Zion National Park.  June 27, 2012.  Day 38.

Access to Zion has improved a lot in the 39 years since I last saw it.  However, its dramatic majesty still inspires.  The simplest way to describe the difference between Zion and its relatively nearby cousins, Bryce and Grand Canyon, is that Zion is best seen from the bottom up.  Zion’s formations rise several thousand feet from the Canyon floor, carved out by the Virgin River. We view Zion from the basin floor, not the rim.

At certain points in the park, we were able to walk in the cold, clean Virgin River.  As we waded, canyon walls on both sides of us narrowed in, zigzagging in gentle curves, and climbing higher than most skyscrapers we have seen.  While there was a good-sized crowd enjoying the park with us today, they were not intrusive, thanks to the park's excellent design and management. By visiting the park in the morning, we avoided both the crowds and the heat.

The non-primate animals we saw in abundance included a Baltimore Oriole, a flock of wild turkeys, mule deer, and scores of rodents like squirrels and chipmunks.  The animals were unafraid of humans and often approached within a few feet. Cottonwood trees provided shade along the river's edge and wild columbine grew straight out of the sandstone canyon walls. 

Wild Turkey.  (Not a bourbon).

Can you see the deer?  He is looking right at you!

Zion squirrel.  These guys whistle loud!

I could easily return to Zion and spend a week there, camping and exploring its many trails. 

Zion is one of the crown jewels of the National Park Service, a treasure that belongs to all of us.  We strongly urge our readers to experience these parks.  You will remember them forever.  

 

Day 38,  Bryce Canyon, UT.


Destination Bryce Canyon, Utah.  As we left the Nathan's home we were detained by a family of quail marching across the driveway.  Father quail supervised from his vigil on the Pahvant Ct. road sign.  We took breakfast in a trendy coffee shop in St. George and withdrew some yuppie food stamps at an ATM.  I stopped at a Yahmaha dealer to inquire about a headlight I thought was out.  Only one light worked on low beam but both headlights worked for high beam.  The parts guy told me that Yahmaha designed the lights that way.  Doh!!

Dan Quail, Ivins, Utah.

The trip into Bryce was not unusual but once inside the canyon, the landscape became spectacular.  Jo Ann and I preferred Bryce to the Grand Canyon because of its intimacy,  its harmony, and accessibility.  Accessibility becomes really important when one is disabled or, umm, older.  The formation and geology of the Bryce is beyond my meager understanding, but I have a general idea of what happened.  The area was part of a huge sea basin that covered several states 200 million years ago. As the Rockies were being formed, the earth's crust crinkled.  Limestone sediments accumulated, were petrified, and thrust upward.  Erosion from raging rivers--the Colorado and other tributaries carved out some of the stone.  Water would be trapped in the stone and expanded as it froze, cleaving off rock to the canyon floor.  Wind also contributed to the erosion.  Arches were formed, which eventually broke down forming pillars or hoodoos.

At the park you can see spectacular formations rising thousands of feet from the basin floor.  Ravens approach you for treats, as do chipmunks and other rodents.  There are numerous vistas along the 18 mile canyon drive, all easily accessible.  At an altitude of 8000-9100 feet, the air is crisp and dry, and a tad cooler than at lower altitudes.

Bryce Canyon raven and host Arnie Nathan.  Arnie is on the right.

We had dinner in Cedar City and were back at the Nathan's home at 8 PM.  Jo Ann edited her photos and worked on her blog.  She is a much better writer than I am.  Her blog can be accessed on the right.

Mile 5618. Colorado at last!

Mile 5618. Clayton, NM to Pagosa Spring, NM. Day 33, June 21.

Today we left New Mexico for Colorado. We wanted to make it to Mesa Verde but at 5 PM we were still 100 miles away. We decided to stay in Pagosa Springs instead. Jo Ann needed a hotel fix and we find a nice lodge in a cool town.

Colorado is magnificent. Probably the most spectacular motorcycling in the US. See see mountains on either side of you and fail to realize that the valley you are driving on has an elevation of 7200 feet. Even at 90, the air is cool and crisp. The slightest exertion caused me to feel my heart pumping hard, like a bubble in my chest. They say you get used to it. The bike handled the hills and curves flawlessly. This is what motorcycling is all about!

We drove along the Santa Fe Trail along the Rio Grande, San Luis, and Wolfe Rivers. The air was crisp and the pine smell was intoxicating. The vistas would take away your breath if the altitude didn’t.

Mile 5280. Quitaque TX, to Clayton Lake, NM

Mile 5280. Quitaque TX, to Clayton Lake, NM. June 20. 2012

We woke up early in Quitaque and were greeted by 5 mule deer, impervious to our presence.  They let us approach within 50 feet.  I am not one of those people who become inured to the nature around them, even if it is commonplace.  There is a magic thing that happens when different species regard one another and decide to live and let live. On the way out of the camp, we saw another bison.  Another amazing creature.

