tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74200733160561282982024-02-18T22:30:02.976-08:00Back On The Road AgainOn The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-51092450517853668782018-07-13T14:21:00.000-07:002018-07-13T14:21:04.626-07:00Return of Iceland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We finished packing our duffels after having grande lattes with our friend Ian. Hoisting the bags onto our shoulders, we trekked through the train station which looks much like todays airport shopping malls. Looking up at the departure boards displaying our express train to the Oslo International Airport.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Norway to Iceland</td></tr>
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Our next destination was to finish our quest from July 2011 when our plane touched down at KEF Airport on the island of Iceland. After gathering our duffels, we went to the rental car counter and We were informed our plan of circumnavigating Iceland was thwarted by a bursting glacier on the south end of the island. So we were forced by nature to travel half way around on the ring road and returning by the same route though it didn't diminish the beauty and adventure we experienced.<br />
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This time we landed, picked up a mini four four wheel drive motorcar and within 30 minutes we checked into the Northern Light Inn which is located next to the famous hot springs, "The Blue Lagoon". Sharon and I planned to drop our gear into the room, slip on a swim suit, and revisit this great natural wonder by immersing ourselves into the warm soothing turquoise waters of the lagoon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relaxing after relaxing</td></tr>
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Since our last visit, seven years ago, we were warned that Iceland has become very popular but we didn't expect to be turned away at 8PM because we didn't have reservations. I should have guessed by the dozen plus tour buses in the parking lot and the line out the door to get in, that this popular spot was a "no go," still we walked to the cashier and were informed that if we came back at 10 p.m. we might get in. Sharon and I realized this would not be the same experience we had seven years ago so we left. Later we found out our hotel had beautiful saunas, steam rooms, and a relaxation room plus something unusallly better to offer which I will let Sharon describe:<br />
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"The sensory deprivation experience of floating in a pool of body temp, heavily salted, water had been suggested by a friend recently. She even left me a brochure at our Phoenix house to go and check it out. So the seed had been planted, and now I was going to get to have this experience. First and foremost if you plan to do this, be sure that you are in a good place mentally and that you like yourself. I can't imagine that this is always a good experience for everyone. For me it was fantastic floating and pushing off the walls of the tank in total darkness made me wonder if this is how my grand baby, who is currently incubating, feels. Yep that's where my thoughts were happily floating. After an hour the elevator music starts to play in your tank, and you can turn lights on, which were very hard to adjust to from total darkness, several blinks later I sat up and opened my womb-like chamber. Coming out of the private room, that also had a wonderful shower and products to wash the salt out of hair and off the body, in my bathrobe I went straight to the spa therapist in charge and asked if this would be advisable for pregnant women. The enthusiastic response of how she had her niece in the tank several time during her pregnancy with rave reviews means that I will be giving my grand baby and mommy a hopefully memorable gift soooooon!"<br />
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Returning to our hotel we redressed and opted for a fantastic Halibut dinner at Max's, the hotel's spartan Danish designed restaurant. In addition to a great dinner we got to watch the World Cup match on a big screen. We cheered on Sweden but they lost at the very end of the time allotment.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabulous crater to hike around</td></tr>
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The next morning we pointed our mini Jeep east, wasting no time to tackle the missing section from our previous visit. The weather was a challenging down pour with brief let ups. One of these brief periods, we became distracted by a sign introducing the Kerio Crater which was better than your average rest stop. It afforded us a nice hike around the rim of the crater. Our quest was to get to Sveitarfelagid Hornafjordur aka; the glacier. Because of the distance, it was necessary to spend the night in the small village of Vik. Quickly we discovered this little coastal town had no rooms. The rain wasn't letting up but the gods were with us when Sharon emerged from the front door of the Arsalia Inn, not on the map, with a smile accented by rivlets of rain water cascading down her face.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A guesthouse at the southern tip of Iceland</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luxury at it's finest at an unbeatable value.</td></tr>
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The Gistihus sporting a plain building design, wasn't helped by the myriad of kitschy decor filling the shelves and tables throughout every room. The accommodation sported 2 single beds plus the down the hall bathroom feature, all for a mere $230 a night. Oh...that included an eastern bloc nation breakfast. Our room reminded both Sharon and I of inns we stayed at in Nepal except the Arsalia had heat. One great thing was we drove a short hop up the road to a restaurant with a basement pub to catch, yes ....another World Cup match. So much better watching these games out in the world as futbol/soccer is truly one of the common denominators and languages crossing all barriers.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This "black" glacier is the fourth largest in Iceland</td></tr>
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The next day, weather seemed to let up a fraction as we forged east towards the glacier. Early in the morning our hostess pointed out "The Black Glacier" that was easily accessible with a 4WD. Within an hour we discovered the small road heading up into a mountains. The winding cinder coated single lane trail taxed my miniature 4x4 but it continued to chug away on the crunchy road surface. Eventually we came to the end of the road after about 20 miles. The drive was not a loss because the craggy mountains framed the ribbons of the black glacier and the water fall at the end of the hiking trail supported bright green moss covered rocks making it all worth the effort. Once back on the main paved highway, I stopped for petrol, a stretch and a natural break at a small crossroads. Returning to the highway, Sharon and I were strangely attracted to take a single lane road towards an inn nestled at the base of a mountain for lunch. Pulling up to this lovely property with its smartly arranged cabins, the place looked empty of business but inquired about some coffee and snack. The charming young women at the desk said they were not serving at this time. Then we asked about a room for the night. At first she said they may have a room but quickly discovered the hotel was booked full, everyone must be out in nature as no one was hanging around the inn. Instead of just turning us away, she began phoning about the area and found us a room at the contemporary Luka Hotel. Located on a remote grassy hill a slight 4km splinter off the main highway, we would never have known it was there. We couldn't believe our good fortune. The rooms were incredibly comfortable, of simple Danish design, with a fabulous restaurant overlooking a pasture dotted with the short legged, long maned, horses and of course, even more sheep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A treat at the end of the black glacier road</td></tr>
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We had a wonderful lunch, returned to the car to reach our goal, the "Sweitarfelagio Hornafjordur" glacier. Whisking along the endless fields of violet colored Nootka helped cut the monotony of the long stretches of two lane driving. (Nootka aka; Alaskan Lupine, was introduced to Iceland in 1945 to help provide nitrogen to improve the lava soil.) Keep in mind the speed limits on these roads max out at 60 miles an hour slowing our arrival time. We finally came to the turnoff and within minutes we parked and began layering our clothing to protect us from what the cold and the low dark threatening clouds may bring.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbUH2xAWVNanEWjL5KpmETvWArmikr1utwi32Q-pUcFh1JcCLon30kAVr-y9KUL2Otbv6anveLOlnHLIuvswuanMzzaIE2LQB1Miw1EseKyVMUJrJ_6ZovSlDKPop_jcLOh0dlWMeu8c/s1600/IMG_1926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbUH2xAWVNanEWjL5KpmETvWArmikr1utwi32Q-pUcFh1JcCLon30kAVr-y9KUL2Otbv6anveLOlnHLIuvswuanMzzaIE2LQB1Miw1EseKyVMUJrJ_6ZovSlDKPop_jcLOh0dlWMeu8c/s320/IMG_1926.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First glimpse of the Sweitarfelagio glacier</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghkogdbK_uA5oOdQLWL-kEN7OnEGVvmUYRBVA_lyDPIq4SDTIFjyDTnxrH5y7V790WXlRdJCngShyUFmp4B1a-LOAca7zAhMpP52ro25Dt3SMlKUbIUPfcVbXbePncw2AuCtip-rIS9g/s1600/IMG_1937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghkogdbK_uA5oOdQLWL-kEN7OnEGVvmUYRBVA_lyDPIq4SDTIFjyDTnxrH5y7V790WXlRdJCngShyUFmp4B1a-LOAca7zAhMpP52ro25Dt3SMlKUbIUPfcVbXbePncw2AuCtip-rIS9g/s400/IMG_1937.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look for hikers on the ridge above Sharon's head...</td></tr>
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Ignoring the tour kiosks and gift shop, we dashed around the building and onto the hiking trail. There were a fair number of hikers though not really crowded most likely because of the threatening weather. Our layered clothing kept us warm and dry as the rain and wind kissed our faces added to the drama of what we were about to see. The 45 minute hike on the lava rock trail lead us to the first view of the glacier. I was truly moved by it's immense size and character. This was Mother Nature at her finest. We continued for another 30 minutes towards the glacier growing in size with every step. A small body of water populated with bluish icebergs separated us from the glacier's wall. I tried to capture the feeling and imbed it in my memory not wanting this experience to end. The clouds began dropping lower and our time at this hallowed spot on earth must end. Now we stop into the kiosk, they have a pay station that you must visit, we were impressed that there were camera's with license plate recognition and our vehicle was identified in the system, I wonder how many tourists fail at this part of their visit and what the fine is for not paying and how the rental car company deals with it. We stopped into the shop, bought beautiful bags of Icelandic salts in colors we had never seen before, leaving to get back to our hotel and our 8 pm dinner reservations.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wMaYWIh4Td72QFMMcOye93P5Nb7DLXBFbvzEI6RA7vBApO0zduLkEPVgXovUq8up4xNgU-4hq8zGCZM14oV4pIMABrm2HBPwfjZGvuzkQcue_Kj-hqCQD07RV9TRSpbU3i_uO-ibVYI/s1600/IMG_1939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wMaYWIh4Td72QFMMcOye93P5Nb7DLXBFbvzEI6RA7vBApO0zduLkEPVgXovUq8up4xNgU-4hq8zGCZM14oV4pIMABrm2HBPwfjZGvuzkQcue_Kj-hqCQD07RV9TRSpbU3i_uO-ibVYI/s320/IMG_1939.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magical image</td></tr>
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The morning sun greeted us for our last hours in Iceland, we took an early morning walk around a nearby lake. Leaving our hotel at 7:30 after a beautiful breakfast buffet, gonna miss this treatment, we motored west towards KEF, Iceland's International Airport. We allowed plenty of time to catch our early afternoon flight to Boston. With time to pull off the roads and explore a bit more, we avoided Reykavic altogether and found a great little town and restaurant to enjoy our last lunch. I had forgotten the miles and miles of purple fields of wild flowers. The contrast of purple, cadmium, green medium moss covered mountains and cerulean blue skies stretching on forever. It was our first fully sunny day and our last one in this magical place. I will miss Iceland. I've seen her twice and easily return again in the near future but next time in the off season. (TIP: While pumping gas in Nova Scotia, having a casual conversation with a gentleman on the opposite side of my pump suggested flying from Halifax, Nova Scotia..."it''s a lot cheaper" he added. I thanked him for the tip. My life can take cues from casual acquaintances. Most times they turn out fine.The Halifax roundtrip to Iceland is $553.00 on Icelandair. Not bad! But we would also suggest that you contact One World Travel in Bisbee for all your travel needs.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVU6hszZZA9utq1ZjfcDa47yQHJn_EXPSiL0jLJpAWH9UVyMlraPx7N1KRjKrs6qonP-sJ4ny8316ys_XZx-D5esynky4mpJf2kJlmS_F5nrJZ_gYS4angcncQRFMeMLfB8KaXl2588As/s1600/IMG_1977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVU6hszZZA9utq1ZjfcDa47yQHJn_EXPSiL0jLJpAWH9UVyMlraPx7N1KRjKrs6qonP-sJ4ny8316ys_XZx-D5esynky4mpJf2kJlmS_F5nrJZ_gYS4angcncQRFMeMLfB8KaXl2588As/s400/IMG_1977.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Endless fields of "Nootka" aka' Alaskan Lupine</td></tr>
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We arrive at the airport, drop the car, and get through the self serve electronic check in. The airport used to be a small terminal with a couple shops featuring Iceland crafts but now they have a large selection of Duty free stores just like all the other international airports. Unfortunately the homogenizing of these facilities makes them lose all the lovely character that made each one distinctive. Never mind there's a World Cup game being played so we walk to the airport bar, order 2 beers for the reasonable price of $1,980 (20 US). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQACvqipx0g9zVQbirSGF15N0WBRkJMeeyQULiXv93-QcLPHRc7eVYMmpv6or5EuOqDymir9YclR5pgaDdp82UwkwJXJZisv9Sjaj5-UK0bjmJwBRCuJJp-2lRhhT17eoHPkiApEo6HxY/s1600/IMG_1927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1321" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQACvqipx0g9zVQbirSGF15N0WBRkJMeeyQULiXv93-QcLPHRc7eVYMmpv6or5EuOqDymir9YclR5pgaDdp82UwkwJXJZisv9Sjaj5-UK0bjmJwBRCuJJp-2lRhhT17eoHPkiApEo6HxY/s320/IMG_1927.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not all exotic holidays have warm sunny beaches</td></tr>
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The announcement is broadcast for boarding our plane. Everyone shuffles towards the door onto the tarmac and out to the stairs. I like this part of boarding because you get a view of the large bird unlike boarding through a jetport. With everyone buckled in we begin to move towards the runway. Within 5 minutes I'm thrust back into my seat while gazing out the window seeing Iceland disappear. I wondered if I'll ever return to breathe the air of this miniature magical wonderland.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Over Greenland on our way to Boston</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-51735100826983504342018-06-28T06:07:00.001-07:002018-06-30T02:15:36.416-07:00Nuts for Norway!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Norway in a nutshell, an overcrowded nutshell, tourists from everywhere, and that includes us. So we meet the train in Bergen, walking to the classic old rail station carrying our bags which are getting heavy with over worn clothes and the gifts that I have added. We are standing in line and realizing that it's a bit of a cattle call, no assigned seats, and a full train, but we get to sit together. So many tunnels! The beauty of Norway comes in and out of view. We get to the town of Voss and now we are transferred to several buses. The next phase of our travel is unbelievable! At one point the grade is 18% downhill, hairpin turns on a really narrow road. Our female bus driver performs this drive with remarkable ease, stopping a few times to let everyone move from one side of the bus to the other taking photos. Finally we get to the port and to the boat and grab seats at the large picture window in the back of the boat on the lower level close to the water. Happy with our seats we embark on our journey of the Undredal Fjord to the town of Flam.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting to board the train from Bergen </td></tr>
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The crowd on the boat (200 + people) was spread out and because there was a chance to go out on the decks, three levels, it was not unbearable. We had all kinds of weather that day which made for more drama than just the landscape. I have always wanted to experience the fjords, ever since the 4th grade geography class that impressed me with stories from kids in all parts of the world. So maybe this was a bucket list accomplishment! Getting to Flam and discovering that we were staying in the large historic hotel right there off the dock was icing on the cake. But again, the room is full of furniture, this time lovely antiques, so still no room to roll out the yoga mat.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secretly striking a warrior pose</td></tr>
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I'm finding myself striking poses secretly waiting in lines, watching scenery, even sitting on planes and trains, or now on the boat.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Super cool Fjord touring boat</td></tr>
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The amazing manner in which the Norwegian hospitality industry deals with the masses of people is impressive! In this small harbor of Flam, there are two large cruise ships, one being a Princess cruise line, the other is the Queen Mary 2, which has a long banner running along the side of the ship: "security warning keep 50 meters away!" .... or what? wanted to find out but never did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the Norwegian scenery flow by.</td></tr>
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We spent the day we had in Flam walking in the hills and the rural areas around the town. It was a perfect day. The late afternoon train that got us back to Oslo a little later than schedule, 10:45 at night, not the 10:30 promised time, was very obviously a failure for which the train crew were sincerely apologetic. Electrical problems on an electric train, were repaired in no time. Imagine having such on time trains in the U.S.!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcEGbADYO1gpNi-mqhSMoneJpF1PmPZRN_M-QIzf3CZWHbZApZ-noCSzZrftnzj_wtfAQlTe30wPExraq44FLDLQ9l7nUvrMSPdkidAoBSfPgdLeNKI5jHtDzWz-B8RN5Nnm4POm-M14/s1600/IMG_1604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="1600" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcEGbADYO1gpNi-mqhSMoneJpF1PmPZRN_M-QIzf3CZWHbZApZ-noCSzZrftnzj_wtfAQlTe30wPExraq44FLDLQ9l7nUvrMSPdkidAoBSfPgdLeNKI5jHtDzWz-B8RN5Nnm4POm-M14/s320/IMG_1604.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">QE2 stopping in for a pint or two</td></tr>
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One of the more hokey stops of the train ride is at a large waterfall. Everyone exits the train to walk to a platform, to take photos of the always amazing scenery. We have become accustomed to the many waterfalls, and there will be more, so many more that by the time we get to Iceland it's, "oh, there's another one." Anyway back to the hokey, it is the reenactment of a myth that there is a woman living in the hills and she will use her feminine whiles to capture you. Piped in music comes from beneath the bridge platform we are standing on and a "lady in red" appears, coaxing you with her charms. This scene is well choreographed she appears in one place and disappears to appear in another close by but that rocky terrain would be difficult to maneuver sooo quickly (I think she had a double at this distance you would not be able to tell one nordic blonde goddess from another!) and when the song ends, quick get back to your seats, we are trying to make up for the lost minutes from the electrical outage caused by too many people ordering pizza in the dining car, perhaps.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What Norwegians call intermission</td></tr>
