastic and largest of the formations is the <i>Bryce Amphitheater</i>, composed of various formations called <i>Thor's Hammer</i>, <i>The Queen's Garden</i>, <i>Wall Street</i> and <i>Silent City</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>As usual, words can't describe what the eye <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sees</span>, nor may a camera fully reflect the stunning beauty of these formations of sandstone laid down over so many millions of years. Instead, the camera serves as a memory for the human eye to recall many years later.</div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived with snow on the ground and in 33 degree temps. Yikes, what a difference from Zion and our 60 degree temps. The rain at Zion was snow at Bryce, over 3,000 feet higher. Believe me, during our hikes into Bryce Canyon, our lungs felt the difference! </div><div><br /></div><div>The view of the <i>Hoodoos</i> from the Canyon floor are stunning, but more of a singular perspective versus the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">gestalt</span> from above. Looking up at a single 600 foot <i>Hoodoo</i> like the one in the <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Queen's Garden</span></span></i> versus the perspective of the <i>whole</i> garden from above could be the subject of a 1,000 Art History <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ph</span></span>.D. dissertations.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, did I mention that when you hike <i>down</i>, you must also hike <i>up</i> to get out of the Canyon? If the <i>Hoodoo</i> is 600 feet tall, and the Canyon Rim is above that, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hmmm</span></span>, you get the picture. But worth the effort! This wasn't the first time we thanked our friends the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Grazianos</span></span> for the loan of their hiking sticks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our Bryce exploration was more or less as recommended by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Fodor's</span></span> (thanks Chrissy!) guidebook; an 18 mile drive to the end of the canyon (technically it's a <i>Mesa</i>) and Rainbow Point with stops at each viewpoint as we made our way back to the Visitor's Center. As we had arrived from Zion in the early afternoon this gave us a chance for lunch at the venerable Bryce Canyon Lodge, built in 1924 for the Union Pacific Railroad to draw tourists to Bryce and Zion. The drive back from Rainbow gave us an opportunity to take some photo's (Sarah's new Raven buddy) and scope out our plans for the next day, including our hikes.</div><div><br /></div><div>On our afternoon drive we saw several prong horned antelope which quickly became a Sarah <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">fav</span>! So pretty but fast and we couldn't get a good picture of them. Unlike the Mule Deer which <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">stodgily</span> posed for photo's, as did the squirrels. While the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Europeans</span> gawked at the Mule Deer we paid them little mind as deer to us are a menace to our landscaping at home.</div><div><br /></div><div>An interesting hiking side trip was to Mossy Cave and Falls, a less visited part of the Park. We had our own private waterfall surrounded by <i>Hoodoos</i>. After two hikes we were ready for some Two Buck Chuck (thank you Jay) and dinner at our rustic family run <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">restaurant</span>. We retired early in our homey cabin and looked forward to the next adventure, John Ford Country at <i>Monument Valley!</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-88991379601618851332011-10-06T16:14:00.000-07:002011-10-06T16:53:29.314-07:00The Tonight ShowBefore we left Connecticut, John contacted the web site for The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. We thought it would be lots of fun to sit in the audience for a taping while in LA.<div>We scored tickets for a Tuesday taping and were excited to be able to see how the show works before it actually airs. They tape it a four in the afternoon each day and we were instructed to be at the studio no later than 1:45.</div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived early and were subjected to security checks. No liquids, (?) and the usual pain in the neck routine just like the airport. After that we waited in the heat, in a sort of "holding tank", with about 300 other people until they filed us all into the theater.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's when the fun began. </div><div><br /></div><div>Two different guys, both young and cute, came out to warm us up and tell us rules: no rushing the stage, no heckling the guests, no booing, no yelling out. But we were told to clap often and loudly. After those two finished, Jay himself came out in his jeans and answered some questions from the audience, talk about the show and the guests for the night.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were two guests: Lauren Graham from the TV series "Parenthood". She is beautiful and smart. The second was Seth MacFarlane, the creator of the series "The Family Guy", who does the voice of Stewie and 21 other characters. He also came out and wonderfully sang with a 17 piece band. Think 1940s Big Band sound ala Tommy Dorsey or Jackie Gleason. We loved it.</div><div> John and I have never watched either show, but these guests were so much fun that we decided that they were worth checking out.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the best for me was Ricky Minor and the Tonight Show Band! This 12 piece band is absolutely fabulous and the most fun ever. One of them, Dorian Holley, sings and moves and I couldn't keep my eyes off him-he is a total hottie. Before the show they played and during every commercial they rocked the place. We were lucky enough to be seated right in front of them and were thrilled to watch these most talented musicians play and have a great time doing what they love-entertaining people and laughing all the way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ahh Hollywood!</div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-25207952585647878002011-09-30T17:13:00.000-07:002011-10-06T16:02:19.830-07:00Hollywood & Vine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuTtrLmi4r34_Zm-as_foggyw8rE9mRIKDMDuXeUEnFvmRo9TXjHp-Fyj0l64j9tJ30MtvR_IJjH-rpPxjp89_tzPrm8pbUJN3DYG5cvMZVdgYBj-ke0hyvgBBmY8JdEJkgfABnNFmg/s1600/DSCN0703.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuTtrLmi4r34_Zm-as_foggyw8rE9mRIKDMDuXeUEnFvmRo9TXjHp-Fyj0l64j9tJ30MtvR_IJjH-rpPxjp89_tzPrm8pbUJN3DYG5cvMZVdgYBj-ke0hyvgBBmY8JdEJkgfABnNFmg/s200/DSCN0703.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660513704030183810" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnN_6GavPiit4nARlTe-0xXW9PzMCu1OExQVJso_HP7CsM7kNWrKDSaOREu7lCuW2NYhLSFGCV4jkZKQq9ZKCwwD8T8kPKMNNLD7KYMh1tsL_WvlXQ1bj_-RS-vtp-m9e0R6Ijy6tWQ/s1600/DSCN0696.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnN_6GavPiit4nARlTe-0xXW9PzMCu1OExQVJso_HP7CsM7kNWrKDSaOREu7lCuW2NYhLSFGCV4jkZKQq9ZKCwwD8T8kPKMNNLD7KYMh1tsL_WvlXQ1bj_-RS-vtp-m9e0R6Ijy6tWQ/s200/DSCN0696.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658313914731791698" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdRJ0ytDXqv2b_LGxMcej24gxWdNP-Jmi0soWbQ4p1bkrHxoUetyq9kh-XF1Fa_FtfMKTVUa1fTtlXvhyYfFjaFMQTFm2ZaKoXqo7yn_BxMSvb37SnvRh2XYqdJQvoS4FX5p4sNlxLQ/s1600/DSCN0697.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdRJ0ytDXqv2b_LGxMcej24gxWdNP-Jmi0soWbQ4p1bkrHxoUetyq9kh-XF1Fa_FtfMKTVUa1fTtlXvhyYfFjaFMQTFm2ZaKoXqo7yn_BxMSvb37SnvRh2XYqdJQvoS4FX5p4sNlxLQ/s200/DSCN0697.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658313634708757010" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LOPqZ5QR_gyENrNxKBJMhma19k2gfeifqdfhkLjLbrDIns4Swqk8ZDWdvEWq3_5UsUdMtnEssJwbkLWbWdIkMx5K87LWlbpnpMePUiSR33AWWhX6-hQjaL3kWlmWOYiqnHfYCweYRg/s1600/DSCN0688.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LOPqZ5QR_gyENrNxKBJMhma19k2gfeifqdfhkLjLbrDIns4Swqk8ZDWdvEWq3_5UsUdMtnEssJwbkLWbWdIkMx5K87LWlbpnpMePUiSR33AWWhX6-hQjaL3kWlmWOYiqnHfYCweYRg/s200/DSCN0688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658313235798775138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW85sBfLiUlwq06BiLdm6Mu3ZH2U7e1uGSWnPJcPdLJxzsjP8va-Hu1XWCta1Zhl1LOc96t1V2lxL_LV73cVESkdGhSoeJ0xlhpa_SmQGgFqS4Gqm393BrJJS4wAK6DSAIbeDKAzlpZA/s1600/DSCN0692.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW85sBfLiUlwq06BiLdm6Mu3ZH2U7e1uGSWnPJcPdLJxzsjP8va-Hu1XWCta1Zhl1LOc96t1V2lxL_LV73cVESkdGhSoeJ0xlhpa_SmQGgFqS4Gqm393BrJJS4wAK6DSAIbeDKAzlpZA/s200/DSCN0692.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658312848268393090" /></a>From Johnny G:<br /><div><br /></div><div>This was a fun day, our last as it turned out, with the Jay-man and our sojourn in LA. We decided to do some fun stuff. I had worked in the music biz in the late 1980's and had an office<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYRSljsP5LZ_VS-It5Y5zFX75su6ClR8ApMIkNDU9rI4-EKNJoccOBPanf9QdOIJnUEXPwsw7_bUyukHXoWkVdqw68B37ExvsbUkJdP9ZqFcwlJKJbFGF4Ml73bCl-zwgfI6930mB_g/s1600/DSCN0690.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYRSljsP5LZ_VS-It5Y5zFX75su6ClR8ApMIkNDU9rI4-EKNJoccOBPanf9QdOIJnUEXPwsw7_bUyukHXoWkVdqw68B37ExvsbUkJdP9ZqFcwlJKJbFGF4Ml73bCl-zwgfI6930mB_g/s200/DSCN0690.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658312145553078722" /></a>in the Capitol Tower (top floor center in the photo) as well as one in Abby Road Studio (yes, that one, where the Beatles recorded) so it was a must that we take a photo of the Capitol Tower, built to resemble a stack of 45 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">RPM's</span>. The old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">epi</span>-center of Hollywood was at Hollywood and Vine, just down the street from my old office, so we took in the sights. One of the interesting places from old Hollywood was the Frolic Room, opened in 1929 as a speakeasy next to the hotel so patrons could sneak in and grab a drink during Prohibition. And lo and behold, right outside the door was the Hollywood Walk of Fame star of Randolph Scott, my favorite B movie actor from the 30's and 40's. Scott's last film was a great one, "Ride the High Country" with Joel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">McCrea</span>, in 1962. Of course, Scott plays a bad guy gone good who is the hero in the end, dead of course. A bar fly was hanging outside and he was astounded, "Everybody looks at Gary Cooper's star! You're the first person I've ever seen stop at Randy Scott". No flies on Coop, also a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">fav</span>, but nobody in <i>Blazing Saddles </i>sang the praises of Gary Cooper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Onto the Kodak Theatre, now permanent home of Oscar (go Jay!). A great behind the scenes tour for any film fan. Red Carpet, Green Room, Eastman bar for the biggies and all sorts of Oscar night trivia. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dinner with Jay on our last night followed by breakfast with our star at the famous Mel's Drive-In, filmed to perfection by George Lucas in <i>American Graffiti.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><i></i>Great two weeks in LA hosted by the next star of film and fame! </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, <i>Happy Trails to You </i>as we head for our Yosemite National Park <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">rendezvous</span> with our dear friends Jacqui and Steve <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Zwick</span>, joining us from their wonderful home in Santa Rosa, CA. Steve is promising to bring some of his favorite <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Sonoma</span> wines, yummy!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-64062483692791585382011-09-29T16:25:00.000-07:002011-09-29T18:20:21.726-07:00Crazy and Glamorous<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCKp3VKLEuSHhM9opelAG6mV54_U5rcC4AEcLUlaK8KeVqnypeECji1TOg3WNPOotTMC-zrFx4onr_EAupCuqpbqh8k8EcfWTf3bSGbMUevxa-GOn5AASs-I-mWgEVrNMuG7O5Aumgg/s1600/DSCN0667.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCKp3VKLEuSHhM9opelAG6mV54_U5rcC4AEcLUlaK8KeVqnypeECji1TOg3WNPOotTMC-zrFx4onr_EAupCuqpbqh8k8EcfWTf3bSGbMUevxa-GOn5AASs-I-mWgEVrNMuG7O5Aumgg/s200/DSCN0667.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657950628063007938" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1jXUH45bJNZJJv4Ng58uQehgcZAHmtZPMQ3HwFBl5T1F9ueD7lLp4UsU9ACo2x9zoY6Tyfb-k5YGa7VCDqR_d4RNh99fVUAVpRoVvBAmVLoFQ9oByvGkg2S1ShsYB_MoMaLyyHnbYA/s1600/DSCN0679.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1jXUH45bJNZJJv4Ng58uQehgcZAHmtZPMQ3HwFBl5T1F9ueD7lLp4UsU9ACo2x9zoY6Tyfb-k5YGa7VCDqR_d4RNh99fVUAVpRoVvBAmVLoFQ9oByvGkg2S1ShsYB_MoMaLyyHnbYA/s200/DSCN0679.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657949270743945794" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrk-y5U_-hiLEE01M2VPjzxYoj0ycJraJeRy3MZ3G3zOUvOTFS9eBbcRarZG_TSf0-e-Nfm3wnYOZI1BAclHG_8mI9tGbjakFV6Vx1h6x_EHIsH_YG9fWYynDqgVNrgRJY4NsyJkWVQ/s1600/DSCN0670.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrk-y5U_-hiLEE01M2VPjzxYoj0ycJraJeRy3MZ3G3zOUvOTFS9eBbcRarZG_TSf0-e-Nfm3wnYOZI1BAclHG_8mI9tGbjakFV6Vx1h6x_EHIsH_YG9fWYynDqgVNrgRJY4NsyJkWVQ/s200/DSCN0670.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657946491588876594" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_bi62jMTnxQuR0JZ3qTfRO6N-S61breN2lhNXbeLqkqonhUhxWuVYnD7wAnWaAzaUwwuziiOam5CXPIcY8zo8Bmvw-SNWD25jofXWd8U8ksLvwxUqQ4tzU2EXhyJZqjI_7B88hpGlg/s1600/DSCN0668.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_bi62jMTnxQuR0JZ3qTfRO6N-S61breN2lhNXbeLqkqonhUhxWuVYnD7wAnWaAzaUwwuziiOam5CXPIcY8zo8Bmvw-SNWD25jofXWd8U8ksLvwxUqQ4tzU2EXhyJZqjI_7B88hpGlg/s200/DSCN0668.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657946146034644594" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8hfqv6424BYC_sC-0bqhV096WRuowzBUlON81E0_dBUQ6VHD5XAVeqFKwLe8lTQFMx-LaAyYmq6VP4881AHyTvQiNlHzseggwx2yJVFnSi-VdbcX7UAKZd2bouGkehRN3p2iJrdreA/s1600/DSCN0673.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8hfqv6424BYC_sC-0bqhV096WRuowzBUlON81E0_dBUQ6VHD5XAVeqFKwLe8lTQFMx-LaAyYmq6VP4881AHyTvQiNlHzseggwx2yJVFnSi-VdbcX7UAKZd2bouGkehRN3p2iJrdreA/s200/DSCN0673.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657945846114943010" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvs2pHr18yVibM3KaqIkLy6CshLawX6CVqyQJRIKfosgtPfGn7sP2NwqSF-xuDYiCDikC6sH8dtFtbQNlNaOlhLkzEZ0076JWDj7c-Yi6LdkGGsagy9b5rq4xjNyhFJxtZgICy1WoCg/s1600/DSCN0669.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvs2pHr18yVibM3KaqIkLy6CshLawX6CVqyQJRIKfosgtPfGn7sP2NwqSF-xuDYiCDikC6sH8dtFtbQNlNaOlhLkzEZ0076JWDj7c-Yi6LdkGGsagy9b5rq4xjNyhFJxtZgICy1WoCg/s200/DSCN0669.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657945441380429602" /></a><br />When Jay first moved to LA, he lived in Venice Beach and worked at a restaurant called The Sidewalk Cafe. I had never been to that area before, but had heard many stories about what goes on and so I was anxious to see the famous Venice Boardwalk and this other side of CA living.<div><br /></div><div>Hugging the Santa Monica Bay in an arch, the desirable communities of Malibu, Santa Monica and Venice move from the ultra rich, ultra casual Malibu to the bohemian/seedy Venice. They have cleaner air, mild temps and an emphasis on the famous beach focused lifestyle that is considered the hallmark of Southern CA.</div><div><br /></div><div>We met Jay's childhood friend, Lanny, at Jay's former job, wait-staff at the Sidewalk Cafe when he lived a block away in Venice Beach. He was greeted all around by the staff like he had seen them yesterday, although he hadn't been out that way for about four years. We ordered Bloody Marys and burgers and sat in the outside cafe watching the scene in front of us. What a spectacle!</div><div><br /></div><div>Boardwalk is something of a stretch, it's really a five-block section of paved walkway-but this place offers up year round entertainment.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are clowns, (some rather <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">frightening</span>), bikini-clad rollerbladers, magicians, fortune-tellers, tattoo parlors, jugglers, all vying for attention from the crowds. One man stood very quietly watching it all, then donned a black cloak (look carefully at the photo) and stood with his arms straight up, like a statue covered in black fabric. As the tourists walked by, he would reach out and tap them on the shoulder, instantly getting back into statue mode. It was hilarious watching the reactions from passers-by as they turned to see who had touched them. After that, this same person (Jay told us his name was Jules and had been doing this same routine for years) watched the crowd and began to mimic people at random. Following close behind, he would imitate their strut and facial expressions. It was terribly funny to see these poor clueless folks who had no idea why the crowd was laughing.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are rock bands playing loud music on the corner, bodybuilders pumping iron, bicyclists zipping along and skateboarders weaving in and out of the throngs. A true carnival atmosphere. I admit to thinking to myself:. "I know I'm not in Connecticut anymore". It was fun and I'm glad we went, but I'm happy Jay doesn't live there anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another attraction we visited was the Queen Mary in Long Beach.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't think I would have been interested in seeing this elegant old ocean liner except for the fact that my parents crossed the Atlantic on her in 1950.</div><div><br /></div><div>This beautifully preserved ship was launched in 1934 and made 1001 transatlantic crossings before ending up in Long Beach in 1967.</div><div><br /></div><div>On board we took a behind the scenes tour, excellent and informative. Amazing to visit this old fashioned era of glamorous, ocean travel which eventually was overtaken by jet airplanes. Unlike Titanic, no gates between classes but there were classes. First got the center of the ship (top to bottom), the most stable, second was aft (they felt the rumble of the engines and prop shafts), and third, "Oh My", they were in the bow which had the most movement of any part of the ship. Think 30-60 foot waves and how much the bow would have moved versus the center of the ship!</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a new namesake, the Queen Mary 2, and our grandchildren can see her from the top floor of their home when she is docked in Redhook, Brooklyn. They are fascinated by the sight and call her the Mary Queen. The new ship is very high tech and fast, and fun to travel on, in fact my sister and her husband have taken several trips aboard the Queen Mary 2.</div><div><br /></div><div>Throughout the tour, we saw photos of celebrities who traveled aboard such as Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, Fred Astaire, and the Duke and Dutchess of Windsor, all dressed in formal attire and looking very chic.</div><div><br /></div><div>The highlight for me was stumbling onto an enormous ship's manifest. It is the size of at least two NYC phone books, and I found my parents' name and the name of my aunt and uncle who had traveled with them in 1950. Our Uncle Ray, whom we all remember very fondly, was a Ford dealer, the owner of Lee Motors. He shipped a brand new 1950 Ford in the hold which was off-loaded in La Havre and my parents and Uncle Ray and Aunt Betty were driven across Europe by <i>Jacques</i>, a French driver hired on the dock! Someone in the fam has the photo's of Mom and Dad in their French beret's (Em's?). They took what was then known as <i>The Grand Tour.</i> </div><div><br /></div><div>I was thrilled to be walking the same decks on the Queen Mary that they had strolled all those years ago. It brought a tear.</div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-15955084084817296292011-09-29T09:48:00.000-07:002011-09-30T09:38:59.910-07:00Ventura Highway<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_fleH74rScw1bL1wmP7BvlyPGkIPyuWnW7ZSh0R4bDV7syMYBlwtnIhHh85XPmCoNaxsZTpmDoCUi0SKemlm1SjtIBZxVrCQ26OHY-H8aX4YYdGKBAmO1RFqeOF203UaaoxxVRyx_Q/s1600/DSCN0687.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_fleH74rScw1bL1wmP7BvlyPGkIPyuWnW7ZSh0R4bDV7syMYBlwtnIhHh85XPmCoNaxsZTpmDoCUi0SKemlm1SjtIBZxVrCQ26OHY-H8aX4YYdGKBAmO1RFqeOF203UaaoxxVRyx_Q/s200/DSCN0687.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657829685322152146" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdWPWc4ci-b7-KEE3HaVFzCyO05ekvHJmRihEavLGKsCy2jGyj3vAtBhyphenhyphen-zJIqzSpPEA2J2oZr6Lrcs3kl1I9IcffARa3GGMKunM56YRK9zZ9U6gOTXloyDjagmE_Nyovi8cqYWhyphenhyphenIQ/s1600/DSCN0684.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdWPWc4ci-b7-KEE3HaVFzCyO05ekvHJmRihEavLGKsCy2jGyj3vAtBhyphenhyphen-zJIqzSpPEA2J2oZr6Lrcs3kl1I9IcffARa3GGMKunM56YRK9zZ9U6gOTXloyDjagmE_Nyovi8cqYWhyphenhyphenIQ/s200/DSCN0684.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657829396188719762" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7AE-D4s_wRntMmhEBKZlge9TKJNs-1-2lv1zDvkxuc6bBrZblWFDL643Dc9GPFisHEs9K9x19g4V5G4auZj1OpXYQ5JAAUW4Frh7ZxBqiajoDMztAVj-j6W-Dm-vcmM_6Uyz2WmmRw/s1600/DSCN0683.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7AE-D4s_wRntMmhEBKZlge9TKJNs-1-2lv1zDvkxuc6bBrZblWFDL643Dc9GPFisHEs9K9x19g4V5G4auZj1OpXYQ5JAAUW4Frh7ZxBqiajoDMztAVj-j6W-Dm-vcmM_6Uyz2WmmRw/s200/DSCN0683.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657829068975380802" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ventura</span></span> Highway in the sunshine</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Where the days are longer</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The nights are stronger than moonshine</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You're gonna go, I know.