We
Need
Them. They Need Us. And We Need You.
Thanks
for
supporting our troops!
20
July 2010
Day 30
No cell
reception and no gas,
but a hand
from a stranger helps me to my next destination…
Departed
5:25 a.m. – 564 Miles – Arrived 3:45 p.m.
Early
morning riding adds another entire level of beauty to the day. It is so powerful to watch the shroud of
darkness slowly lift and the underlying mountains arise out of the dark as
silhouettes of black in the far off distance; it is just so stunning. You don’t need to be in New Mexico or Texas
to enjoy this view, just get up a little earlier where ever you live and find
an unobstructed early morning view that faces east. The view will be well worth getting out of
bed early!
Today
was really a very unspectacular day excluding the sunrise with its silhouettes. Due to my earlier concerns regarding my route
choice near the Mexican border and the advice I received at a Border Patrol
stop today, I decided to stay on the interstate. The down side was that is was a non-photo opp
day for the most part; however the speed limit on the Texas Interstate is 80
mph during the daylight hours for cars, 70 for trucks and there were no trucks
in the outside lane of this 500+ mile two lane roadway, so basically it was set
the cruise control on 83 mph and hang on…except for the area around El Paso
(which is a major urban area) there was little or no traffic all day. The heat remained in the 90’s and the thunder
showers that were predicted never materialized so I got 564 miles under my belt
today.
There
is an overwhelming scene change when you leave the flat plains of New Mexico and
cross the border into Texas. Suddenly,
if as by magic, colorful buildings and small towns are in your view, and then
you hit El Paso, an urban center followed by the grassy lands and ranches of
Texas. Along each side of the highway
are miles and miles of land, some with cattle or horses but mostly just green
and empty, where as the New Mexico’s lands were very dry, dusty and only had green
vegetation sporadically. Large plateaus
arise from the flat land and then quickly vanish. On top of many of these sand and rock plateaus
are wind turbines. Once again it was
great to see the use of alternative energy and I noted to myself that there
wasn’t as much solar power in use as I had anticipated considering the amount
of unobstructed sunlight that is available.
While
driving across the southwestern area of California, Arizona, New Mexico and
Texas with the vast area of undeveloped land I was thinking about better land
uses. One which I replayed in mind
several times was the potential to build new communities to reduce the congestion
of urban cities, provide housing for the homeless and jobs for those in need of
work. Can you imagine what could be done
with some venture capital or stimulus money?
It reminds me of the ideas we once had as children of the 60’s, everyone
living, working and sharing together. However
in terms of 21st century needs, we could wipe out unemployment, create
jobs, provide training, and I could go on and on…Bill Gates I have an idea if
you have a billion to invest.
I
am having a bit of trouble with my bike and hopefully tomorrow I can find a Harley
shop to take a peak. Every since my 5k
adjustments the range on my bike has diminished about 50-80 miles per tank of
gas. The excessive use of gas and cost
is one issue but the larger problem is the shorter rides and the need to find
gas stations. This is not city land and gas
stations are not just around the corner.
Today, with a 70 mile range remaining I saw a sign that said: gas 35
miles at exit so I decided to give it a try.
When I reached the exit the station had long since closed down. I now didn’t have sufficient gas to reach the
next town on the map so I exited the highway at the next opportunity. A sign at the crossroads pointed west and
claimed Sheffield, TX was only 5 miles away.
So I went west for 5 miles and I did find Sheffield, TX…a very small
town with no working gas stations and no stores that were in business. All of the town’s stores and the gas stations
were out of business. I saw a trucker
pull into an old station and I asked him for directions to the nearest gas
station. He looked at me a little amazed
and pointed to a large, white plain tank.
He then showed me where to put the credit card to make the system
work. I don’t know what octane the gas
was or what it costs as there were no signs and no receipts, however I do know
that the gas got me to the next real station and once again I had been helped
by a hand from above. I do not have any
idea what I would have done if the chance meeting with the truck driver had not
occurred…no cell reception, no gas and not even a clue what road I was on, but
I do have faith…
Tomorrow another route change to keep me off the interstate as much as possible and in the center of Texas away from the border.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
21
July 2010
Day 31
A gas
tune-up!
Departed
7:05 a.m. 364 Miles – Arrived 2:50 p.m.
Today
was an easy day of riding after the last two (five-hundred plus miles each day),
easy of course except for the heat of 110 and higher for the last few hours of
the day. At the start of the day it was
low 80’s so I figured it would be warm but not too hot. The day itself lacked color and emotion.
The
land in the San Antonio area is called hilly country and in fact the area does
have hills, not mountains, and lots of green pastures with cattle and
horses. I had to change my route to find
the closest Harley dealership, which was in Borne, TX. Prior to that decision I called Harley of Laconia
for some insight and their suggestion was for me to take the bike to a shop.
The
service folks at Javelina Harley were very helpful. Their best guess was that all systems were
fine and that the unusual loss of miles per gallon (mpgs) was due to poor
quality gas. Lord knows I have had some
of that the last few days. No mechanical
work was done but they suggested adding an octane boost (liquid supplement) for
a couple of tank-full’s and then again each time I get gas under 90 octane. Many of the service stations out here do not
carry fuel with octane over 89 and that’s including the larger brands. So I’ll just have to give the boost a try.
On
the radio station this morning during the sports report they announced the upcoming
Rodeo’s and their respective purses. Now
that’s not something we’d hear on the local radio in North Conway.
I
was back on the road around 10:30 so I altered my plan and headed off for
Laredo thinking that would make it easier to get to Brownville tomorrow and (incorrectly)
thinking it would be cooler near the coast.
Closer to Brownsville yes, cooler, NO!
After a very short stay in Laredo I headed out Route 20 then to 359 for
Hebbronville, TX. Not much here in town
but a Best Western (and a nice one at that) and the Head Quarters for the
Border Patrol. I am patiently waiting
for the one restaurant to open-it runs nightly from 6-9 p.m. and that’s it!
Tomorrow’s
route is still being decided as I am a day ahead of schedule and I am meeting
my daughter Sara in Houston on Friday. She
will be riding with me for part of Texas, Louisiana, and of course into New
Orleans.
