We made it! And unlike James Dean we didn’t have any Highway 46 crack-ups.
Claire and I completed the driving part of our cross-country tour (both the width and the length portions) on Sunday – the 17th day of our journey – when we pulled into Claremont around 7:30 local time. We’ve put approximately 4,500 miles on the rental car and have been through 13 states.
I’ll write more about this segment of our travels later, but I did want to capture one bit of Americana from Sunday’s drive. As we were tooling down California Highway 46 between Paso Robles and Lost Hills, we passed The James Dean Memorial Junction. Hmmm, I thought, I wonder if this is where James Dean died in his car crash. Sure enough, a couple of miles down the road we came to a store and gas station with a huge likeness of the famous 1950s actor pointing to the entrance.
The Atlas Obscura (who knew such a thing existed), provides this background for the junction:
The California junction of Highways 41 and 46 would be simply another remote road crossing had it not been for the 1955 accident which led to the death of Actor James Dean, idol to millions of moviegoers.
This junction was the epicenter for a shock that reverberated around the world when Dean and his personal mechanic Rolf Wutherich were involved in a head-on collision that killed both men. Given Dean’s astronomical fame at the time of the crash, the actor’s death became national news, a rare occurrence at the time for a single car crash. The tragedy even spurred California planners to reroute the junction so that the road was safer.
The new, safer junction is now called the “James Dean Memorial Junction” and bears a sign with the name. The sign still sees visitors from around the world who come to pay tribute to the young performer, often leaving ribbons or small tokens of remembrance.
And the gas station/store is a memorial to all things James Dean:
So Claire and I thought it would be great to picture her beside the Dean roadside figure, giving her best Rebel Without a Cause pose.
And what better way to celebrate a cross-country trip, than with another icon who came of age in the 1950s and made it out the other side – none other than Johnny Cash – singing his hit I’ve Been Everywhere, Man. (A tip of the hat to Andrew for the reminder about what a perfect song this is for today’s post.)
Believe it or not, we still have a day to go before I board my plane on Tuesday, so there will be…
On two picture-perfect summer days, Claire and I have had fun exploring the food, the museum life, and – yes – the unexpected treasure of a Giants baseball game – in this city by the bay.
We arrived mid-afternoon on Friday, the 15th day of our cross-country tour, and we stopped just short of the city to have a light lunch.
Cavallo Point is a former army base turned into National Park and luxury resort. Their website shows a stunning shot of the Golden Gate Bridge with the words A View With Rooms. Truer words were never spoken. I had visited this wonderful place with colleagues a few years ago to learn about the ways the park service was working with private interests to re-imagine and reconfigure former Army bases. I was taken with it then, and I wanted to show it to Claire as part of our trip.
We drove into Cavallo Point as the clouds cleared from the bridge, and while my shot from the porch of the hotel is not exceptional, we’ll both recall the view, and the tasty meal at Farley Bar.
We then drove in and found our hotel near Union Square, in the heart of downtown. After some time to rest our feet, we headed out to explore the city and to end the evening with some wonderful sushi at Sanraku. One of the things I most enjoy about this city is the multitude of tiny restaurants found seemingly on every block, serving up some of the best food in the country.
This morning we awoke early, as we wanted to be at the Exploratorium when it opened. But first we had other business.
Claire once again found a fantastic place for breakfast on Yelp! at the nearby Farm:Table. There were three items on the menu – the daily toast (at the top) and an egg on croissant sandwich being the two that we chose. Claire got the almond milk latte, and I had a regular latte. There is one relatively small (6 people) communal table inside, a couple of sidewalk tables for two, and two standing tables affixed to the front of the restaurant. And on the street side of the sidewalk is a Kickstarter-funded Public Parklet, where I sat for a while until the table became available.
I’m here to say that I’ve seldom had a better breakfast. The Daily Toast was incredible, and the coffee was superb. We loved being out on the street as people came and went, stopping to talk, pet a dog or two, and simply taking in life. If you are in the Nob Hill area, this is worth a visit.
We made it to the Exploratorium about 3 minutes before it opened. Claire’s good friend Jackie is in San Francisco this summer, and she encouraged us to visit this incredible museum. Jackie was in DC last summer and this is a young lady who explores the heck out of every place she visits, so I took her recommendations seriously. The Exploratorium was a home run. Here’s how the web site describe it:
“The Exploratorium is an eye-opening, playful place—in San Francisco and online—to explore how the world works. For 40-plus years, we’ve offered creative, thought-provoking exhibits, experiences, tools, and projects that ignite curiosity, encourage exploration, and lead to profound learning.“
That’s an understatement.
We spent two-and-a-half hours here, and we could have spent two-and-a-half days without seeing everything that calls out for your attention and to engage your brain. This is sometimes described as a museum for children, but that is wrong. 90-year-olds were just as engrossed as 4-year-olds in these incredible, interactive exhibits. In the photo above, Claire is looking in a mirror that puts her in all the panels. Next to this was a similar mirror where – standing in the same place – she could not see her image.
Whether it was an exhibit showing the skeletal, blood, and heart systems; the pieces of a typewriter; artifacts that pulled forward questions about how the concept of “normal” has changed in mental health circles; countless pendulums; or a thousand other things, the museum really engaged the mind and the imagination. Highly recommended for everyone with a brain and a pulse.
Last evening, I had casually mentioned that the Giants had an afternoon game on Saturday against the Phillies. I had not planned to attend, as this is one stadium I’ve already visited (twice) in my bucket list drive to get to all MLB stadiums. But Claire – God bless her heart – said, “I’d be up for going to a baseball game.” Really? I love you too, Claire!