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ventura</span></span> Highway: America</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">From Johnny G:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It had to happen, a road trip from LA. With all these freeways how can you not go? It's part of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><i>Angeleno's</i></span></span> psyche, get in the car, take the top down, and head for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><i>Ventura</i></span></span> on the <i>Ventura Free</i>way. So off we went, but our destination was the beautiful seaside town of <i>Santa Barbara</i>, about 90 miles north. Sarah's brother Chris had an assignment here awhile back and hasn't stopped raving about the town. "Great little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">restaurants</span>, hidden treasures everywhere, sailing the Channel Islands. Damn!". The 12 lane 101 got us to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><i>Ventura</i></span><i> </i>in a little over an hour and from there on we hugged the coast with the Pacific Ocean on our left and the mountains on our right. Surfers all over the place in their wet suits (the Pacific is cold), kelp beds and fishing boats. Scenic is too cute a word. Postcard perfect does it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our first stop was the Wharf which juts out into the ocean and is full of eateries, t-shirt shops and a very nice Maritime Museum. We ate at Harborview, which aptly overlooks the marina, a major fleet of sail boats (nice to see!) and working fishing boats as they entered and left the harbor. The Land Shark also operated here, giving tourists both a land and sea tour from a surplus <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">DUKW</span>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our post lunch treat was a tour of the Santa Barbara Mission, known as the "Queen of Missions" amongst the 21 Missions still standing from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Napa</span> to San Diego. Built in 1786 by the Spanish Franciscans along the El <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Camino</span> Real, <i>The Kings Road, </i>which linked these Spanish outposts, the road was 600 miles long and portions are still marked by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><i>CalTrans</i></span> by roadside bell markers. Twin bell towers, gorgeous gardens with heirloom plant varietals and a large collection of artifacts graced by lovely original stonework make for one of the most photographed sites in California. <i>And did I mention the view?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">We cruised <i>State Street</i> which is a combination of <i>Rodeo Drive</i> and <i>Main Street</i> in our hometown of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><i>Westport</i></span><i>, CT</i>. Walking this shopping bonanza from the top of the hill to the beach would have emptied our coffers had Sarah not exercised major restraint! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><i>Superb</i></span><i> window shopping.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">We played tourist on the way home and left the 101 for the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) which literally hugs and follows the coast from Ventura to Santa Monica. Along the way we spied <i>Zuma Beach</i> and we stopped to pay homage to Neil Young's album, <i>On the Beach</i>, which features<i> Zuma Beach</i> as it's theme and album cover.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A lovely trip until the PCH dumped us onto the 10 at Santa Monica and our <i>Gertrude Garmin</i> told us to bail on the 10 and take back roads to the apartment. Even on the back roads, it took an hour to go 8 miles. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Welcome to everyday LA rush hour(s) traffic!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">We had a nice post script ending, dinner with Jay and his girlfriend at Hugo's in Hollywood.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-73496928793393225422011-09-27T09:39:00.000-07:002011-09-27T19:47:21.130-07:00Musings: City in the Smog<div style="text-align: center;"><i>LA - Uptight</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>City in the Smog</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>City in the Smog</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't you wish that you could be here too?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't you wish that you could be here too?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>But when the suppers are planned</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And the freeways are jammed</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh it's so good to know</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That it's all just a show for you.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't you want to be here too?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't you want to be here too?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">LA: Neil Young</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This town is certainly <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kar</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Krazy</span></span></i>. It wasn't always this way. In the high growth years of the 1910's and 1920's the region was ably served by the Pacific Electric Company's <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Redcar</span></span> </i>streetcar lines which connected the various suburban communities with downtown LA. The Pacific Electric was part of the Southern Pacific Railroad Company and local politicians wanted to find a way to blunt the power of the railroad. So, Urban Planners came up with the design of <i>Magic Motorways, </i>a comprehensive web of free high speed motor ways that would link each community, speeding growth and <i>sales of real estate</i> which had begun to wane in the mid 1920's. This was a deliberate plan to control the power of the railroad by literally putting people behind the wheel instead of on the trolley. (Some of <i>Who Framed</i> <i>Roger Rabbit </i>is true!) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">However, included in the plan was light rail, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">trolley</span> lines that would run down the center of the motor ways as a paean to the railroad interests. The plan was stalled by the great Great Depression and then World War Two. Starting in 1947 the grand plan was revived, only this time without the light rail. By the early 1970's only 61% of the freeways had been built resulting in several major choke points in the system that are unresolved to this day. Given the restrictions imposed by environmentalists it's doubtful that any new freeways will be built. New spending laws also require that a percentage of tax money raised for maintenance of the system go to build light rail as an environmentally correct alternative to burning fossil fuels which is a major source of the <i>smog</i> which usually covers LA like a thick blanket. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">22 million people live in the LA area, all with at least one car (<i>nobody</i> rides the new light rail or subway, it doesn't get you anywhere) combined with LA being hemmed in by the foothills (they call them mountains) and the cold Pacific Ocean produces cool temps at the beach, fog results and since the pollution can't make it over the foothills it all hangs over greater LA. The good news is that with constant sun it usually clears out by noon and then it's spectacular weather. Which by the way, we've thoroughly enjoyed!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Quick observations: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eight car pile up on the 5 on the way to the Reagan Library, fortunately on the South bound side as we headed North. Coming home, a six car pile up on the other side! <i>The fact is, these people are terrible drivers, driving much too fast and cutting lanes, riding bumpers and passing you on all sides. </i>And we thought Michigan drivers were the worst. <i>Not so fast</i>. We feel like <i>Brooks</i> in <i>Shawshank Redemption</i> when he got parole, <i>the world went and got itself in a big damn hurry!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A city built around the automobile and the main <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">thoroughfares, ala West Sunset Blvd, Hollywood Blvd, etc, lack left turn arrows, <i>forcing you to turn into on-coming traffic and causing extended back-ups.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unlike New York City, where traffic lights turn either all red or all green ahead of you (and if green give you a good run), in LA, the lights are controlled by pedestrians crossing the street (people power in a <i>Kar Kulture</i>), so you might make one block at a time. Major traffic back-ups on the main thru streets. <i>Unreal urban planning</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Pedestrians, clad in their IPod buds and busy on their cell phones, walk without looking when the lights change and they get the white "go" signal to cross the street. This despite traffic turning into the cross-walk. They distainfully look at you, <i>Dude, I've got the white here</i>! Of course, on the slab at the morgue, they're probably saying the same thing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ditto the folks on bikes. Sidewalks are a favorite ride-way. Like their bud's on foot, they like to zip across side streets without looking. Must be a hell of a mortality rate for cyclists. <i>We left Jay's mountain bike back in CT!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Many major intersections lack street signage. <i>Where am I</i>?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unlike New York, laid out in a grid, some area's are gridded out and some not. You may be in a grid but then it ends, but picks up several streets over. <i>What gives with this</i>?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This town is filled with pan handlers. Most of them are stoned out, coked out, boozed out, we guess the key is <i>out</i>. They have a habit of pushing their shopping carts across the street at any point without looking. And you're expected to stop, and maybe even abet their habit by a donation. In fact, if you don't donate, you can be cussed out. This is New York in the mid-eighties. New Yorker's, remember the <i>squeegie men</i>? This is worse. The squeegie guys were looking for change to get loaded later. These guys are already in another world. <i>This town needs Rudie!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Helicopters overhead all the time. In our case, given our proximity to the Hollywood sign, tourists. We're also close to the 101 and because we're in West Hollywood we get the traffic copters. One blessing from the President's visit yesterday is that we had a quiet night as all non-military/police copters were grounded. But tonight, returning from the Leno taping, <i>they're baaaack!