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The Thon Opera Hotel was perfectly situated right outside the central train station, (again thanks to Angelika for this reservation,) we are happy to get to our room after a glass of wine in the glamorous lobby.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ian and Sharon out for a latte in Oslo, Norway</td></tr>
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The next morning we will meet a friend, Ian, who is flying into Oslo. He will take the train into town and find us at this convenient location easily. We will go for a quick walk, enjoy a lovely cup of coffee and give him our take on this beautiful friendly country and hope that his hiking vacation around Norway is not as rainy as ours.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quaint villages and fisherman cabins on the Fjord</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More villages surrounded by towering mountains</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Storybook settings Norwegian style...perfect.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is like a high rise condo bldg moving in for a few hours</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic Frietheim Hotel in Flam with.a modern flair.</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-42223840170323373222018-06-24T14:28:00.001-07:002018-06-24T14:28:23.313-07:00Sweet Bergen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Onward we must travel, reluctantly leaving our lovely Oslo hotel on Gables Gate. Toting our bags down the block to the tram stop where we board and then dropped off at the Central Train Station. Our destination is Bergen, a medium sized historic port city sharing period architecture with modern.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmna4T9KLTVkEMqZZD2BWrkAp6ZtXiIFUp85mMFk2JvHuznMD2x3Ne74LiSngCE_RGu4k4FgzpCSncqyrUqvrwqvMmhGDY6HorYV3AISL_t2CUAeTmxkHrf1WkRGIr_0NVwt7a3z8Xdg/s1600/IMG_1491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1600" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmna4T9KLTVkEMqZZD2BWrkAp6ZtXiIFUp85mMFk2JvHuznMD2x3Ne74LiSngCE_RGu4k4FgzpCSncqyrUqvrwqvMmhGDY6HorYV3AISL_t2CUAeTmxkHrf1WkRGIr_0NVwt7a3z8Xdg/s400/IMG_1491.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bergen view from a hike</td></tr>
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Half the fun is getting to the city on the Bergen Train. When we made our way up into the car and found our seats Sharon quickly discovered we will be sitting backwards possibly causing motion sickness. We asked the conductor if there are any seats turned the opposite direction but the train was full with no unoccupied seats. The couple facing us overheard the conversation and offered to switch seats to accommodate our request. The invitation opened conversation with the young Iranian couple now living in Turkey. They were bright and very charming throughout the days journey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2r5dvrzuxsAPNpLYApePV7t5IRReliuo98r5EMyGvDSOpJp0_hyQZvHsd5XbULX_xWBscmSQ4EyRO8Wpat8DHNDOLH4AoP237Bzodv2icNFS8opeTlJRVesRvN1KVB3ZvXVKFut_ohGM/s1600/IMG_1212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2r5dvrzuxsAPNpLYApePV7t5IRReliuo98r5EMyGvDSOpJp0_hyQZvHsd5XbULX_xWBscmSQ4EyRO8Wpat8DHNDOLH4AoP237Bzodv2icNFS8opeTlJRVesRvN1KVB3ZvXVKFut_ohGM/s320/IMG_1212.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our new Iranian friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sBv0M8mMy2ZFOG3BsiqZMIDzq4WLBhecodxBsZzbXf6nLtZCJY56XCro4j3oJ9SWzvckPP7FYlVB2TuBfhi3F5S01WDIFmM-k_HKtM4XMotbFk4AjwcIMIA99l4_FOW86o-7wIlwvgQ/s1600/IMG_1262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sBv0M8mMy2ZFOG3BsiqZMIDzq4WLBhecodxBsZzbXf6nLtZCJY56XCro4j3oJ9SWzvckPP7FYlVB2TuBfhi3F5S01WDIFmM-k_HKtM4XMotbFk4AjwcIMIA99l4_FOW86o-7wIlwvgQ/s320/IMG_1262.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halfway to Bergen...7 degrees Celsius</td></tr>
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The passing countryside was dotted with magnificent snow patched mountains infected with the occasional village on the crust of a deep cobalt blue lake. Taking photos on the train was a primer in the quick snapshot before the train dashed into endless tunnels or the view blocked by tall trees.<br />
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We arrived into the Bergen train station, disembarked, and walked the long platform into the main station lobby. I pulled my phone from my pantaloons and entered the name and address for our hotel into my GPS app. It immediately popped up with information which we deciphered, hoisted our bags and began to walk the streets of Bergen to the Scandic City Hotel. Our first taste of the city wasn't impressive and thought it was a step down from Oslo. We walked for a while and I began to question our direction. We stopped a young lady walking the opposite direction and asked if she knew of the address or the hotel. As we discovered, Norwegians are extremely courteous, ready to help, and very engaging. She pulled out her phone, entered the info, and walked with us a short distance in the opposite direction we were walking, then pointed to us the direction to the remainder of our destination about a kilometer away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw70EjUncaie0MSaP6zZKizWp4g0Tr_WpHkJJboQkrV97salReKx-_stZB0S1Q6Jn3RkUdtbyayOssPeb6USI24dY7LSf98uSosu75iK8906-7-_VUTKqsBekWQNd0Xn48HkDM1ZkXCk8/s1600/IMG_1313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw70EjUncaie0MSaP6zZKizWp4g0Tr_WpHkJJboQkrV97salReKx-_stZB0S1Q6Jn3RkUdtbyayOssPeb6USI24dY7LSf98uSosu75iK8906-7-_VUTKqsBekWQNd0Xn48HkDM1ZkXCk8/s320/IMG_1313.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great restaurant for a hungry traveler.</td></tr>
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By the time we reached the front desk of the hotel our bodies were tired from lugging luggage and asked the desk clerk about a restaurant. He suggested a lovely bistro in the historic village a couple klicks away. He made a reservation which afforded us an hour to relax and walk to "To Kokkers" (meaning two cooks).<br />
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The directions the clerk gave us were exact and the walk generated a new view of Bergen. It's a city not as cosmopolitan as Oslo but seemingly embodied a bit more charm. Arriving at the restaurant, we were quickly seated into a comfy old upstairs low ceiling room supported by rough hewn beams, plastered and wall papered walls decorated with old relic paintings, and an uneven planked floor. The food and mood was perfect. Walking back to our hotel in the night (actually looking like dusk) was enough to reduce our stuffed bellies and sullen us to sleep.<br />
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The next morning which always begins with the wonderful buffet breakfast (No really Chuck, I really like this Norwegian selection of delightful tastes), we discussed what to do in Bergen. Agreeing on a little shopping, exploring, and looking forward to getting lost in a foreign city. (one of our favorite travel pastimes) We discovered churches, shopping malls disguised as historic buildings, beautiful parks and back to the train station where we had to pickup our last handful of Norway in a Nutshell tickets from the ticket master. All the above was done between ducking in and our of the variations of rain. Without the rain it would be another boring beautiful day for us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-8IwyMi9NI7i3Xbjh0-1ms5WUKL1Cyz5KLygStphQ_Q9dct14GIcu5IunOgYoLJww5BHqF-fRTc6hHvWJrUKzQoUc4u_UcgEO_3s56Yv_0bWwwhUg7YEAHiTvZTR6BhuoTD4QU4gsASw/s1600/IMG_1331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-8IwyMi9NI7i3Xbjh0-1ms5WUKL1Cyz5KLygStphQ_Q9dct14GIcu5IunOgYoLJww5BHqF-fRTc6hHvWJrUKzQoUc4u_UcgEO_3s56Yv_0bWwwhUg7YEAHiTvZTR6BhuoTD4QU4gsASw/s320/IMG_1331.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">many products merchanised into one building</td></tr>
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Walking back to our hotel from exploring we stopped into a pub for a quick Guinness and catch some of the World Cup, Japan the victor of that game. Then continued on when we both felt like a late dinner. Turning off the main plaza onto a small street to investigate. We saw a Japanese sign but it was for a photo company not a place for a celebratory dinner, further down the avenue was a Thai restaurant. Yes we need to try Thai in the reaches of the Arctic. It was close to 9PM but the hostess/owner said it would be ok if we ate quickly. The smells from the kitchen convinced us to give it a try even under the time restrictions. The rice noodle salad and the Tom Kra Gai took time to prepare but we were rewarded with unbelievable perfectly prepared dishes with flavor beyond our expectations. If you are ever, ever near Bergen, Norway you must make the journey to the Samrab Thai Restaurant.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPTWrWULvYVxBRiqcYWMaRWGsJvFlhUDOKA2-LQjQCOnN9u-4bAoIdfe7I_-Kx1hsTGQ9fGrNz6fXP-EjXxI1IVgoLuBSHyhO1QuCkFK83mPBwEo-HbrUPgKxM9cnOweuOt8sYIQQ3BI/s1600/IMG_1456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPTWrWULvYVxBRiqcYWMaRWGsJvFlhUDOKA2-LQjQCOnN9u-4bAoIdfe7I_-Kx1hsTGQ9fGrNz6fXP-EjXxI1IVgoLuBSHyhO1QuCkFK83mPBwEo-HbrUPgKxM9cnOweuOt8sYIQQ3BI/s320/IMG_1456.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yum, not just any old Thai food</td></tr>
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The next day was hiking day. We decided to first take the cable train up the mountain from Bergen central, then hike up to a mountain top, then hike back down into the city center. The line to take the train was jammed with a myriad of cultures wanting to get a different view of Bergen and a few wanting to hike. We unloaded with the crowd once reaching the tracks end and began following the hiking signage up a trail. With deeply overcast skies, the weather was holding out but by the time we reached our summit with light rain, our return was met by a steady downpour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbNwtPGrNfFY95VpFRygL6s9LQ8liCoi5NmnHYaCsOCrNehSrdWfdpywX0KNI1CTsS5mveMiPeSfpbH_vQWS2dKOFBCqA4xN9d3HVTw6LskLvyntcOJblBQ1DueEF_tMGP0PlnsLZCIk/s1600/IMG_1498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbNwtPGrNfFY95VpFRygL6s9LQ8liCoi5NmnHYaCsOCrNehSrdWfdpywX0KNI1CTsS5mveMiPeSfpbH_vQWS2dKOFBCqA4xN9d3HVTw6LskLvyntcOJblBQ1DueEF_tMGP0PlnsLZCIk/s320/IMG_1498.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking trail into the city center</td></tr>
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A repreave from the rain and hail mixture was from a locked up small building with a couple small overhangs just enough for a bit of shelter to wait out the intense rain. After an hour the rain reduced to a light shower without hail and we made our trek down the mountain passing the train stop and finally into town. Wet and a bit exhausted we both agreed we needed more Thai food to warm our drenched bodies.<br />
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After the repeat spectacular gastronomic performance we went back to our hotel for rest but rallied in time to return to the Metz sports bar to watch another World Cup game, Iran vs Spain and with Iran being the underdog in respect to our new Iranian friends, we cheered for the Persians. This puzzled the roundish Irishman leaning on the bar next to us. He was astounded that two Americans would be rooting for Iran. We always cheer for the underdog and with that and with us drinking Guinness, the mother's milk of Ireland, Wille bought us a round. The game was well played but didn't turn out in our favor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pTIoU9PlA37ff76EMKoy6KoyJ1oBBCTEDOyc4ctccrh3w7gDwvoh6l9simko3g2VaGd2M6E9-DqDWE6OsKtOamdJoTa1h3snxFjtVfcPaCZ3LND15XyVpNhq5TK8W4uSpruWi9fWVp8/s1600/IMG_1502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pTIoU9PlA37ff76EMKoy6KoyJ1oBBCTEDOyc4ctccrh3w7gDwvoh6l9simko3g2VaGd2M6E9-DqDWE6OsKtOamdJoTa1h3snxFjtVfcPaCZ3LND15XyVpNhq5TK8W4uSpruWi9fWVp8/s320/IMG_1502.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Willie was Irish but now Norwegian </td></tr>
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We left the bar feeling great in more ways than one but tomorrow we needed to get some sleep and ready ourselves for the "Norway in a Nutshell" experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDlSg1EhJadUnogNLbcmpC3ZBxgWcl2wM9kGTMAw_MgrmqRZff9igZHzeSv0oFviFlm6Yyw43EvWEPuvlB0GJ-qPmpUNqbzjq_UIGNYYZ57adKWxyR6cir0mj7fhLjOMVxY4VO3sUHgs/s1600/IMG_1312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDlSg1EhJadUnogNLbcmpC3ZBxgWcl2wM9kGTMAw_MgrmqRZff9igZHzeSv0oFviFlm6Yyw43EvWEPuvlB0GJ-qPmpUNqbzjq_UIGNYYZ57adKWxyR6cir0mj7fhLjOMVxY4VO3sUHgs/s320/IMG_1312.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving the train station at Bergen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTazcvqfqCJHcHvU6F_2yUqancTQYMvq4V94IzIgSZa16sgtyRUZTPVF9rbPVB_khnuvMSAQehQbocmmvVd-GZKVq9-cMisSNdt9GrS3offrhabtr8V9VkRMS7ulO-VyhBmqPemCLQng/s1600/IMG_1497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTazcvqfqCJHcHvU6F_2yUqancTQYMvq4V94IzIgSZa16sgtyRUZTPVF9rbPVB_khnuvMSAQehQbocmmvVd-GZKVq9-cMisSNdt9GrS3offrhabtr8V9VkRMS7ulO-VyhBmqPemCLQng/s320/IMG_1497.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cable train up the mountain</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhips-ZsEYJUNPdb84OvmiBm3cpq5mU2aSogaEkiA4FcV8tbqs93u8vktDrERsG-EmU-XJOMas3QMjX4tAwNKlpsX6TEnyj-8qz5Q0E0e8C5YGiYqSq8OXsUPrJmfDuOcRRLyEd098bXw8/s1600/IMG_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhips-ZsEYJUNPdb84OvmiBm3cpq5mU2aSogaEkiA4FcV8tbqs93u8vktDrERsG-EmU-XJOMas3QMjX4tAwNKlpsX6TEnyj-8qz5Q0E0e8C5YGiYqSq8OXsUPrJmfDuOcRRLyEd098bXw8/s320/IMG_1500.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Houses in the city center like Bisbee</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwHJ4BZuY96rZB9X-ii13EUH2eRLbgRVYRBfrbRdxYYDRKrpw17cD0D06u94CkKZ4PUDNYi7ipR57WPU0oYW_WqBlPN5lUbjGGbTBdz6p7X1FRG3I05-PWsCJjlGyCE618Qmn9iWsfQQ/s1600/IMG_1357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwHJ4BZuY96rZB9X-ii13EUH2eRLbgRVYRBfrbRdxYYDRKrpw17cD0D06u94CkKZ4PUDNYi7ipR57WPU0oYW_WqBlPN5lUbjGGbTBdz6p7X1FRG3I05-PWsCJjlGyCE618Qmn9iWsfQQ/s320/IMG_1357.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">National Theater in the city center</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-44427191487398350252018-06-22T01:24:00.001-07:002018-06-22T01:33:11.659-07:00Moto Euro with a twist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yo Homies, I've been a bit quiet recently in blog city except for my images but there are a couple of topics overlooked for you motor heads. For international travelers, they know driving etiquette is a quick essential issue for survival and face saving while visiting foreign lands.<br />
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I have two topics today, one covering death defying tunnel techniques and the other of product distribution. First is the discovery of driving on true one lane roads. In the Faroe Islands, their country's road infrastructure cost is half the normal cost because they build remote paved roadways with one lane. The drivers on these slender ribbons of pavement literally share the road by paying attention to the approaching traffic. If you see an approaching vehicle from afar you can roughly calculate when to either use the dimly identified pull out or gun it signally the other driver to seek refuge. Surprisingly these roads work well because everyone is considerate except for the fresh tourist quickly acquiring the local road rules.<br />
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The above instruction is pretty simple but now take the one lane issue and throw in long narrow wet unlit tunnels into the equation and now you have a very nervous hesitant driver gasping for air. Again first time tunnel traveler must observe under fire what the fuck to do with approaching headlights halfway through the tunnel. First, the road signs I've been ignoring for the last hour now are important. I learned quickly the sign with two arrows designate which vehicle direction has the right a way while the other must use a designated pull off before the avenger kisses your bumper. My first tunnel didn't require me to use the pull out so I sailed through without interruption though on the return the tables turned and as soon as I saw a headlight I dashed for the safety zone which at first pissed off the driver behind because I pulled over too soon. So proper tunnel technique is drive onward and trust that every 100 meters a pull out is available. It only takes a few tunnels to get the swing of things. One thing is conclusive, Norwegians love to tunnel.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remote peaceful village with one lane access</td></tr>
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Now for the advanced refinement. You're now not baling too quickly but dashing your lights is a must other wise you have the challenger blasting you with their 500,000 candle watt beacon signaling you to shut down you lights but you only douse your headlights and leave your courtesy lamps lit. This is a bit of a task when you are not familiar with the rental car controls so I got a lot of luminary scolding. We had to switch rental cars halfway through the week which required new dashboard knowledge.<br />
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If you find yourself going to the Faroe Islands let me know and I give you the complete translated course for one cold beer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKxczVRksuubN2grAXPoroRUrkWv1FLdyQSzthk5TbXUAqKV-IKbXI9DNE9b4CzQKP7cgpvd9kU4rBgswrbRYjmqdQuk8iHW65jQbDkjob2okxX4r1j3ktIWJlSJRlFVCG6wZChFGDMM/s1600/IMG_1146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKxczVRksuubN2grAXPoroRUrkWv1FLdyQSzthk5TbXUAqKV-IKbXI9DNE9b4CzQKP7cgpvd9kU4rBgswrbRYjmqdQuk8iHW65jQbDkjob2okxX4r1j3ktIWJlSJRlFVCG6wZChFGDMM/s400/IMG_1146.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SEXY, POWERFUL, ECONOMICAL, enough said</td></tr>
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One last item. I'm a closet gear head. I love cars. The design, engineering, and performance are buried into my soul. When we arrived in Oslo and walked to the city train stop, I noticed a couple Tesla fully electric cars. Now for you folks that don't pay attention the automotive industry, these vehicles are not only very sexy, but they haul ass and run without gas. What a dream machine.<br />
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These issue here is not that Norway has Teslas, but they have a lot of Teslas. I found out the Norwegian government subsidizes owners by offering no taxes, free parking, no charging cost, and one full body massage each week. Thats why there is at least one one Tesla on each block. No wonder there is a waiting list in the US for these cars. Is Elon Musk Norwegian? <br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-89720102874032500882018-06-21T14:52:00.000-07:002018-06-21T14:55:21.702-07:00Oslo so fab<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The flight from Faroe was an hour delayed...so the connection from Copenhagen to Oslo gave us only 8 minutes to run through the terminal and we caught the plane! No way our luggage will be there when we get to Oslo, but, no way, it was there!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMhUtSNitdrofTssLTFgmPxUNiyAzLsjzMazJ6LQXYAOdsft0SlKeYILLhykuqa4zC79cqvWOdbX43_ux9SxXkthPFl3igBxzYO4ilec5sJXYKc-hbynWkFJqtf9mAgkxctS34jQLkuk/s1600/IMG_1058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMhUtSNitdrofTssLTFgmPxUNiyAzLsjzMazJ6LQXYAOdsft0SlKeYILLhykuqa4zC79cqvWOdbX43_ux9SxXkthPFl3igBxzYO4ilec5sJXYKc-hbynWkFJqtf9mAgkxctS34jQLkuk/s320/IMG_1058.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for flight to Oslo from Faroe</td></tr>