Note: Today I received a note from the USO indicating that a gentleman in Florida, formerly of Jackson, NH would like to join me for part of the Florida ride so I’ll be touching base with him tomorrow as there is no cell service in this part of Texas, at least Verizon doesn’t work here. If anyone else would like to join in and accompany me for a few miles or more just let me or the USO know. If all goes well I plan to head north (leaving Key West, FL) on July 30.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
22
July 2010
Day 23
90% of storms result in a new route
Departed
6:10 a.m. – 322 Miles – Arrived 12:30 p.m.
Today
the route was planned to be along the Texas coast through towns with names
like;
Portland,
Arkansas Pass, Rockport, Seadrift, Matagorda, Angelton and then Houston however
the routes names were; San Diego, Alice, Great West, Beeville, Raisin, Victoria
Hungerford, Sugar Land and Houston.
So
with that intro you know the route changed!
I probably have turned the television on three times at the most since I
have been on the trip but for some uncanny reason this morning I checked the
weather station. The forecasters were
clear: 90% chance of severe thunderstorms and flooding along the coast and moving
inland during the day. The weatherman’s
quote was: “if you hope to miss the storms you should be leaving now” and that
was at 5:30 a.m. I packed the bike,
grabbed a typical hotel “free” breakfast, reviewed my map and determined I was
going north and to see if I could beat the majority of the storm. Previously I had veered from my normal
packing routine to include covering my leathers in plastic bags and providing
quick and easy access to my rain gear.
All for naught, fortunately! I could
see the showers to my southeast as I drove and once I hit middle Texas things
looked good, until Houston proper. Huge,
dark, black clouds filled both sides of the highway except down the middle
where I was riding, it almost seemed biblical.
I did get a few drops here and there but nothing of any substantial
nature. It turns out that was a day
ahead of schedule so I thought I’d kill the afternoon in Houston, or so I
thought.
Tomorrow
I’ll meet up with my daughter as she is flying in to ride with me on The RIDE
for a few days. I reserved a room near
the airport so that tomorrow during rush hour I do not have to deal with the
extra stress, nor do I want to be late..
But here’s the thing, my republican son-in-law booked Sara into the
George HW Bush Airport and if that isn’t sufficient he did it on Continental
Airlines because they are the airlines of the Yankees. That would be by itself a sufficient enough
of a “ got cha”, however to make matters worse the darn Houston airport isn’t
even in Houston it is 20 miles, plus, outside of town in Humble, TX. I recognize that I am a wee bit bias, not to
mention a proud lifelong democrat (the only one in the Woodcock family) but
gosh it sure takes some moxie to place G. H.W. Bush Airport and the Yankees
transportation in a town called Humble, Texas!
Side note: I sure hope Sara can maintain her Democratic stance in that
Republican/Yankee household!
The
ride was relaxing and stress-free as I knew I had time to waste but still I
didn’t want to get soaked so I kept moving along. Once I arrived and checked in it was time to
get caught up (again) on dirty clothes, reconfirm reservations, check e-mails,
and of course do the Journal. After all this
work was complete, I did some reading, showered and then went to a chain
restaurant for dinner. Generally, I HATE
chain anything when it comes to food, however I do make an exception for Olive
Garden. How do you beat all you can eat
of home-made fresh minestrone soup, garden salad, and hot breadsticks all for
$9.95...did I say all you can eat. It
was great! I do enjoy Mexican/Spanish food;
however for the past two weeks that has been the majority of my diet both at
breakfast and dinner, so soup and salad was superb.
A
couple of thoughts from yesterday’s adventure and dinner arrangements that I
missed in my prior journal entry…
The
hotel clerk told me there was only two places to eat in town and only one she’d
recommend, Frank’s Place, which is a local café and watering hole that was open
only three hours per night from 6-9 p.m.
Thinking it would be busy I arrived promptly at 6.
I
can’t paint you an accurate picture and if I could you wouldn’t believe
it. Nor will the photos on the web site
enhance my description, if anything it will make it (Frank’s Place) look too
good. Frank’s Place is a one room
restaurant with coking facilities’ out back.
The building was a grocery store from 1919-1945 when it was converted
into the present day restaurant. It has
always been a family owned and run and it was passed down through the
years. The walls are a pale, very dirty
green with the lower boards rotting out.
The ceiling is an old rusted metal plate with areas of open insulation,
the floor was dirty and the tables and chairs were vintage (and not in the good
vintage sense) and without padding. The
walls were adorned with photos of Marilyn Monroe. I have seen many shots of her over the years
but this was a collection that encompassed most of her young adult and adult
life. I never realized how attractive she
was until I saw these photos of her youthful years. No comments here about JFK! In the middle of this wall tribute was a
photo of her in a representation of the last supper with Marilyn front and
center. She was supported by Bogie, Abbott
and Costello, John Wayne and Clarke Gabel to name a few. The rest were too old for me to recall. Needless to say it was a collection. The front wall had a loud, static television
shouting out the recent COPS drama with a skull of a cow (cattle) to the
television’s upper right. To say the
least the place had character, if not charm in its own right. When I came in I asked for a cold beer and a
menu, I got the cold bottle (no glasses in this place) and the owner said “I’ll
be right back -need to run some errands”, and so he left. Thirty or so minutes later he
reappeared. This time he brought me out
another beer (warm) and a dish of something he had made in the kitchen that
afternoon, sort of a free appie test. I
thought I was getting special treatment until later on in the evening I saw him
offer the same treat to the only other group in the place….so be it for feeling
privileged. The meal he recommended and
I agreed too, was a Mexican dish in lieu of the T-bone he was originally
recommending. After he took the order,
he sat down in front of the television, changed the channel to Wheel of Fortune and exclaimed “my
favorite show-can’t miss this.” Alas he
didn’t miss the show or move again until Vana had made her last smile for the
evening.
I’m
truly honest here taking absolutely zero literary license…the hard part was
keeping the flies off of the plate while I attempted to consume dinner. He (the owner) was nice enough to place a
fly-swatter on the table for the customers use.