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sunset is our main go to street, but as Hollywood legend <i>Liz Taylor</i> responded when asked by a young aspiring actor on how to make it in Hollywood, said, "<i>Take Fountain</i>". Great line and great advice as our apartment is between traffic choked (at all hours) Sunset and relatively fast Fountain. <i>We take Liz's advice all the time.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>And did I mention the traffic?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-20531163615539370302011-09-26T18:42:00.000-07:002011-09-27T08:09:01.852-07:00LA LA LAND. Input from JFG<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNtnc2Nx13cYmcvZ94Wv-eV0qHb3VJF8yaiKhEFbpVamBuAgsSH173tFXyXRpCMnkC6SJse1F75e0uXV0ptf_7Wus6ZwLwKuBGt_uIJo5NzbX2hwAQLylcXVmrtWvsbVBSyHpZTYcZ-A/s1600/IMG_20110926_154627.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNtnc2Nx13cYmcvZ94Wv-eV0qHb3VJF8yaiKhEFbpVamBuAgsSH173tFXyXRpCMnkC6SJse1F75e0uXV0ptf_7Wus6ZwLwKuBGt_uIJo5NzbX2hwAQLylcXVmrtWvsbVBSyHpZTYcZ-A/s200/IMG_20110926_154627.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656849935514187730" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>LA is a great big freeway</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Put a hundred down and buy a car</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>In a week, maybe two, they'll make you a star</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And all the stars that never were,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Are parking cars and pumping gas.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Burt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bacharach</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">With an actor in the family it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><i>de riguer</i></span> that we visit one of the film studio's. After all, it's Hollywood's <i>raison d'etre</i>. We chose Paramount given it's rich and storied history and the fact that it's the last of the major studio's still on this side of the mountain and in Hollywood. It was founded by the original film making New Yorkers who moved from Brooklyn to California for the light, weather and space to make Westerns. Howard Hughes was once an owner of half of the 65 acres with RKO Pictures. He refused to rent out his studios to other production companies, so he used the studios to store airplanes. Not a profitable venture. One of the smartest folks in Hollywood history bought him out, <i>Lucille Ball</i>, then looking for a studio to film a TV series about her band leader husband. No one would open their studio to a multi-racial marriage in those days, so when opportunity presented itself, she struck a deal with Hughes. We learned that a driving force in Paramount for many years was Lucille Ball of <i>I Love Lucy</i>. Evidently one shrewd business woman not to be trifled with! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Paramount also offers small <i>"VIP" </i>tours versus the cattle call at Universal Studios. Plus, one of John's fav pictures is <i>The Godfather </i>so seeing the studio where it was shot was a real plus. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We saw the triple studio where Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced across three sound stages in one continuous take, Ginger all the while doing whatever moves Fred did, only backwards!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We escaped the <i>Dr Phil</i> set with our psyche's intact. After visiting the set of <i>Happy Endings</i> we're intrigued to actually watch the show.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We managed to visit New York and Chicago during our tour, at least the back lot sets where we recognized many street scenes from films and TV land.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Glee</i> is filmed here and we were shown the exterior sets of many scenes. The football stadium is in Long Beach which was news to us. <i>Glee</i> is very secretive, not even our tour guide has been allowed on the set much less a peek from the outside. They are so secretive that even the portable dressing room trailers are hidden behind fake tree's and shrubs. While <i>Nip and Tuck</i> is no longer in production, it's creator having moved onto <i>Glee</i> and now working on <i>American Horror </i>(get a part Jay!), we did see where it was filmed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This two hour tour is relatively inexpensive and we highly recommend it to any film/TV buff visiting LA. We were able to make reservations on the same day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Not so Jay Leno. After 6 weeks John had no response from the Leno show so he decided on a bit of LA sleight of hand. After all, everything in this town is an illusion isn't it? He used Jay's name and our West Hollywood address and <i>viola</i>! Our invitation to attend Tuesday's taping came in two days later. We're psyched. Look for us Tuesday, Sept. 27!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To top off a great day, on the way back to our apartment, Jay pointed out Mario Batali's Pizzeria Mozza at the intersection of Melrose and Highland Avenue as we waited on the light to change. <i>Bingo</i>! We <i>waltzed </i>in at 5 PM. OK, early bird time but the place has been sold out every evening we're here, the earliest reservation has been 10:15 PM. For those of you in Westport, it's where the Tarry Lodge concept was invented. Same set-up, pizza bar, bar bar and small room for table seating. Fabulous pizza, best crust ever! This place has been on our <i>must go </i>list since we got here but given the reservation list, we had resigned ourselves to miss it. Truly an <i>A-list </i>get!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-431109641672794762011-09-23T15:53:00.000-07:002011-09-23T18:01:44.582-07:00Grand Canyon, South Rim<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6u7JXV23CJoGhPogVbEEO9_JhKr3d8CcAuFj8HpH1G__hc-8tq2kcGfZe6DT2HrDSJakRBl6QqT33PXLRsLNCtfMnV2F15EV3lW9ftETl0yyrdnn5NhMe_sXfXp7DeFnvqX5A4IPDA/s1600/IMG_0046.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6u7JXV23CJoGhPogVbEEO9_JhKr3d8CcAuFj8HpH1G__hc-8tq2kcGfZe6DT2HrDSJakRBl6QqT33PXLRsLNCtfMnV2F15EV3lW9ftETl0yyrdnn5NhMe_sXfXp7DeFnvqX5A4IPDA/s200/IMG_0046.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655708204943757410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aXUJ6tKHJ-Qlpv_znkxzrHhx5DFYeYKixMw8r-lS7YWOXzEFkerKhBhr3O-wuCcRjQH17l6ROb6xMiGoit6GqUaflvFO8Nwb9GS-kdRzz2OOoAnPl774ynRKlanhOgutZK5gZ8f3_g/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aXUJ6tKHJ-Qlpv_znkxzrHhx5DFYeYKixMw8r-lS7YWOXzEFkerKhBhr3O-wuCcRjQH17l6ROb6xMiGoit6GqUaflvFO8Nwb9GS-kdRzz2OOoAnPl774ynRKlanhOgutZK5gZ8f3_g/s200/IMG_0075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655705955455167330" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDXod3U33calgUyQD2EqtTEWiZfIHEOKXBVAj-8vH45sHuMYCdxppf4TDw6FNWTCGMTC8Ci2vI7NWXCP-kgmny_HGEoz9l8q9RWb3Hytfjk_1hvGFC1_ECOFKorABQvWUFiu-UFBX4Q/s1600/IMG_0049.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDXod3U33calgUyQD2EqtTEWiZfIHEOKXBVAj-8vH45sHuMYCdxppf4TDw6FNWTCGMTC8Ci2vI7NWXCP-kgmny_HGEoz9l8q9RWb3Hytfjk_1hvGFC1_ECOFKorABQvWUFiu-UFBX4Q/s200/IMG_0049.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655705171574190818" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB02jXx4zH_h6ahuyY6XtwjarSETTzGHq7coXXR10D3ahxHP_ykGFbS0mDhc7S3VphZA6qzUJgifK0vmtKwIYjJbntCjoclTBCrPkMPNoK4AIHipWBCWzElD0rJ85VxUZShsPX0nzhhg/s1600/IMG_0047.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB02jXx4zH_h6ahuyY6XtwjarSETTzGHq7coXXR10D3ahxHP_ykGFbS0mDhc7S3VphZA6qzUJgifK0vmtKwIYjJbntCjoclTBCrPkMPNoK4AIHipWBCWzElD0rJ85VxUZShsPX0nzhhg/s200/IMG_0047.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655703998921273586" /></a>One of the treats traveling the I-40 on the way to the Grand Canyon South Rim is the stop at Winslow, AZ, famous from Jackson Browne's "Take It Easy" which the Eagles covered and made into a huge hit. When Jay and John stopped here in 2006 the "corner" was under construction so we wanted to see what they'd done with it. John's pointing to the "girl in a flatbed Ford <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">slowin</span>' down to take a look at me", i.e. - he's got his thumb out hoping to get lucky. Back in the car buddy!<div><br /></div><div>On the Canyon access road we ran into late afternoon thundershowers, evidently a common <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">occurrence</span> this time of year. Per one of the Park Rangers, "It's monsoon season". Speaking of the Park Ranger, turns out this volunteer was from hometown Toledo, OH and grew up on Robinwood Avenue, one street over from the family manse on Scottwood. It was old home week for a while as we chatted about all the Robinwood folks that the Wenzler family knew. Truly a small, small world. Factoid from the Ranger, "What's the most dangerous animal in the Park (other then the humans who find a way to rack up an average of 16 fatalities a season doing what the Ranger called "Stupid Park tricks")? Answer, the squirrel. These little furry rodents are quite adept at posing for the tourists who then either attempt to pet or feed them. Ouch! Off to the hospital for rabies shots, the most painful of treatments...</div><div><br /></div><div>We posted a short video on Facebook which was a panorama of the different lighting of the park from one location. That's the beauty really. You can stand in one overlook all day and the light and colors will change dramatically as the sun makes it's east to west movement. We chose motion however. The Park has an excellent free trolley system (oh, did I mention that our Senior National Park Card got us right in at the entrance with no additional fee? What a bargain, for $10 a person you gain "free" admission to any National Park which usually have fee's in the $25 range. <i>Save on </i>as we visit Yosemite, Zion, Bryce and Monument Valley!).</div><div><br /></div><div>We rode the trolley west to Hermits Rest, off limits to vehicles. Each stop offered different view's of the canyon and in some cases the Colorado River over 6,800 feet below in some spots. From Hopi Point, the river which is over 6,000 feet below looks like a thin line even though it's actually over 350 feet wide. With our binoculars we did manage to spot several rafting parties on the river below which would be a fun way to see the Canyon by looking up rather than down, provided one was on a "flat water" trip!</div><div><br /></div><div>We had intended to hike down the Bright Angel trail about half-way but our friendly Ranger told us it took twice as long to come up as it did to get down, so with limited time we chose to grab lunch back at the Maswik Lodge, then took the car to explore all the overlooks west on the way to the Desert View and Watchtower, the final attraction along Desert View Drive. At each overlook, as the afternoon waned, the light in the Canyon changed and the hues mingled from green to red to dusky desert tones. No wonder we saw so many painters and photographers!