After a search on Stub Hub, we had fantastic tickets (third base line, lower level, in the shade, with knowledgeable fans all around) and arrived at AT&T Park with about 10 minutes to spare before the first pitch. I’m here to say that this is the best stadium in baseball…and I’ve been to 18 of the 30. Why?
It is impossible to beat the setting. Coors Field comes close with the views of the Rockies, but the water – on a picture-perfect day like today – in the midst of a thriving, pulsing city, is too much to overcome. Please, don’t tell me about Wrigley or Fenway. I love them both, as they have the city setting, the L Train by Wrigley, lots of history…but not the water.
Every seat is good. I’ve tried 3 for full games, and I’ve walked all around this park on all levels. No matter where you sit or stand, you feel as if you are right on top of the action.
The scoreboard is great. They give you terrific information in a way that is easy to read. Plus, the video guys have a sense of humor.
The attendants are incredibly friendly. Example #1: When I was stumbling to get my new Stub Hub app to come up on my phone, the ticket taker said, “That’s all right, Hon. I’ve been waiting all day for you to arrive.” After she scanned our tickets, she saw my Nationals hat and added, “Have a great vacation.” Can you beat that?
The attendants are incredibly friendly. Example #2: Peter, who monitors the aisle in Section 126, greeted us, said, “You must know someone important” when he saw our terrific tickets, and continued to keep an eye out for us throughout the rest of the game. We chatted when we left, and I found out that he does this throughout the season (plus he does the 49ers games on Sundays in the fall). He was probably 70+ and retired, but loving his life.
The kayackers in McCovey Cove. First, who else has a body of water named after Willie “Stretch” McCovey, the most feared left-handed power hitter ever? Then, who has anything even remotely resembling the kayackers out waiting for a splash home run? (Nope, the folks in the street in Fenway don’t rate.)
AT&T Park has the best variety of food. Hands down.
Finally, AT&T Park has great statues. Of course, having Willie Mays (see top of post) puts you so far ahead of the other stadiums that it really isn’t a contest. Growing up, Mays was my favorite player, and as I’ve mentioned before I still have at least one grade school friend (and now preservation colleague) who will call me “Say Hey!” Was Mays any good? Well, let’s return to that ESPN bio I linked to at the top of the post:
“Voted into the Hall of Fame in 1979, he was the ninth player to be so honored in his first year of eligibility. But when 23 of 432 baseball writers failed to vote for Mays, Dick Young wrote, ‘If Jesus Christ were to show up with his old baseball glove, some guys wouldn’t vote for him. He dropped the cross three times, didn’t he?‘”
Say Hey! The best there is in my book, and as clear-cut a unanimous choice for the Hall of Fame as anyone before or since.
Now, to today’s game. Tim Hudson was on the mound, and he’s having a Strasburg-like year, with some great numbers but a so-so W-L record. Today showed why. He gave up 5 runs in less than 5 innings and wasn’t fooling the Phils. But the Giants bullpen came in and shut down Philadelphia for the rest of the game and got him off the hook.
The really bizarre inning was the bottom of the sixth. The Giants scored four runs in that frame while getting only one hit that was tagged (a double by Michael Morse, who was in Beast mode today), and with two balls that didn’t even leave the infield. One was a typical Phillies play this year, as a pop-up fell between the pitcher and the first and second basemen while all watched it land on the ground. In the eighth, the Giants took the lead and then held off the Phils in the 9th to secure the win. As Claire pointed out as we left the stadium, all three home teams won during our cross-country trip, so we expect some other teams to start plying us with free tickets!
We’re wrapping up our time tonight by – guess what – eating! Claire is meeting up with her friend Jackie and her family for dinner, and I’m off to hear some jazz at a near-by club. Sounds like a great ending to our time in the city.
And speaking of jazz, when it comes to music there’s only one Hall of Fame tune for many generations that captures San Francisco. It was one of my father-in-law’s favorite songs, and therefore it is one of my wife’s favorite songs. Candice, this is for you in memory of Pop-Pop, with love from Claire and David. I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon, my love.
Whatever mind came up with the idea of Dungeness Crab Tater Tots with Crème Fraiche…I like the way that mind works!
Careful readers will have noted that Claire and I are eating our way cross-country on the Not All Who Wander Are Lost tour. Heck, you don’t even have to be that careful…we’ve been all over the food. We’ve gone local with dollar hot dogs at Progressive Field in Cleveland. We carbo loaded in Chicago. Don’t even get me started on the cheese and cream in Wisconsin. One of the highest read posts of this series has been the You Want Nutrition…Eat Carrots! note from Madison. Once we made it to Seattle (how did we do that without exploding?!) we went vegan at Plum Bistro. Suffice it to say, we’ve eaten local and we’ve eaten well.
Last night, at the wonderful Chalkboard restaurant in Healdsburg (thank you again Yelp!) Claire and I thought to actually take pictures of each serving of the small plates we were splitting for dinner. The Crab Tater Tots were what lured us to the restaurant…but they weren’t the only treats.
So I’m posting these in the order they showed up on our table. It isn’t a coincidence that as we moved through the evening, we dived into the next offering before remembering to photograph the plate. So with apologies (I guess) to the chef on messing up the presentation, here goes our wonderful evening out.
After the Dungeness Crab Tater Tots (and don’t forget the Crème Fraiche), came our salads. First up: a cucumber and avocado salad with cherry tomatoes, radish, and toasted seeds….
…followed by the delicious chopped salad.
The salads were followed by a pasta, the Bucatini with gulf shrimp, peppers, roasted garlic, chive, and uni butter.
Whew…we barely remembered to photograph that course, as it was so delicious. Well, we followed that with Grilled Brentwood Corn topped with a delicious chipolte crema.