Considering all the hoops the New Hampshire food and safety folks put
the local NH restaurant owners through to purchase and maintain a license, I
had to laugh at this. Frank’s Place
would be an investigators oyster stew.
When I was in graduate school in Kentucky, we ate regularly at a place called
Ma Kelly’s. A daily buffet of southern
fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy on everything and basically everything
you could imagine was on the plate. She
served the food (self serve by the way) from her kitchen and you ate at the
chairs and tables in her living room. She’d
walk by, take a peek at how much was on your plate and tell you the price of
the dinner. This was also an old fashion
southern meal, served in a very relaxed home-style format, but the place was
shinny clean. As I exited Frank’s the
wooden screen door had numerous flies hanging onto the screening and I was
thinking, hey you guys are stuck, I’m out of here! Guess it’s places and experiences like these
that keep the adventure, an adventure!
Today
as I was relaxing during the ride and traveling through these very old Texas
towns and it was an unusual scene. Brick
and sandstone buildings, brown and gray, deteriorating daily. Owners and occupants had long since left and
all that remained was this relic of years gone by as a testimony to a once
vibrant community. I don’t know if it
was the Interstates, economy, change in demographics or what the reason, but oh
so many of these towns are barely existing.
They looked like living ghost towns.
I should have stopped and taken photo’s to give you (the reader) a
better idea, however the image will be forever etched in my memory. I was recalling how the onset of urban development
back in the late 60’s and 70’s had stolen (in my opinion) many beautiful,
historic and architecturally relevant buildings. The developers at the time had said, the
buildings were of little value, wasted space, relics, etc. Their answer was to tear them down and
construct cookie cutter modern buildings.
I bet I’m not the only person that wishes for the old buildings to be
returned.
The
second thought I had today was one of extravagance and good fortune. I couldn’t help but think how lucky we are in
New England and New Hampshire especially.
Even our poorest towns aren’t as beat down as I have seen for days. Our workers, those under-employed and those
non-employed appear to be in a much better position than that of the folks in
these parts, and how blessed I am to be able to make this journey, one with
purpose behind a passion. I am sure many
readers would enjoy the chance to travel these wonderful states and this
beautiful country of ours at their leisure.
I have been so blessed, by God for the opportunity and of course by my
wife for also supporting me in this endeavor that has taken me away from my
daily chores, the garden, the lawn, the dump and on and on…thanks Denise!
Tomorrow Sara arrives and I’ll be withholding daily journal wrings until the end of our Houston-New Orleans excitement.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
23-27
July 2010
Days 33-37
The father-daughter
team, for a few days
I
entered G. Bush Intercontinental Airport confident I’d have no problem meeting Sara
on time when her flight arrived. As I
drove into the complex I saw three terminals for Continental Airlines…Con-Domestic,
Con-Connection and Con-International; and each one was at a different terminal
with different parking requirements. At
this point it was anyone’s guess, and yes, I guessed wrong! Fortunately an airline employee saw me
looking bewildered and asked if I needed help.
He took me to the information kiosk and the volunteer determined that
Sara’s flight was early and I was in the wrong terminal. The area I needed to
be in was on the other side of the airport.
I said to my new helper, guess I have to go pay parking and start again.
He said oh no, leave your bike where it
is and go down one flight to the under airport tram car, Perfect! The tram took me to the correct terminal and
I was there before Sara arrived, almost!
As I said thanks to my new guide, he said oh no bother, it was my lunch
hour I’ll grab something later. I had
just a few minutes to become engrossed in my new Jon Kellerman book, Evidence and the next thing I knew I
looked up and there she was.
Sara
had to repack her bag and I had to re-tie the gear on the bike and then we
headed back to downtown Houston. What a
wonderful hotel, Inn at the Ballpark, right across the street from Minute Maid
Park and a full service operation. The
entire hotel had a baseball theme even down to the little sticker that held the
toilet paper closed (a baseball diamond).
Sara suggested BBQ so we began walking and looking with no success so I
opted for a cold draft. In the relaxing
comfort of an air-conditioned little Irish Pub, a local told us about the best
BBQ in Houston only eight blocks away.
So we were off to Pappas BBQ and it was excellent! A quick 8-block return to the hotel and then
off to the game. We purchased third
level seats right behind home plate area and they were incredible seats, plus
only $22. The ticket window teller told
us you don’t need to pay the downstairs big prices; theses seats are even
better and they save you a few bucks, and he was correct.
Minute
Maid was built on the sight of the former railroad station and stock yard where
the cattle changed trains for their journey to becoming steaks. Inside this enclosed stadium (with
retractable roof) was a train that had about 100 yards of track and it would
run the track with full whistles on each Astro homerun. Though on this night, it only made one
trip. Following the game the roof was
retracted and there was an absolutely perfect 10-15 minute fireworks show. The people in the adjoining seats told us
that the fireworks were a weekly Friday night tradition. Side note: the railroad engine is the
official symbol for the City of Houston.
Saturday
morning and up bright and early (at least for Sara), a lite breakfast in the
hotel dining area and then off. If you
have been keeping up with the journals you have read my comments about how
important it is to start the day going in the correct direction on the correct
road! In Maine Peter and I went 23 miles
heading the wrong way in a rainstorm and then had to come back through Moose
Alley, not fun. Today was the third time
my morning had begun with a mishap as far as directional sense. My GPS broke the day before and we thought we
were right until our toll-road of just two tolls, turned into four. So it was turn around and ask for help (a
passing motorcyclist stopped) and we were redirected. This time the toll
required 75 cents exact change or easy pass.
I had a wallet full of credit cards and a traveler’s checks but no
correct change, so I slowed down, recognized my no win situation and then
accelerated through the booth as there was no way to turn around! I assume that at some point the great state
of Texas will be sending me a notice about blowing off their toll. I only felt half bad though, as the tollbooth
clerk had told us that the signage was poor and many folks often miss the exit
as we did.
With
the route corrected we got to Galveston and took the ferry over to Port
Bolivar, the peninsula across the way.