</div><div><br /></div><div>As a side note, we noticed that our wind shield sported a 10 inch crack that the sun must have brought out. We knew we were hit by a stone the day before but there was not a sign of damage the next morning. But after lunch when we entrained in the car for the Desert View run we saw it. Yikes, 3,000 miles on a new car and already a damaged windshield. Bummer. We'll take care of it in LA where we have a two week layover with Jay.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a long day, we managed a lovely prime rib dinner at the Best Western in Grand Canyon Village just outside the park next to the Red Feather Lodge where we were staying. Fodor's gave the Best Western dining room a big thumbs up and we agreed, especially priced at $12.99 for a three course dinner (yes, early bird before 6:30 PM but remember, we were still transitioning from EDT to PDT so parts of our bodily system thought it was 9:30 PM (that would be the Cavit part?).</div><div><br /></div><div>It's very difficult to describe the elegant beauty of the Grand Canyon. Even photo's don't quite capture this unique eloquence of nature. As one of our dear friends, an expert photographer with a fabulous kit of equipment told us, "Only the human eye can truly capture the beauty".</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess this is why the Grand Canyon is a must see on any bucket list. It's truly a gift of nature, it's here so you don't have to travel halfway 'round the world and it's so stunning that words can't really describe it.</div><div><br /></div><div>With a long travel day ahead of us, we hit the vee berth early and the next morning at 7:00 AM found us LA bound. We answered the Duke's call, "Westward Ho!".</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-35831355460743972952011-09-21T09:09:00.000-07:002011-09-26T10:44:50.520-07:00Hooray for Hollywood!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNxe2f8bKf5pVSuExmZwZE6yxPnwt-SZH5b1oNdNTNSy0EzlfHVBSEh7pM8kD1t-hkY5gV17ZamuZ49dkZj3x7OKoMou9mpSVeecDh6pS87E-w5JXuJZX4GdEifJKNn6fRDNC6KG4IA/s1600/DSCN0661.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNxe2f8bKf5pVSuExmZwZE6yxPnwt-SZH5b1oNdNTNSy0EzlfHVBSEh7pM8kD1t-hkY5gV17ZamuZ49dkZj3x7OKoMou9mpSVeecDh6pS87E-w5JXuJZX4GdEifJKNn6fRDNC6KG4IA/s200/DSCN0661.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656725484699862034" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyG-9b4zC9K8e1pUClum2-8kfE1C9NaPI-WjObJcjy5x7ZVmFtzaUxW8XwHrrWz6oCbf-62l7Sefz-2PMJcvhXY_k9YLIrtVVZM5wgLrMjB3g4S0B_ucL6vMtRRhOfAR0hfVgUFNTzNw/s1600/DSCN0664.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyG-9b4zC9K8e1pUClum2-8kfE1C9NaPI-WjObJcjy5x7ZVmFtzaUxW8XwHrrWz6oCbf-62l7Sefz-2PMJcvhXY_k9YLIrtVVZM5wgLrMjB3g4S0B_ucL6vMtRRhOfAR0hfVgUFNTzNw/s200/DSCN0664.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656722766053956162" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP33h6JR89slKXOY6ZUNRdCytD0VwH2Hg3y4qmgv41wCgpHeuEiAeOhwqCfp06NxCJOMTP4Dw-zgtnftf3PyUMUlKexINqjLnm62HFtds5h_1ZV6oY63kLmkdpTnNk31IINe0WqPWBTQ/s1600/DSCN0651.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP33h6JR89slKXOY6ZUNRdCytD0VwH2Hg3y4qmgv41wCgpHeuEiAeOhwqCfp06NxCJOMTP4Dw-zgtnftf3PyUMUlKexINqjLnm62HFtds5h_1ZV6oY63kLmkdpTnNk31IINe0WqPWBTQ/s200/DSCN0651.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655979933306397170" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEelInxFaCvqAS0aWAy9lPVLVYHjFQCWzztqG2XZcz5vbC86o23grb1FsTlUlPGGbcVQvZS3nDm-EuRs6Hb7UBowQzOGDmHDgqhAgO6gUwBc9xzggn5AIc-zGuBJxX9vvsrI0ZuU88A/s1600/IMG_0064.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEelInxFaCvqAS0aWAy9lPVLVYHjFQCWzztqG2XZcz5vbC86o23grb1FsTlUlPGGbcVQvZS3nDm-EuRs6Hb7UBowQzOGDmHDgqhAgO6gUwBc9xzggn5AIc-zGuBJxX9vvsrI0ZuU88A/s200/IMG_0064.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655978320437826274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jEARF-y7L4OtlKPBIST8sVg5K939wTBgx8zy7EFQfbCf0LI9a-dg8Mbkd6KqQCgu6ELIR6maqM5gV0J7mHbNZKueYKii0vhB-s-UoXRIT5nOxtmSR-O37LVZiZT-dWLDDOZl_ezy8Q/s1600/IMG_0057.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jEARF-y7L4OtlKPBIST8sVg5K939wTBgx8zy7EFQfbCf0LI9a-dg8Mbkd6KqQCgu6ELIR6maqM5gV0J7mHbNZKueYKii0vhB-s-UoXRIT5nOxtmSR-O37LVZiZT-dWLDDOZl_ezy8Q/s200/IMG_0057.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655977840881575170" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM3QXljFs6lJN7WmXm5pKcVdSS37zreCR6ylNx4taYBLHD-FbfGLtP5SVMPwWqgCgX02IZs6FyWNgRMh883NCZd44s1pQL4k7GLAsnRXljpvXqhT2HSigyFLDfWXw_TUSdq3IevisGNA/s1600/IMG_0076.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM3QXljFs6lJN7WmXm5pKcVdSS37zreCR6ylNx4taYBLHD-FbfGLtP5SVMPwWqgCgX02IZs6FyWNgRMh883NCZd44s1pQL4k7GLAsnRXljpvXqhT2HSigyFLDfWXw_TUSdq3IevisGNA/s200/IMG_0076.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654851542705360370" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hooray for Hollywood,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That screwy, ballyhooey Hollywood</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Where any office boy or young mechanic</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Can be a panic, with just a good looking pan</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Where any barmaid can be a star maid</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If she dances with or without a fan.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hooray for Hollywood!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Johnny Mercer</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our drive from the Grand Canyon was uneventful except for keeping an eye on the growing crack in our windshield. We were fortunate to stop for gas in Arizona because once crossing into California the prices increased by 75 cents a gallon. No wonder this state is exploring alternative energy! Our Ford Edge with two white-bread seniors passed the CA Agricultural Inspection. No sign of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Joad</span> family so we were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">whisked</span> into La La Land.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The drive across the Mojave Desert is quite monotonous. You might as well be in a LEM landing on the moon. Once across the desert at Barstow we stopped for lunch at the old Barstow railroad station which was made up of old passenger cars linking a central food court. Of course train buff John loved it and he was looking for his equally trained out buddy Jasper to share the experience.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Once on the 15 (note that in CA one drops the "I" designation and everything is "the 101", "the 5" etc. We do our best to fit in our new culture!). A right turn onto the 10 and we were an hour out. Our host Jay over ruled Gertrude Garmin and on the 10 we really had our first taste of SoCal traffic. FREEKS!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We found our one bedroom apartment in West Hollywood, a clean and bright respite owned by our hosts Eugene and Mary on a relatively quiet tree lined block between W. Sunset and Fountain Blvds. We soon found we were really centrally located, within a mile of studio's, great restaurants and Hollywood and Vine. Soon after we unpacked our host Jay arrived and we shared our first CA wine with him on our balcony. To celebrate, Jay took us to Duke's on Malibu beach, literally on the Pacific Ocean on the PCH (again culturista's, PCH stands for Pacific Coast Highway but nobody uses the full name).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sunday found us hiking the canyons of Runyan Park with Jay. Local signs warning of rattlesnakes. <i>"Why'd it have to be snakes"?</i> Uphill climb which is fine with us as it wrings out a week of sitting in the car and will help to get us in shape to hike to Vernal Falls in Yosemite with our friends Jacqui and Steve in two weeks. After the walk, a reward of eggs benedict from Chez Sarah (eggs avacado for veggie Jay) washed down with Prossecco. We could get into this California living. Hard exercise followed by foodie reward. What could be better? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On Sunday Jay gave us the "insider's tour" of Hollywood, Sunset Strip, a very real reminder that we were not in CT anymore. We saw someone dressed as Marilyn Monroe and Darth Vader were spotted walking down the street. Apparently these impersonators pose with tourists for photos, hoping to score tips.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We spent the rest of the week sightseeing. Took a trip on Mulholland Dr. and loved it's steep, winding beautiful vistas, we also went to look at the famous HOLLYWOOD sign and took the obligatory pictures. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Before we left home, we had reserved tickets to attend a taping of <i>Jeopardy! </i> John and I watch <i>Jeopardy!</i> nearly every evening as it comes on as dinner is being prepared. So we got a big kick out of sitting in on a live show. Fun to see how it all works in person. They tape five shows in one day, three in the morning and two in the afternoon. We were warned in advance not to shout out the answers like we do at home. Easier said than done, but we managed to keep our mouths shut. The episodes we watched will be aired in November.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We also visited the Reagan Library in Simi Valley. We have never been to a presidential library before, so this was a unique and interesting treat. It is a huge museum and naturally chronicles the former president's early career as an actor and follows his life in politics and his eight years as president. Very inspirational. We were reminded of the optimism that Reagan was famous for and the accomplishments of his administration. We were wowed by seeing Air Force One on display. It is the plane used by all the presidents from 1974 through 2001. The library is located at the top of a mountain with stunning views of the valley and mountains beyond, a beautiful final resting place for the "Gipper".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We read in our guidebook about The Norton-Simon Museum in Pasadena. John and I love to visit museums all over the world and are aware that LA has the famous Getty, but we had never heard of this one, so we had to check it out. What a pleasant surprise. Small but with a wonderful collection of works by some of our favorite artists. We viewed several Renaissance pieces, many pieces by Rembrandt, Reubens, a Vermeer, Van Gogh, Degas, Renoir, Corot, Matisse, and Picasso. We were in heaven. A special jewel in this sprawling metropolis.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hooray for Hollywood!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-50697550261802955672011-09-19T12:26:00.000-07:002011-09-19T18:43:33.240-07:00Santa Fe: Southwestern art capital<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxxxeY40x8aueGiL49CJfKd9yVjiad4fKJ78aWS7faZGfO3o07MjVLJwD7jjtMveWz6npuzhZRRtqzcVOVtNenZjHByLcu1UokB8uLMhHHSruL2c6YqvmonTz52TgVvdFHdX9ygmwrQ/s1600/DSCN0637.