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In Oslo we walked to the information desk by the train which is connected to the airport, just to be certain we catch the right train, and in minutes we are on the rails, walk out of the National Theater terminal and just pulling up is tram 13 to take us within a 5 minute walk to our hotel, the Clarion at Gables Gate which at 20:30 is still serving our complimentary dinner and that's the magic of our arrival to Oslo. The room is luxurious and I take a bath in a deep warm tub. Tomorrow we will catch the "hop on hop off" bus to see what's up in Oslo. We walk to the first stop, encounter a protest happening at the university, oh yes we are traveling, and these scenes are familiar and welcoming!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoT-VDq-H7T63mX3SxHUSoNqjY__yFdnFgw1hJjmMmzLWyFgIDabOtcw08_wQpKanlF-bwEqCYW0N8RBwxgxpcSm8uP5EhOB0x4Sjl53kaWy0KTIJntWBxNB_FCupuYhFo6cpsSd74r58/s1600/IMG_1184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoT-VDq-H7T63mX3SxHUSoNqjY__yFdnFgw1hJjmMmzLWyFgIDabOtcw08_wQpKanlF-bwEqCYW0N8RBwxgxpcSm8uP5EhOB0x4Sjl53kaWy0KTIJntWBxNB_FCupuYhFo6cpsSd74r58/s320/IMG_1184.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clarion Collection Hotel, Oslo...perfect</td></tr>
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Getting our tickets for the bus we decide on this beautiful day to go straight to the Vigeland Park to see 200+ sculptures. Awe inspiring, really!, especially as we get to the end of the long wide boulevard lined with bronze works to where the granite column of human bodies in various states of strife are surrounded by individual depictions (also massive granite works) of two or more figures all expressing the human condition, simple and yet so accurate anatomically....light catching a shoulder blade, a spinal column, a collar bone, ... breathtaking and yes you have to see this place!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHNDyaO76bvr4uQCNeeQbvHoS9cX5FDxRt6WrO9YTUy21mkJH7VSDCsgojSBKV3YQLgYSf8aV7LF2-wAz1_0Y_OAJKXsU8P2yWtDVEn7RBshsTPte2VJ0FtUHLPMpI2ADdGS8750HnEE/s1600/IMG_1094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHNDyaO76bvr4uQCNeeQbvHoS9cX5FDxRt6WrO9YTUy21mkJH7VSDCsgojSBKV3YQLgYSf8aV7LF2-wAz1_0Y_OAJKXsU8P2yWtDVEn7RBshsTPte2VJ0FtUHLPMpI2ADdGS8750HnEE/s320/IMG_1094.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vigland Sculpture Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46tq5XEUeIqYXPO-2AAHGRCiehvh2k8Zy-VqS906F0S31Zr_GmnBWvNJpfaRLH2qXvwS8mD3E5m_oeeQ9INa1kLNkxcIs7cFsSo57fq8BJi5yj3r1B9R8o_tlnCWq8RCEnbaqFYvOo5c/s1600/IMG_3108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46tq5XEUeIqYXPO-2AAHGRCiehvh2k8Zy-VqS906F0S31Zr_GmnBWvNJpfaRLH2qXvwS8mD3E5m_oeeQ9INa1kLNkxcIs7cFsSo57fq8BJi5yj3r1B9R8o_tlnCWq8RCEnbaqFYvOo5c/s320/IMG_3108.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch at Pier 31</td></tr>
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Time to get back to the bus and so we go to the entry gate and wait. The hop on hop off bus is a double decker so lots of seats. But people have to get off to let you on, and well there are just not enough getting off for those desperate to get on. It was a bit of mayhem, and why we avoid the touristy offerings. Hey people, you need to see this park! Never mind, lets just walk on this stunning bright day. So we walk, and walk, and walk we think we are getting close to the Viking Museum, and we are definitely getting hungry. Finally, look out on that pier, there is surely a restaurant. Hooray we are seated near the water in a most comfortable outdoor cafe. Curt has been avoiding carbs, but this northern Italian menu has lasagna for lunch, and surely he deserves this treat especially when we find out that we have overshot our destination by a couple of miles. Oooops, the map is confusing and there are no signs pointing our way. Never mind, let's take a taxi, I'm pretty sure we have walked 5+ miles already today!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtv8-phV_qv9w3wTgdyAr5HnS_tpAsv1zDZCWb5cKEkb3ncR0ZAgHXeBfwGccKvuJMxXwpkwgUAQZr2inCQjSEwz2-RaZW1gKmIOY9kYJTEPGqcgEqxKRVXH6VM_xnvgv7Id5GxaLcZW8/s1600/IMG_1133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtv8-phV_qv9w3wTgdyAr5HnS_tpAsv1zDZCWb5cKEkb3ncR0ZAgHXeBfwGccKvuJMxXwpkwgUAQZr2inCQjSEwz2-RaZW1gKmIOY9kYJTEPGqcgEqxKRVXH6VM_xnvgv7Id5GxaLcZW8/s320/IMG_1133.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real Viking ship made for a funeral ship to honor woman rulers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdrW3odULk8UDJWBh8O4RfUwk_53_gqlJT8k8Mtt4xuLCrNGEhRzAYc7Su-sMN7nQNP0hE6-Izw6ee7S_N8RiGUwIaYiRk1r5Sk322OarStyDFMR4pFJ00yezATBHl8m5b50badjEyAA/s1600/IMG_1085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdrW3odULk8UDJWBh8O4RfUwk_53_gqlJT8k8Mtt4xuLCrNGEhRzAYc7Su-sMN7nQNP0hE6-Izw6ee7S_N8RiGUwIaYiRk1r5Sk322OarStyDFMR4pFJ00yezATBHl8m5b50badjEyAA/s320/IMG_1085.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vigeland Park</td></tr>
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We are barely in the doors of the museum when I am hit with a deep sadness. Not sure what/why but I got the strong feeling that these Vikings were trying to stop something big, (i.e. the patriarchal take over of the Church?) and somehow that resonates with ancient feminist genetic material deep in my soul. Perhaps I was born to a family of men in this incarnation for lessons I needed to revisit. Like empathizing and forgiving the male species who at another time in history were my cohorts, at the very least it explains why I have always plaited my hair into unusual braids. I am realizing that this nordic culture is oddly familiar. The whole reason for our decision to go to the Faroe Islands was because I watched a video of Eivor Palsdottir singing traditional folk music, I am at home in her other worldly vocals. Enough of this woo woo posting. We are in Oslo, it's getting late, and we catch the last hop on hop off bus to get back to the center of the city and make it back to our beautiful hotel. And again, there's soup and salad for dinner, perfect!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5z1M96o37EUvCX2ixIeY6smw4GyB43mhF9_VWCcZLgWxd6VFW-ynUEZpO_GT0fNWeD2FQSxKKbkUwuVFwv1dUO1r4kRZ0UdlpF1UEhu-z9RJh_UPy7EYbqf_RcZEhCJQlPRKc2VTW-A/s1600/IMG_3125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5z1M96o37EUvCX2ixIeY6smw4GyB43mhF9_VWCcZLgWxd6VFW-ynUEZpO_GT0fNWeD2FQSxKKbkUwuVFwv1dUO1r4kRZ0UdlpF1UEhu-z9RJh_UPy7EYbqf_RcZEhCJQlPRKc2VTW-A/s320/IMG_3125.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Nobel Peace Center Award Recipients<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPHGnZ6J1g2ApRP0lHIb4frkf_hOZH2-lJUeJWnYNK2we0hdRyubO6PC_D8jMvkUiKlNmh2Lcgogdc63xiItNMw6yTCYaly1FB-qy84WVp1Rxe6svc_Ui5D8bYozHtlUAMksPCX_XkYg/s1600/IMG_1180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPHGnZ6J1g2ApRP0lHIb4frkf_hOZH2-lJUeJWnYNK2we0hdRyubO6PC_D8jMvkUiKlNmh2Lcgogdc63xiItNMw6yTCYaly1FB-qy84WVp1Rxe6svc_Ui5D8bYozHtlUAMksPCX_XkYg/s320/IMG_1180.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nobel Peace Institute...Bosch electric powered bicycle</td></tr>
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We spent a rainy Sunday at the National Museum housing an amazing collection art possessing a Norwegian connection, had a delicious lunch of French onion soup* in a lovely salon of the museum, then strolling through the old fort, ducking into a coffee shop to get out of the sudden torrential downpour. We sat at a table joining a gentleman there with his Indian female colleague, he is speaking mid-west U.S. English. You begin to realize that the world speaks English, but not everyone has that Nebraska twang. The little coffee shop has a framed letter on the wall from Barrack Obama, and so the conversation of how much he is missed ensues. We leave when the rain lets up and make our way to the Nobel Peace Center, whose current exhibition is a disturbing reflection of the "Wealth Generation" as it is called. Yikes this aspect of America is a full on embarrassment, the U.S.A. has exported the worst of ourselves, and the world imitates it. Then upstairs to the room which houses the recipients of the award, a very moving and beautiful installation. We leave the center with heavy hearts, and a sense of hope.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many parks in Oslo for families to enjoy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norwegian oil painting in the National Gallery </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious breakfast buffet every morning</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indescribable Vigeland Sculpture Park</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-90534503959478149032018-06-18T01:08:00.002-07:002018-06-18T01:16:48.625-07:00A Closer Look at Faroe Islands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm up at 4:45 a.m., it's quite light out, and Curt is still sleeping so let me try and fill in the gap as we leave Oslo, Norway today and still have to tell you about the far away Faroe Islands. We left you with our arrival. I am one of those travelers who does not do her homework on a place until I'm there and then only if I like it there. I was pretty surprised to find the islands are treeless. Oh there are a few trees in the villages struggling to reach any significant height, still providing for picturesqe gardens. I guess you don't need shade in places that are generally cloud covered. But don't let that fool you, both Curt and I came away from that first day's hike with a bit of sun. Treelessness is part of the stark bleak beauty that surrounds you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfL2cij_jaiYjaGJW5N-9hELIrJ5eU5xZf1asgXLKV7W1tFihg6ereOfCYcrirTkGestux2k2HCqhgNQ5CEECgwej-N1mccCcVSv5237ktaJifziRoxyVvWfp1qUHESgkaW_ybyXY99Yo/s1600/IMG_0896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfL2cij_jaiYjaGJW5N-9hELIrJ5eU5xZf1asgXLKV7W1tFihg6ereOfCYcrirTkGestux2k2HCqhgNQ5CEECgwej-N1mccCcVSv5237ktaJifziRoxyVvWfp1qUHESgkaW_ybyXY99Yo/s320/IMG_0896.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me on Mykines</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5sd23a4W7uTP4GIXbCKV65VusdznzhyphenhyphenJnmI1xpO8KAa_I7sGb5_gAnuW7uNTpntr_cE0nhUPptbJ2nmPSEPcV5W0-6LZNaoRYnLizkOQ_cH2KqPbKhdQuo-kfGZlFX_dMOirbaVCyFY/s1600/IMG_1073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1530" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5sd23a4W7uTP4GIXbCKV65VusdznzhyphenhyphenJnmI1xpO8KAa_I7sGb5_gAnuW7uNTpntr_cE0nhUPptbJ2nmPSEPcV5W0-6LZNaoRYnLizkOQ_cH2KqPbKhdQuo-kfGZlFX_dMOirbaVCyFY/s320/IMG_1073.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Treeless isles</td></tr>
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So we acquired a car, which as it turns out in spite of the guide books saying you can go by busses everywhere, was a necessity! Our first day's drive from the island of Vagar to Streymoy means you travel a long distance in a tunnel that goes beneath the sea. The couple we talked to on our hike who had been coming to the Faroes for 10 yrs now, gave us our first destination of Sakson. The road beyond the tunnel to the small village, famed for it's black beach and a turf roofed church, was a single lane white knuckle experience. Little did we know that this was just practice for the roads to come. That said the roads in hind site, are in much better shape than the roads in our little hometown.<br />
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With the knowledge that we would not have a car for the duration of our stay on the islands we decided to just keep going. This place was so fascinating, and nothing was too far away, so we drove on. Seeing picturesque villages, many with less than a dozen inhabitants. Making our way to the small outpost of Gjogv where we meet Phillip who runs a small kiosk and we have a cup of coffee. Turns out Phillip knows Bisbee, the town where his favorite comedian lives, whose wife's name is Bingo! Yes even in this most remote place on earth our town is made famous. There was something very affirming and reassuring in this recognition, otherwise it might have been hard to believe that we were even on the same planet in this place where there is no poverty or homelessness, or for that matter even a blade of grass out of place! The sheep keeping the countryside mowed and tidy, which is not saying the same for their appearance. Dreadlocked sheep running amuck, with sweet little ones (it is spring after all) playing and hiding under every grassy mound. It must be hard to gather them for sheering, so many sheep don't get shorn.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuqzbl4VORgpudNy1ecQ8DqvtlytZbsCqxloc3EGqgYgNbbqSu4xAiYjAujGVxLvktTN_3SYa5Xoq7fp6bVHOM29qnkacR4eG_ohNb_pMXULn9SBbYcsv6IKhcvktfUp1ElcuCmlpoJs/s1600/IMG_0674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuqzbl4VORgpudNy1ecQ8DqvtlytZbsCqxloc3EGqgYgNbbqSu4xAiYjAujGVxLvktTN_3SYa5Xoq7fp6bVHOM29qnkacR4eG_ohNb_pMXULn9SBbYcsv6IKhcvktfUp1ElcuCmlpoJs/s320/IMG_0674.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sakson Beach church</td></tr>
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The days don't end this time of year, so you have to keep track of the time simply by exhaustion. We made our way back to Midvagur, and again the inn is quiet. The doors are always open, oh did I mention there is no crime. We find a small restaurant, the Broadway? (it's the only option) in our town to have a mediocre pizza and salad, where's the local fare?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8z7N5dDmIy6zKx75Fdw8UFzh8-Kuk4dTe3rtMUj7jtGK23rNFrhJgy0h1Y0CiK6oFDnL-T-cFYPMy-LIP2-f1nDgq33svEUHPJ9Rb7prFs9JLoDW3Isd4Ex9GuB2qFRfO4AAhxnCZczo/s1600/IMG_0861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8z7N5dDmIy6zKx75Fdw8UFzh8-Kuk4dTe3rtMUj7jtGK23rNFrhJgy0h1Y0CiK6oFDnL-T-cFYPMy-LIP2-f1nDgq33svEUHPJ9Rb7prFs9JLoDW3Isd4Ex9GuB2qFRfO4AAhxnCZczo/s320/IMG_0861.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gasadalur Vagar falls</td></tr>
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The next morning we finally meet the inn keeper Marit. She is at first a little standoffish, as the job must make you. Meeting so many new people all the time. She has a thing for antiques and knick knacks or maybe they just are things that never get thrown away and fill up every inch of usable space. There are more tables and chairs than people could possibly use in this small inn. No where to roll out a yoga mat : ( Her method of communication is sticky notes on the mirror in the foyer, until finally we break the ice and she insists that we make it to her other, even smaller, inn on the island of Mykines. This will require a ferry ride and I'm prone to seasickness, so let's wait another day while we still have a car and drive to the furthest outpost.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiluLdajqBYwnB_FjEJATY-zwjAhvBjqkHPdc-mPr0PoV6_MWA7KekiJd22dVux57tD7EX0OFxqhKEcYKmenRYvtR6gINs56W62zFaZzPqozb5QcL2Ndwmb4ugWWMoUtYcQRRYZbv_yfh4/s1600/IMG_0775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiluLdajqBYwnB_FjEJATY-zwjAhvBjqkHPdc-mPr0PoV6_MWA7KekiJd22dVux57tD7EX0OFxqhKEcYKmenRYvtR6gINs56W62zFaZzPqozb5QcL2Ndwmb4ugWWMoUtYcQRRYZbv_yfh4/s320/IMG_0775.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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There is a famous sculpture of the Seal Woman on the island of Kalsoy, it is our destination. This time we have to go through two tunnels that go under the sea, the second is 9 kms and features a light show at it's deepest stretch, sort of a northern lights thing underground/sea. We will also have to take our car on a ferry boat for about 30 minutes, protected waters and a larger vessel, I'll be fine. Once we get to the island a series of one lane tunnels (! you watch for headlights and then find a pull off before the approaching vehicle hits you!) will get us to the town Mikladalur where down a steep flight of stairs (no problem for Bisbeeites) we will find this amazing bronze statue whose survival through incredible storms of 16 meter waves makes for a story of it's own. Her story the myth of the island is worth looking up. From there we make our way to the furthest northern village of Trollanes where we get another coffee at "the last kiosk on earth." We meet Amanda, whose mother has baked a cake for weary travelers, not many make it out there I'm guessing. This very green village is occupied by 12 residents; one is a butcher we look into the open doors to see the meat hanging, one is a metal smith, we bought a candlestick, there is a cow mooing somewhere in a barn (you don't see cows but they exist) ... Amanda is in her early 20s, I'm guessing her parents are both alive, so there's half the town. She drives to the town of Klaksvik to work, through those tunnels, across that ferry regularly. I guess that is where she also finds her peers, but she doesn't seem to need them.<br />
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It's early enough in the never ending day to drive further. The island of Vidoy will be our last outpost, as the next island of Fugloy requires a longer ferry boat ride and open seas. I will have to face that trip to Mykines soon enough. We stumble upon Elizabeth's restaurant, and have a very good meal. Food is an issue, fair warning from our taxi driver in Copenhagen. After dinner let's go for a drive. Curt is getting over done at this point, but, "we aren't going to be here again," I remind him, and so we find the tiniest of places, and oldest it turns out, Muli. It is also the buggiest, still there are fresh flowers in the windows of the few homes. I'm starting to feel bad for the folks who are living in the fishbowl of tourists peering into their lives, and understand the plight of our neighbors on High road in Bisbee who are dealing with the endless stream of golf carts touring visitors through Bisbee.<br />
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Our supposed last day with a car is going to be a drive to the other end of the island that we are living on, to the village of Gasadalur by way of Bour. I've quit counting the tunnels that get you from place to place. We are hugging the coast and I am sure that the mountain island visible is the town of Whoville whose famous Mount Crumpet where the Grinch lives is the landmark, I bet Dr. Seuss has been here!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZz9OtyzIICkw9n9Su4bO3y4KOGgJXbhWEUfc-5-tuons8Np1CF4d371RjNbWmaZgaKV5BQfabw_YC9TLjksAcZEOGCr5y7rpk0r5HGj8trHh5I4CrRTeEDI2KOVSGxfn1ywGOn5nz8k/s1600/IMG_0840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZz9OtyzIICkw9n9Su4bO3y4KOGgJXbhWEUfc-5-tuons8Np1CF4d371RjNbWmaZgaKV5BQfabw_YC9TLjksAcZEOGCr5y7rpk0r5HGj8trHh5I4CrRTeEDI2KOVSGxfn1ywGOn5nz8k/s320/IMG_0840.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Crunpet?</td></tr>