We stopped in Amarillo, TX for coffee and an Internet check.  On the way out of Amarillo we saw a few amazing things.  First, it is so flat there that you can see 40 miles.  Okay, so that is a turnaround vista of 5204 square miles, for you number buffs. Secondly, they have some serious wind turbines out there and plenty of wind to turn them.  The turbines went on as far as you could see.  Finally, just northwest of Amarillo, there was a cattle stockyard with (tens of?) thousands of cattle, shoulder-to-shoulder, rump to rump, stewing in their own feces. There was no grass or prarie in the stockyard but silos were nearby to provide grain for fattening.  The stench could knock you dead.  It may have been enough to make me a permanent vegetarian.  Nah.

In the northeast part of New Mexico, we noticed some subtle changes.  The roads weren’t quite as good. It was still hard (impossible) to find a place that served beer.  The towns had wide streets and few businesses.  And the landscape changed.  The farms were much bigger and the houses fewer and farther in between.  Another strange thing.  It was HOT in Texas, but in New Mexico even at 90, you feel a little chill.  It must be the thinner, drier air. It was flat with occasional low hills.    

Clayton Lake is located 12 miles outside of Clayton, a fairly modern little town with several restaurants, a Best Western Inn, a Super 8, and some smaller motels, like the Mission Motel and the Santa Fe Trail motel, shabby little places that did not look inviting.  The Eklund Hotel looked straight out of the turn of the last century and boasted that Black Jack Ketcham, robber and murder, was hung there in 1901 at the tender age of 37.  Many of the people looked Mexican or Indian, but spoke perfect English. The 15-mile road to Clayton Lake is spectacular.  You wind down this lane into a vast bowl, with high ridges and two mountains on the edges.  You become aware that this place, millions of years ago, was a bay or a huge lake. Now it is prarie.  A prarie is a specialized habitat adapted to a low water conditions.  Too little water for trees (except for a few junipers) and to much water for desert.  The grass can make it through periods of drought. 

 

The rounded mountains were probably islands at one time or another.  Clayton Lake is a 350 acre impoundment lake, made by damming up the Canadian river.  When they built the dam they had to do some digging and after the wind and rain got finished with what was left of the newly exposed soil, it became apparent that millions of years ago dinosaurs roamed the area.  

 There are a lot of really neat dinosaur tracks, some meat eaters, some plant eaters, and some up to 40 feet long.  Their tracts are clearly visible in an area by the lake.  Dinosaur tracks can tell you more about the dinosaurs’ life than the skeletons do sometimes.  You can figure out their velocity, how they moved, and sometimes even how they thought, hesitating, looking around, changing direction.  Really neat stuff.  There is a Rock Garden near our campsite made of strange rock formations I have never seen before.  It was nice to sit there and think.  I used to do that a lot when I was a college student—sit and think—and now that eternity is closing in, I do it even more.  But I should heed my own advice:  “If you don’t think too good, don’t think too much.” 

In town, signs in the restaurants advised us to pray for rain.  We did and it did.  We got a little shower at night but managed to stay dry.  

Gualdalupe River and Abilene, TX. Mile 4686.

Day 28, June 16, to mile 4686.

Yesterday we traveled from Tomball to Spring Branch TX, the location of Guadalupe River State Park.  The drive down Park Road 31 was gorgeous.  It felt like we were in a Scandinavian sauna.  These are alternatives to steam baths--the dry heat boxes with wooden walls and very hot, dry heat.  There is a smell of cedar.  Texas was like this.  104 degree temperatures, very dry, with a faint odor of cypress.  The terrain was fairly flat, with a suggestion on rolling hills and the occasional rising mesa.  Prairie grasses grow sparsely here and there and the rocky, white soil shone through it.

The state park was full, so the ranger re-directed us to a nearby RV park on the Guadalupe River.  We were not happy about this, but didn’t have much choice.

We followed the upper river Guadalupe River, in the Texas Hill country to Bulverde.  The river was lined by pecan and bald cypress trees.  This is a popular destination fro Texans looking to cool off by tubing down the river.  On the way to the RV park, we saw a number of deer. Two species populate the region, the white-tailed deer we are familiar with, and the larger and spotted axis deer, which we saw. 

The entrance of the RV park was littered with RV’s parked next to one another on a treeless lot.  Awful.  However, Jack and Beverly, the friendly park guardians took us to the tent camping area.  This was secluded and located in an area of lush vegetation, adjacent to the river.  We set up camp and I immediately jumped in the river to cool off.  The river was only about 50 feet wide at our campsite, and the water was blue-green and cloudy.  But it was cool and surprisingly deep.  After venturing only a few feet off the stoney bank, I could not touch bottom. 