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxxxeY40x8aueGiL49CJfKd9yVjiad4fKJ78aWS7faZGfO3o07MjVLJwD7jjtMveWz6npuzhZRRtqzcVOVtNenZjHByLcu1UokB8uLMhHHSruL2c6YqvmonTz52TgVvdFHdX9ygmwrQ/s200/DSCN0637.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654251203281689474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSNE6fRvckQf-hhLdy2XzRPoH2nzxb92SNbRyjl6lM-s6f6AsYI5n_UycfvHzlipKkxNN4n3_ZOlNvcy4nx-ywbZgKoue_PhUSdGWcgwyU7wK2Kzd0ENYaDIM_xBj_gz4FbViKnKVCw/s1600/IMG_0042.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSNE6fRvckQf-hhLdy2XzRPoH2nzxb92SNbRyjl6lM-s6f6AsYI5n_UycfvHzlipKkxNN4n3_ZOlNvcy4nx-ywbZgKoue_PhUSdGWcgwyU7wK2Kzd0ENYaDIM_xBj_gz4FbViKnKVCw/s200/IMG_0042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654249344318496802" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZIq2nIUrKMYMuWvuog05LP37Op7eOk6XKyxCr6oPsomVnZXKfpD8G_ZucXcRXysQyMQUfFZDXT1_7Lj7gu_YB-3WjE1s96x1Is-Intb6xFc_jrhCh0TwjeUdBaBn3s68jpZ5mx59kg/s1600/IMG_0041.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZIq2nIUrKMYMuWvuog05LP37Op7eOk6XKyxCr6oPsomVnZXKfpD8G_ZucXcRXysQyMQUfFZDXT1_7Lj7gu_YB-3WjE1s96x1Is-Intb6xFc_jrhCh0TwjeUdBaBn3s68jpZ5mx59kg/s200/IMG_0041.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654248890230011026" /></a><br />We arrived in Santa Fe to a sparkly blue, cloudless afternoon, happy for the opportunity to get out of the car.<div>On a plateau at the base of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sangre</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Cristo</span> Mountains-at an elevation of 7,000 feet-Santa Fe is brimming with reminders of nearly four centuries of Spanish and Mexican rule, and the Pueblo cultures that have been there for hundreds more.</div><div>Humorist Will Rogers said on his first visit to Santa Fe, "Whoever designed this town did so while riding on a jackass, backwards, and drunk." The maze of narrow streets and alleyways confounded us while in the car, but as pedestrians we delighted in the vast array of shops, restaurants, flowered courtyards and eye-catching galleries at nearly every turn. </div><div>We only had thirty six hours to enjoy our stay, so we had to make some decisions about how to best spend the time. </div><div>We had three goals.</div><div><ul><li>Food</li><li>Shopping (I am hunting for a pair of cowboy boots)</li><li>Sightseeing and visiting galleries</li></ul>Food in Santa Fe is wonderful. Eating out is a major pastime when visiting this lovely town.</div><div>We enjoyed several delicious meals: breakfast at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pasqual's</span>, lunch at Anasazi (wow) and dinner at La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Choza</span>. I honestly don't think you can get a bad meal in Santa Fe.</div><div>As for shopping, it's hard to know where to begin. I mentioned earlier, I am looking for cowboy boots. We stopped at several places to look, see and try on. Two spots sold boots on consignment, no luck. A few were big brand name stores, sold at retail, still no luck. Then we happened upon a shop named Back at the Ranch. <i>Now we're </i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><i>talkin</i></span>. This cozy spot in an old creaky-floored adobe is stocked with the finest handmade cowboy boots I've ever seen. They come in every color, style, and embellishment imaginable. I tried several pair: pink, turquoise, black, red, brown. Fell in love with each one, then reality hit and I decided not to be an impulse buyer. I'd keep looking, but the hunt had been fun. </div><div>Our shopping spree did not end empty. We stumbled upon a small leather goods shop. We spent some time visiting with the owner and designer of sterling silver belt buckles. <i>NICE</i>. Needless to say, I am now the very proud owner of a gorgeous leather belt with a beautiful silver buckle, hand made in Santa Fe. <i>Grin</i>. </div><div>Next we hit the galleries on Canyon Road, the city's art district. If you are familiar with a condition called "Stendhal", or "Florence syndrome", you will know what I mean when I tell you that the Santa Fe art district can be overwhelming. This small city boasts being second only to NYC in it's art sales. Dozens of galleries line the narrow streets and you can find anything from oil paintings of the stunning local scenery to mobile art to enormous sculptures of American Indian chiefs, deer and antelope. We spent the afternoon wandering in and out of these interesting places. </div><div>Local dress, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">cuisine</span> by the way, is "<i>New Mexican</i>". The blend of Spanish, Mexican and American Western plays out in both the food and the dress (at least for locals). While having breakfast at Pasquals we noted a local with his jeans, cowboy boots, western shirt and a vest studded out with turquoise. And of course a well worn straw Stetson covering long hair. The local ladies were quite chic and very well turned out in similar fashion to our cowboy. Their boots alone were in the $1,500-$5,000 range.</div><div>While the tourists were eclectic the Texas ladies stood out. Well tended, bejeweled to the nth degree and having the best of times as only those Texas ladies can. Truly black belt shoppers. The Hampton's crowd back home has a lot to learn!</div><div>Our hotel was in the Railway District, the Hotel Santa Fe, and while the room was adequate the location was great and hotel offered free shuttle service to all local points of interest. We learned long ago that when in a new city it's a good idea to take the local tour and then go back to places that struck our interest for more detailed exploration. One of those spots was the Loretto Chapel, a delicate Gothic Church modeled after Sainte-Chapelle in Paris. Built in 1873 by French architects and Italian stonemasons, it is known for it's "Miraculous Staircase" that leads to the choir loft. The staircase contains two complete 360 degree turns and a mysterious carpenter who arrived on a donkey and built the 20 foot staircase-using only a square, a saw and a tub of water to season the wood-and then disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. No nails were used in the construction. Naturally, many of the locals at the time believed the legend that St. Joseph, a carpenter, had appeared to build the staircase.</div><div>The Palace of Governors was equally interesting as the old adobe structure had been home to three seats of government, Spanish, Mexican and American. Outside under the arcade facing the 400 year old plaza, Native American's laid out hand made jewelry on hand woven blankets. I bought a lovely silver and turquoise cuff bracelet after some modest bargaining.</div><div>Because we were in the Rail yard District our number one (hmmm, maybe tied with Grandson Jasper) rail fan longed to take the Rail Runner train to Albuquerque on the road bed of the original line that reached Santa Fe, the famous Denver & Rio Grande, but alas, with 36 hours, it wasn't to be (I could write the Sunday Times piece, "36 hours in Santa Fe!).</div><div>We loved Santa Fe and highly recommend a visit to anyone who is visiting this part of the country.</div><div>Next we ride into the sunset to see the Grand Canyon.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-41869979086114196662011-09-15T17:56:00.000-07:002011-09-16T16:37:15.714-07:00Route 66: Observations from JohnnyGOnce we crossed into Oklahoma we began to see signs for "Historic Route 66". These only increased crossing into Texas and once into New Mexico the old highway <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">paralleled I-40 for miles and then veered to Santa Fe before following I-25 to Albuquerque and then West to Arizona. Of course we stopped in Winslow, AZ for the obligatory photo op, "standin' by the corner..."(see photo on Facebook), the great Jackson Browne song covered by the Eagles. With lots of windshield time, we observed even this late in the season so many groups traveling the old historic route that we wondered what was the attraction? Bikers of course, but at our overnight in Weatherford, TX we ran across a group of folks driving vintage muscle cars. GTO's, souped up Mustangs from the '60's, you name it, they were driving it. Then scenes right out of Tom Wolfe's "Kandy- Kolored </span> Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby", the story of the California car scene in which 1930's and 1940's cars were "chopped" and painted "krazy" colors. Imagine watching a fleet of these beautiful cars cruising on the Old 66 next to you on the I-40! Even vintage sports cars, followed of course by the break down vans.<div><br /></div><div>What is it that attracts these groups to a roadway built in 1926 as the first purpose built asphalt route from Chicago to Los Angeles? In the 1930's, the "Okies"fled the dust bowl on Route 66 and migrated to the orange groves of California, think "Grapes of Wrath", which is likely the first notion any of us had about Route 66. In 1986 the road was largely decommissioned, much like a ship of the line after much useful service. This was a direct result of the Interstate system started in the mid 1950's by President Eisenhower. </div><div><br /></div><div>This road has always celebrated the romance and freedom of automobile travel. Bobby Troup wrote the seminal song about the road, "Get Your Kicks, On Route 66" in 1946 while driving the route at the suggestion of his wife. Nat King Cole released his all time popular cover in 1946 and the song has been covered by hundreds of artists, including Chuck Berry in 1961, the Stones in 1964 and Depeche Mode in 1987. So the song and roadway certainly resinate in the American psyche.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our observation is that the age groups we saw traveling on what is left of this vintage roadway, Jackson Browne excepted, are largely baby boomers who grew up in the 1950's in the post WW II era of "Leave it to Beaver", "Marcus Welby, MD" and "Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet". This was a fairly constrained and somewhat rigid post WW II era with social mores pretty much of a conservative bent. The explosion of the Beatles, Vietnam, Stones, Buffalo Springfield in the '60's provided a release from the social constraints of the '50's. Think "Bye Bye Birdie", "what's the matter with kids today"?</div><div><br /></div><div>With the popularity of the TV show, "Route 66" (1960-1964), young people envisioned a life free of parental constraints represented by the journey through small town America and indeed many at the time were drawn to replicating the journey. Indeed, Sarah's brother and a friend rented a Corvette and drove Route 66 in the early '60's. They weren't alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>And today, the sections of what remains of the old road are chock-a-bloc full of baby boomers on Harley's, bikes, sports cars, muscle cars, RV's and whatever, living the dream of freedom that the old historic road represents, because they're at an age <i>when they can</i>! After the brief freedom's of the post Vietnam era most of us went into a different world of constraints, usually called "corporate" or "law firm" or the like. I remember several years ago my Chairman at my corporate gig was taking a month to trace Route 66 and the Lewis and Clark journey on his Harley with a buddy. Intrigued, I asked why? He said, "you're still too young to understand, but you will". I do now.