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Good news we scored another vehicle, though it will remain parked for the day that we are traveling by sea to Marit's other home of Mykines. There we meet her helpers from the Czech Republic, Hana and Andre, who took this gig from the "Work Away" online site. Seems that their arrival to the Faroe Islands was not much different than our own, not meeting their "boss" for a couple of days and wondering what they were supposed to be doing. Communication is not Marit's strong suit, and she is off doing who knows what all the time. Our arrival to this small bird island late afternoon after a smooth crossing by ferry was easy, our young host and hostess meeting us at the dock. We walk to the small house, climb the steep ladder to the loft where we will sleep, along with Andre and Hana in the middle space, and the Russian family in the room on the other side. Tight quarters and one small bathroom, but ok, it's just one night. We tour the village, find a great little shop and buy a couple of trinkets, our first for the trip, but handmade items have been scarce. After a lovely salmon dinner, Hana is vegetarian and she is suffering from lack of veggie options, we start our evening hike. It has been cloudy all day, but now at 9 pm the sun is out and it's a beautiful day/night. We take a steep, steep, walk up to where the lighthouse is. Along the way we pass a memorial with the names of all the people who have fallen to their demise off the cliffs. Shaky knees, but oh my what beauty, I keep walking. (The "Asatoma Sat Gamaya" chant clicking off the steps I'm taking, yogi friends will know what I'm talking about.) Not all the way to the lighthouse, I realize that I don't have my camera/phone, and have to go back to get Curt's. He is sitting enjoying the view not walking the narrow track occupied by the sheep and silly me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGC_1b0ezFXtCCRCxCOc91FsrAiSB6_AU23GLEmU0JmSz-VM3x4SXRo-SALV7Jt_Ua8sH0a3f9VmUUuVQjODETzLQu7YJ_Nn3HrDeVom1__Xh2uM1BHeynPCNqxYUaUWxIY-q0D8WSCzM/s1600/IMG_0935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGC_1b0ezFXtCCRCxCOc91FsrAiSB6_AU23GLEmU0JmSz-VM3x4SXRo-SALV7Jt_Ua8sH0a3f9VmUUuVQjODETzLQu7YJ_Nn3HrDeVom1__Xh2uM1BHeynPCNqxYUaUWxIY-q0D8WSCzM/s320/IMG_0935.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Contemplating on Mykines Island</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hana and Andre</td></tr>
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Back from our hike Johann the neighbor, has baked us a rhubarb cake. We sit and visit our hosts, sleep well enough and wake to a rainy morning. Our ferry leaves at 11, so more visiting. The issues that we are facing in our country are world wide. The oligarch in power in their country has made Hana's job in the public media unbearable, "fake news" is the international buzz blurb. The ferry is late, the seas are choppy. I am green just thinking back, but I managed to make the crossing without tossing the leftover rhubarb cake and usual breakfast fare of cheese and sausage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqesG-OWYONUdEv8lodfdEuH86WPIzpL9HKcSIZqF1nBvIgOZvUemIRKNXmvLkNEb5BZFpEMJITmVyxZzpGLU4p0_BVK72p25-6Q5LQX8y0Qtx4sCmSqpNTeSbUv2aPBX3H2IX-JMdQE/s1600/IMG_0919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="1600" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqesG-OWYONUdEv8lodfdEuH86WPIzpL9HKcSIZqF1nBvIgOZvUemIRKNXmvLkNEb5BZFpEMJITmVyxZzpGLU4p0_BVK72p25-6Q5LQX8y0Qtx4sCmSqpNTeSbUv2aPBX3H2IX-JMdQE/s640/IMG_0919.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Marit's Inn on Mykines</td></tr>
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Well this post has lasted long enough that Curt is now awake and he will be putting the photos in place. Summing up, we met knew friends from Melbourne Australia at the Magenta Guest House, Robin and Andrew, who we enjoyed having dinner with in the capital city of Torshavn that evening back from Mykines. We went back to Torshavn the next day to visit the museum, catch a concert at the Nordic House and visit a few shops. Every time you go through that tunnel from island to island you are charged a 100 kroner fare, it will show up on our credit card, I think we went through at least a dozen times. It's not cheap to live here, but the government has no military expenses and plenty of money. Everyone lives well with a forced 6 week holiday and education to any university you chose including your room and board, and if you want to visit a doctor everyday, that's ok too.<br />
In the end, The Faroe Islands I hope will remain as magical as they are today. Tourism must be held at bay and the likes of us will not burden them again. I wonder about the folks we met who have been going every year for the past 10, they were hearty Danish octogenarians and that pretty much sums up the reason that they are able to keep going back and don't want to change. But these places are rare and I don't think that the locals will tolerate too much, i.e. they won't show up! You won't have a car to rent, a place to sleep, or food to eat. That should keep the hordes away!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arnold Ludwig Quintet at Nordic Hus in Torshavn</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvhfen2ITKUpfzOBpwURZuvIr5aOiMR0xRQJCqLjjNBuZX8K4oAmoryLr_D7K0IJ_hS3I2W86pn7pVD7bBFfnd2sUbQ1W1z8Z_meuEhOXZjOTnWhldJtKRWENRWQzbKpv7ugAIEpc-C78/s1600/IMG_1038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvhfen2ITKUpfzOBpwURZuvIr5aOiMR0xRQJCqLjjNBuZX8K4oAmoryLr_D7K0IJ_hS3I2W86pn7pVD7bBFfnd2sUbQ1W1z8Z_meuEhOXZjOTnWhldJtKRWENRWQzbKpv7ugAIEpc-C78/s320/IMG_1038.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robyn and Andrew from Melbourne</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-13405492518671657952018-06-16T15:33:00.000-07:002018-06-16T15:33:15.548-07:00Off to a Far Far Faroe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet morning </td></tr>
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It was a quiet beautiful sunny Copenhagen morning with a breakfast waiting for us below and a cab driver on his way. Travel mornings can be like this having all the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly together.<br />
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A bit of coffee, a danish of course, and run back up to the room for a last minute check and empty of the bladder. The driver arrived spot on time into the hotel lobby holding up a slip of paper with our room number scribed on it to assure we had the correct car. There's no guessing culture in these Scandinavian countries which is a pleasant change from the third world attitude.<br />
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Traffic was light so we arrived at KEF (Copenhagen Airport) ahead of schedule. During the drive we told our driver our destination was the Faroe Islands. He let us know all he knew of the Faroe's and left us on the curb with a short but memorable verbal salute, "Enjoy the food"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Taxi driver warned us</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">very odd snacks on Icelander Airline</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little village of Midvagur</td></tr>
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All airports are now using electronic check in which can be confusing for the baby boomer's travel manerisms but I'm beginning to get the hang of it. Thanks to Angelika, our travel angel, we were upgraded to having free drinks and a meal (odd collection of tastes) on board. The seats were more roomy than I remember other coach seats making the 3 hour flight out to the middle of the North Atlantic quite pleasant.<br />
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We approached the Vagar Airport low over the ocean and flew over a velvet green mountain with a top resembling a US Marine's dress hat then over a large lake finally touching down and taxiing to the modern but small terminal. The ground crew rolled the stairs to our exit door, connected and the jostling for deplaning began. Down the stairs into the terminal and using our travel intuition we were waiting together with the other passengers at baggage claim. A woman with a officious announced sans amplification "I see a number of visitors with passports in their hands. You can put those away because the Faroe Islands are a friendly place" The bags began to slide through the chute. We grabbed ours and true to her word we walked past two officers and the official woman. Before we went through the double doors Sharon asked if she could get her passport stamped. One of the officers said they didn't do that here but maybe a policeman might. What an odd beginning to this island.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lots of sheep</td></tr>
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We made our way into the lobby and made our way to the information desk to find a way to our guest house. We had a choice of renting a car which we found none were available, take a bus which we were unsure about finding the Magenta Guest House in the village of Midvagur or take an expensive taxi. Little did we know our taxi ride was only 15 minutes to a remote little town to a building without signage, without a number, and a small note on the door instructing us to enter around back. We followed the directions and entered into an antique emporium entry room with sticky notes welcoming us and letting us know we are in room one. No one was in the house so we retreated to our room. The room was an eight foot by eight foot with a queen size bed shoved into a corner to make room for the sink to supplement the down the hall tub, shower, and toilet for the five additional guest quarters. The room's ceiling height dropped on a sideways angle starting at seven feet deminishing to three feet on Sharon's side of the bed. When together in the room it forced us to slide sideways like a penguin.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">scary steep cliffs</td></tr>
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The weather being a nice 55 degrees, partly cloudy, we decided to take a walk around this small town. Following the pavement up some hills we found a grocery with a small coffee shop hosting a war museum attached to the strip center. After scoping out the nicely stocked store we stopped for a couple of coffee drinks and a piece of cake. The pleasant aged woman suggested we take a walk along the islands largest lake where at the end there was a waterfall. So we took her suggestion and began the walk that turned into quite a hike up to that mountain that we flew over and as I described above. Since it stays light like late afternoon until midnight it was hard to say how far we hiked but I'll guess six miles round trip over sheep filled hills, mind you we had not taken any provisions, not even water... Along the way we met a few friendly elderly couples, surprised by their hearty fortitude, we were given a box of juice and some chocolate truffles, so it was a pleasant though tiring journey, that started as a simple "walk." Now on our way back, we had worked up a vicious hunger. There weren't any restaurants we discovered until we encountered an Asian Food Truck in a bank parking lot a couple blocks from our guest house. We had returned to our room but still no one around so we lifted our starving bodies from bed and walked to the Asian discovery. We ordered unfamiliar to go boxes and returned to the formal dining tables of our inn's downstairs common area. The meal was filling but the taste was less than desirable. We took baths and retreated once again to our suite and passed out from an exhausting day.<br />
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Next morning I went downstairs at 7:30 AM for some coffee and once again I discovered no one around so I sat looking at the lush green hill sides the one that we walked the day before wishing I had a cup of coffee. About a half hour later a very slender mid forties woman with straight black hair entered the room with boxes and other provisions. I greeted her with "good morning" but she half smiled without pause. She went from the kitchen to the formal dining room a number of times without addressing me or acknowledging my presence I thought maybe she might be mute. I discharged any further attempt to communicate thus avoiding an embarrassing situation. Sharon came downstairs and finally the mystery woman began to speak. I think she was feeling guilty for being a bit late plus I didn't know breakfast was usually set for 8AM after all t<br />
he non existent concierge/proprietor was missing in action yesterday.<br />
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Soon we were talking with Diana and I told her my dilemma about no rental cars available and she confirmed that there is a shortage because of the large influx of tourists now. I asked if I could use her phone to call a few agencies in hopes of a cancellation. The first two companies chuckled when I asked for an available car but on the last call the women suggested I call a man who might have something. So I called Ken at "Make Travel". He answered with a friendly cheerful voice so I unloaded on him my desperate need for a car...any car. He asked how long and I said a week but a few days will due. He said it was my lucky day because someone turned in a car this morning but I would have to return it four days later. I couldn't hold back my excitement. He said meet him at the front door of the airport and we will do the deal without going through a rental agency thus saving me 400 kr. which is about $75. Diana offered to drive me to the airport at 11AM. Sharon and I waited at the front door of the nearly deserted terminal when the new Ford Focus pulled up with Ken and the paperwork. Within minutes Sharon and I were off to explore of slender roadways and endless tunnels of the Faroe Islands.<br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-8193813233220875302018-06-12T02:21:00.000-07:002018-06-12T02:21:05.086-07:00Death Drop 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sharon researched "If you had one last thing to see or do in Copenhagen". Options included viewing a movie in an art nouveau theater, catching the latest opera, or visit a 175 year old amusement park. Our simple minds chose Tivoli Gardens which turned out to be more than a carney driven bastion of entertainment. Yes there are thrill rides for those seeking to test their strength from experiencing motion sickness but also very nice restaurants, beer gardens, games and stage shows all set into a beautifully landscaped quaint atmosphere. This is a bit like Disneyland but in a more simple joyful setting.<br />
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I was angling Sharon to join me on a roller coaster ride. If you know Sharon you also realize her propensity for motion sickness is swift so that suggestion was definitely ruled out...so was the folks tethered to the tower spinning around 500' in the air. My last plea was the Drop of Death where you were in a secured seat like the space shuttle then hoisted 2000 ft. in the air where you have a beautiful view of the city for 30 seconds before the world is pulled out from under you, The free fall was an exhilarating success without Sharon spraying the audience below. Admittedly, it's not bungee jumping from a bridge in South Africa but the challenge made Sharon a stronger person.<br />
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The sky turned dark ('ish, after all it was 11 pm) and we walked the winding pathways toward the exit catching a light show and a horse race before leaving the park via a quiet stroll down the streets of Copenhagen. We needed to return back to our room to prepare for the next day travel to the Faroe Islands.</div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-26365420121768479102018-06-07T08:44:00.001-07:002018-06-07T08:44:42.217-07:00Copenhagen...Happiness, one of the same.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The first day on a long journey is the toughest. Anticipation, apprehension, and general exhaustion from following rules and navigating with tight quarters always tests my patience. I never can wait to walk into our first nights hotel room and crash...this time for twelve hours. Oh what a relief it is.<br />
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I'm not cranky about travel in general, since 911 the airline industry following the foolish directives of our government has removed all the luster and the fun adventure of getting to your destination. I just don't want to remove my belt in front of 500 people. I do have trouble keeping my trousers up to an acceptable level without synching my belt. When that support is removed I'm destined to hike up my pants twice before scanning, once in the scanner, and another waiting for the conveyor to deliver all my valuables. This is a good run...if I am selected to get the pat down treatment...well I leave my pantalones to fate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pn_8NHrIx4q1Ak5JWWug94pMwa80vfLIv-B89y4kQxM9IEqxrezH1gEbXT4dCQdMd6zlVXmcg07-8E-pnZAvYtV-unPz1bq1zWWgkcNU1VmK6Jzbs0S4KEm6_fZ6bsXcJElLEOLfzv0/s1600/IMG_0575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pn_8NHrIx4q1Ak5JWWug94pMwa80vfLIv-B89y4kQxM9IEqxrezH1gEbXT4dCQdMd6zlVXmcg07-8E-pnZAvYtV-unPz1bq1zWWgkcNU1VmK6Jzbs0S4KEm6_fZ6bsXcJElLEOLfzv0/s400/IMG_0575.jpg" width="400" /></a>Enough of this airport silliness. After getting my energy recharged with a battle for breakfast also know as the breakfast buffet, we decided to take advantage of this perfect day to take a two mile walk which turned into ten, to the famous "Little Mermaid" bronze on the water's edge of Copenhagen's harbor. Our journey included slicing through the multiple squares linked by lanes peppered with fit Danish cyclists and cautious courtesy drivers of German automobiles. At 9 the stores hadn't quite opened but window displays were evidence enough we entered a wealthy area of gardens and vintage five story architecture. After getting a bit lost we soon entered the extreme tourist bus zone. The shuffling hoards were near ground zero of Copenhagen's Tourist Zone. It's very cute to see elderly adults clamoring down the rocks seeking to be very close to this sweet chick of the sea. Far East visitors branding selfie sticks like sabers fighting to get that bad image of their faces with Little Mermaid' After our thirty second visit with Den Lillie Havfrue, Sharon and I decided to visit the Denmark Museum of Design.<br />
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The museum encompasses all things of Danish design not excluding tooth brushes. I admit I'm a true sucker for Mid Century teakwood Danish furniture. Both Sharon and I believe these people have sat in style for centuries. It was a bit past noon when we found a sweet table in an open garden doorway. This allowed a heavenly breeze to occasionally drift in along with lines from actors rehearsing a play in the courtyard. We each ordered two small funny sandwiches crafted in a delightful danish design and complimented them with a Jacobson Ale.<br />
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Directions back to our hotel were a bit misguided but it didn't matter because every turn was an adventure. Soon we retreated to our hotel for a mid afternoon respite.<br />
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Beautiful walkways and cafes add to the visual enjoyment<br />
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The planetarium on the left.<br />
The space cadet above.<br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-89546434459126972582018-06-02T06:51:00.000-07:002018-06-02T06:51:12.606-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh Yea, We're Back</span></span><br />
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To escape our little village's most uncomfortable month we're skipping off to Scandinavia for five weeks. Countries to include Faroe Islands in the North Sea, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. These northerly enclaves are guaranteed to provide us the temp relief while Bisbee awaits its first 100 degree day to encourage the monsoon rains of summer.<br />
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In the meantime, Sharon and I will brave the wet cold like nomads seeking refuge of our desert's scorn.<br />
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Tuesday June 5th we depart leaving the 110 degree Phoenix in our contrails.<br />
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adios4now,<br />
Sharon and Curt <br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-62504467103180482592018-05-31T07:11:00.001-07:002018-06-02T06:34:42.608-07:00Safari at Kruger National Wildlife Preserve<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>ONWARD TO HIPPO HOLLOW</b></div>
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Patched up and feeling a bit better thanks to an evening of
musical toilet seats Chuck and I felt a bit more confident as we left the
mountain top Magoebaskloof Hotel. We were now on our way to the Hippo Hollow.