Esteban in the Guadalupe River, by Jo Ann.

Jo Ann had a little troulbe falling asleep in the tent.  Crickets cricked and frogs croaked all night long..  Hoot owls hooted.  Things went bump in the night.  The usual.  Eventually, we both fell asleep. Sort of.

In the morning, we headed out for Abilene Texas.  This route took us over good secondary roads.   We went through beautiful little towns—Boerne and Fredericksburg.  These towns had wide main streets with buildings that had changed little since the early 1900’s.  There were farmers markets and plenty of local peaches and watermelons for sale.  Everywhere, people were open and friendly.

Click below for an interactive pinmap of our journey.  You can shrink or zoom!  

http://www.pinmaps.net/map/5712/estebanrudman/travel-2012

Day 27. Mile 4175. Tomball TX, near Houston

Day 27, Mile 4175. Tomball TX

Despite its origins in the early 1800’s and its boom and bust cycles surrounding its role as a railroad town and an oil producer until 1933, today Tomball might be considered a suburb of Houston.  About 9000 people live within its city limits and 135,000 live in the area immediately around it.  Over 80% of the buildings have been built since 1970. 

Cousin Sammie and his lovely wife Leslie live in an immaculate brick home in a neighborhood of lovely homes, all with immaculate lawns.  Now in mid-June, temperatures daily rise to near 100.  Fortunately, at least this year, rainfall has been adequate.  The preceding year or two featured severe droughts and water restrictions were in place.

To celebrate Jo Ann's birthday, the Gertsons took us out to a fabulous South African restaurant which featured some unusual fare.  One distinctive feature of the restaurant was its use of a small, sweet and slightly hot pepper, the peli-peli.  The house red wine was a delicious South African Merlot-Cab blend.  I had delicious sirloin tips with spinach and Jo Ann had shrimp scampi with mango coleslaw and a combination of mashed carrots and sweet potato, reminiscent of a Jewish dish called Tsimmis. 

Sam took us to the center of Tomball, where the railroad station once was the central part of town.  He also took us to nearby Old Spring Town, with a trendy shopping district of specialty shops in a Shab Row district.  There was, among other fun shops, a pet bakery in a section self-designated as “artsy-phartsy.”  You can buy an instant heart attack there, via fried anything—fried Oreos, fried Reeses Peanutbutter cups, Fried Twinkies. 

We also passed Sam’s Reformed Temple, a lovely structure surrounded by trees.  It has a huge parking lot, so I would guess that it is well-attended. 

Sam, Leslie, and their dog Ollie extended us a warm greeting and were very hospitable.  Their home was exquisite—immaculate, warm, and creative.

   

To Mile 3912.  Days 23 to 27, Plano TX, near Dallas. 

We reached Marty and Sylvia’s home in Plano at about 3 PM on Sunday, June 10.  Plano is a very clean suburb of Dallas, where the homes are lovely with manicured, lush lawns.  Marty’s home was decorated by his daughter Arleen, a professional interior designer.  It was great to stop in and see Marty and Sylvia, but we were whisked away to Arleen’s home, about 6 miles away.  Arleen’s husband is a successful builder of upper tier custom homes.  Their home features a lot of open space with beautiful wood floors, a lot of open space, and a nice swimming pool. 

Arleen and Joe’s son Jake is an avid hunter and there are a lot of remnants of animals he has killed in prominent display—a fox, deer, a wild turkey, and others.  Jake is a master of hunting and fishing, a passion he shares with my nephew Sam Rudman. He is also fond of hunting wild boars, animals that are overrunning parts of Texas and Mexico, multiplying madly, and causing considerable problems for farmers.  Jake had just purchased a specialized working dog to hunt the pigs, a yellow black-mouthed cur.  He named his 6 month old puppy, "Seiko."  It formed an immediate, intense bond with Jake, but during the first few days was anxious and surly around other household members and guests.  We dubbed the dog, “Psycho.”  Seiko has since settled down nicely already. 

Things were busy in these households.  Joe was working on several building projects, they were in the process of selling their home and buying another, they were selling a Toyota 4-runner, and Marty had cataract surgery on Tuesday.  Arlene and Joe took us to Watermark Church where they worship on Sunday night .  The building looked more like a concert hall than a church, and the service was more like a performance than a church service, with an outstanding worship team and a fabulous light and sound system.  The sermon was given by an assistant pastor and it was perfect--on topic, relevant, short, sweet, and high-impact.  While the polish and opulence of the service was off-putting, the content was right-on and something I needed to hear. 