After a 30-minute wait we were boarded for the 22-minute ferry
ride. You could see old navy subs and
destroyers in the Sea Wolf Park as dolphins played in the water next to the
ferry. The ferry’s Galveston dock is
located about 500 yards form the Shriner’s Hospital for Children. The Shriner’s provide free medical care for
any child under 18 years old that has been burned or is suffering from an
extreme handicapping or physical disability. Their old mission phrase was
“cripple children” but the meaning, and care, has expanded. I have been a Shriner for many years and
believe that their work is of the utmost value to the most deserving, injured
children.
Along
Crystal Beach the homes were what the construction folks in this area call
“Cajun Construction”, meaning they are built on stilts, 12-14 feet off the
ground. I missed taking a photo due to
traffic but we saw a brand new elementary school, built of brick done in Cajun
Construction style. It is clear with the
washed away roadway and the proximity of the ocean to this thin peninsula that
there is a big need for Cajun Construction.
Now I have a better understanding of the damage a hurricane can do in
this area of the country. Crystal Beach
had many surf casters’ fishing right in front of their pickups, vans or golf
carts. You can drive on the beach when
the water is low enough and the sand sufficiently firm. You can’t drive as in Daytona Beach style but
rather drive up to your fish, swim, or camp site. I was thinking of all those Saturday
afternoon’s when I was a youngster; my folks and typically my sister Barbara
Ellen and I would lug those heavy mental coolers, grill, umbrellas and picnic
basket to Seabrook Beach from the parking lot.
The lot wasn’t too far, perhaps a half a mile from our final beach spot,
but as a kid lugging all the beach essentials made the short walk seem as if it
was ten miles away. I recall those days
as clearly as I do the damn green heads that used to come out once the sun went
down. My dad worked Saturday mornings so
by the time we got to the beach, more often than not, the tanning crowd was
heading home and the green heads were getting ready for their evening meal, The
Woodcock family!
Mid-afternoon
we stopped for a bite to eat in the only restaurant we had seen in the course
of 100 miles. Nott’s Corner Restaurant
which specialized in fish, especially boiled crab. Sara and I decided to split two po-boys, one
crawfish and one catfish. This was the
second time on the trip I had gone way beyond my food comfort zone as I am not
a “fish” person. We were glad we tried
two types of fish and also glad we probably would not need to order either
again. By the way, down here you can purchase
sandwiches or po-boys. A po-boy is
basically the sandwich in a warmed or toasted torpedo roll instead of on the
bread.
By
late afternoon we were heading into Morgan City, LA, and had avoided the wrath
of hurricane “Bonnie”. Tomorrow we may
not be as lucky on our coastal route to New Orleans. Off to dinner where Sara feasted on bayou
boiled crab and snow crab legs while I ate mostly veggie lo mein and fresh
pineapple slices. I had had plenty of
fish for one day. This wasn’t an
extravagant meal; I just followed my usual custom of parking the bike and
leaving it and heading to an eatery in walking distance. This time it was a local Chinese Buffet, all
you can eat, and the restaurant was host to mostly local families eating boiled
crab and crab legs. And the adventure
continues tomorrow to NOLA…
What
a wonderful two days we had in and around New Orleans. Morgan City didn’t leave us too may driving
options but since the weather person(s) all forecasted heavy rains, thunder
showers, lighting and flooding, I kept my eye on the Doppler and let Sara sleep
in for a bit. Baton Rogue got the worst
and New Orleans wasn’t impacted as hard.
Now that I had let Sara sleep a wee bit longer we needed to take the
Interstate to start the trip into New Orleans.
About 45 minutes into the trip I saw a sign for fresh peaches and Sara
decided she would like to try one. The
stand was adjacent to the highway so we just parked on the shoulder and walked
over. I got into a conversation with the
owner and one of his friends regarding other routes for the last half of my
trip, a route that would be more Louisana-ish and not highway. They both agreed we should ride the twisting turning
swamp road (bayous), but just BEWARE of the alligators! Now this did concern me because yesterday
when we were directed to a secondary back road, which we enjoyed, they also
warned us about the alligators. “Do not
bit the alligator with your bike, stop and wait or get out of there” the local
commented as we walked back to the bike ready to go. I’m not sure if they were concerned for the
gator, the bike, or us - but in any case, we kept a vigilant lookout on both of
these occasions. If you know me then you
know I carry a map and use a GPS for good reason. Part way through hearing the directions the second
I decided I needed to actually write them on paper. Seemed like a good idea, this would make it
easier for Sara to navigate, if necessary…Just one problem…Sara, as well as most
people, can’t read my writing. Seeing
the look of bewilderment the owners friend said, “follow me, I’ll take you to
the first road to get you started” and so he did.
Another
side note: I have spoken with many people during this trip for directions, good
local, non-chain places to eat or sleep, etc. and really this system, has
worked out well. However in Louisiana,
if you take out a map and begin to review the roads, it seems as if almost
automatic, they (Louisianan’s) come over and ask if you need help. In addition, this has been the friendliest and
most personable state I have passed through since the trip began weeks
ago. These people genuinely care and
want to help.
The
road had real swamp on each side with trees growing right out of the water and
green murky muck just everywhere. At one
point Sara said, “Dad look”, and we think we spied one of those swamp creatures
so I just gunned the engine and roared off.
The peach-men had told us to be sure to go to O’Galley to see the plantation;
they said it was free and worth the extra half hour. I reviewed the map several times and we
couldn’t find O’Galley and then I saw a sign for Oak Alley, Plantation and it
dawned on me, his accent was the killer.
Oak Alley is an original plantation with a 300-400 foot walkway shaded
by oak trees, (200 years plus) on each side.
Sara mentioned that it looked like a movie set and behold we were later
told that the mansion and tree studded pathway had been part of the movie, Forrest Gump. Not sure if that was fact or fiction but it
sure looked like where Ms. Jenny sat out on the porch.