Did I mention that we enjoyed all of this with a glass of the Kinsella Zinfandel (me) and the Bear Republic IPA (Claire)? You would think that two people, having eaten this much food, would call it quits for the night. But then, you don’t know Claire and me when we are on a food journey. And, you wouldn’t know that Chalkboard serves donuts for dessert!
Oh my…this was the kiss of death. Claire and I decided that we wouldn’t eat for another 24 hours. That is, until we realized we had three good restaurant recommendations in Healdsburg and only two meals left in this town before heading to San Francisco – where we have about 8 food recommendations for a two-night stay!
I did go to the gym this morning, but I believe it may have been a case of too little, too late.
Just think of us as your cross-country food reporters taking one for the team.
Wednesday’s visit to see California’s redwoods and coastline turned out to be the appetizer. Beautiful as it was, it couldn’t hold a candle to today’s visits to forests, coasts, and wine country. Thursday – the 14th day of our cross-country tour – was the main course.
As is the case with much of the best cuisine of California, it did not disappoint.
Claire and I left Eureka around 9 a.m. and headed south on Highway 101. About 45 minutes into the drive we stopped for gas, and as fate would have it the manager had come out to fix the printer on our gas pump. When he saw our license plates he struck up a conversation, and finding out we were traveling cross-country, he immediately said, “You have to drive the Avenue of the Giants route. This is the old road that criss-crosses 101, and in slightly more than 30 miles it has many of the huge redwoods in the region.”
Oh my…was he ever right. And are we ever glad we took his advice.
We drove slowly for the entire 30-mile route, taking in this cathedral of trees which is part of the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. This description from the auto tour does a good job of providing the basics about these giants:
Coast redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) are taller than any other living thing. They can live over 2,000 years and withstand fires, floods and insects. As you drive along the Avenue some of the groves you see have never been logged. These are ancient, or old growth, coast redwoods. Their average ages are 400-600 years old.
This magical morning got us off to a very good start, and we had one wonderful experience after another.
After leaving the Avenue of Giants, we turned to go down California Highway 1 towards Mendocino, at the advice of my colleague Anthony Veerkamp. And are we glad we took his advice as well! I asked Claire if she would like to drive, and of course she said yes. Little did either one of us know that we had 22 miles of the most treacherous mountain road and hairpin curves I can recall seeing ahead of us. But Claire – in her first attempt at handling this type of road – drove it like a trooper. She generally acted like an old pro at this driving through big elevation changes and very tight roadways.
As we neared the end of the 22 miles she let out a yelp, “There’s the ocean.” And indeed, there is was.
The ocean view at this point was a fantastic reward for taking Route 1 through the mountains. We weren’t the only ones stopping to gawk…the couple in the convertible had been just ahead of us. So after they offered to take a picture of the two of us (at the top of the post), Claire – our designated photographer – returned the favor.
The next 20+ miles to Mendocino were just one beautiful photo opp after another. Parts were cloudy, but we nonetheless saw some magnificent coastal views.
When we arrived in the charming little coastal town of Mendocino, we had the first of two wonderful meals for the day. Trillium Cafe had a terrific light lunch menu. Claire and I – hungry after our less-than-satisfying continental breakfast and the drive through the mountains – enjoyed every bite. We followed it up with a walk along Main Street, although the 20+ degree temperature drop had us both shivering and quickly heading back to the car.
Anthony’s recommendations had been spot-on, so we followed his advice again and headed into Healdsburg, California via Route 128 and the Alexander Valley. He recommended a stop for some wine tasting at the Navarro Vineyards and Winery, and we followed that suggestion as well. On a picture perfect afternoon, we sampled a few of the offerings and then bought Claire bottles of Navarro’s Gewürztraminer and Edelzwicker. The former was recommended by Anthony, and when one of Claire’s college friends learned she was in the area, she also suggested the Gewürztraminer.
At the end of a long and very satisfying day, we turned in to Healdsburg for our evening of good food (more on that in a later post) and remembrances. We were both exhausted in all the right ways.
And in honor of Claire’s handling of the mountain roads of California, I’m posting a video of a song that came up while she was driving: Shawn Colvin‘s Shotgun Down the Avalanche. This is a beautiful version, with harmony help from Alison Krauss.
At times, Wednesday’s ride seemed as long as a California redwood is tall.
Claire and I were on Day 13 of the Not All Who Wander Are Lost tour (a.k.a., the “length of the country” portion), and perhaps it had to do with it being the 13th day, but there were some weird things happening along the way. We left Portland, Oregon at 8:30 a.m. and didn’t arrive in Eureka, California until around 6:30 p.m. for what was supposed to be a 7 hour trip. (Darn those Google maps algorithms.) The portions on the “straight and narrow” path of I-5 could give a guy and his daughter the blues. Rest areas that we really needed were closing up due to “bear activity.” Ah, but those crooked roads through the mountains, the redwoods, and along the beautiful California coast…now that’s when we felt we were alive and on the edge of the world.
We had to take I-5 down to Grants Pass. The Oregon landscape is changing and beautiful through this part of the country, but the drive on the interstate is still somewhat mind numbing. However, at Grants Pass, one gets on Highway 199 for a harrowing and curvy drive through the mountains that makes the Going to the Sun road in Glacier seem tame in comparison. Then we switched over to Highway 101 to go through the redwood forests and along the northern California coast.
That was magical.
So after an evening dinner of scallops (Claire) and grilled halibut (me) at the Cafe Waterfront, I sat down in our room in the historic Eureka Inn to begin to pull together thoughts from the day…only to fall asleep about 30 minutes later. So this is a Thursday morning post of a new group of Observations From the Road – this time the “On the Edge” edition.