From day one, one of the trailer tires has had a slow leak.  I would have to refill with air every few days.  Yesterday, I took the tire off and ran soapy water over it, looking for bubbles from a leak.  There were none.  So I took the tire to a tire dealer and he informed me that the leak was coming from a manufacturing defect in the tire rim, not the tire.  This is not a leak at the site where the tire bead meets the rim; the leak was from a micropore in the wheel itself.  During manufacturing, bubbles can occur that lead to miniscule hole in the rim.  I checked this out on the internet and found a repair procedure in Popular Mechanics.  This involved cleaning the area with solvent, sanding it down with 80-grit sand paper, and applying a thin film of gasket sealant on the inside of the wheel. I remounted the tire, inflated it to specified pressure, and rechecked for leak.  None.  Bingo!  Problem solved. 

Arleen is a passionate and creative cook and we swapped recipes.  Today we baked bread.  On Thursday, we head for Tomball, near Houston TX on the gulf to see Marty’s brother, Sam, and his wife Leslie.  It is really great reconnecting with family while we see parts of the country we have never seen before.

Day 22. Hope, Arkansas.

Day 22.  To mile 3636.  Today we drove through southern Arkansas to Hope, the birthplace of William Jefferson Clinton.  

Signs will lead you to the home of his birth.  Hope has 10,000 people.  There is a large ag center where pig shows are popular.  Nearby the town of Washington Arkansas features a little historic state park.  Washington is where Mr. Black, a local smith, fashioned the Bowie knife for James.  The knife was as legendary as Mr. Bowie himself.  A number of trails to the West and Oklahoma came through Washington, was did the trail of tears.  Jo Ann and I got off the interstate to enjoy this part of our country.  We met a lot of friendly people, including a traveling evangelist at a Wal-mart.  Everyone was open and friendly.  Sweet tea refills were free and abundant.  The county where we ate our dinner was dry.  You have to go 45 miles for a beer.  I couldn’t help but notice that in Arkansas there were a lot of adult bookstores, located usually not far from truck stops.  

We camped at Baird's Bluff near Ashford, AR.  This was area was built by the Army Corp of Engineers on Milllwood Lake.  

 This part of the country is beautiful and its people, although for the most part poor, are friendly and generous.  Tomorrow we head for Plano Texas, home of Marty and Sylvia Gertson, my cousins, and their children Michael and Arlene. .   

Day 21. Graceland. Memphis TN

Day 21,  June 8.  To mile 3294.

Yesterday, we traveled from Carrollton, KY to West Memphis, AR.  West Memphis is just across the Mississippi River.  I had traveled across the Mississipi many years ago and had forgotten how majestic it is.  It is difficult to imagine that Memphis, TN is actually a port city.  In Memphis we saw the St. Jude’s Hospital for kids, a beautiful pink edifice, located on Danny Thomas Blvd.  That brought back a lot of wonderful memories of Danny Thomas, and his daughter Marlow, who married guess who?  Phil Donahue, remember him?  Once in our hotel, a very nice place called the Homegate Inn, we traveled back to Memphis TN.  The trip was only about  20 minutes but the traffic and lane changes were murderous.  We made it alive, obviously, to Graceland, Elvis’s last home and burial ground.

Graceland has always been on Jo Ann’s must-see list, which at this stage of our lives, we call a ‘bucket list.”  Elvis emerged as a star when I was about 10, and when Jo Ann had just hit her teens.  He was THE guy for girls her age, incredibly handsome, a little surly, with a great voice, tons of energy, and whatever else IT is.  He had IT.  He did not invent Rock and Roll but he sure put it on the map.  There was a huge crowd there, people of all ages and nationalities—literally from all over the world. 

Whatever you may think about Elvis, he certainly made a lot of people rich, including himself.  He was extraordinarily generous with his wealth, and treated his friends, family, and even strangers generously.  As successful as he was, I don’t think he was all that happy, despite the blast he was always trying to have.  There was something missing that the fame, money, and stuff couldn’t replace.  With that he joined so many other wonderfully talented people we have seen pass on – Janice Joplin, John Belushi, John Candy, Chris Farley, Jimmy Hendricks, John and Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Billy Holliday, Angela Houston,  Amy Winehouse, Momma Cass, Sal Mineo, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Michael Jackson, and on. 

In the gift shop you could buy all things Elvis—CDs kitchy trinkets, momentos, and books.  One book told how he was exploited throughout his life and even in his death.  You could buy the book for $21.95. 

I am happy to say Jo Ann was not disappointed. I am so happy that I was there to experience her sense of wonder as she relieved those amazing times. 

Day 20. A travel day from Carrollton KY to Holladay, TN.

Day 20. A travel day from Carrollton KY to Holladay, TN.