At
Oak Alley the mighty Mississippi River is just across the street behind the
levy. We chatted with a new-local, Rich
Sawyer formerly of Portland, Maine and he gave us the scoop on where to go and
what to see in New Orleans. His friend
Lee Freidman, was a veterinarian by trade specializing in birds and he was on a
day off from his work trying to help the displaced and damaged pelicans (Louisiana
State Bird) that were inured as a result of the oil spill. The Mississippi is over 300-feet deep in some
places and has such strong currents that NO recreational activities happen on
it. The river is strictly for shipping
and providing power. Armed with a
local’s guide to N’orlins, we returned to the road.
Over
the past several days we have passed many cemeteries all having raised crypts
for the final resting place. At one
point I stopped to take a photo of a raised crypt next to an old church and the
church’s head usher stopped his car as he drove by to see if we were lost or
needed help. He told us that the reason
for the raised resting places is very simple; much of the land along the
Mississippi is below sea level elevation and it is impossible to dig a hole
without water filling in the hole. So
the crypts are above ground. The winding
road along side of the Mississippi took us past an old power plant and a very
large Dow Chemical plant. There were a
few signs placed at strategic locations on the levy suggesting that Dow, BP and
others should get out of Louisiana and stop ruining the environment.
Our
hotel was very quaint, old style New Orleans and an easy walk to the French
Quarter’s main activities. As all good
tourists, we began our afternoon walking the French Quarter and the tourist Mecca,
Rue Bourbon or Bourbon Street. Sara and
I both enjoy jazz so we were excited as we began our explorations. I had been in New Orleans about 10-12 years
previous and thoroughly enjoyed walking into the small bars and listening to
superb, authentic blues and jazz in a very informal atmosphere. Now present day, it seems this place has
turned into a party street full of “gentleman’s” clubs, hard rock bands,
karaoke bars, 3-for-1 drinks, cheep prices and very few places offering real
jazz. I was disappointed to say the least. We stopped at the Red Fish (excellent) and
had some alligator gumbo and a crab cake.
In the evening our levy friends had suggested that we go to Bacchanal’s
in the Bywater. They made it perfectly
clear that although we could walk there we should not walk or take the
bike. The preferred mode of
transportation was cab. This place was a
hoot! Old beat up building outside and
inside, broken down stockade fence completing with plywood covering broken
areas and a few extension ladders leaning against the wall. The décor was plastic chairs and tables, old
benches, spools and an assortment of other articles serving as tables or chairs. A grill under a canvas pop-up top and two
cooks. The entry way was a small room
with a cooler holding many cheeses, and bottles of white wine. The walls were stocked to the brim with
bottles of excellent red’s. No cover
charge, just select your bottle and decide if you want cheese and toasted,
thinly sliced garlic bread, cookout meal of the evening or just your wine. Pay the clerk, she’ll open the bottle of wine
for you and then just find a place out back to sit and listen to a five-piece
jazz band jam from 6-9 p.m. Great
time! We shared a cab ride back to the
French Quarter with a few others who had heard about the locals place and then
a quick stop for a night cap and a good night’s sleep.
Sara
had a couple of pages of notes regarding her trip to New Orleans. These notes
were suggestions from friends about what to do, where to go, what to see and oh
so important what foods were required to taste! We didn’t get to them all but
we hit several. The day started with a
Coffee Au Lait and a Beignets at Café Du Monde, the first coffee bar in New
Orleans which happens to be open 24-7.
The beignets are French styled fried dough loaded with powdered
sugar. As Denise would say, “a fat pill”. Yes fat, but very good. We toured the Jackson Square area which
included the St. Louis Cathedral. This
spectacular active church was open and allowed people to walk through and take
photos, pray, light a candle, mediate or just enjoy the beautiful
interior. I did all of the options. The sanctuary is magnificent and
enormous. As I knelt to pray I was
humbled by the vastness of the cathedral and how small I felt as just one
person in this edifice. Lunch was spent
enjoying a jazz cruise on a working steam paddleboat as it went part way up the
Mississippi. This narrated cruise was
long on cruise and short on jazz! The experience was an education if nothing
else. On a side note - we observed acres
and acres of sugar cane during the Louisianan portion of the ride. Domino Sugar’s refining plant which is on the
river is responsible for 72 % of all the refined sugar in the United States.
After
the luncheon cruise we headed to the real jazz section of New Orleans which is
just a few blocks from the French Quarter.
This area is dominated by jazz clubs and taverns that primarily serve
locals. Timing is everything, and we
were early. Now that we had worked up a
thirst we went looking for Pat O’Brien’s so Sara could try a Hurricane and scratch another New Orleans
requirement from her list. This stopped
closed the night. Dueling piano’s on an
elevated stage that went on non-stop playing sing-along tunes. Every hour one piano playing twosome left
and another took their place, the music never stopped. Before we knew it the clock has struck
midnight and we needed to turn in. While
walking back to the hotel we both realized that we hadn’t eaten and it was just
too late with packing yet to be done, so we each grabbed a hot dog from the
street vendor. The hot dogs had lots of
character, but were delicious. However
the character wasn’t really what set these dogs apart from the normal vendor
dogs, it was the $7.50 charge for each price tab. That’s correct $15 for two hot dogs, talk
about hold the mustard! Back to the
hotel, pack and hit the sack.
Tuesday
morning, and Sara was up by 5:00 a.m. – a very short night for both of us. Shower,
pack the bike, and we both begin to feel uneasiness as we realized that the
father-daughter portion of the Ride was almost over. A hug, a hidden tear or two (by dad) and we
slowly walked downstairs to meet the cab.
Then one more hug and kiss and we were off. I followed the cab out of the French Quarter
so that I could start the day going on the correct route in the right
direction, as Sara sat quietly in the cab’s back seat and waved good-bye. I am truly blessed by having this young woman
as my daughter. This past weekend was
clearly one of the highlights of the trip for me. In the back of my head I’m already speculating
how, when and where can we do another father -daughter trip?