</div><div><br /></div><div>We've joined them, sort of, and while our trip isn't just about traveling the old route, we share their sense of freedom and discovery as we travel this great land of ours. Our next stop is the Grand Canyon, South Rim.</div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-27506757477772357802011-09-14T15:20:00.000-07:002011-09-15T17:51:24.117-07:00Graceland and West!As the great Paul Simon wrote and sang:<div>"The Mississippi Delta, was shining<div>Like a National Guitar.</div><div>I am following the river</div><div>Down the highway</div><div>Through the cradle of the Civil War.</div><div>I'm going to Graceland, Graceland</div><div>in Memphis, Tennessee.</div><div>I'm going to Graceland.</div><div>Poorboys and Pilgrims with families</div><div>We are going to Graceland. . ."</div><div><br /></div><div>OK so we toured Elvis' home, Graceland, in Memphis.</div><div><div><div><div>I honestly didn't know what to expect. I was never a huge Elvis fan to begin with. He came on the world music scene when I was a little too young to get it, and in the 60s, when I became aware and interested in music, the Beatles overtook the fifties genre of Rock and Roll. And of course in the seventies, he was doing most of his entertaining in Vegas and became sadly addicted to prescription drugs, dying much too young.</div><div>We got up and checked out of our room at the Heartbreak Hotel early in order to be the first group to go through the mansion. The people who sold us the tickets tried to talk us into a "package" which includes touring two, yes two, airplanes that sit on the grounds. One is the "Lisa Marie", a Boeing 707, and the other is "The King" a large twin engine corporate jet. We declined, our reasoning being that the "Mansion" was enough.</div><div>We boarded a shuttle bus along with dozens of "seniors on a spree" to make the short journey across the street.</div><div>The house sits up on a hill, it's large, but not overly enormous. Honestly, not ostentatious from the outside, a large colonial style. It was purchased in 1957, when Elvis was 22, for something like $125,000.</div><div>The interior is decorated in the early seventies look. Not the best decade for style. Lots of mirrors, dark colors, shag carpet, glitz. Every modern convenience of the day, such as stereo systems, TVs, a huge pool table, a jungle room. Elvis had his parents living with him and they had a whole wing to themselves.</div><div>There are lots of photos of Pricilla, and Lisa Marie. There is a very large display of his clothes, including the elaborate costumes he wore in his Vegas days.</div><div>My favorite section of Graceland was the very extensive display of his early career and record of how he got his start in the music business. Old films of a very young man on the Ed Sullivan Show and the Steve Allen Show. Then there is a very long hallway with his gold and platinum records, numbering well into the two hundreds. And that is just in the States. Also on display are his Emmy awards and countless plaques and testimonials.</div><div>I was struck by how much of a philanthropist Elvis was and how generous he was with family and friends, giving them money, cars and homes as needed.</div><div>Was it worth it? Yes, I'm happy to have seen Graceland. It's a slice of American music history.</div><div><br /></div><div>After that, we hit the road across Tennessee, into Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas. Whew!</div><div>Next stop: Santa Fe NM.</div><div><br /></div><div><span><span></span></span><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-91243959977669080992011-09-11T15:22:00.000-07:002011-09-18T19:42:48.429-07:00Heartbreak Hotel<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj419hB5T7Hig7BtYcXppyRFkphNIQ9bfhxLj5LYjAjbqNTfOYZJ2HAVza_kBhtQxwPgiNZTltl7QuOmGjsUJg56eNAId9bsrIMgeP2Nl-9vjMnS-wU5J0mCeKqyEk8GyLA5v3F-xro2w/s1600/IMG_0040.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj419hB5T7Hig7BtYcXppyRFkphNIQ9bfhxLj5LYjAjbqNTfOYZJ2HAVza_kBhtQxwPgiNZTltl7QuOmGjsUJg56eNAId9bsrIMgeP2Nl-9vjMnS-wU5J0mCeKqyEk8GyLA5v3F-xro2w/s200/IMG_0040.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653893937813739186" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8oT1ryghJLuM3hLqJPCKajpvQ_8dR1CHAlLpIDqkwSAILnUSNnislsxhIe5x2_Qb2G2_D2abmfpivcQYDivZmUMTduuRiHlGpKfxLWTQh69J2O-oVax2pi_jr8-pdDzn7R-jOTssQQ/s1600/IMG_0039.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8oT1ryghJLuM3hLqJPCKajpvQ_8dR1CHAlLpIDqkwSAILnUSNnislsxhIe5x2_Qb2G2_D2abmfpivcQYDivZmUMTduuRiHlGpKfxLWTQh69J2O-oVax2pi_jr8-pdDzn7R-jOTssQQ/s200/IMG_0039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653893244586019234" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyldtH8wJbYvZT_5IwuYWxBGK47wpviXIZ7840s2D7f95gH9xRQR2z37X46aHp17KLHj27kpVxCj3gQOXjpzXhcuGVaQqlJnakHHt1Pc8eCGr1pfNeXPK1Xq4UqZtI_BW5duTLrnJO-Q/s1600/IMG_0056.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyldtH8wJbYvZT_5IwuYWxBGK47wpviXIZ7840s2D7f95gH9xRQR2z37X46aHp17KLHj27kpVxCj3gQOXjpzXhcuGVaQqlJnakHHt1Pc8eCGr1pfNeXPK1Xq4UqZtI_BW5duTLrnJO-Q/s200/IMG_0056.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653840273542850674" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gOHRM00ac2ZwL4nws3McXQSvSKW-eWyGYsAtCPhnuDhW3l3UaRQIo0xYyQeTw3m9L8BYIUcODVXI1qluBRgh9lMCx9Bn1iV30jVZgmWChRYN8WbSq9nm4l71vSy6JdPa0lu9FjniXA/s1600/IMG_0036.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gOHRM00ac2ZwL4nws3McXQSvSKW-eWyGYsAtCPhnuDhW3l3UaRQIo0xYyQeTw3m9L8BYIUcODVXI1qluBRgh9lMCx9Bn1iV30jVZgmWChRYN8WbSq9nm4l71vSy6JdPa0lu9FjniXA/s200/IMG_0036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653837879145151474" /></a><br /><div>What a hoot and a half! Here we are in Memphis at the Heartbreak Hotel.</div><div>The whole place is a throwback to 1957.</div><div> The lobby is all dark and purple and filled with Elvis fans from all walks of life and all countries. </div><div>Our room is decorated with blown up photos of Elvis and the pool is in the shape of an enormous heart.</div><div>In the parking lot there was a huge old pink Cadillac which I tried to get a photo of, but the man drove away before I got there. Apparently, he runs a shuttle to a restaurant nearby, all in the Elvis theme-natch. I hope to get a ride in that baby.</div><div>Tonight we'll dine on Beale Street and enjoy some of those famous Memphis dry ribs! </div><div>Tomorrow we will tour Graceland before we hit the road again.</div><div>(I eventually got a photo of my pink Cadillac when it came back for another pickup.)</div><div><br /></div><div>From my roommate:</div><div>Driving opens one to the wonderful history and landscape of this great land. Our adventure began with purpose as a great American road trip. After spending much of my corporate career outside this wonderful country, with numerous trips together to the great capitals of Europe, we decided to set out on one of our bucket list trips to visit our Western National Parks and to spend spend more time with actor Jay who is LA based.</div><div><br /></div><div>So many people we know think that there's nothing between the Hudson River and LA, except Vail or Park City. Hopefully this blog will help them understand how vast, varied and beautiful this country truly is.</div><div><br /></div><div>We cruised past the Gettysburg battlefield onto the beautiful Shenandoah Valley, site of so many historic Civil War battles. With the Blue Ridge mountains on one side and the Appalachians on the other. At one point Sarah heard me exclaim, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">OMG</span>, Hungry Mother State Park"! This park nests off the Blue Ridge Parkway and is the earliest of my memories of the many family vacation's that followed. We literally camped in surplus Army tents in the early 1950's as my Dad served his post <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">PhD</span>. internship at the Veterans Memorial Hospital in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Roanoke</span>, VA. My first taste of roasted marsh mellows over a campfire, the old Studebaker overheating on the Blue Ridge Parkway, a miscast diaper out the front window landing in the back seat. Anyway, you get the point, none of this would have happened if we'd elected a "fly-over".</div><div><br /></div><div>So, we're ready to board the bus to Beale Street after several interesting detours on I-40 (thanks Navigator Sarah and GPS "Gertrude"). This is a down side of road travel. You don't control the idiots on the road or the construction people in Nashville who decide to take I-40 from three lanes to one for three days.</div><div><br /></div><div>But as typical American's, we're resilient and resourceful. </div><div><br /></div><div>And speaking of that, our Sirius radio has been tuned to the 9/11 Memorial Services for two days. Never forget!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-65836292604082062252011-09-05T12:34:00.000-07:002011-09-05T13:10:27.108-07:00The View Hits The RoadHere it is, already Labor Day 2011.<div>Time just seems to fly by at an astonishing pace these days. </div><div>We spent a wonderful summer on Long Island Sound aboard Cinnamon Girl, enjoying the sea breeze, stunning sunsets, family and friends.</div><div> Until the last week in August, when we experienced an earthquake and hurricane Irene, the weather was pretty darn perfect. There is hardly anything more relaxing than being on the water, picking up a mooring in a lovely harbor, settling with a cool drink, and listening to Sinatra on the iPOD. Heaven.</div><div>Now that September is here, it's time to think about putting the boat away for the cooler weather we know is to follow. Time to think of our next adventure. </div><div>The View is hitting the road. </div><div>When I was growing up, our family didn't do much traveling. My parents traveled to Europe and New York, but we didn't as a family. Who would take all those kids on a big trip? We traveled to Luna Pier in June and stayed until Labor Day. </div><div>John and I are getting in the car this coming weekend and driving across the country. We plan to visit our son Jay in Los Angeles, in fact we've rented an apartment in LA for two weeks. After that we plan on visiting our country's National Parks.</div><div>This journey has been on our "bucket list" for several years and we decided that this is the time to do it. After all:</div><div><ul><li>we have the time</li><li>it's the best season to travel by car because the weather is non threatening</li><li>we have traveled extensively to other countries, but why not see the USA?</li></ul><br /></div><div>Stay tuned for updates and a travelogue.