The straight and narrow can give you the blues – I don’t know if it was the interstate, the rain that stayed with us much of the morning, or events outside the car, but Claire and I were both pretty quiet on the drive to Grants Pass. I happened to notice that a number of tunes came up on our various playlists that had to do with the theme of leaving or having the blues, including The Band Perry’s hit Chainsaw (another of those country songs dealing with tattoo-like hearts), Dolly Parton’s I’m Gone (a silly tune that just makes me laugh), some Ray Charles and Eric Clapton, and even David Bromberg’s crazy I’ll Take You Back (“when rattlesnakes have knees, and money grows on trees…”). Now there’s an eclectic collection of tunes for you! We did talk about depression in connection with Robin Williams’ death, and Claire helped me understand more about this illness. But I was glad to get to Grants Pass and get off the interstate.
Grants Pass has a way with signs – As we pulled into the historic Main Street of Grants Pass, Oregon, we were greeted with the “It’s the Climate” sign across the road. This is a throwback to signs that used to be located across the street back in the day. There were also a number of creative store signs (see above for a local wine bar), and there is a great one I didn’t catch as you leave town to head into the National Redwood Forest. The signs in Grants Pass helped lift our spirits (and no, we didn’t even have a beer at lunch today).
To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the demise of the rectangular hay bale have been greatly exaggerated – I wrote in theJeez, Montana is a Big State edition of Observations From the Road that the round hay bales had won the hay bale war. Well, I just hadn’t been to Oregon yet, where there were miles and miles of road with farms that still use the good, old-fashioned rectangular hay bales. I did notice that many were being stored in barns (and most barns are still rectangular or square, not round). And I also noticed that Oregon is one of only two states (New Jersey is the other) that still provides full service at the gas pump. Now, I’m not suggesting they are holding on to the past or anything…just saying…
When they say “Watch out for elk crossing the road” they mean it – Several times along the road yesterday, we saw “Elk crossing” signs. Yeah, right. Well, at one point we drove by a whole field of elk, and I slammed on the brakes so Claire could jump out and try and get a picture. It was tough, though, because the trees along the road were pretty full. She was unable capture a good picture of the ones with the big antlers (although she did report back on the smell…enough said). However, while I was pulled over on the side of the road and she was 50-75 steps behind me taking pictures, what walks out of the woods on the other side of the road but a single elk. Now, we had seen signs in the park saying “Stay away from the elk” so I yell to Claire, who doesn’t hear me, of course. Luckily, this lonely elk, separated from the rest, was just taking an easy stroll. Claire finally returns to the car…and then she wants to go around and get in for a closer shot! Jeez…does she want to give her father a heart attack! Nonetheless, we got our elk shot and Claire managed to get back to the car safely.
The reports of the beauty of the California coastline along the coastal highway are not exaggerated – Even with fog rolling in at inopportune moments, the coastline in this part of the country is pretty stunning. Claire was able to capture this picture, but there were many places where we could see but the cloud cover made it difficult to get a decent shot. You’ll just have to believe us!
So, on our 13th day of travel we felt we were “on the edge” in several ways. Our morning was spent a bit on the edge emotionally. Then we felt we were on the edge of the road, ready to tumble down at any moment, along Highway 199. Finally, the California coastline can give you the “edge of the world” sense. So when Lady Gaga’s On the Edge of Glory popped up on Claire’s playlist, I said to myself, “That’s today’s tune!” (And yes, I may be trying to reach a younger demographic than my normal readers with the Lady Gaga reference…this is especially for Andrew and Jason). Claire’s version was the full-band extravaganza, but I found two beautiful piano-only versions on video which take the song down to its essence (and also show what a wonderful singer Gaga is). She says that she wrote this with her grandfather in mind and talks about how we need to live our lives on the edge. That seemed to be a perfect fit for yesterday’s ride. Enjoy.
One could look at today’s itinerary for the Not All Who Wander Are Lost tour and think that our main goal was to go from Point A (Seattle) to Point B (Portland) as quickly and efficiently as possible. But those who think that way miss the point of our cross-country trip.
We avoided most of Interstate 5 – the main line between Seattle and Portland – and struck out from Gig Harbor, Washington, to get to Astoria, Oregon on the coast via the crooked road.
And think of what we would have missed had we taken the straight and narrow way.
Why, we wouldn’t have known that Montesano, Washington is the home of the Tree Farm. (It says so right on the sign.) We would have missed the fact that South Bend, Washington is the Oyster Capital of the World. Given the amount of “working forests” one sees in this section of the state, I suspect this is where America’s supply of paper is produced. And who knew that McCleary, Washington will be celebrating the 55th annual Bear Festival this year?
Plus, who could miss Raymond, Washington – the town of metal people! Roadside America describes it this way:
Along Highway 101, the “Raymond Wildlife Heritage Sculptures Corridor” is a display of dozens of rusty metal cutouts — a mixture of area wildlife and logging industry scenes. In some places, bear and fox frollick next to loads of logs pulled by teams of oxen or horses. The Corridor was created with the work of local artists starting in 1993. It is eye-catching mostly due to the quantity and density of pieces. For the weirder statues, stop in town.
If we had stayed on I-5, we would have missed pulling up behind not one but TWO green vintage Volkswagen vans trying to chug up the mountains as fast as they could…which is not very fast. Instead of getting mad, however, this reminded me of my youth, and the green VW bus that our family bought (on the Friday JFK was shot, no less). It was the original Fred Flintstone car, in that you felt that if you pedaled with your feet you might get up the hill faster. We saw it as kinda dorky when we first bought it, but later in the 60s and into the 70s it was cool to drive your friends around in the VW microbus (to quote Arlo Guthrie). I would have missed the chance to tell Claire those stories.