Day 20. The 312 mile to from Geneva Ohio to Tennessee was easy, but I was tired. I had to stop every 90 minutes or so to rest. At one point, in Tennessee, I got sleepy. So I pulled off into a rest area, laid down under a tree and took a half hour power nap. I didn’t want to push Jo Ann into too much camping too quickly so I reserved a room at a Days Inn in Holladay, TN. What I didn’t realize was that the motel abutted an Adult Book store, so Jo Ann was more than a little miffed. It looked sleazy, but the room was very clean and comfortable, and the owner operators of the hotel were exceptionally pleasant. Jo Ann mentioned (retrospectively) that she would have enjoyed another night at the state park. (Go figure!) My motorcycle baggage lock came apart and I had no way to secure our stuff on the bike. I found most of the parts but I was missing two very small machine screws to set the lock in place. I asked the owner how far it was to the nearest hardware store and he said 16 miles. He told me his Dad had lots of tools and screws. His Dad told me that when he sweeps the parking lot, he collects hardware—screws, nuts, bolts--whatever. He gave me a power screwdriver and a box of assorted screws. Miraculously, there were two screws, exactly the right size in his box. A perfect solution!. We showered and changed clothes before going to dinner at a nearby truckstop buffet. The place was a large restaurant that featured a good all-you-can-eat buffet and salad bar, soups, and desert for $8. How about that! Tomorrow we head for Graceland in Memphis, a two hour trip. We will look for a good BBQ place in Memphis and spend the night in nearby West Memphis, Arkansas before heading out for Texarkansas.

Day 19. General Butler St Park, Carrollton, KY

Day 19:  General Butler St. Park in Holladay, TN

We drove from Geneva on the Lake, Ohio to General Butler St. Park in Carrollton, KY.  PA was pretty flat, and we went around Cleveland, but  through Columbus and Cincinnati before we got into KY.  Kentucky is actually a very beautiful state with mountains and rolling hills lined with beautiful forests.   Jo Ann spent most of the night rolling around in her sleeping bag, trying without success to get comfortable. She was not looking forward to a second night out.  We got into the General Butler Park at about 5:30 pm and the Park office was closed.  We found a site and dropped our payment in a locked box.  This was a very nice camp and our site was comfy and located near a well-equipped shower house.  We set up camp in under an hour, and we had time to change clothes and shower before going out for dinner.  We drove about 2 miles to get to the Nopal restaurant, where we enjoyed a great Mexican meal served by an all-Mexican staff.  I had grilled salmon with a side of crabmeat enchilada, rice, and salad for $11.  Jo Ann had a crabmeat chichimanga.  We both enjoyed 12 ounce mango margaritas for $2.50.  Can’t beat that!  After dinner we went to a nearby McDonald’s where we had coffee and desert and availed ourselved of their free internet. We came back to camp and slept like babies.  We got up at 730 and were on the road by 845.  We had a simple Egg McMuffin and coffee breakfast, gassed up, and stopped at an Autozone to get a ratchet bit to tighten up a nut on the trailer. 

Geneva On the Lake (Erie), Ohio Day 18

Geneva on the Lake, Ohio

Today we atarted about 9 AM from Romulus to Geneva NY where we gassed up and met Jim Gregoire, Pat and Peter’s son.  Jim shared some of his ideas and experiences with us.  It is clear that he has had a difficult life, but his kind and gentle spirit shone through.  We took Interestate 90 West through Buffalo, NY to PA.  In Southwest NY, near Lake Chatauqua we started seeing huge vineyards.  These continued through Northwestern PA and were quite a sight.  We continued on Interstate 90 through Erie PA to Geneva on the Lake. 

We set up camp at Geneva State Park.  They charged us full rates, even though we use no water or electricity.  Bummer!  Camp went up quickly and Jo Ann and I took a drive to the beach on Lake Erie.  There were actually a few kids in bathing suits, but nobody was in the water.  It was sunny, about 68 degrees.  Lake Erie was impressive for its dullness.  The land was very flat and the water is only 8 feet deep. 

We continued driving to the Lodge.  This was an impressive modern structure, right on the Lake. We had a great dinner a buffet with succulent BBQ ribs, corn on the cob, salad, fruit, French Onion soup, and cobbler.  Jo Ann had a couple glasses of Robert Mondavi Merlot and I had a Sam Adams Boston Lager.  It was a nice way to end the day.  The Lodge had Wifi so we could check our email and get yesterday’s blog up.

When we got back, Jo Ann noticed that the trailer was showing a little bobbing.  Some of the bolts had worked a little loose so we tightened them.  

We saw a single deer, a reminder to be vigilant out here.  We turned in to sleep at about 930.  We will get up early and strike camp quickly as it will be in the low 40s tomorrow.

Finger Lakes with the Gregoires

Days 9 and 10. Cayuga Lake NY. Miles 2086 to 2123.