The rest of Monday was a let down, quick trip through Mississippi, Alabama and into traffic laden Florida. The trip through the pan handle was shocking. For-Sale signs on waterfront property for a hundred miles, and for the most part empty beaches and not more than a handful of people in the water. Birds darkened from the oil spills rest in blackened marshes. The radio announced that the Gulf Coast has plenty of clean beaches so come out and play but do not plan to go into the water as it is still of questionable safety. I could see oil clouds in the blue water near the roadway as I rode by. Interesting to note that the only youthful activity was at the water slide and resort pools but not little ones playing with pails and shovels on the beach. The trip from Panama City to Perry was four hours of stop and go, 25-mph, 30-mph, 45-mph and an occasional 55-mph that lasted only a mile or two. Today I didn’t do a good job of route planning as I underestimated the amount of time it would take me to reach my second goal hotel. I was at the original hotel by noon and that was just way to early to stop. Spoke with the hotel clerk and got a great recommendation for BBQ for dinner and some suggestions for improving tomorrow’s route. However, we both agreed that regardless of the route Florida will be horrific with traffic and back ups. Locally, the summer is almost over for students, teachers and parents as they (students and teachers) head back to school the first week of August. This mad dash for the last week of vacation will also add to the aggravation of Florida. I have been spoiled with my past riding in the traffic barren mid and south west. Shortly the fourth corner and then the adventure continues heading north for the final jaunt…
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28
July 2010
Day 38
A makeover
for the bike and a little youth for the rider!
Departed
7:20 a.m. –354 Miles – Arrived 5:45 p.m.
The
day began better than it ended on the 27th. The route had limited early morning traffic
and there was some distance between towns.
However by 11 a.m., I was back into the traffic, stop lights, 25-35 mph
zones and the heat was over 100 so I decided to change routes. The second reason I had to get on the highway
was that I was overdue for a LOF (lube, oil, filter change) for the bike and I
had a 2:00 p.m. appointment at the Ft Myers Harley Davidson shop.
On
my way to Ft. Myers Harley, during one of my gas stops, I had a wonderful “at
the pump” discussion with a woman about my trip and she reached in a handed me
a $10 dollar bill. She didn’t want to
complete a form or get any other thank you’s or tax exempt letters; she just
wanted to help. This is now the third or
fourth time this type of occurrence had happened on the trip. Unsolicited giving, God Bless them.
I
got to the Harley dealership a few minutes late but no big deal as they have a
large shop and a great system. You
actually drive right into the shop, follow the lines like a little highway exit
with arrows and stop your bike outside the service bay, and all of this in a
full air-conditioned area! The service
manager comes out, writes up the order and then you wait in the showroom. The show room includes a wide assortment of
clothing, accessories, parts, and a design center…just in-case you want to
modify your bike they have a specialist on duty to help. There is a waiting area with three different
types of free snacks plus ice, cold water, coffee and a beverage dispenser of
various sodas. The service area is glassed
in so you can watch the men (and women) tech’s work on yours and other
bikes. Following the service they do a
free wash. Well you know I took advantage
of the wash! At San Diego Harley
Davidson they were successful in getting rid of the first 7,200 miles of bugs,
dirt, sand and road goop. And the Ft
Myers Harley Davidson was able to do the same for the last 3,000 miles plus
they buffed out the bike. The darn thing
looks almost as good as new! The free
wash is typically a 15-minute process but due to all of the hidden dirt, the tech worked over an hour on the
bike. He also suggested that once I
complete The RIDE that I have it professionally detailed in order to get all of
the hidden dirt out. By this time it was
almost 6:00 p.m. Just as I headed out on
my shinny, clean bike the dark clouds and thunder boomers started, enhanced by
bright bolts of white lightening. At
this point I sat back on the bench and watched my freshly cleaned bike get
wet. It did give me a wonderful
opportunity it to chat with a local rider, Bernie Alters, who does a lot of
riding as a member of Hiram Abiff’s Widow’s Son program. Their mission is to spread the words and kind
deeds of masonry and motorcycling. He
was a real cool guy with a hot chopper!
Once
the rain stopped (for the most part) I entered the co-ordinates for the local
Best Western and all was fine until the Tom Tom said: “you are here.”
Well,
I couldn’t see a Best Western anywhere in sight so I did one more loop with
zero luck and then I recalled a similar issue in CA. I went into the Day’s Inn and said “did this
use to be a Best Western?” “Oh yes was
the reply.” So I checked my reservation,
and they had nothing. The phone number
didn’t match the address, so I called the number and it was a Best Western
alright, but in Sarasota.
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29
July 2010
Day 39
Today -
was a BIG day for The RIDE and for me.
Departed
7:30 a.m. – Arrived 2:30 p.m.
The
first part of the trip from Ft Meyer’s wasn’t much, no alligators just
cars. Once you cross over from lower
Miami area to Homestead then on to the Keys the fun begins. Key West is actually the name of the City/Town
at the end of the Key’s. The entire
peninsula is called Key West. The first
80-ish miles of this two lane, 45-mph drive is a series of several small towns,
with schools, and plenty of buildings adjacent to the road for tourist type
goods and supplies. About 50 miles from
Key West you cross a bridge called 7-mile bridge although it didn’t seem like 7
miles and then you begin to feel as if you are on an island, water on both sides
of the road and few towns. If you are a
person who loves to snorkel, fish, boat, dive or eat fresh fish you’d love the
Key’s. While riding, it didn’t matter
which side of the road I looked out at the ocean, I was sure to see boats
anchored with the red and white flag flying (symbolizing someone is snorkeling
or fishing) below. You could see the
people with their fins, goggles and snorkels I road by. This is a water person’s paradise. Once you hit the village of Key West the
activities change to more typical tourist town type things. There is plenty of shopping, dining, drinking
and walking opportunities. Key West is
the fourth corner on my trip and I have now completed all the four corners of
the United States. My good friend Pete
was with me at corner one, Madawaska, ME.
Blaine, WA was on July 4 and they had a parade to commemorate my arrival
(only kidding), but it was a celebration of sorts for this great country! July 16 was corner number three at San
Ysidro, CA. and Denise (my wife) was with me, and yesterday I wasn’t really
alone as you had to wait in line with fifty or so other tourists for your
chance to stand in front of the decorated buoy and have a photo. After checking into the hotel and cleaning up
I ventured over to the Duval Street area for dinner where most of the
restaurants, clubs, and art shops are abound.