Yes this name conjures up images of over inflated wiener dogs dancing in tutu’s
and frilly umbrellas but it’s a very nice lodge that is one of many lodges
servicing the masses visiting Kruger National Park. On the way to the lodge we
experience a large elevation drop of 3000 ft. made up of winding twisting
narrow paved roads cut through the rolling hills but on the way we made stops
at three incredible view points. The first had us walk up a steep pathway to a
wide vista of the Lowveld. The sky wasn’t perfectly clear but that didn’t stop
seeing a distance of 50 miles of more. The next stop Bourkes Luck Potholes (not
named after the road nascence) was a nice stone pathway with a couple short
pedestrian bridges that took you to eroded sandstone canyons in round “pot
hole” formations with swirling water fed by a 100’ waterfall. Before the
waterfall was a series of cascading shorter falls and pools from the river
finding its way through the rolling hills of the valley. Lastly, the Rondavel view
site was a mountain range with three massive rock formations that fancied
itself like a traditional tribal<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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About 3PM we arrived at the Hippo Hollow lodge designed for
accommodating large bus loads of visitors to the Kruger National Park.
Fortunately Chuck and I and others were given two person cottages set into a
spacious semicircle layout with a pool 30 yards away. For a lodge, this place
had a nice bit of character with lush grounds next to a river housing hippos
that came up to the hotel and grazed on their lawn every evening. Caution,
these sausage boys are not cuddle animals. If cornered they will swiftly
attacked humans. </div>
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I haven’t mentioned too much about the food because most of which
is “buffet” food in a line of warming trays. I really don’t want to pan these
offerings but…let’s just say some of the selections are regional. If you are a
foodie, find another tour. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Once in Hazyview, Chuck, Ken Richmond, and I walked to a
nice local Italian restaurant I can’t recall the name but the owner was Johann
made a really fine pizza. This was a very pleasant change from the buffet.</div>
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In the evening the hotel put on it’s tribal dance show to
delight the motor coach crowd and I have to admit some of the dancing and
singing being a kin to Paul Simon’s Graceland, was pleasing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the show everyone lined up,
served themselves some local cuisine…as much as you want.</div>
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Before I headed back to my room, I was going to stop by bar
the for an evening cleansing as the Aussies describe it, when I happened to see
someone fall from the outdoor dining terrace 5’ high wall. The wall cordons off
the nightly hippo activity from the entertained diners. I started to assist in
the rescue but soon there were many on the hippo pitch to bring aid to this
woman. I found out shortly after the victim was Clare, a sweet lady from our
group that didn’t stop quick enough and stepped off the terraced dining area.
Fortunately she only received a large bruise on her hip and slightly twisted
ankle. But to everyone’s surprise Clare was a real trooper and continued to
ride pillion for the duration of their stay. Gary, Clare, and their son Josh
all came on the tour for a holiday. </div>
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With the singing, dancing, and Clare’s tumbling act over it
was time turn in for the evening. The morning rise will be early to begin the
Kruger Safari at 5AM</div>
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<b>TODAY WE’RE ON A SAFARI TO STAY</b></div>
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The sun still hadn’t risen when we all meet at the two 4X4
modified Nissan safari vehicles with rag tops and extra seating. The group
divided into two groups that helps cover a wider area to find . Breakfast bags
were handed out while we boarded the trucks. When we left Hippo Hollow it was
quiet. Within 20 minutes we arrived at an entrance to Kruger along with at
least a dozen others. Our driver and guide, Smiley reviewed the rules of being
on safari. These rules are rather simple no eating, no feeding the animals, no
yelling, whistling to attract their attention, keep all arms and bodies inside
the truck and use the toilet facilities before entering the park. Once done,
Smiley fired up the 4x4, drove through the gate and immediately alerted by one
of three communication devices, lions were on the road. Any previous plans or
notions were abandoned. He was determined to get us to the lions post haste. </div>
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Mostly the roads are paved and are shared by other tour
companies and if you wish you can take your private car in as well. Within five
minutes we see a group of cars parked every which way on and slightly off the
pavement. The 3 lions were lying very calmly on the left side. Though the
others left and others filtered in, Smiley provided an in depth commentary. As
he was speaking one lion crossed to the right side fixing his gaze on a mother
and baby giraffe off in the bushes. His gaze turned to an intense stare focused
on the baby. Suddenly the lion darted and made his move chasing his prey back
across the road but both giraffes escaped the charge. The lion gave up within
30 seconds. A zebra standing in the bush next to the road then became the
lion’s next prey. Again the lion organized himself and launched another attack
this time at the zebra. The zebra darted off as the lion took a wide swipe at
the zebra’s left hindquarter simultaneously delivering a hoof to the jaw of the
lion defeating the attempt once again. Shortly after the lion’s action, a large
group of wild dogs trotted down the road towards our vehicle. These colorful
dogs, having no relation to our domestic dogs, were totally unbothered by our
presence.</div>
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Smiley once again received communication Rhinos were off to
the side of the road a short distance away. Once more we drove up to a group of
other vehicles with all cameras fixed on one black and one white Rhino to the
right of the roadway. The chattering of cameras didn’t both the animals grazing
as they slowly paralleling the tarmac. </div>
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After these events, other animals such as elephants and more
giraffes were sighted as the sun rose. It seemed as the sky lightened the
animals disappeared into the grass. Soon we returned to the park’s head
quarters to consume our bag breakfast. After eating we made our way back to
lodge to relax for the remainder of the day.</div>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-59188387674082555462017-03-28T01:49:00.001-07:002017-03-28T01:50:34.773-07:00Flats, Cops, and Fun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>WELCOMING COFFEE BAY</b></div>
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The thick tropical vegetation dotted with palm trees, a one
kilometer beach with a gentle hill to climb at the end, was just the setting we
all needed after a day of rain and wind. The Ocean View Hotel lives up to its
name and being the only real inn on the beach, made it that much special. </div>
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The hotel itself seems to carry you back to the days of out
of the way quaint respites where the entire restaurant and housekeeping staff
greets you and all share in carrying your luggage to your room.</div>
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Rumbling of the motorbikes engines through the threshold to
the dirt parking area silenced one by one and the riders quickly retired to
their rooms to remove the wet riding gear in exchange for comfort clothing to
meet at the bar to review the day’s events. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOcv7qgAL-8k4yBcd4AbLjj9jt3h1HmEHBYrfN_YxMMfoTEnWQH8gtNNlOHjteVklVGMrW83BiZmmbYEnxST2x-XRD2NEjATnwm5J3-J4xXitL_sgaIqrnzUUBX2y1Mfkzv-e8dHdhHs/s1600/P1080586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOcv7qgAL-8k4yBcd4AbLjj9jt3h1HmEHBYrfN_YxMMfoTEnWQH8gtNNlOHjteVklVGMrW83BiZmmbYEnxST2x-XRD2NEjATnwm5J3-J4xXitL_sgaIqrnzUUBX2y1Mfkzv-e8dHdhHs/s320/P1080586.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee Bay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Here we stay for two nights allowing us time to stroll along
the clean hard pack sand, climb rocks jetting out towards crashing surf, and
taking the low risk challenge to hike up the for a further view of the “Wild
Coastline”. This downshift from 140 KPH to a slow walk was just what I needed
to restore my mind and body. The hotel was the only restaurant within miles so
we indulged into the buffet of local fish and chicken. The South African wine
made everything taste that much better. A big surprise was the pineapple upside
down cake…my all time favorite. Soon it was time to retire to rooms to prepare
for another 450 km day.</div>
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<b>STARTING AND STOPPING </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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I caught a beautiful sunrise while getting ready for another morning buffet breakfast. toted our bags to the support van, got a
briefing on the day’s ride, geared up, mounted up and….whoaaaaa. As I backed my
bike up to get a position in the line up, Darryl looked at me strangely. I’m
sensitive to those type of looks and sensed something was wrong. He sauntered
towards me focusing on my bike and announced “You av a flat”. I rotated my
head focusing on my rear tire and sure enough the tire was very low…not flat
but not really ride able. This meant I had to switch bikes because the BMW 800
GS has tubes requiring breaking down the wheel that takes too much time. </div>
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<br /></div>
After unloading the spare BMW 700 GS from the trailer hauled
by the support van, one of the staff gave the 700 a quick wash and the group
was now on their way. Chuck had earlier rode up ahead to stage a photo of all
the riders in a long line rising<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>on the winding road out of the beach. He suspected something was a rye
but finally the group roared up the road while Chuck and Dave’s cameras fired
away.
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<br /></div>
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I was getting used to this new alternate bike and discovered
it handled better than the old one and had about the same amount of throttle power
so I was pretty content flying through the countryside usually staying within
eyeshot of the rest of the group. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHbdAY3HilwoTtZM-Yt1Y_QvQosYv55B35nksY11AIbfOTPDFn_lFRHokpH4rP2xEsRhbmMn2PW43xL0NwshUVdNhYppELebcZAAfWsKbH9v8sw9NH28EY6gtZwA7a38GyazzvzqxhKE/s1600/FullSizeRender-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHbdAY3HilwoTtZM-Yt1Y_QvQosYv55B35nksY11AIbfOTPDFn_lFRHokpH4rP2xEsRhbmMn2PW43xL0NwshUVdNhYppELebcZAAfWsKbH9v8sw9NH28EY6gtZwA7a38GyazzvzqxhKE/s320/FullSizeRender-33.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port Alfred </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The group got a little ahead because I was stopped a few
times by “robots”, South African term for stop lights, leaving me and Chuck a
short distance behind the main group as we exited from a small town. I began to
accelerate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when up ahead a traffic
policeman stood in the middle of the road waving a miniaturized stop sign
signaling me to pull over to the left. Chuck rode by but pulled over a bit
further down the road. I didn’t think I was speeding, but none the less, I was
told to present my operators license, vehicle registration, and passport.
Fortunately I had all my papers in order. The questioning began…was I part of
the group earlier that blew by him? “maybe”…where did I come from, “America…no
no Pretoria..no?...Coffee Bay”….where am I going?....ah,ah,…”It starts with an
“A”…The officer began naming locations…none sounded right until he said Alfred.
“Yes I believe that’s it…Port Alfred!” He smiled, gave me back my papers, I shook his hand, fired up
the bike and joined Chuck up the road. I’m certain the traffic cop <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>didn’t believe the bloody Yank hadn’t
any idea where he was going. Now I was free to motor on to my destination of
“Port Alfred”</div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvrLTpQpLzNJ4lSnZcJSje3MFZgEiOHIv2V6pw264o9atIcjxF9fzzXXKdWFNRQ1cgH2MC1pjH8bkVMF8iTE7A2UVBp_E-sZEe13f_5AV9k52EcMBtFMJX9sj08bemqvg7J4yWozniOE/s1600/IMG_5083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvrLTpQpLzNJ4lSnZcJSje3MFZgEiOHIv2V6pw264o9atIcjxF9fzzXXKdWFNRQ1cgH2MC1pjH8bkVMF8iTE7A2UVBp_E-sZEe13f_5AV9k52EcMBtFMJX9sj08bemqvg7J4yWozniOE/s320/IMG_5083.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dunes at Port Alfred</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Up ahead the multiple flashing lights on the left side of
the road signaled us we have caught up with group. Usually the delay was a
couple minutes but this time some were curious why the wait was longer. I
shared my story then we all moved on through the winding roadways, over the
Port Alfred Bridge, up a step hill, a quick right into a small alleyway into
the back of the quaint Links Coastal Inn. Once everyone dismounted, two
welcoming women gave out our room assignments. Grabbing our bags from Julian,
we retired to our room or should I say rooms. We each had our own room with a
common area living room and kitchen dividing us. This was a very nice surprise.
We quickly got settled and took a couple kilometer hike down to the beach where
we were told large sand dunes lined the ocean edge. It reminded me of our Cape
Hatteras. The long shadows of the late afternoon made a dramatic settling to
snap some photos but dinner time was arriving soon. This meal was not to be
missed because the hotel restaurant was known for it’s cuisine and tonight the
chef prepared an African meat called Kudo. This animal is similar to our
American deer. After a quick shower removing 450 KM of road dirt and a couple
of drinks up in the crows nest like pub over looking the town, we wound our way
down the stairs to the dining room for the feast. The Kudo was very rich,
flavorful and filling. The dinner along with the days ride, left everyone
feeling like they couldn’t get to the bed quick enough. </div>
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The day wrap up was a flat plus a traffic pull over verses nice room, great dinner (and breakfast), and beautiful beach...I'm still having a great time. </div>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-89361034822537057102017-03-24T12:35:00.001-07:002017-03-24T12:35:44.719-07:00Wet & Wild<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>GETTING HIP…O</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxJ3Tj_fhvW7KcPs8jo1RfrHD_ogNzHe783BTUGb9hfiyn6CIdsSwyPfj-kOQ5FRWW-UdnxVNyaDcPo135SwGLTAVuxpJjRNLXv1TDR_ZVusUUZLebyBL71r32UyCaiVb7oHWAbEF5cQ/s1600/P1080511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxJ3Tj_fhvW7KcPs8jo1RfrHD_ogNzHe783BTUGb9hfiyn6CIdsSwyPfj-kOQ5FRWW-UdnxVNyaDcPo135SwGLTAVuxpJjRNLXv1TDR_ZVusUUZLebyBL71r32UyCaiVb7oHWAbEF5cQ/s320/P1080511.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Kruger National Park afforded us to see 4 of the big five
game animals though saying we saw a Hippopotamus was stretching it. We viewed
the ears and snout of such a beast from 75 yards away. Not exacting a great
sighting. I did see one come up on the lawn at Hippo Hollow Lodge but that’s
almost a zoo like setting. This afternoon we walked across town to the docks in
St Lucia to board a specialized hippo boat to really get a close up of this
over inflated animal. Within minutes of arrival our group were off on a hippo
hunt. I’m usually skeptical about such boastful adventure cruises but this one
delivered in spades. At first we saw a few bobbing about near the tall reeds.
The boat passed under a bridge and soon at least ten were frolicking about
thrilling the passengers by widely opening their mouths. The sun began to duck
close to the horizon as the boat docked and all of us retreated to our hotel. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7yMq4azKaaImYRj_6H1FIS3uqvdbtgvG_UrcQtLX-TF9xDfM4QkX4qnIN8i8b7YkxCu-iAB1jc9TK-qtGWjWmsJv-_A_iWJ9BEZL3g-UfhnXDedhf6i9EqiaOcmO0KUZ8u8izVj_ZH0/s1600/P1080518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7yMq4azKaaImYRj_6H1FIS3uqvdbtgvG_UrcQtLX-TF9xDfM4QkX4qnIN8i8b7YkxCu-iAB1jc9TK-qtGWjWmsJv-_A_iWJ9BEZL3g-UfhnXDedhf6i9EqiaOcmO0KUZ8u8izVj_ZH0/s320/P1080518.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
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<b>DAY 8 EQUALS 18<sup>TH</sup></b></div>
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Almost 400 kilometers of winding undulating roads ushered us
onto a dirt road leading us to the Oribi Gorge Hotel. This adventure driven
refuge is a haven for adrenaline junkies. This gorge is known for the longest
rope swing into the gorge. We arrived a bit too late to take advantage of this
great opportunity. Instead we opted to cross the canyon by swinging footbridge.