All of that before we made it to the fantastic town of Astoria, Oregon (shown at the top of the post). This jewel of a Main Street is where Lewis and Clark spent the winter of 1805-1806, meaning that we caught two winter campgrounds on this tour. We took in the town and – thanks again to Yelp – ended up at the wonderful Fort George Brewery + Public House for a meal of oysters and sausage topped with the seasonal Three Way IPA.
Thanks to the crooked road, we arrived rather late in Portland, where we met up with a long-time friend and former colleague Constance Beaumont. Constance took us on a quick driving tour of the historic neighborhoods and downtown of Portland, before we landed for dinner at Raven and Rose – a wonderful restaurant that I discovered on my last trip to the city. We sat at the counter to watch the cooks do their work in the wood-fired oven and to enjoy the conversation. Satisfied, we left and returned to Constance’s home where we’ll get an early start tomorrow for the long drive into California.
But before we leave Oregon, here’s a perfect tune for our day today. I have a lot of Darrell Scott on my playlist, but I love this acoustic solo version of his tune A Crooked Road. I hope you’ll enjoy it as well.
After the long and draining drive on Sunday in our Not All Who Wander Are Lost tour, we spent Monday resting, meeting up with friends, and simply enjoying Seattle.
I always love my trips to this Northwest city, but none more so than this visit when I was able to share some special places with Claire, who was seeing it for the first time. On recent business trips I have discovered a new favorite hotel in Seattle – the Paramount – and so we woke up Monday morning smack in the middle of Seattle’s downtown.
But we didn’t wake up too soon. We needed the morning to catch up on sleep and exercise and to finish up the previous day’s blog post, so we had a leisurely morning. And – as you can see – my late nights have caught up with me and these posts are now coming out the following morning. (I know that a few folks are reading, because at least one family member called Candice to make sure we were okay after not seeing a post early yesterday morning. Sorry for the scare!)
Yelp came through for us again, as we began walking the streets in search for a breakfast venue.
Sweet Iron was a great start to our day, but it wasn’t the last time we encountered tasty Washington State peaches.
Suitably fortified, we spent a couple of hours looking at fountains, stores, and buildings downtown. I recommended we run through a fountain that – in design – was supposed to have a dry passageway between the walls of water. In execution…well, we experienced some dampness. Luckily, Monday was the day Seattle topped its high temperature for the year – at 96 degrees – so we dried out before we hit the original, downtown Nordstroms and a few other stores.
As lunchtime grew near, we checked out of the Paramount and headed up to the Pike/Pine neighborhood of Seattle. Not for Tourists describes the area as
…the epicenter of Seattle hipster culture, where twenty-something bohemians waste their youth in assorted tattoo parlors, carefully-designed dive bars, and vintage clothing stores.
Now, while somewhat true, that seems a little harsh. In fact, the National Trust has an office in Pike/Pine and there are wonderful restaurants and stores, beyond the dive bars and places for vintage clothing.
Claire met up with her college friend Gailyn at Plum Bistro in Pike/Pine…which I chose because it is conveniently located above the offices of the Preservation Green Lab, so I could have lunch with my Seattle colleagues at the same restaurant. The food and company (at both ends of the room) were terrific. Then we wandered over to one of the great independent bookstores in the country – Elliott Bay Books – for some shopping. As I was checking out, the man behind the counter – finding out I was from the DC area – asked what was my bookstore. I replied, “Why, Politics and Prose, of course.” He quickly agreed, and said that they had a friendly competition over which store had more – and the more interesting – events. I love independent bookstores…and later today Claire will get introduced to one of the granddaddy’s of the genre: Powell’s City of Books in Portland. We skipped Stumptown in Pike/Pine (my favorite coffee shop)…but maybe we’ll catch that today in Portland as well.
We were in a bit of a rush. I wanted to show Claire “The center of the known universe” – aka Fremont. For those who know DC, think Takoma Park with more restaurants and dreadlocks.
Then we had to take in Pike Place Market before heading south. Claire captured a flying fish on camera at the Pike Place Fish Company (a bit hard to do, as there are many more of us tourists trying to take pictures than there are people actually buying fish that the guys can toss back and forth between the counter and the folks working the floor). Nearby, The Slick Skillet Serenaders were busking to an appreciative crowd (photo at the top of the post), and the shops were brimming with people, flowers, and so much more.
We stopped by to look into the original Starbucks (where we saw our second Nats hat of the trip) and then we bid good-bye to Seattle and headed out for the short drive to Gig Harbor, Washington, where we spent the night with our good friends Shari and Bruce Shull.
We got to know the Shulls in Staunton, where I sang with Shari in an early-music ensemble called Canticum Novum and Bruce was an organ builder with our friends at Taylor and Boody Organs. Nine years ago, Bruce and Shari moved west where Bruce joined the organbuilders at Paul Fritts and Company. I have written about my love of tracker organs in the past, so as soon as I saw this sweet little organ in their living room, I asked Shari to play some really old-time music for us – which she did with great skill, given that she is a professional organist.
After catching up on family, business, quilt making, planes (Bruce is also a pilot), and the like, the four of us headed down to Gig Harbor (shown above in the photo by Bruce), where we enjoyed a delightful seafood dinner at Anthony’s…and, yes, we did split a sinful peach and ice-cream dessert. It was a wonderful evening.
Today…we’re off to Portland, Oregon which is another of my favorite cities (do you see a theme here?). In fact, Claire mentioned last evening at dinner that she was using this trip to check out places where she might live after college! Be still my heart – a real chance to come to the Pacific Northwest on a regular basis? I can just hear Candice sigh all the way across the country.
Oh well, I have a couple of tunes for yesterday. First, the Old Crow Medicine Show is one of the few bands on both Claire’s playlist and mine, so when Wagon Wheel came up on our drive south yesterday, I told Claire I was going to add that video in honor of the buskers at Pike Place Market. But then, after hearing Shari play the organ, I decided it was time for a second video, this time of Leon Berben playing on a historic Arp Schnitger organ…which happens to be a favorite organ builder of the Shull family. (I can’t tell how I know this secret!)