I ate at Sloppy Joes, and yes I had a Sloppy Joe. The restaurant was named by Hemingway as it
was one of his favorite watering holes, and now annually they hold a look-alike
(Hemingway of course) contest. The
contest is next week and they already have over 200 “look a likes” signed up
for the completion. Similar to New
Orleans you are allowed to walk around the streets with an open container of
your favorite beverage but that is where the similarity stops. As Key West is more of a vacation destination
and New Orleans which is (in my mind) now more of a party destination.
After
listening to some 60’s music in Sloppy Joe’s I headed over to Mallory Square to
see the sunset. The waitress said if you
are only here one night you don’t want to miss the sunset. I have seen the most gorgeous sunsets in San
Diego and I didn’t think the Key West sunset would be a topper but the sunset
in Key West is just one part of the venue.
Sunset is the time when Mallory Square transcends from its normal
boardwalk function to a stage for multiple street performers as well as artists
and craft’s villages. All are there
attempting to earn a few bucks performing or selling their work. It was a fun experience watching the
performers but especially listening to them dialogue with the crowd during
their acts, as it may have been done hundreds of years ago.
Then
a stop at the original Parrot Head Bar and off to bed. Now back to the introduction…It was a really
big day for me and The RIDE. For me, I
completed the four corners of the United States and now start my journey
homeward and for The RIDE, Sara texted me that as of the morning, we had just
gone over the goal of $12,818.18…Thank you all!
If this is your first time reading the journal, please remember that the fundraising campaign for The RIDE goes on until August 20th, which was my originally scheduled date to be home, though I am a bit ahead of schedule! The RIDE campaign ends on the 20th, however you can contribute to the USO anytime…Just a little PSA for The Troops!
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30
July -1 August 2010
Days 40-42
I’m Coming
Home
July
30 (544 miles and 118 degree)
July 31 (577 miles and 80 degrees)
August 1 (907 miles and 90 degrees)
July 30
The
past two days have not been the best in regards to scenic vistas, however I’m
on the final leg of the trip and that’s the important part. The Key West portion was enhanced by my
chance to spend some time with my nephew Adam, a transplanted New Yorker now
living in Florida and looking forward to returning to the land of the snow and
ice.
I
concluded my day in a low rate motel in northern Florida where the only eating
option was a 24-hour Denny’s. The place
was abysmal! My non-smoking room stunk
and had three ash trays to boot…so I requested a change. No problem the clerk said…”I’ll me you at
room 148 with a new key.” At this point
I had already lugged my bags around the perimeter of the hotel and figured at
least I was getting away from the highway noise. Now for the second time on the trip I walked
into a room that was already occupied. The first time the people were not
present, however, this time they were both present and very active. I don’t know who was more surprised the clerk
and I, or the couple! The clerk quickly
closed the door and we headed back to the front desk to see if there actually
was a vacant, unoccupied, non smoking room.
Try number three yielded a success.
I now re-lugged my gear to the third room. I had purposely parked the bike in front of
the hotel as to take advantage of what limited lighting and security the hotel
had to offer. When I asked about
security issues the clerk said, “oh the only problem we have around here is hookers!”
July 31
Yesterday
night’s check-in adventure was overtaken by my early morning wake up to the
feeling of bugs on my head. That old
saying came into my head; you get what you pay for. Needless to say, I jumped up and said some
unkind things (silently) to myself regarding the motel and quickly got out of
there. It was early morning and still
dark so I knew I would relax watching the sunrise, or so I thought. The day turned worse as I could feel things
biting my scalp underneath my helmet. I
also knew that it would do no good to stop as I wouldn’t be able to see what
was in my helmet as it was still dark.
So the sunrise, which by the way was a cloud covered lack luster affair,
did not relax this up tight soul. At
dawn’s break I pulled over and took off the helmet for inspection. And there they were, two one -inch little
bug’ers crawling around the inside of my helmet trying to hide under the sponge
and get away from the sunlight and my angry fingers. No such luck for them as I squished them each
between my fingers relentlessly, never caring about their submission, I wanted
extinction! For the next hour or two I
was keenly aware of my head hoping that another creature wouldn’t come out from
the under padding in my helmet and alas, no such bug appeared. I’m thinking this day is starting off where
my meal and hotel choice from last night finished.
Once
I was relaxed and got back into a riding zone, I detoured from the Interstate
and headed to Charleston to book my ferry ride to the Outer Banks. The mansions, entrance-ways to old home, and
the moss covered trees along the roadways were a beautiful sight. No luck however with my ferry reservations as
the boats were full for the next few days so it was Plan B. The trip guide had mentioned advanced
reservations, I just hadn’t realized how advanced they should have been
made. Now I had to head back another 100
miles to the interstate and return to my north heading. Basically I have struck out with the ferries
on the trip…only went 1 for 3. Out west
I had to wait five hours, and still no ferry.
The only ferry that worked was the free ferry in Galveston, TX which was
a 30-minute wait for a 22-minute trip, with no reservations required and no
problems.
I
had a wonderful breakfast of real old fashioned southern grits, smooth and
creamy and not like the ones I whip up at home.
Josie, the owner of the Mid-town Café, told me that the trick was
constantly whisking while the grits are cooking, regardless of what the
directions recommend as a procedure. So
that’s my plan next time. She also gave
me a great recipe for fried grits, but that will have to wait until I feel
really adventurous.
Yesterday,
I did have some trouble with the heat. I
attempted to cool down by doing the usual, pouring cold water over my head,
drinking ice cold water or Gatorade and sitting in store or restaurant with AC
for a bit, but nothing really helped, I just felt beat and tired. Today I found out that the heat index
yesterday was 118 degrees, now things make more sense. Today, I departed at 5:30 a.m. to beat the
heat, but it never arrived as I was in cloud cover most of the day, dodging
spurts of rain drops in the afternoon.