Yesterday we drove the 430 miles from Cookshire Eaton, Quebec, through Ontario, across the Thousand Islands Bridge to the Finger Lakes area of New York. When hitched the trailer, Real noted that the ball was very loose. Had we gone much further without correcting it, we might have lost the trailer. Later, we noted that one of the trailer tires was very low on air. We refilled the tire at a gas station. We were thankful for these gentle reminders to be more diligent on our safety checks.

This was our first encounter with inclement weather, and we handled it well enough. Coming into Syracuse we ran into a rain cloud about 20 miles long. We drove north of it, running parallel to the massive system and could see the torrential downpours that we just managed to miss. We arrived at the home of our friends Pat and Peter Gregoire at about 8:20 PM. They have a beautiful old home and gardens situated on scenic 89, just across from Cayuga Lake. Their property abuts on the Knapp Vineyard. Cayuga lake is 40 miles long, 4.5 miles wide at its widest, and 435 feet deep. The lake has good trout fishing and rivers feeding Lake Ontario feature salmon.

The Finger Lakes are a series of deep lakes, oriented north-south, just south of Lake Ontario. Cayuga and Seneca Lakes are the largest of the Finger Lakes. Cayuga lake, where the Gregoire’s live is just south of Lake Ontario and southwest of Syracuse. The land between Cayuga has a special microclimate conducive to growing grapes. I was last at the Gregoire’s home about 25 years ago and the area has undergone some changes, mostly for the better. Mennonite and Amish farmers have bought up a lot of the farmland, retaining the area’s agricultural base. Peter Gregoire is fond of referring to this area as the Eastern Napa Valley in its adolescence. New vineyards have cropped up and the quality of the wine here has really come along nicely. There is also a lot of specialty farming done here, growing free-range chickens and beef, organic fruits and vegetables, for example.

Peter and Pat have recently retired from medical life and are enjoying their retirement in good health. Pete’s daughter Maryse is teaching English in Japan, Christine and Jim live nearby, and Michael is an engineer on the West Coast. Grandchildren round out their full, beautiful lives. The Gregoires have been very hospitable to us, not only sharing their home with us, but taking us to see the local points of interest in the area.

One of them, was the Taughannock waterfalls, the highest waterfall in the Eastern US. Niagara, of course, is the largest in volume. Along the way we sampled some yummy ciders made with the Northern Spy apple, and lunched at the Thirsty Owl vineyard where we enjoyed excellent fare their fine, Reisling, Pinot Noire, and Pinot Gris wines. Excellent!

The air was cool and misty, but that did not dampen the pleasant times we spent together. We spent the late afternoon in the kitchen. Peter canned strawberry jam and made a BBQ. I baked a country style Italian bread, a panni rustica. As dinner smells began to pique our appetite and vintage Paul Simon wafted around us in the background, we stirred up old memories of temps perdu. There were some very good years.

Quebec, Canada

Day 2: Mile 670.

We left Hackensack, NJ at 9 AM after a sumptuous Biali and lox breakfast with Steve and Cinthia.  Steve nixxed my Mapquest directions to Canada, which had us going through the heart of Manhattan.  Instead we took the Tappan Zee Bridge.  They should have called it the Tappan Zee Wallet bridge.  The normal $5 toll became $11.50 when they saw the trailer on the motorcycle.  Charge a 1000 pound bike-trailer combination more than double what you would charge the typical 6000 pound SUV.  Makes sense. 

Anyway, we took the Saw Mill Parkway over some picturesque roads through some of the most beautiful, rustic parts of New York.  Old red-stone tunnels that reminded me of the old-fashioned train sets we played with when we were children.  We eventually got on the interstates 87 and 91, the latter taking us from Hartford Connecticut, through Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire to Canada.  Interstates are usually avoided by bikers, but these roads were lovely.  It was in New Hampshire where we saw our first Moose crossing signs. 

Yesterday’s journey was our longest yet, 430 miles.   That may not seem like much, but a motorcycle takes a lot more out of you than a car.  Vermont was true to its French name, green mountain.  Pine and deciduous trees, the latter just breaking into leaf, dappling the hardscrabble landscape every shade of green and softer textures.  The air was clean—as if it had been scrubbed. Most people don’t pay much attention to air quality, but on the bike you notice. 

The 20^th of May was unseasonably warm with temperatures in Vermont and Quebec reaching 90.  On the bike you notice every degree, whether up or down.  There is a big difference between 86 and 90 on the bike.  We had to stop frequently to rest and hydrate. 