Arriving in Seattle Sunday evening, Claire and I celebrated making it cross-country with a dinner in the revolving restaurant atop the Space Needle. We did the Atlantic to the Pacific thing! I can check off one bucket list item. Who hoo!!
Of course, we’re just one day into the second half of our tour. Now that we’ve done the width of the country, we still have the length to go. Southern California or bust!
So this edition of Observations From the Road is the “We Made It (Well, In One Sense)” edition.
Sunday was a long day on the road – from Kalispell, Montana to Seattle, Washington. Three states (Idaho is in the middle there, for those who are geographically challenged.) That’s why this post is being finished on Monday morning. The trip was made longer by an hour-long back-up on I-90 in Washington State. There might have been an incident, but we suspect it was tied up as people gawked at the forest fire smoke that was coming over the mountains. More on that later. But long days give you great time to talk about such important items as:
Aloe Blacc, stage names, and television viewing habits – When Aloe Blacc‘s song Wake Me Up (Acoustic) came up on Claire’s playlist yesterday, I first said, “I like this guy’s voice.” Then I looked at the radio monitor and said, “Who would name their kid Aloe?” Claire replied, “I guarantee you that’s a made-up name” to which I replied, “Well, let’s Google it to find out.” (Careful readers are seeing a pattern here.) Sure enough, the guy’s real name is Egbert Nathaniel Dawkins III. Boy, if anyone is in need of a stage name it is END III! (Hey, why didn’t he choose that?!)
But the story doesn’t end here.
Somewhere else along the road, Claire was talking about going to Joshua Tree National Park this year, before she completes college. I have been to this wonderful place in the desert and I encouraged her to go. She mentioned that there was a television show she was watching that had a section about Joshua Tree, and then she added that it was on The Bachelorette. We laughed when I said I was hoping to hear if it was something like National Geographic Discoveries or some similar serious series. But then I admitted that the only TV I watch is sports. We both agreed that we don’t get our intellectual stimulation from television.
Now, back to Aloe Blacc. As we were nearing Seattle, his song The Man came on. I said, “I know that tune. It is the music for Beats by Dr. Dre headphones.” She said, “Huh?” And I said, “Oh, it is on ESPN all the time, with these famous athletes wearing his headphones and listening to The Man while people scream at them.” She responded, “Oh…television sports” and didn’t have to say more. We laughed. Again. Bottom line: don’t come to me for pop culture trivia unless it stars some sports guys.
Montana gets more and more interesting as you drive west – The eastern portion of Montana is very interesting, if a bit big. The western slice, on the other side of Glacier, is amazing. We drove by Flathead Lake – which is beautiful in the morning sun – and then took the road to Wallace, Idaho through some of the most stunning mountain scenery I’ve ever seen. Claire’s panorama above is beautiful, but you don’t get the sense of the heights of the mountains here that one has as you drive. The road literally hugs the mountains and separates them from the river for miles on end. We pulled over several times just to gawk. Amazing.
Solitude and other thoughts – I had so many wonderful conversations with Claire on Sunday. They are too numerous to mention (and some too personal to post). That’s the wonder of long periods together in the car. But one that struck me was her take on nature and solitude. As we were driving through Montana – where you can go for miles without seeing a house, much less a person – Claire began talking about her readings while on a special summer environmental studies class during high school at Sanibel Island. This was an experience that profoundly changed her and helped her, for the first time, think deeply about who she is and what she wants to do with her life. It is when she became a vegetarian – a practice which she maintains to this day. But in yesterday’s context, she was talking about the necessity for solitude. As part of the creative reading and writing portion of her Sanibel class, she had read the famous environmentalist John Muir’s take on solitude – then she had spent the day alone and had to write about the experience. It moved her deeply, and yesterday’s landscape reminded her of how these places can feed the soul.
We also spent a good time in conversation talking about personal gifts. I was able to remind Claire that one of her personal gifts is the ability to think sensitively about how others feel, and then to act on that understanding. She is very wise this way, and helps lead our family into a deeper respect for others – and especially others who are very different from us. It took the conversation into many different areas of our life but – as is usually the case when I talk with Claire – I came away enriched.
But just so you don’t get the feeling that we’re getting all heavy on you, we also discussed the only major difference we have as travelers. Claire likes the shower head set to the “beat the hell out of you” setting, while I prefer the “gentle rain” version. Of course, since she takes her showers in the night, I am always surprised by the pelting I get when I step into the shower in the morning. You’d think I would learn.
Never stop near the interstate exit for food…unless you are in Wallace, Idaho – My colleague Sheri Freemuth had recommended that we stop in Wallace, Idaho, a beautiful historic town tucked underneath (yes, you read that right) the interstate. To avoid wiping out part of the town, they literally put an interstate bridge over the top of one edge. In this case, with the mountains at play, it works.
We arrived Sunday shortly after noon (11 a.m. local time, since we just switched over to the Pacific time zone), but this little town was already awake and buzzing. We checked out the buildings, and then headed over to the Smoke House BBQ and Saloon. What a find!
We had already spotted the local Wallace Brewery across the street (which didn’t open until 1 p.m.), so we had to try their I.P.A. Tasty! And we split some salmon-covered nachos, as we were going for two small-plates experiences instead of lunch. Very tasty! But more than the food and beer, I loved the ambiance – and the feistiness of the wait staff. We carried on a running conversation with the 3-4 folks behind the bar, learning about their late-night exploits from Saturday night in the process! The restrooms were also a trip. To begin with, these one-holers had “Man” and “Woman” on the door. Claire said that was a more truthful way to let you know the capacity! Me, I loved the old Borax soap containers. I haven’t seen, or used, Boraxo in years…but it was fun to tell Claire about the 20 Mule Team strength of Borax! My mother is smiling somewhere today.