The swinging and bouncing of this bridge was good enough for me. The weather
threatened us all day with wind a light sprinkles of rain. Later that evening
rain in earnest began to fall and when the next morning arrived I knew it was
going to be a very wet day ride to the coastal town of Coffee Bay. Riding these
potholed strewn narrow roads are somewhat challenging to begin with let alone
added pouring rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The big risk
is passing “Abnormal” trucks laden with cargo. The general sense of road
courtesy among South African drivers make it tempting to take a chance and pass
where I normally wouldn’t even consider it. Late morning we dropped down out of
the gorge area taking the switch backs with relative caution. Fog began to mix
with rain making visibility through my faceshield extremely difficult. I came
up on a tanker truck slowly grinding up a hill. The rider in front of me took a
chance and made the pass. Now it was my turn to overtake the truck which
splashed residue from its churning tires onto my helmet. The lack of
ventilation inside my helmet created fog on the inside as well as the out. I
rhythmically used my clutch glove as a wiper but I couldn’t keep up with the quantity
rain. I moved to the right riding the center line trying to see an opening from
the oncoming traffic. Finally it appeared there was a small opening. I down
shifted and twisted the throttle making a full commitment to pass. I was
halfway through the move when a bend in the road approached along with a truck
making its way around the corner. With my limited vision I got as far as the
door on the tanker, moved within inches of the grinding front tire when the
large truck going in the opposite direction sandwiched me between 10 tons of
steel. I saw the front bumper of the tanker truck next to my hip when I shifted
to 4<sup>th</sup> and sped away. An hour later the rain stopped and the sun lit
my way to Coffee Bay. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJvpq7vNWrPS9-BJ61wCucH9eao_m8LYaefrzcU_H9rE82jeMYtlYbsFGFBXObuPveR85pUTKFQPHMVdWFupM7jfxFbL8bDjbLhfhgO12jAf6C2RqoEfu-y9B2q3clYFKgES2rX-YBlM/s1600/P1080564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJvpq7vNWrPS9-BJ61wCucH9eao_m8LYaefrzcU_H9rE82jeMYtlYbsFGFBXObuPveR85pUTKFQPHMVdWFupM7jfxFbL8bDjbLhfhgO12jAf6C2RqoEfu-y9B2q3clYFKgES2rX-YBlM/s320/P1080564.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-7366261644878161362017-03-20T13:37:00.000-07:002017-03-20T13:37:29.686-07:00Wild Animals & More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>ONWARD TO HIPPO HOLLOW</b></div>
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Patched up and feeling a bit better thanks to an evening of
musical toilet seat Chuck and I felt a bit more confident as we left the
mountain top Magoebaskloof Hotel. As this dilemma unfolded it was discovered <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">suffered from this ailment. Now we're</span>
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{page:Secti </style><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>now on our way to the Hippo Hollow.
Yes this name conjures up images of over inflated wiener dogs dancing in tutu’s
and frilly umbrellas but it’s a very nice lodge that is one of many lodges
servicing the masses visiting Kruger National Park. On the way to the lodge we
experience a large elevation drop of 3000 ft. made up of winding twisting
narrow paved roads cut through the rolling hills but on the way we made stops
at three incredible view points. The first had us walk up a steep pathway to a
wide vista of the Lowveld. The sky wasn’t perfectly clear but that didn’t stop
seeing a distance of 50 miles of more. The next stop Bourkes Luck Potholes (not
named after the road nascence) was a nice stone pathway with a couple short
pedestrian bridges that took you to eroded sandstone canyons in round “pot
hole” formations with swirling water fed by a 100’ waterfall. Before the
waterfall was a series of cascading shorter falls and pools from the river
finding its way through the rolling hills of the valley. Lastly, the Rondavel view
site was a mountain range with three massive rock formations that fancied
itself like a traditional tribal<br />
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About 3PM we arrived at the Hippo Hollow lodge designed for
accommodating large bus loads of visitors to the Kruger National Park.
Fortunately Chuck and I and others were given two person cottages set into a
spacious semicircle layout with a pool 30 yards away. For a lodge, this place
had a nice bit of character with lush grounds next to a river housing hippos
that came up to the hotel and grazed on their lawn every evening. Caution,
these sausage boys are not cuddle animals. If cornered they will swiftly
attacked humans. </div>
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I haven’t mentioned too much about the food because most of which
is “buffet” food in a line of warming trays. I really don’t want to pan these
offerings but…let’s just say some of the selections are regional. If you are a
foodie, find another tour. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Once in Hazyview, Chuck, Ken Richmond, and I walked to a
nice local Italian restaurant I can’t recall the name but the owner was Johann
made a really fine pizza. This was a very pleasant change from the buffet.</div>
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In the evening the hotel put on it’s tribal dance show to
delight the motor coach crowd and I have to admit some of the dancing and
singing being a kin to Paul Simon’s Graceland, was pleasing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the show everyone lined up,
served themselves some local cuisine…as much as you want.</div>
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Before I headed back to my room, I was going to stop by bar
the for an evening cleansing as the Aussies describe it, when I happened to see
someone fall from the outdoor dining terrace 5’ high wall. The wall cordons off
the nightly hippo activity from the entertained diners. I started to assist in
the rescue but soon there were many on the hippo pitch to bring aid to this
woman. I found out shortly after the victim was Clare, a sweet lady from our
group that didn’t stop quick enough and stepped off the terraced dining area.
Fortunately she only received a large bruise on her hip and slightly twisted
ankle. But to everyone’s surprise Clare was a real trooper and continued to
ride pillion for the duration of their stay. Gary, Clare, and their son Josh
all came on the tour for a holiday. </div>
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With the singing, dancing, and Clare’s tumbling act over it
was time turn in for the evening. The morning rise will be early to begin the
Kruger Safari at 5AM</div>
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<b>TODAY WE’RE ON A SAFARI TO STAY</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">looking for breakfast</td></tr>
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The sun still hadn’t risen when we all meet at the two 4X4
modified Nissan safari vehicles with rag tops and extra seating. The group
divided into two groups that helps cover a wider area to find . Breakfast bags
were handed out while we boarded the trucks. When we left Hippo Hollow it was
quiet. Within 20 minutes we arrived at an entrance to Kruger along with at
least a dozen others. Our driver and guide, Smiley reviewed the rules of being
on safari. These rules are rather simple no eating, no feeding the animals, no
yelling, whistling to attract their attention, keep all arms and bodies inside
the truck and use the toilet facilities before entering the park. Once done,
Smiley fired up the 4x4, drove through the gate and immediately alerted by one
of three communication devices, lions were on the road. Any previous plans or
notions were abandoned. He was determined to get us to the lions post haste. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbP8igpJjL_13dso4NVkkMxSVM-4oQ0FJk7HvRvCYWt6IjhEKKj4476bjAmYEKLMOnU2qF1SxhqlNNmSbKKIYOuolBx-0YSN0Dm2NB90648M-DQIe2dihS-6t_j_bcIpisLRhoSWKYi9o/s1600/P1080113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbP8igpJjL_13dso4NVkkMxSVM-4oQ0FJk7HvRvCYWt6IjhEKKj4476bjAmYEKLMOnU2qF1SxhqlNNmSbKKIYOuolBx-0YSN0Dm2NB90648M-DQIe2dihS-6t_j_bcIpisLRhoSWKYi9o/s1600/P1080113.jpg" width="320" /></a>Mostly the roads are paved and are shared by other tour
companies and if you wish you can take your private car in as well. Within five
minutes we see a group of cars parked every which way on and slightly off the
pavement. The 3 lions were lying very calmly on the left side. Though the
others left and others filtered in, Smiley provided an in depth commentary. As
he was speaking one lion crossed to the right side fixing his gaze on a mother
and baby giraffe off in the bushes. His gaze turned to an intense stare focused
on the baby. Suddenly the lion darted and made his move chasing his prey back
across the road but both giraffes escaped the charge. The lion gave up within
30 seconds. A zebra standing in the bush next to the road then became the
lion’s next prey. Again the lion organized himself and launched another attack
this time at the zebra. The zebra darted off as the lion took a wide swipe at
the zebra’s left hindquarter simultaneously delivering a hoof to the jaw of the
lion defeating the attempt once again. Shortly after the lion’s action, a large
group of wild dogs trotted down the road towards our vehicle. These colorful
dogs, having no relation to our domestic dogs, were totally unbothered by our
presence.</div>
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Smiley once again received communication Rhinos were off to
the side of the road a short distance away. Once more we drove up to a group of
other vehicles with all cameras fixed on one black and one white Rhino to the
right of the roadway. The chattering of cameras didn’t both the animals grazing
as they slowly paralleling the tarmac. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYw9Fe6lEMQpkFnFUNxwVKDBDOmomyzsAJcT0iMG8hixJZJQMlm6j4znxsb-5pfd-RTxlZYpYE_zhch2CIvu1raj8Puj36Joj8tOraVl_50UzqJncPPtH__BuK9vNOIEKiV0PybXGqYyk/s1600/P1080295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYw9Fe6lEMQpkFnFUNxwVKDBDOmomyzsAJcT0iMG8hixJZJQMlm6j4znxsb-5pfd-RTxlZYpYE_zhch2CIvu1raj8Puj36Joj8tOraVl_50UzqJncPPtH__BuK9vNOIEKiV0PybXGqYyk/s320/P1080295.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great hair piece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After these events, other animals such as elephants and more
giraffes were sighted as the sun rose. It seemed as the sky lightened the
animals disappeared into the grass. Soon we returned to the park’s head
quarters to consume our bag breakfast. After eating we made our way back to
lodge to relax for the remainder of the day.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdW7lVBVRuNYLYAOK5VhFGL18YY-IDpmzE2FeErVe2PniGc9vD0W9B7G6caFeFrRskjXLDtCa2PWC8XWFPOQb_0AR_IfP3dvu5egBlSp-SzrfIuJFV2WJfriRK0qBexGLZUUilcR2QbXQ/s1600/P1080104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdW7lVBVRuNYLYAOK5VhFGL18YY-IDpmzE2FeErVe2PniGc9vD0W9B7G6caFeFrRskjXLDtCa2PWC8XWFPOQb_0AR_IfP3dvu5egBlSp-SzrfIuJFV2WJfriRK0qBexGLZUUilcR2QbXQ/s320/P1080104.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiley's commentary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwA5R1M779wyaaqQJEb0YxR6fflfx4NC78DX9ku47D06ASTA2J3H89WWVjhzhs-ADFDOvmZQM0yVYGHTG3lYpdw_klEk9LN5UgFWJEz9LRBlMtkeywB1xJ-1wXYkaqHYBbL0idbYjCM0/s1600/P1080109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwA5R1M779wyaaqQJEb0YxR6fflfx4NC78DX9ku47D06ASTA2J3H89WWVjhzhs-ADFDOvmZQM0yVYGHTG3lYpdw_klEk9LN5UgFWJEz9LRBlMtkeywB1xJ-1wXYkaqHYBbL0idbYjCM0/s320/P1080109.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">second breakfast choice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1SI1XYPMkSBj-wu8XKdXXpQcQkJzmjkshKAw7W0ObtLbQuEFC3lZUhdu1Kl6f7leeRMqrv8bPSqi_TB5D2V_I-CxcpsI73HcFn8N5tfIOw54ka87z1L6l9t1j8cNfqgRBKIJukysqcg/s1600/P1080135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1SI1XYPMkSBj-wu8XKdXXpQcQkJzmjkshKAw7W0ObtLbQuEFC3lZUhdu1Kl6f7leeRMqrv8bPSqi_TB5D2V_I-CxcpsI73HcFn8N5tfIOw54ka87z1L6l9t1j8cNfqgRBKIJukysqcg/s320/P1080135.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Dogs and Englishmen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAc9AZzHyP4aK0vcuK-v8yMqF8U2T6RABieYui3HFB8_kv5DxGtbTHI2OBdVQvcLsEAe0eMXBfYIkevFX0CgflEWwzb7z79XvPSkFotxl5p2MzKe3GIVDa_Hz_FO_ShSD-ws-RoRUC_0/s1600/P1080197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAc9AZzHyP4aK0vcuK-v8yMqF8U2T6RABieYui3HFB8_kv5DxGtbTHI2OBdVQvcLsEAe0eMXBfYIkevFX0CgflEWwzb7z79XvPSkFotxl5p2MzKe3GIVDa_Hz_FO_ShSD-ws-RoRUC_0/s320/P1080197.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-7922241742618264982017-03-17T13:32:00.000-07:002017-03-17T13:32:09.270-07:00Rough Start<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My disposition was rigid when I made my first turn onto the
tarmac of South Africa. The unfamiliarity of my new BMW 800 GS motorcycle
coupled with driving on the opposite side of the road and the general cultural
road rules sent me into a bit of internal panic. The first destination was the
Union Buildings (like our capital) that overlook all of Pretoria. The very
prominent 14 meter tall bronze statue of former South African Leader Nelson
Mandela with arms stretched out widely much like his person of years past. Now
the citizens complain openly about the corruption of the current leadership.
Sounds familiar?</div>
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We then worked our way downhill winding through the
neighborhoods and then onto a motorway towards our first evenings
accommodation just a short ride away. </div>
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Lunch time has us parking our bikes on the side of a rough looking
building<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was our introduction to
the township tavern in Mandela Village. These settlements sprung up since the
early 1990’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just before the
independence from 30 years of Apartheid. Now group of 15 sit at a long table in a cool
darkened dining area. Today’s local cuisine buffet style offering is explained
by our<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>support van driver, the
rough and tough looking Julian, that sports a friendly gentle smile. The sauces
tasted spicy and the meat tender. I’m not furnishing much more info because
I’ll explain later.</div>
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At the end of the first day we had the option to ride bikes
in lieu of a sitting in truck to take a short two hour Safari. Sama Motorcycle Tours is
the only sanctioned company permitted to run small groups of motorcycles on a
photo safari through the Dinokeng Game Reserve. Half our group, including
myself chose to tour along the sandy dusty small winding roads to look for
animals in the tall grass. This makes viewing a little edgy because you sit
much lower than the larger 4 x 4 tour coaches. We viewed zebra, wildebeest, impala,
and ostrich before returning to the Kawlata Lodge and treated ourselves in a
local brew followed by a buffet dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was exhausted both physically and mentally forcing me turn in early to
restore some energy for 300km ride the next day. </div>
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T<b>HE COMMON DENOMENATIOR </b></div>
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Health is an important topic among strangers grouped
together. It’s amazing how close you can get in such a brief period of time
when illness strikes. The phenomena rang true of our group of 5 Aussies, 4
Brits, one Canadian, and 4 yanks. </div>
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March 12<sup>th</sup> will go down as not one of Curt’s best
days but hey when you’re on tour in an exotic country it can’t be that bad….or
can it? </div>
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The routine of this trip is to wake up at the proper time to
get to enjoy a buffet breakfast at 7AM, have your cases delivered to the
support vehicle no later than 7:45 and be ready for <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the day’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>briefing by 8AM. Shortly after we fire up the engines and
keep up with Darryl our leader if you can. To be fair, others want the thrill of
an accelerated pace while Chuck and I choose to make our own more casual
pace…within reason. </div>
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Whining of starters and the blasting popping sounds of
motorcycle engines signal our departure from the Kwalata Lodge. Not long after
leaving the lodge we stop at a Shell petrol station to fuel the bikes and use
the toilet facilities. While at the station I began to experience unrest in the
lower regions of my body. While no reaction occurred at the station I began to
think what if an explosion was in the offing and if so, what is my emergency
plan...on a motorcycle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaving
the station I was riding directly in back of Darryl the group leader and owner of SAMA as we entered on the freeway, which put
me in position to pull over when we exited the freeway to signal others behind of an upcoming turn.. As I sat off to the left side of the road with my blinker on and
using my arm to catch the attention of the others, my stomach began it’s
revolution. I was to wait at my position until the last rider known as the
sweeper rode up. All the riders seemed to had passed so I rode down the exit
ramp to join the others when I realized the sweeper, Chuck, hadn’t rode up.
Panic struck as Darryl looked back at me with a concerned expression. I fucked
up….oh shit, Chuck may not see us and ride past on the upper freeway.