It’s hard to stretch on a motorcycle, and after hours in a fixed position, your body tends to stiffen.  You get these niggling aches in your neck and shoulders.  One´s age declares itself. After hours on the bike, one’s mind starts to wander down its own weird paths.  Names of towns, and signs on trucks trigger memories of old friends.  I thought of girls that I dated in college, and wondered wondered what what happened to them.  Had they married well? Were they still married? Were they enjoying good health or were they declining?  I thought of former teachers who were young adults when I was their student but who were most likely dead now. I thought of my grandparents, whom I barely remembered, who had dreams, and victories and failures, like me, who struggled and overcame, or failed, and who were now drifting out on anyone’s range of memory. I thought of how I would soon join them too--all of these sad memories, piquing the incredible joys I was experiencing on the bike.  I was looking forward to seeing our friends in Quebec, but I didn’t want to miss the joys of time and space I occupied during our journey.

Juanita, inches from me, was seeing everything I saw.  She, too, was lost in her own world.  So we were synchronous travelers in parallel but different universes. She suffered her aches and pains too, and steeped herself in the joy of the ride. She grew sleepy on the back seat and retreated into memories of old songs that wormed their way through her memory. She sang them softly to herself, and heard them pretty and sweet inside her helmet as the wind roared around her. And so the two of us, together but separate, quietly unwound the miles towards our destination. 

Detention at the Canadian border was mercifully short and sweet. The customs agent had the sense of humor of roadkill.  

“Where are you staying?”

“Sherbrooke.”

“How long are you staying?” 

“Two weeks.” 

“Are you carrying any gifts?”

“Two chocolate bars.” 

“You will have to leave them with me.” He did not crack a smile, but he was kidding.  I guess as a border officer, one has to do something to amuse oneself.  

“Any cigarettes, alcohol, or firearms?”

“No.”

“Have a nice day.” We wished him the same and went.

We entered a different world.  Stop signs said, “Arrêt.”  Garage sales became “Ventes de Garaje.”  We could smell the freshly spread manure spread over the newly plowed fields. 

Finally, we arrived at the home of Real (pronounced ray-AL and being the rough equivalent of Roy or Royal in ENglish) and Jose (pronounced Zho-SAY).  A happy ¨hola¨ signed waited for us at their enchanted home in Cookshire-Eaton.

Days 3, 4 and 5.  Mon and Tues, May 21 and 22

Real and Jose’s home was built in the early 1800s. While it has been modernized over the last two centuries, it retains the unique warmth and integrity emanating from its owners. The floors and ceilings are of pine, cut at different widths.  There are nice carvings on the cornices of the windows and lots of antiques.  R and J adorned their home with primitive country pieces made locally or on Prince Edward Island.  Some of the furniture had been painted heavily with garish oil based paints, which Real and Jose spend months removing. Other pieces had their original varnishes, pitted and alligatored with age. 

The house really shows off both Jose’s creative artistic eye and Real´s handiness.  Jose is a well trained and experienced decorative whose illustrations and decorations were scattered all over the house.   Real is a tinker who can fashion anything with his hands and well-equipped workshop.  In the bathroom, for instance, Real created a towel rack upon which Jose painted tromp de l´oeil scroll work painted to match the carvings on the adjacent mirror.  The bathroom features an odd bathtub for two, wedged into a corner. This type of intimacy permeated everything from the gardens outside to the rooms inside—a home built and maintained with love and reflecting the creativity and openness of the owners. 

Last night we went to a local restaurant that seemed to do a very good business.  The servings were generous and tasty but a tad strange for my taste.  I had galvaude, a hearty dish consisting of French fries, chicken, peas, and curd cheese, smothered in thick brown gravy. It could not be called haute cuisine but it was warm food. The coffee was great and refills were free.

Day 4-13. Mile 1670.

Tuesday, May 22.  We have the truck packed and the trailer is loaded with not one but two ATV´s.  We are taking a refrigerator, a freezer, gas-powered 2000 watt generator, 7 gasoline containers, two large propane tanks, a chain saw, and everything but the kitchen sink.  No, correct that.  We ARE taking the kitchen sink.  Still, Jo Ann is worried that the camping will be primitive.  Wait ‘til she sees the tent camping we are going to do on the rest of the trip!

The drive was 800 km during which the heavy trailer swayed to-and-fro frequently.  Mental images of an accident with the trailer and two ATV’s hurtling at us at 100 km/hr were not pleasant.  Still, we managed to get there in one piece.

We drove about 11 hours to Matawa, Ontario, where we spent the evening in a 1 star hotel with a 4 star price tag located on the side of a lake.  We stopped there because we want to get into the camp too late and have to drive through the logging trails in the dark. 

We left Matawa early in the morning and headed up for Temiscaming, a small city in the west of Quebec.  At this point it might be appropriate to say a little about the province of Quebec and its Temiscamingue region.  Canadian provinces are the rough equivalents of our states.  But that would not be an accurate analogy.  First, it must be said that the provinces are anything but united.  The Quebecois people are a tenacious people, fiercely proud of their French heritage and language.  Many are not at all comfortable with being a part of the rest of Canada.  They consider Quebec to be its own country. 