Oh, and did I mention that the landscape here in “Northern Idaho” is just as stunning as the Montana landscape to the east? What an incredible 3+ hour drive.
Never stop at the interstate for food…especially when you can drive into Ellensburg, Washington – The Yelp app is one amazing tool for today’s traveler. As we were looking for our second food stop later in the day, Claire pulls up Utopia Frozen Yogurt and Coffee House across from Central Washington University in historic Ellensburg. Frozen yogurt – the perfect second small plate offering to go with our nachos! So we pull off and drive through a beautiful and thriving historic Main Street – which I later found out was a National Trust Dozen Distinctive Destination winner in 2007. I concur!
Oh, and the Washington State landscape isn’t too shabby either – Much like Montana, you get a little bit of everything driving east to west across Washington. The landscape around Spokane is a bit dull as agricultural landscapes go, but at least they have this little patch of drive where they actually post signs telling you what’s growing in the fields beyond. We saw beans, field corn, sweet corn, peas, and Timothy. Timothy? What the hell is Timothy? Turns out, it is a type of hay. Who knew? Then we also passed over the Columbia River, where Claire got this amazing panorama view. And coming into Seattle, one feels you are tumbling down a very long mountain…which I suppose in one sense you are. There is a lot of elevation drop to get to sea level!
Forest fires are devastating the west – This is not news to those who pick up a paper or listen to the radio and TV, but we saw it first hand today. First, we saw a helicopter carrying a bucket of water, then we began to see the smoke from what I suspect is the Snag Canyon Fire near Ellensburg. The smoke coming over the mountaintop was massive. One of the smartest writers about this topic is the New York Times’ Timothy Egan (you can see his link on the side of More to Come… in the “writers” section). Egan is the author of the excellent book The Big Burn: Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America. In last week’s Times, Egan had an opinion piece where he calls out the bad public policy debates we have over things like wildfire prevention. Recommended. This is a very sad testament to our dysfunctional political system where gaining points to fire up a right-wing base are more important that people’s lives. End of sermonizing.
Music for the trip – We listened to a lot of music during the day. I thought of posting Paradise by Coldplay in honor of Paradise, Montana – but it didn’t seem to fit. But the music that fit the Montana and Idaho landscape best for me is the work by the Matt Flinner Trio – the best mandolinist no one knows. So I’ve posted a video of his Winter Harvest, which seems to fit this landscape and – in some ways – is a lament for the terrible things we do to it today.
Wow! On a picture perfect August day, Claire and I visited Glacier National Park, The Crown of the Continent. It was an experience we’ll never forget.
We had always envisioned this day – at the midpoint in our cross-country road trip – to be one of the highlights. But as first time visitors to this park, we just couldn’t have imagined how wonderful it would be.
Knowing that we wanted to beat the crowds, we left our hotel early and drove into St. Mary, the eastern gateway to the park. On the advice of several friends, we planned to focus our visit along the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road – a National Historic Landmark and a National Engineering Landmark.
According to the National Park Service website:
The road officially received its name, “The Going-to-the-Sun Road,” during the 1933 dedication at Logan Pass. The road borrowed its name from nearby Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. Local legend, and a 1933 press release issued by the Department of the Interior, told the story of the deity, Sour Spirit, who came down from the sun to teach Blackfeet braves the rudiments of the hunt. On his way back to the sun, Sour Spirit had his image reproduced on the top of the mountain for inspiration to the Blackfeet. An alternate story suggests a white explorer in the 1880s concocted the name and the legend. No matter which version is accurate, the road named Going-to-the-Sun still inspires all who travel it.
Logan Pass is among the most famous – and popular – spots along this 50-mile engineering marvel, so we headed there first. As the highest point along the road, the pass is part of the Continental Divide. It is also the trailhead for day hikes in multiple directions. We chose to strike out for Hidden Lake on the advice of the ranger, as this part of the park is above the tree line.
On this trail we encountered small waterfalls and snow packs…
Mountain goats (which Claire tried to become a bit too familiar with)…
And finally, the beautiful Hidden Lake.
Next we retraced our steps east so we could stop and see the one glacier visible from the Going-to-the-Sun road – Jackson Glacier (shown below) – and do some pullouts for the scenic views.
We took our second hike of the day to reach the St. Mary Fall – a beautiful, crystal-clear waterfall that feeds into St. Mary Lake situated along the eastern edge of the park.
And then we headed west, finally ending up at Lake McDonald where we had a late lunch at the historic Lake McDonald Lodge.
It was a wonderful day. As we relax in our hotel, getting ready for our long drive tomorrow to Seattle, we’ve both reflected on our time in Montana and the chance to see the unique landscapes that make up Big Sky Country.
On Friday morning, as we began our second week on the Not All Who Wander Are Lost tour, Claire and I drove the 20 miles up from Fort Peck to Glasgow, Montana where we reconnected with U.S. Route 2. Now mind you, we had driven two-and-one-half hours in Montana the day before just to get to Fort Peck – which is in the eastern part of the state. So imagine our surprise when we clicked on the Google maps direction finder to head west to Glacier National Park from Glasgow and the young lady on the smart phone who has become our traveling companion says:
Go west on U.S. Route 2 forever.
Well, I may be exaggerating a bit.
It was actually something like 259 miles. But after a long day of driving through Montana’s plains along the original Hi-Line (New York City’s High Line is late to the party), it seems like forever. This Hi-Line refers to the northernmost route of the Great Northern Railroad and U.S. 2, near the Canadian border.