Fortunately Chuck saw me exit and rode down the ramp behind me. Whew , the end
result was good but I’ll never let that happen again. </div>
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The group took off and I trailed near the rear feeling a bit
stupid <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>yet more importantly I felt
a bit shaky . Riding a few more hours the couple riding just in front of me
pulled off to the left into a small clearing in the forest. The driver, Grant,
quickly jumped off his bike, removed his helmet and shuffled to the bush edge,
bent over, and lost his lunch. Paralyzed in a jackknife position his wife,
Clare told me he had been fighting off his upset feeling for an hour. I
reassured her that I too had the same feeling and that I suspect we had a nasty
case of salmonella poisoning from breakfast. We were 15 minutes from the hotel
so he toughed it out and controlled myself until we pulled into the lodge. Once
at the Mogoefaskloof lodge, we all felt a bit better knowing facilities were
close at hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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But my story gets better. I was told about the possibility
of a Canopy Tour (aka; Zip Line) crossing the steep canyons in the
Magoebaskloof mountains. So I signed up even knowing that I must exercise
control and ignore my physical discomfort. A half dozen of us loaded into the
support van and drove to the zip line site. We were a bit late but the team of
assistants got us all into our harnesses and briefly went over the instructions
on how to clip into the cable and brake. Two of the assistants traveled with us
as we hiked down a narrow trail into the canyon. I’ve done zip lines before and
this was a bit cruder that the one in Colorado that Sharon and I took a few
years ago. These canyons are much deeper and severe. The one tech went across
first while the other hooked us in, gave final instructions and sent us down
the line. Each time special instructions were given as to when to brake so you
reach the other side or don’t go too fast into the eleven landing areas. On
about number 4 my tech hooked me in and said “Don’t Brake”. I took him
literally and took off. This was a short run into heavily forested landing platform
and when I got into the trees the landing deck went by and I went into the rock
wall beyond it immediately stopping my progress. I was stunned. All I could
think was “Don’t Brake”. He forgot to say until you come 4 meters to the end
then brake. I ended up with a pretty good laceration next to my left eye and a
slightly lighter cut on my forehead and on my upper cheek. First aid was
immediately given, a plaster applied, and I continued much more
cautiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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To summarize my March 12<sup>th</sup>….I screwed up
signaling, I got a dandy case of diarrhea, and I smashed my face into a rock
wall. Not bad for day two. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I
having fun yet? You bet!</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3dVwOQmQhS2qQ8YRKTCfRPLlEISpcqz5JZCccUDGyenMoSLk9svyf2Czj_lh1bkJYlogk0-Z7rkduAn0F33PLVHZYzHboSP-D2ltJ_FPLtMAUmS99HzuFqSMIqRBO0hwTxvuZU8FPvE/s1600/P1070842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3dVwOQmQhS2qQ8YRKTCfRPLlEISpcqz5JZCccUDGyenMoSLk9svyf2Czj_lh1bkJYlogk0-Z7rkduAn0F33PLVHZYzHboSP-D2ltJ_FPLtMAUmS99HzuFqSMIqRBO0hwTxvuZU8FPvE/s320/P1070842.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">after getting first aid on my left eye</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYiRRBuVAlZx8Wx0RDC1r69N1wLF9A7U1Jw02bOOi2FHzM9dV-m4t7W4i9vKtK8sXri9HJZNaw-LV6lCSoaw_YhPo0kxoxOYbUNQAmsRu4qCllYNxXynqyl_sc1LXZVjrIjptl2aEbxg/s1600/P1070921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYiRRBuVAlZx8Wx0RDC1r69N1wLF9A7U1Jw02bOOi2FHzM9dV-m4t7W4i9vKtK8sXri9HJZNaw-LV6lCSoaw_YhPo0kxoxOYbUNQAmsRu4qCllYNxXynqyl_sc1LXZVjrIjptl2aEbxg/s320/P1070921.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">being more cautious soaring above a waterfall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-10749997082153834262017-03-09T00:42:00.000-08:002017-03-09T00:42:10.709-08:00End of Africa in 26 hours<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last Summer my buddy Chuck Feil, called me to announce he had won a motorcycle tour from the BMW meet in New York. He fired off the details quickly basically inviting me to join him in March of 2017 to ride motorcycles for 17 days across South Africa. It sounded wild enough to perk my interest so I agreed to accompany him. Before I knew it he and I were booking flights to Johannesburg and even sooner it seemed, we landed after 26 hours and was being driven to Pretoria where the tour will commence in two days. Our flight route took us from Tucson to LA, then non stop to Amsterdam. Then we walked rapidly across the entire terminal while our flight to Johannesburg was boarding. The timing you could say was perfect with only a few minutes to spare. <br />
<br />
For now we are dealing with time change and jet lag but soon the tour will begin when our BMW steeds will be issued to us and the adventure will begin. Roughly speaking the ride will begin in Pretoria motoring east towards the Kruger Wildlife Preserve, thread our way through the country of Swaziland, and then follow the coast west to Cape Town. In the following days I will report to you the road conditions, passing villages, food and drink of the journey. The current down time also allows us to check all our equipment and make certain we have everything we need while we're in this big city.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSWg_g28wXNpiK2-iq5E7IBOTl485PvBcjePJW6IVlfwI1sdJCcHQbbt6E9rtcIidr1fBeQh4v04HXND2_QGAuufUb7LwjXs97b-f-HvisaQoa2z_98QkWTwYpFoZNc2C3fMyBSvSMpI/s1600/IMG_4895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSWg_g28wXNpiK2-iq5E7IBOTl485PvBcjePJW6IVlfwI1sdJCcHQbbt6E9rtcIidr1fBeQh4v04HXND2_QGAuufUb7LwjXs97b-f-HvisaQoa2z_98QkWTwYpFoZNc2C3fMyBSvSMpI/s320/IMG_4895.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Our comfy KLM bird in Los Angeles.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBHZJ4J8KsEmToKFlYbWYXgdCks1cNlF0vZnViCJ2byz5QeE91W6vyrJtIDxoxFABrEl6qEwPV5UaqistQe_ximna7hKphrQZWTRISm2Cbb8Zl08fwRwRXN55aFwc7RjHGKwy4uL25m0E/s1600/IMG_4919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBHZJ4J8KsEmToKFlYbWYXgdCks1cNlF0vZnViCJ2byz5QeE91W6vyrJtIDxoxFABrEl6qEwPV5UaqistQe_ximna7hKphrQZWTRISm2Cbb8Zl08fwRwRXN55aFwc7RjHGKwy4uL25m0E/s320/IMG_4919.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
A foot bridge spanning roadway connecting malls<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDflJxmyKqyQPekE3QWXwUtYfGMc116Lt7apiYY8II_i69HwTXTiRQM6VBt3MAhWIkuwhyphenhyphenzsm2tTAIk4Of251TZshb5IA9yE1NNIrPcaAP6MyECJK19hshvAcMU3k3jnjJW_b5Ev7pX0/s1600/IMG_4921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDflJxmyKqyQPekE3QWXwUtYfGMc116Lt7apiYY8II_i69HwTXTiRQM6VBt3MAhWIkuwhyphenhyphenzsm2tTAIk4Of251TZshb5IA9yE1NNIrPcaAP6MyECJK19hshvAcMU3k3jnjJW_b5Ev7pX0/s320/IMG_4921.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Chuck, Sergio, Ken, Dave and myself at breakfast<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCCqtqoAcb4d33Fyc2eafyWTBnXXodiinFJNj0L4LbCRk8G3ntlQK1zyAvvWx-7WRBJUJ0H_z1i9F59X0LdJLP31QNu8lsSwr-nRtF1FyzWs2nSjVKqzzgsCJGVbGfywqSI-5sKvKnRw/s1600/IMG_4924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCCqtqoAcb4d33Fyc2eafyWTBnXXodiinFJNj0L4LbCRk8G3ntlQK1zyAvvWx-7WRBJUJ0H_z1i9F59X0LdJLP31QNu8lsSwr-nRtF1FyzWs2nSjVKqzzgsCJGVbGfywqSI-5sKvKnRw/s320/IMG_4924.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Hanging with some new friends at a safari shop<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dRXTync3kbPyIQra0zecPqNeEBi4nZunfGWP35Ax4OQxVCXNXFdfmZrElPZXfzkkys0jjsQp9B0PCi0EySGMdJSCCA5Uy0Ef3K3hlWyt_aTVa55qBSM1Kp6SuDSaC7d296X0qJT9Clk/s1600/IMG_4925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dRXTync3kbPyIQra0zecPqNeEBi4nZunfGWP35Ax4OQxVCXNXFdfmZrElPZXfzkkys0jjsQp9B0PCi0EySGMdJSCCA5Uy0Ef3K3hlWyt_aTVa55qBSM1Kp6SuDSaC7d296X0qJT9Clk/s320/IMG_4925.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Our hotel in Pretoria<br />
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Stay tuned for the next couple days the tour will begin and so will the stories...this post is like a test so if you have trouble viewing this let me know. Thanks, Curt</div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-27738987543538937162013-06-08T16:46:00.002-07:002013-06-09T08:56:19.656-07:00America Summarized<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPP0vrX-HHGwZHqAzli_BmqY_Q_D0kgsumUZbeusoVpDjjl8x0a1bwkwWTVaE-JB9zL3FICZx9wwGEJ0MEvO4lxRUryP1X__Rda4xpbNIuHC_1Ku2BvlKlTQvhMLD-Xgk78lb-R3h5mE/s1600/curt+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPP0vrX-HHGwZHqAzli_BmqY_Q_D0kgsumUZbeusoVpDjjl8x0a1bwkwWTVaE-JB9zL3FICZx9wwGEJ0MEvO4lxRUryP1X__Rda4xpbNIuHC_1Ku2BvlKlTQvhMLD-Xgk78lb-R3h5mE/s200/curt+1.jpg" width="133" /></a>Some simple observations are in order to summarize my month long exploration of our United States of America. As mentioned before in one of my segments, I didn't quite know what I was looking for when I set out in early May. Secretly I wanted to test my mind as to how the images in my memory compared to as they really are or were, albeit any changes or total demolition of fifty two year old childhood memories tucked away in my brain never updated or corrected. I relied only on my thoughts and intuition when I was 9 years old.<br />
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I could easily say my 20 minutes of conversation and stories in the garden with farmer Bill Thompson was worth the 30 days, 324 gallons of fuel and 6000 miles of driving in itself. The stories were tangible to me because they were based on my people, my kin. The feeling I had driving away seeing those smiles reflecting from my rear view mirror were too sweet to properly describe, especially since our meeting was pure happenstance. It just doesn't get any better in life. <br />
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All the time I was gone I never got into a fight, didn't lose anything, never felt like anyone cheated me, no road rage, never saw a gun (except stickers of rifles in shape of a cross on the back of a pickup in Texas) and no one yelled at me except Minnie, my GPS. I experienced more rain in three weeks than I have in 30 years in Arizona but stayed comfortably dry. I did endure quite a bit of mediocre or sub standard food and coffee. People were more than accommodating, friendly, and kind. Only once did I hear a discouraging word at a truck stop in Indiana but it wasn't directed at me. The nasty old fart was just a grumpy sot looking for a reason to yell at someone other than his obese discourteous wife blocking the hallway to the restrooms. <br />
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Experiencing such a variation in flora, fauna, and geological formations along my trail, I can confirm our country is flat out beautiful and worth exploring. I say this because for decades I've traveled to remote areas of the world looking for exoticism yet here in America we really do have it all. If our citizens would just turn off their electronics and walk about this country they too would appreciate it's natural beauty and just maybe become more active in making certain it's resources are saved for future generations.<br />
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I have a few other spots outside of the US to check out but I certainly have many more within our borders to see and experience. Where and when do I go next?...Not really sure, I've never been much for advanced planning. <br />
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Play for Peace,<br />
Curt</div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-90431808180773443772013-06-08T11:21:00.001-07:002013-06-08T17:23:17.394-07:00One Last Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08GFs7LJ3Rd0o-hsuTmv9V05XTPScgYEGFHz3EouJzAX_QHx-w_WkNioVNwXvHJP14SgbQW8J18ay-OHdtpebMQ7-lAceXmPLGvya0DF1txX1isYcfgg4P1Yok53lra9becKN0_Nc92Q/s1600/can+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08GFs7LJ3Rd0o-hsuTmv9V05XTPScgYEGFHz3EouJzAX_QHx-w_WkNioVNwXvHJP14SgbQW8J18ay-OHdtpebMQ7-lAceXmPLGvya0DF1txX1isYcfgg4P1Yok53lra9becKN0_Nc92Q/s640/can+7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bryce Canyon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My morning to move on we hugged, kissed, and thanked just before I
slid into Cheeky. I didn't have a real destination in mind to have my
last camp out of this trip but I knew it had to be near the North Rim of
the Grand Canyon. Everything between that was a flexible option. I'd
been to Zion, Grand Staircase, and Bryce National Parks a few times
before but I decided to stop at Bryce to play around with making some panorama
fotos yet have time get to the North Rim before the sun set.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORmkYzoBvE2e13FPfqA6u7-ZY6I4JECQiCH3MHlXb3FbUBiwB9k679mmbD0eHJj4H4wzls18pnKY1rwgzUM3SxqWVTSsj6eOof8fe_JaBJj3zbfyjyDuR2YWiVswtjR0v1GqrjD40Wl8/s1600/can+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORmkYzoBvE2e13FPfqA6u7-ZY6I4JECQiCH3MHlXb3FbUBiwB9k679mmbD0eHJj4H4wzls18pnKY1rwgzUM3SxqWVTSsj6eOof8fe_JaBJj3zbfyjyDuR2YWiVswtjR0v1GqrjD40Wl8/s320/can+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect time of day at the Grand Canyon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Along
the way on my entire trip I would occasionally stop at thrift stores to
escape from the driving doldrums and strike up conversion with the local
colorful clerks. A couple hours on the road I came upon a small town
(can't remember the name it was so small) and stepped into the store
noticing the huge amount of books. I thought maybe they might have some
books on tape to freshen up my drive and sure enough the selection was
great. I brought six audio books up to the counter when the nice young
clerk said that everything was 75% off today. I asked why they had so
many books. She regrettably told me their town's bookmobile no longer
had funding and they were instructed to destroy everything. "The first
day I began throwing away books it made me so sad so I had them brought
here in hopes the community would buy them." She continued writing up my
sale and announced my total would be 78 cents. "Your kidding I
exclaimed". I told her I couldn't pay her that for such a trove of
entertainment and asked if this shop supported a charity. "Our hospital
gets all the proceeds to pay for care of those who can't afford it". I
gave her five dollars and said it was a donation and left still feeling a
bit guilty.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ95lttcCRthpfe8unISEL_240IHH5P3f0gwTmjk55HvK7Z8cEELeeCSdRP9MGcnZbz4Zi6k_ykS8FHHuzoLm68koZfKyro6I56FRl15PqKYvVpO_2eLW3auCRZMY2XJ84KInVaClpLLE/s1600/can+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ95lttcCRthpfe8unISEL_240IHH5P3f0gwTmjk55HvK7Z8cEELeeCSdRP9MGcnZbz4Zi6k_ykS8FHHuzoLm68koZfKyro6I56FRl15PqKYvVpO_2eLW3auCRZMY2XJ84KInVaClpLLE/s640/can+4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A panorama from the Lodge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Late afternoon the shadows began to lengthen
as I turned at Jacobs Lake towards the Grand Canyon National Park. I
gave Cheeky a bit more of the gas pedal so as to arrive in time to catch
light at the canyon's edge. Within a few miles the thick forest turned
into a stark graveyard of trees ravaged by a huge fire a few years ago. I
remembered when Sharon and I spent the night at the entrance to the
canyon while it burned. Smoke laid low everywhere. Now I was seeing the
destruction years later. It's natures way and that's all one can say
about such devastation. A couple further miles I was engulfed by thick
growth again and came upon the ranger station for the park. I asked the
ranger about camping in the park and he said everything is filled but if
I go back a couple miles onto forest road 610 there is some good
camping with a possible view of the canyon. I thanked him, paid my
$25.00 entry fee and within 20 minutes pulled up to the parking area. I
shot some fotos and sat back to take in the grandeur and boldness of the
canyon walls. It brought back memories of my hiking trips and river
rafting through this natural cut.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVrT79B4gR0p7aNUOWjCZbTsNGhrDHTxegYRbVo_wWl1yINXRhqPq_CxV6ipiH3hwzRlee2KmPlfcn4EEjCkaStekWBeq-QvqBFL_Dgz-cSNlAV3o-DL94WAI4IaQFxNVWKjisO3XF8k/s1600/can+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVrT79B4gR0p7aNUOWjCZbTsNGhrDHTxegYRbVo_wWl1yINXRhqPq_CxV6ipiH3hwzRlee2KmPlfcn4EEjCkaStekWBeq-QvqBFL_Dgz-cSNlAV3o-DL94WAI4IaQFxNVWKjisO3XF8k/s320/can+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Devastation of a forest fire years earlier </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Back to Cheeky, she
whisked me back past the ranger station and soon we were bouncing along
the raunchy rutted road until a small bit of flat within a stand of
aspens looked like home for the evening.With the tent perfectly
pitched, I didn't feel like cooking dinner so I prepared a nice bowl of
Shredded Wheat with fresh fruit, cleaned up and slid into my sleeping
bag to get rest for the last day of my sojourn.<br />
<br />