Quebec is 3 times the size of France, 54 times larger than Belgium, and 40 times the size of Switzerland.  Its over 500,000 lakes and 4,500 rivers hold 2% of the planet’s fresh water.  80% of its 8 million inhabitants speak French as their first language and there are another 1 million Francophiles living in the rest of Canada.  Quebec is a harsh environment, with 6 months of winter, during which temperatures usually run from –20 to –minus 40 Celsius.  It can get down to –70 in some parts.  Everything bursts into bloom during the short summers and the Quebecois take full advantage of this in their magnificent gardens. 

The Temiscamingue region, 500 miles to the West of Cookshire, is located in the far west of Quebec.  It comprises about 20,000 km² and is home to four Algonquin communities.  There are a number of vary small towns in the area, including Temiscaming, Ville Marie, and Notre Dame du Norde.  Quebecios are allowed to rent out small camps, spaced at least 1 km from one another.  We had to travel 50 km over dirt roads to get to the camp.  Access to the nearby lakes is via very rough logging roads with deep mud pools, bolders, and fallen trees.  An ATV and a chain saw is recommended. Temiscaming’s 6000 lakes are teeming with Walleye, Great Northern Pike, and Lake Trout. Moose hunting is popular during the 1 week long hunting season in the Fall. 

We arrive at camp and set up.  The camp is a cottage that Real and his brothers built 30 years ago in a day.  It has a tin roof and siding and comfortably sleeps six.  It has a refrigerator, gas stove and oven, a wood stove for heat and a dinette table, and a sink with running cold water.  Real ran a pie from an adjacent stream to a pump that ran off the generator.  Water was pumped into a holding tank that ran on gravity to the sing and water supply for the toilet, located indoors, next to the main room.  Lighting came from AC current while the generator ran and DC current when the generator shit down for the evening.  Outside, there was a small freezer that ran off propane to keep the fish we caught. 

It took an entire day unload the trailer and set up the generators, water supply, and so forth.  During the winter, a tree came down on the clothesline and destroyed the roofing for the firewood.  Also, the  roof leaked and had to repaired too.  This was a lot of work.  We could not go fishing for36 hours.

There are legions of stories about Canadian mosquitoes and biting flies biting insects. Unhappily, they tend to understate the problem.  Real believes likes having a few large tubs to catch rain water to be used in case of fire.  (He does have a nice fire extinguisher too.)  The rain water provides a very happy breeding ground for gargantuan mosquitoes that immediately descended upon us.  One could receive 20 or 30 bites that would leave rivulets of blood streaming down our faces within minutes.  A good mosquito net, covering the face, trunk and arms, is essential.  Tucking ones pants into ones socks and wearing gloves over one’s hands is a good idea too.

I had to learn how to drive the 20 year old Honda 4 wheeler.  It had four or five forward gears and a reverse, but no clutch.  It hand handlebars like a motorcycle, but there, the similarity ended.  The thumb throttle was located near the brake and when you squeezed the break, you had to be careful not to squeeze the gas throttle.  Don’t ask me how I learned this.  The ATV lurches your body over boulders and through mud pools you are certain will cause the vehicle to overturn.  After 15 minutes on the ATV you will be able to identify muscles on your body you never new existed.  I am certain my arms are two inches longer.  Somehow, I managed to survive this and even enjoyed putting this machine through its paces. 

Fishing, at last. 

What can I say?  The fishing was fabulous.  We ran into loads of hungry Walleyes on Lake Villedonne and huge Great Northern Pike on the unnamed other lake,  We trolled for the Walleyes, which took a lure called a Thin Fin and Rapalas.  I caught a 20 inch lake trout on the Thin Fin too.  Northerns responded to casting and retrieving spoons and spinners.  I released a number of fish and lost a couple of huge ones during netting.  Still the 30 inchers that I landed kept me busy.  Real landed a trophy Walleye.  Even Jo Ann caught a boated a nice walleye.  We dined regularly on fish, cooked in a number of ways.  We had some rum, several bottles of wine, and two cases of beer to accompany the fare.  We had more than a freezer full of fish to take home with us. 

Other sights.  The skies were expansive and the pinks and lavenders that came out at sunset were breathtaking.  There were loads of spring flowers, turtles, rabbits, eagles, and signs of moose and bear.  I fail miserably at putting into words the way this landscape engraved itself on my memory.  

I was ready to come back at the end of the trip and looked forward to warm bed and a hot shower. The trip to Temiscaming, with Jo Ann, Real, and Jose will always be one of my fondest memories—a place to go to inside my mind, when I need inspiration and to restore a state of calm beauty.  I hope we can do this again.