</div><div>Now I have to think about packing.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-61388323080570962242010-11-19T12:36:00.000-08:002010-11-20T08:43:03.044-08:00Thanksgiving and the Remains of the DayTime marches on.<br />It's fall 2010 and the View has moved to Ohio for the start of school, colder weather and the run up to seasonal holidays. My mind is spinning with memories. I totally missed posting about Halloween. Oh well, there's always next year.<br />Next week is Thanksgiving. My family and I will celebrate this lovely, unique American holiday together here in Connecticut. We will start the day with our first annual Gillespie Turkey Trot at the beach on Long Island Sound. One of us is a marathoner and she will take her daily run while the rest of us walk, talk, people watch and enjoy the playground.<br />After that, it's home for brunch. Think waffles, maple syrup, eggs, sausages, perhaps a cinnamon roll-we may need to take another walk after all that food.<br />Dinner at our house is traditional fare with roast turkey and all the trimmings.<br />Here's one of my favorite, easy recipes to share:<br />Spiced Cranberry Sauce<br />1 12 0z. bag fresh cranberries<br />1 cup sugar<br />1 cup water<br />2 1/4 tsp. finely grated orange peel<br />1/2 tsp. kosher salt<br />Add 1/2 t. ground cinnamon, 1/8 t. ground allspice, 1/8 t. ground cloves, and 1/8 t. ground nutmeg.<br />Bring all ingredients to a boil in heavy medium saucepan, stirring often. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until most of the cranberries burst, stirring occasionally, about ten minutes. Transfer sauce to medium bowl. Cool, cover and refrigerate. May be made up to one week ahead.<br />The warm spices in this version are the very essence of the holiday.<br />Now for the memories.<br />One of the things I will always remember about Thanksgiving on Scottwood, is that Dad would get up very early on Monday that week, and go to the local farmers' market to buy the biggest turkey he could find. I recall that it was often over twenty pounds, more like twenty-two or twenty four pounds. Dad was very proud of the size of our turkey and would be back from "market" as he called it, while we were preparing to leave for school. He would announce with a big smile, how large a bird he had found. We cheered and went to school carrying this piece of family news.<br />The turkey would be stuffed and put into an enormous electric roaster the night before Thanksgiving.<br />My parents would stay up late, chopping onions and celery and mixing stale bread cubes with herbs and butter. It took the two of them to wrangle all of that filling into the bird and place it into the roaster to slowly cook for several hours. We would wake up to the smell of roasting turkey. Heavenly.<br />We always had a big breakfast because the next meal was the Thanksgiving Feast, there was no scheduled "lunch" that day.<br />In the middle of the day Dad would load us into the car and take us to the zoo. This gave Mom time for herself and time to add the finishing touches on any of the menu that needed tending. We loved this outing. Dad could be very childlike at the zoo. We had to travel trough a tunnel under the road to enter and Dad joined us when we all yelled and screeched loudly in order to hear our echos. He loved the lion house and would lift each of us up high in order to get a better look at the beasts. Afterwards on the way home we sang and tried to imitate the elephants, tigers, and lions by mimicking their cries. We arrived home hungry, happy and ready for Thanksgiving dinner.<br />One of my jobs was to help set the table. We had a smallish dining room table and in order to seat and feed up to twenty or so for dinner, Dad had a table top custom made to be placed over our regular table. It was made of heavy wood and cut into two demi lunes, or half circles, then joined by hinges so that it could be folded in half. My brothers would go into the basement and carry it upstairs where it was laid over the table. We then covered the wood surface with newspapers, followed by white sheets and topped with an enormous, circular, white damask tablecloth. Finally we set out china, silver, crystal and linen napkins at each place. Place cards were always handmade. I remember one year, my sister Anne, (always creative) made up a little rhyme for each of us, without ever using our names. We had to guess who she meant by the rhyme. I loved mine and saved it for years, thrilled by what she wrote about me. "Small, blonde, with skin so light, in school this girl is very bright". I was eight years old.<br />That table was only for the adults and older brothers and sisters. The "little kids" had to sit at the dreaded Kids Table. I think I was there until I went to college! However, there were a few advantages of sitting with this elite group of children. If I had been allowed to sit at the big table, I would have had to clean my plate. As a child, I hated stuffing, and those vegetables and cranberry sauce and mince pie. At the kids table, no one noticed if I only ate a roll and two bites of turkey. Also, we could wreck havoc all we wanted and our parents were too occupied to notice. <br />Then came the daunting task of doing the dishes. There was no automatic dishwasher. Some of us simply made ourselves scarce, hoping nobody noticed we weren't helping, others stood in the kitchen with a towel over one shoulder, chatting but never lifting a dish, others just complained about the drudgery of it all. Everyone always tried to get out of helping, but somehow we all did our share and things were cleaned up in the end. Teamwork!<br />Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. (No gifts) With all the effort that goes into this one, special dinner, it's a wonder Americans still go through with it the last Thursday in November year after year. Yet I remind myself every day how thankful I am to have such a great family, many friends, my health, and to be a citizen of the USA. So all the preparation that goes into making the dinner and celebrating Thanksgiving is pure pleasure.<br />Here's something to think about. I read about a woman in Jamestown, RI, (where my late brother Fritz once owned a home) who for the last ten years has held a Thanksgiving leftovers potluck on the Saturday after the holiday. It could also be called Save the Best for Last. Some guests bring leftovers, some use leftovers to make something new, and some begin from scratch. She declined from the start to give food assignments. She decided she wasn't going to try to control it. It's what's in the refrigerator, why worry about weather people have a balanced meal or not? The range of what turns up is vast, her guest list tops sixty-five, and is one of the most sought out invitations of the season.<br />I love the idea. Think I'll try it next year.<br />Happy Thanksgiving!SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68910405516897813.post-29183818035184423822010-10-13T12:26:00.000-07:002010-10-13T13:48:46.115-07:00Water SportsNo one in the family was very athletic in terms of participating in organized team sports. By that I mean that we were not members of teams like the swim team, the football team, baseball, tennis, track, or basketball teams. We played sports as a family. We raced back and forth in the lake, we went sailing, we held relay races in the yard, we shot baskets in the driveway behind our house in Toledo, we played baseball on Acklin Ave. We rode our bikes all over the place, played endless games of hide and seek, and we ice skated for hours on neighborhood ponds and a frozen Lake Erie.<br /><br />In the summer we swam every day. Non of us had lessons, we just learned by doing. Dad loved the water and would coax us to duck our heads under the cool, green lake at an early age. Then he would teach us how to kick our feet and use our arms to stroke through the water with swift movements. We loved it and always felt safe and comfortable in the lake.<br /><br />Sometimes we would take one of the motor boats out during the week on a hot, windless day. We would speed out to deep water, drop an anchor and jump off the boat into twelve feet of wonderfulness, so cool and fresh that it was like a shot of sun, wind and freedom all rolled into one plunge. We would laugh and do cannonballs, trying to see which of us could make the biggest splash. We would dive, and then swim under the boat and hide from each other. It was exciting, innocent and just plain fun. We simply called this activity "deep swimming".<br /><br />When Dad bought the Anderson (mentioned in an earlier post), we took up water skiing.<br />This boat had only a fifteen horse power motor on it, so it couldn't pull much weight. Lucky for me, I was a skin flint of a girl, perfect for skiing behind the Anderson. This was living!<br />Chris would drive the boat, up I went and off I skied. I also learned to cut the wake, my favorite part of the whole experience. I got to be pretty fair, and years and years later, well into my forties, I skied again behind our Boston Whaler. I was shocked and thrilled when I was able to stand up on skis again after about thirty five years. Proof that once a skill is learned, it is always with you.<br /><br />The down side of all this was that our boat was too small to pull my older siblings who had more height and weight than I. Enter Uncle Ray's nineteen foot Lyman. Our Aunt Betty was Dad's younger sister. She and her husband, Uncle Ray, had no children of their own and they loved our family with all it's boisterousness and they showered us with attention and gifts. One summer, I think 1957, Uncle Ray bought this big boat that had an in board motor and a steering wheel and cushions, luxuries we had never seen. It sped along the lake at top speed, but the best of it was that it pulled everyone on waterskis and often pulled two at once.<br /><br />We all thought this was just too cool, and begged Uncle Ray to take us skiing every time he came to visit with his boat. I remember that the skis we used were heavy, wooden and painted a bright yellow. One sunny Sunday, my brother Joe decided that not only would there be double skiing that day, but that I was to get on his shoulders while he skied. I was the lucky chosen one because I was the smallest. I thought this was a capital idea until I climbed unto his shoulders in the water, waited while the boat pulled the tow tight and then blasted off, pulling Joe and me out of the water. Suddenly I was very high up in the air, (Joe was over six feet tall) shivering with cold and terrified. He kept telling me to stop shaking. I couldn't. The truth is that I was, and still am, a total chicken. I didn't admit this before we went out on the water. You guessed it, we fell. It was my fault. They wouldn't take me again. After that I skied behind the small, slow Anderson. Perfect.<br /><br />Further adventures of the Pier coming soon. Stay tuned for Local Characters, The Farmer, Linda, Fishing, Fashion, Tomatoes and more.SWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00391691132875062578noreply@blogger.com0