Arrived
in Rocky Mount, NC and let myself indulge hoping this would be last night of
eating restaurant food or sleeping in a hotel/motel for awhile. My hopes to reach the Outer Banks and visit
the Wright Brother’s Museum dashed, I figured it was okay to spend a couple of
extra bucks. My Mom and Dad had taken me
to the Outer Banks and the Wright Brothers Airstrip when I was a child on a
family vacation. They told me it was a
vacation and I was too young to recognize that it was just a trip to pick up my
sister who was the nanny for a summer to a naval family in Cape Hateress. What did a ten year old know? As it turned out I stayed in a very
comfortable Comfort Inn and right next door was an Outback Steak House. My choice dejour was a cocktail and a small
steak. It would have been the first
steak of the trip but the waitress talked me into the evening special of prime
rib. It was a flavorful piece of beef but
not what I had anticipated. Yet just the
same, it was a quality upgrade from most of my meals. Off tomorrow for NY to see my brother and
other family members, then to the Cape and then finally back home in New
Hampshire.
August 1
Gosh
what a day this turned out to be!!!
Headed out early to beat the I-95 traffic and was going along
marvelously, so well that I thought I’d take a side trip into DC. My friend, Wiskers, aka, Dave Haskell, a
fellow veteran and the most loyal NH veteran’s advocate anyone could find, had
given me some info on DC and places to stay.
I was ahead of schedule, so I thought what the heck. Then I ran into the DC interchange, 6 lanes
of traffic and all the lanes were busy, poor signage, and yikes, that was it
for me. I can honestly tell you I
dislike traffic and HATE riding the iron horse on an interstate. So I kept heading north and figured I’d be at
my brothers by 3-4 p.m. and then came Philly.
It may be the City of Brotherly Love but not on this Sunday
afternoon! When you take a Sunday
afternoon with weekend/vacation folks heading home, general traffic and a
bridge under construction…throw in reduced lanes, hot weather and the topper, a
car accident…it spells disaster and a long wait. I attempted to stop and re-start the bike but
this became more of a problem as the time wore on so I had to leave it
running. This meant that the heat from
the engine and pipes were constant and with little wind to deflect the heat my
leg began to get very hot underneath my dungarees. Pain, yes real pain, then anger, then
exhaustion. Holding this 1000-pound
composite of metal, fluids, plastic and luggage upright at 12-mph was hard work
and a strain. The delay was one hour and
twenty five minutes of inching along foot by foot in 95 degree heat and direct
sunlight on a hot Philly Sunday afternoon.
I knew this day wasn’t going well.
At last I made it to the single lane and headed off of the bridge. You
may recall that in the early part of the trip Peter and Charlene Roberts
(neighbors from NH), rode with me the first few days of the trip. They had given me some Gatorade candy bar
type munchies which at the time I thought was nice but a little much and I knew
that I never would need the extra boost. Wrong!
Thank goodness because the Philly experience had worn me out and the
G-munchies brought me back to life with renewed vigor.
I
continued northward with NY in my thoughts.
Pete had promised a home-cooked meal and I was ready. Two hours outside of his home I placed the “I’ll
be there in two hours call” - no answer and had to leave a message. The one-hour out call number two yielded
another phone message and it wasn’t looking promising. The day had been going down hill and I could
feel the negative vibes. At this point
in the travels I had to declare which route I would take as the highway turned
both north and east. I continued north
fighting through horrible NY Sunday afternoon traffic including the George
Washington Bridge. Traffic and tolls -
my goodness what tolls. Long gone are
the 25-cent and 50-cent version. It’s
now up to $5 a stop in some place. When
I reached Pete’s Sleepy Hollow exit, there was still no answer and it was too
late to go east. Anne and Becky, my
sister in law and niece, had offered a few days prior, a NY option of sleeping
at their casa’s but now I felt it was too late to show up virtually
unannounced. My plan was originally to
go through CT and then over to visit with friends on the Cape. I placed a cell call to my next day’s stopover
at the Cape. Both cell connections failed
after getting no further than a hello and I assumed this was a sign - go north
not east. I checked my GPS which barely
had a charge left and it said North Conway 7- hours, and I figured go for
it. The adrenaline started to flow and
off I went.
On the last leg of the trip it was a quiet night, once again I had the blessing of
being ahead of a rain storm and the New Hampshire border was a pleasant sight
regardless of the dreaded tolls. I
couldn’t believe that in one day I had spent nearly thirty dollars in tolls
which by the way is more than I usually carry in cash. With the stars above, surrounded by darkness
and with the bike’s CD playing patriotic tunes it turned my mind into a somber
and reflective mood.
The
last portion of the trip from Tamworth to my home was a wonderful period of the
trip. In the stillness of the night I
couldn’t help but think of the many experiences I had had, how blessed I had
been by God that I was safe and the trip was a success. The countless number of wonderful new people
I had the pleasure of meeting along the way, the special time seeing and riding
with old friends, exploring Seattle with my wife, the Half Way Home celebration
in San Diego, the young boy who wouldn’t drop his salute, spending a day or two with my daughter in
Houston and New Orleans’s and the financial support I (The RIDE) had received
from both friends as well as people I had never met nor would I ever meet, was just
so remarkable and made this trip a worthwhile invest of my time and
effort. I truly had been blessed with an
experience of a life time. My effort and
your financial support of The RIDE and the USO will allow for more families and
members of our armed forces to have a home
away from home as the USO mission states Until Every One Comes Home.
I
am not going to attempt to list all my thank you’s as undoubtedly I would omit
someone, suffice it to say that The RIDE would never had met it’s goal without
the work, contributions and assistance of many people. I’ll close my journals with my conversation
from the late night toll-taker at the last toll booth on the Spaulding
Turnpike, an older woman with a keen smile and lovely gray hair. When I paid my toll I said, I am sure glad to
be back in New Hampshire, she asked where I’d been and I gave her the two
minute executive summary as I was the only one on the highway and time wasn’t
an issue.
As
I restarted my bike to drive the final leg of the trip she said, “Thank you for
what you did and God Bless you.” I can
say no more to you than that - Thank You for what you did and God Bless you.
And the adventure comes to an end.
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