But, as always, six plus hours in the car gave us a great deal of time to make additional observations. So here we go – with the “Jeez, Montana is a Big State” edition of Observations From the Road. (Not to be confused with editions #1, #2, and #3 from this same cross-country trip.)
Round bales have definitely won the Hay Bales War – We have seen at least 3 million bales of hay today – probably 5 million when you add in the North Dakota bales from yesterday. In that whole time, we passed two farms – TWO – that used the old rectangular shaped bales of my youth. Those must have been “heritage” farms, or else the farmers were just better at keeping their old hay-baling equipment working. You can’t spit in Northern Montana this week without hitting a bale of hay. Actually, truth be told, it looks rather pretty. And I’m sure the livestock will enjoy it when the snow is five feet deep this winter.
This is what happens to public art when NEA funding is cut – Just outside of Glasgow, when we were still fresh and not hallucinating from the drive, we slammed on the brakes as we passed a collection of dinosaur sculptures alongside the road. After taking several pictures, we drove on and then saw the sign for the shop where you could purchase one of these for your own backyard. As you can guess from the scale of the picture, your backyard better be pretty large.
Small town cafes are the best – Today, as part of our “no chains” tour, we stopped in the Lunch Box Cafe in downtown Havre, the largest city on the Hi-Line. The cafe has dozens of sandwiches, each with a clever description. (One had Montana in the name, and the menu noted that “It had to be good; otherwise we would have called it the North Dakotan.”) The little warning above was part of the menu. Claire and I chuckled throughout the entire ordering process. (And yes, the sandwiches were good, as they bake their own bread.)
Urban areas don’t have anything on Montana when it comes to multi-modal transportation – I began to notice all the ways people get around in Montana after we passed the first dozen or so bicyclists on Route 2. Most of these were clearly serious cyclists going cross-state (or perhaps cross-country) – many on recumbents. (I especially liked the guy who had added a bug-shield window to his recumbent. Very useful, as the windshield on our rental car can attest.) However, in addition to bicycles, we passed several Amtrak stations (and one Amtrak train that clearly had a lot of passengers). Vans and buses were also plentiful, especially on the reservations. And finally, long freight trains were a dime a dozen for the hobo-inclined. I have to say the last (and only) horse and buggy we saw on this trip was in the Amish communities of Wisconsin, outside Spring Green.
Traffic fatalities in Montana occur in the most random places – Speaking of getting around…in Montana, the state marks traffic fatalities with small white crosses. (I guess you are out of luck if you are Jewish or Muslim.) But we began to notice that they occur in the most random of places – like on stretches of road that go on for miles without a curve. So – as Claire and I are want to do – we started speculating on how these fatalities occurred. Claire, of course, quickly Googled the question, and found this information on the Montana DOT website. It turns out that these crashes happen in places where you least expect it because Montana has one of the highest alcohol-related fatality rates in the nation per vehicle mile traveled. In addition, inattentiveness, carelessness, and driving speed accounted for over 50% of the crashes in the past 10 years. Just so you know, we haven’t been drinking and driving (despite all the beer references, as we’re usually in for the night or the other person drives after one of us has a beer). On the speed front, I haven’t been able to drive 75 mph legally since I was a teenager driving before the oil crisis, so sticking to the speed limit works fine for me. And we are staying very attentive (as you can tell from these snappy observations we make along the way).
Not much to be said for the first view of the Rockies from the road that Claire’s beautiful photograph doesn’t already say – Claire was driving probably 70-80 miles out from St. Mary’s (the gateway to Glacier National Park) when she exclaimed, “There are the Rockies.” We had to pull over and take this picture. I can’t imagine the feeling that must have hit those who came on horseback, or by boat, or by wagon. However, we have some sense of the awe from Meriwether Lewis’ account of May 26, 1805:
“In the after part of the day I also walked out and ascended the river hills which I found sufficiently fortiegueing. on arriving to the summit one of the highest points in the neighbourhood I thought myself well repaid for any labour; as from this point I beheld the Rocky Mountains for the first time these points of the Rocky Mountains were covered with snow and the sun shone on it in such manner as to give me the most plain and satisfactory view. while I viewed these mountains I felt a secret plaesure in finding myself so near the head of the heretofore conceived boundless Missouri; but when I reflected on the difficulties which this snowy barrier would most probably throw in my way to the Pacific, and the sufferings and hardships of myself and party in them, it in some measure counterbalanced the joy I felt in the 1st moments in which I gazed on them; but as I have always held it a crime to anticipate evils I will believe it a good comfortable road untill I am compelled to believe differently.”
Somehow our first sighting of Buffalo didn’t bring out the same awe in Claire – We passed this Buffalo herd outside of East Glacier Park this evening, and Claire asked me to turn around so she could get a picture. We did, and she did…and then she posted it to her Instagram account with the description: “What did the daddy buffalo say to the baby buffalo when he left for school? #bison. (Groan)
Finally, I’ve decided that the Mark O’Connor/Pinchas Zukerman version of Ashokan Farewell is the perfect soundtrack for large portions of the Montana landscape – Somewhere along the road today, my favorite version of the beautiful and haunting fiddle tune Ashokan Farewell from the Mark O’Connor album Heroes came up on my iPhone playlist. Zukerman begins this version with a fairly straightforward yet incredibly deep statement of the melody, then O’Connor adds a verse that sounds like a country fiddler who has died and gone to heaven. After the simple yet beautiful guitar lead by Russ Barenberg, O’Connor and Zukerman duet – with Zukerman hitting the final notes that will take your breath away. It fit our mood today, and I hope you’ll enjoy the video from the album. It is a nice, mellow way to end this post.
We made it! And unlike James Dean we didn’t have any Highway 46 crack-ups.
MORE TO COME... 