It was still dark when I broke camp and by the time I reached the paved park road the warm dim light stretched over the herds of deer in the long meadows tasted better than any breakfast. Speaking of breakfast I decided to drive the forty miles to the Vermillion Cliffs to catch the long shadows before my first feed of the day.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQVYvRJ58T2ZRYUURpeXMJ_5CuLAU0ZN8cgxBaqEV43FtsAVXNrqfcqaf-hvGITtifvpRd5sGmE0arE0-J1JIFO4XYkxzvM80jt7Kk0jUlvETnp3vZ6bSy0hlgwB93CHDrkdQJBHXb_I/s1600/can+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQVYvRJ58T2ZRYUURpeXMJ_5CuLAU0ZN8cgxBaqEV43FtsAVXNrqfcqaf-hvGITtifvpRd5sGmE0arE0-J1JIFO4XYkxzvM80jt7Kk0jUlvETnp3vZ6bSy0hlgwB93CHDrkdQJBHXb_I/s320/can+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marble Canyon with the Colorado River below</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wasn't disappointed drifting down from the high plateau onto the rolling hills at the base of the bright red walls of the Vermillion Cliffs. This long stretch of mountains to my left kept revealing itself like the pages of a book. I was able to stop on the two lane road at will because no one was up and about. A drove slowly along savoring pace and the beauty before me. I've driven this road many times at every interval of the day but usually under a time constrain and always wishing I could be here at this moment and at this pace....I've now arrived and it feels great. Soon an unmarked dirt road leading off to the right towards where Marble Canyon plays host to the first set of rapids for the rafters putting in at Lee's Ferry. I steer Cheeky along the deep rutted road though fairly flat. We come to the end...a cul de sac affair with signs telling you to venture no further by vehicle. I grab my camera and Ipad to hike out to the edge of the canyon. At the end of the precipice the sun reflected off the Colorado River and the Marble Canyon rapids below. Again I have to smile knowing I'm the only person at this point in time enjoying this view and as I turn 360 degrees, I fill my lungs with the fresh surroundings.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbs4aHScYwtfKkcy6tptzv35kz-8ejRoDXO3m4qr6eV6y-rvTzZiFjJEnWetuR_0HRcQRafBSnNSdRGaU4o1mTvNl9PLbchyphenhyphen45cK6Fu3-uKUu04m8liXeItgPlG5vW2aOLtbfSZyoA8Y4/s1600/can+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbs4aHScYwtfKkcy6tptzv35kz-8ejRoDXO3m4qr6eV6y-rvTzZiFjJEnWetuR_0HRcQRafBSnNSdRGaU4o1mTvNl9PLbchyphenhyphen45cK6Fu3-uKUu04m8liXeItgPlG5vW2aOLtbfSZyoA8Y4/s640/can+5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Vermillion Cliffs panorama</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Returning to Cheeky, I retreated towards the highway and pulled into the Marble Canyon restaurant for a breakfast burrito smothered in home made green chile. This recommendation by the waitress sparked many of my delight triggers. Soon I was walking out across the Navajo Bridge spanning the Colorado River when I saw two large wing spanned birds begin to fly under the bridge. I walked to the other side and saw two eagles slowly catching the wind drafts gliding parallel to the river. They too were enjoying this beautiful morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc5q1g4cCTdcTVxV0k_cBe0KlSDWKYr9F-Mol9-Snvd8YGlOmVZpGEzwOEhZQuhnl1yZtX5WHNGMseUcko1WwoJzklOyRVIAJg9oXgG9a1A3YdgkKScHUtgUaUbpq0hf1DmRmmL4frR0/s1600/can+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc5q1g4cCTdcTVxV0k_cBe0KlSDWKYr9F-Mol9-Snvd8YGlOmVZpGEzwOEhZQuhnl1yZtX5WHNGMseUcko1WwoJzklOyRVIAJg9oXgG9a1A3YdgkKScHUtgUaUbpq0hf1DmRmmL4frR0/s640/can+6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navajo Bridge spanning the Colorado River</td></tr>
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I knew once I returned to Cheeky it would be most likely the last time on this journey I'd open her door for adventure. Now it was all business to return, wind down, and soak in all that we'd scene and experienced. Soon I will be en route to some where else but for now I will kick back, listen to some music and sneak back to Bisbee. </div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-6272449523224678212013-06-08T11:19:00.002-07:002013-06-08T17:13:55.219-07:00Mountains and Canyons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY0pONlhG308FaepSwkv3XJL44CkCYS38fVFUxmDSjL-eF9p4PCqNKps_BG-TU3ExyEBY0EKXYTBElOyskGdoJNLdB6HSN4cLoSzgFUG6G2nbrkVaRoYddWg1UaMs5duiOARKsMaWPsY/s1600/Daph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY0pONlhG308FaepSwkv3XJL44CkCYS38fVFUxmDSjL-eF9p4PCqNKps_BG-TU3ExyEBY0EKXYTBElOyskGdoJNLdB6HSN4cLoSzgFUG6G2nbrkVaRoYddWg1UaMs5duiOARKsMaWPsY/s320/Daph.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Family together</td></tr>
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Refreshed, the pre-sunrise start to my short drive day (400 miles), and the thought of driving to visit my friends, Daphne & Carlos maintained my energy and excitement as I twisted through the Rocky Mountains with the sun beginning to peak over the sharp crests. Down the west slope and onto the desert floor past Capitol Reef National Park brought me a feeling of being very close to home. The ranches, farms, and the desert open range were much different than my visions through my windshield for the past three weeks. One more gas stop and I would be pulling into Mount Pleasant, UT.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHQmZTfPpiDL-TxPpgck_T-v0dykxGz_J4NLVx1S3aDVUBeN9e7DmQJAz7m7MqOIbAgqbe3fHgCqznHnjoGSobDEZcj7-MwjUgpW82_BQTBfTIA6Kx-V56wb7Vlxt97Y86JEANrzreeA/s1600/carlos+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHQmZTfPpiDL-TxPpgck_T-v0dykxGz_J4NLVx1S3aDVUBeN9e7DmQJAz7m7MqOIbAgqbe3fHgCqznHnjoGSobDEZcj7-MwjUgpW82_BQTBfTIA6Kx-V56wb7Vlxt97Y86JEANrzreeA/s320/carlos+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely vintage house in Mount Pleasant</td></tr>
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Once I dropped off the western slope of Colorado I gave a courtesy call to my friends and told them my approximate time of arrival. Carlos said they had a veterinarian appointment around 3PM at a ranch just out of town to look over their new quarter horse Daphne rescued. I promised to do my best so I could see "Holly". At 1PM I pulled off the interstate onto the state road pointing directly north. The road was populated with small Mormon communities linked together with large grassy sheep and cattle ranches. Surrounding the valleys were the massive Wasatch Mountains crowned with snow. Just after 2PM I came upon the "Maverick" gas station signalling me to make the next left turn, count three houses on the right and look for my friend's cars. With pin point accuracy, I pulled up to a nicely maintained ranch style duplex, the home of Daphne and Carlos Peinado. Together this couple wrote, produced, directed, filmed, and edited the heart wrenching documentary "Waterbusters", a story how the US government relocated the Mandan tribe by dissecting and scattering it's residents throughout the US with not much more than bus tickets to destinations totally unfamiliar losing their identities and strength.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVOCRCxiYrwXT0V58D7qjYlRIdn8rSpP3kY0oetFahZDwL0-O-rskn2l18bm5nLfI0wTeF-AYdlofiW79jknHz3M-ntXfWJNdhbc9PYg8CKNRe_Aoh1vX6n8wIRqUkK2Slh_K9bSNGMw/s1600/carlos+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVOCRCxiYrwXT0V58D7qjYlRIdn8rSpP3kY0oetFahZDwL0-O-rskn2l18bm5nLfI0wTeF-AYdlofiW79jknHz3M-ntXfWJNdhbc9PYg8CKNRe_Aoh1vX6n8wIRqUkK2Slh_K9bSNGMw/s320/carlos+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter still biting away</td></tr>
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I was warmly welcomed by Daphne and soon after Carlos exited from his Volvo station wagon having just come from finishing out a day of winding down his school year. Carlos is a multi-media instructor for a private international high school where most students don't have English as a language and only about 10% are local students. It's been a learning experience for him to teach without a common language. I learned a new term..."Project Based Learning" is the vehicle used to teach these students. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevLZxx9nRRpr73Yngh0CBFaeoPqucR2m52y4xDTYWu2NpkPB3tCdTNf9AF8oTMKJBvletEH791PQ8-lYGhja086piTZAqNy9MIV45rRQSjdq_BseHOlyQc9iwJFsGGLaah1t2mWLe-NE/s1600/carlos+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevLZxx9nRRpr73Yngh0CBFaeoPqucR2m52y4xDTYWu2NpkPB3tCdTNf9AF8oTMKJBvletEH791PQ8-lYGhja086piTZAqNy9MIV45rRQSjdq_BseHOlyQc9iwJFsGGLaah1t2mWLe-NE/s320/carlos+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter revisits top of Horseshoe Mountain</td></tr>
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Jumping back into his car, I got a quick tour of Mount Pleasant and soon we pulled onto the dirt road dividing the tall grass pastures populated with horses of many colors and markings. The horse docs had just arrived ready to check out Holly and give her a couple vaccinations. Carlos approached the fence while most of the herd curiously walked over to meet Carlos to which he lead Holly through the gate.<br />
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Within minutes the examination was done and we returned to the house where Carlos and I caught up on each others adventures, experiences, and the daily hum drums of life. It's fun to enter into Carlos' world of tech and creativity for he is always looking to be experimenting with ideas and equipment for photography and film. He has a great opportunity to create another film and was excited to share this news with me. We had some dinner and shared more stories then it was time to turn in for Carlos still had a long next day of meetings and reports to complete. Daphne and I planned to take a drive into the mountains the next morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMNatZ1jzjfOGBsD8u2oLcAO40KGa07oXNWSVu4WW6TjuO1692QRXPCQKH7Qd2NRA18XbtsFcqwC3EzK7Q2NOvatD5P9qyZNQq2706OobIdU8ZtgBslLHGFkGRU7wpk8eTTq0xI6WMkY/s1600/carlos+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMNatZ1jzjfOGBsD8u2oLcAO40KGa07oXNWSVu4WW6TjuO1692QRXPCQKH7Qd2NRA18XbtsFcqwC3EzK7Q2NOvatD5P9qyZNQq2706OobIdU8ZtgBslLHGFkGRU7wpk8eTTq0xI6WMkY/s320/carlos+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zie Brat ist Wundervar</td></tr>
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Before departing the house, we all agreed to meet for lunch around noon at a German cafe in a town south of Mount Pleasant. Carlos took off to school and Daphne got to ride in Cheeky, who I could tell was excited to test herself in the Wasatch Mountains. We drove north out of town through the small community of Fairview, then turned east on SR31 and began out assent up into the Wasatch Mountain range. The aspens were just beginning to leaf out but old mister winter didn't seem to want to leave today. The dark deeply bruised clouds had a menacing threat of snow and once we reached the summit of Horseshoe Mountain, the icy snow began to fall creating such a wonderful drama, I couldn't have asked for better weather. Both Daphne and I were quiet with awe at the beauty that was offered on this day. We could only venture so far because of the time limitation to meet Carlos for lunch so I turned an invigorated Cheeky around and descended the same way we came. In our short drive about we came upon a sign explaining this was the site of a recent discovery of the remains of a Wooly Mastodon that is now housed in the Fairview Museum. The researchers said the beast was frozen so solid for thousands of years that when they excavated the animal, the flesh was still intact and let off a rancid smell of rotting meat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPpYIC8sPomFDVtw9Mqy1za_lBrp3s9FVXnM9Vp1WrJ45w0jeH11hyphenhyphen4cm4ydaiqlq7CUyUyBPU_rj0E9E1DjuVOud_R6K80WFwp6DHloifkYpb4OaCI69doEJdsfGsiZdh3dP2PrMiJo/s1600/carlos+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPpYIC8sPomFDVtw9Mqy1za_lBrp3s9FVXnM9Vp1WrJ45w0jeH11hyphenhyphen4cm4ydaiqlq7CUyUyBPU_rj0E9E1DjuVOud_R6K80WFwp6DHloifkYpb4OaCI69doEJdsfGsiZdh3dP2PrMiJo/s320/carlos+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Professor Carlos and Miss Daphne</td></tr>
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Now for lunch...retreating south through Fairview and Mount Pleasant we turned off to the left to a quaint little community of Spring City. The early settlers in this town were mainly of rough Swedish decent and soon were directed by the Mormon's to change their ways and they could have multiple wives and have as many children as humanly possible. This was most likely an easy sell to these pioneer Scandinavians. Oh yes, lunch...we all met up at the "Das Cafe" where I had the traditional bratwurst that satisfied my inner heritage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMC4cZSGFqFv9iBBdwzlrxeuoBYli00y9uoyYg9Npo__6SBH52thzGeS-Nfo6r6AuG0VgUm5vhP5hh5QYwE7n0MS4wvzniJ7SaVgRiWdKiRhcy7dkJbBdXQwNUoPbZNCT5Q0n7oE29m8/s1600/carlos+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMC4cZSGFqFv9iBBdwzlrxeuoBYli00y9uoyYg9Npo__6SBH52thzGeS-Nfo6r6AuG0VgUm5vhP5hh5QYwE7n0MS4wvzniJ7SaVgRiWdKiRhcy7dkJbBdXQwNUoPbZNCT5Q0n7oE29m8/s320/carlos+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horseshoe Mountain</td></tr>
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Later Carlos showed me about his campus classrooms stocked with the most advanced lighting, cameras, sound studios, and editing equipment. He then had me view a film project his students took ownership of called "The Classroom". This made for TV sitcom was based upon the style of "The Office". It was quite cleaver and well done. His students wrote, filmed, and acted in each segment. For Carlos this was a brilliant breakthrough regarding how to get kids interested and participate together in a project. Soon we returned to his house for dinner where afterward we all began packing for our journeys. Both Daphne & Carlos were leaving in a couple days to spend the summer in New England. One last note about this part of Utah. Colorado may have the Rockies but for pure scenic beauty, Utah is much prettier. <br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-36035165331683376782013-06-07T11:21:00.001-07:002013-06-07T11:32:32.010-07:00775 Miles Sez It All<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2efJ5scLlGhpJo79fl7xe5r37KGm4KmHYkOPgfIvrTpYBavgY0riD6ucmmPA1Gu5fr3yNljLjS_4rPYhGDw-uAi7I5ivpI4BVQUsdoP1JdvevlNlq97Y8prf0E1uyZOHwygjBxREkm4E/s1600/neb+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2efJ5scLlGhpJo79fl7xe5r37KGm4KmHYkOPgfIvrTpYBavgY0riD6ucmmPA1Gu5fr3yNljLjS_4rPYhGDw-uAi7I5ivpI4BVQUsdoP1JdvevlNlq97Y8prf0E1uyZOHwygjBxREkm4E/s320/neb+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This roadside sign needs no explanation</td></tr>
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Dark and raining is how I entered the Fort De Moise Hotel so I wasn't really thrilled to leave the hotel in the same conditions though I had hope of driving out of the storm that seems to have covered all of America for days now. I forwent my first light of day coffee in lieu of gaining an early start to my marathon drive. Hoping I'd have the stamina to drive the 750 miles to the Denver area I took a deep breath as Des Moise Iowa disappeared in my rear view mirror.<br />
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The rain and wind became relentless through the undulating farmlands, the breadbasket, of our great nation. I'm sounding a little patriotic because this day, Memorial Day, the towns will be filled with trappings of honor to those who gave their lives so our nation can remain free. This is a mixed emotion for me...I am saddened by the tens of thousands of families who lost a loved one in the prime of their lives yet I harbor a flame of disgust for the individuals who profited from such hideous wars. The world wars seemed to have a much purer intent and need but our contemporary conflicts are questionable. <br />
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It almost seemed like the storm contained itself along the state lines. Crossing the border from Iowa to Nebraska I drove through Omaha in search of a breakfast stop. Even Minnie, the GPS, couldn't come up with anything open so I ventured a few miles further west to Council Bluffs and though they had an impressive display of bronze sculptures portraying the early settlers in search for a new life, my search for the land of breakfast wasn't fulfilled. Like the pioneers who pulled away from Council Bluffs 150 years ago, I too went west for my quest. Within minutes a mirage like tower with a campfire style coffee pot perched on top appeared on the flat horizon. I slowed as approached my morning mecca yet I was so enthralled by the coffee pot two hundred feet above the ground I missed the exit. The next exit I wiggled my way back using the side roads to the Sapp Brothers Cafe.<br />
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With CNN (I requested they change the channel on the screen at the counter) and Fox News on the flat screens competing on who can be more patriotic, I reviewed my map and was happy with my progress. Since the weather was clearing, this allowed me to drift from the ribbon of the most direct route and explore the back roads of Nebraska.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTfncCPwhTlAv62IyYWHh89GmGDoXCdq-V1xoWerJAqIp_TqOwB61ZR6jTX2qxqw5TVtV4bBmDv8XmOCF4WoZeTK-Vu-DYsXItbcaGGiRWrfHSlKTP61kKQ5vAuipws9RblVSbDKXa_w/s1600/neb6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTfncCPwhTlAv62IyYWHh89GmGDoXCdq-V1xoWerJAqIp_TqOwB61ZR6jTX2qxqw5TVtV4bBmDv8XmOCF4WoZeTK-Vu-DYsXItbcaGGiRWrfHSlKTP61kKQ5vAuipws9RblVSbDKXa_w/s640/neb6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheeky running with the Big Dogs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC29PQZX3YUZyhcClXS1SrIHOwHKxLGJb_e-izzkjYQ_SMCIInXfH7daUgAkJZxchiJC7H99eqwt-5zLxBxEWCoKPO7evjm9oLF1f8L-q8MfR0Awv7letXqPqxDnFtVDc5tsiWrE42DBk/s1600/neb+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC29PQZX3YUZyhcClXS1SrIHOwHKxLGJb_e-izzkjYQ_SMCIInXfH7daUgAkJZxchiJC7H99eqwt-5zLxBxEWCoKPO7evjm9oLF1f8L-q8MfR0Awv7letXqPqxDnFtVDc5tsiWrE42DBk/s320/neb+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I dedicate this Nebraska barn shot to Maralyce</td></tr>
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Tummy full and metabolism jacked up on caffeine I looked across the parking lot and spied Cheeky with a slight grin across her grill. I looked a bit to my right and saw a group of semi trucks lined up perfectly with one empty slot in the middle. Cheeky wants her photo running with the big dogs. I backed into the spot ready for someone to give me some grief but it was early and I pulled off a sweet panorama of a proud little 4Runner among the big 16 wheelers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5e59eTJUS-8qD4xMMv1XsRsACg2KQaQoGnp5qE7ZRx4Sr2OZQcX5n3Zs5AwgyWWhMey7fLelQneMw9OHvqqVlK4XhzvZ1WBggMlvMAN8y7ZKGUBHL9Ve7lBKek4m_ula17hyrkYNhPr8/s1600/neb+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5e59eTJUS-8qD4xMMv1XsRsACg2KQaQoGnp5qE7ZRx4Sr2OZQcX5n3Zs5AwgyWWhMey7fLelQneMw9OHvqqVlK4XhzvZ1WBggMlvMAN8y7ZKGUBHL9Ve7lBKek4m_ula17hyrkYNhPr8/s320/neb+3.jpg" width="320" /></a>I drove down the highway until I spotted church steeple in the distance off to the right. The next rural exit had me driving the dirt roads delineating the farm fields with short arteries leading to homes and barns. I was fascinated with the style of vintage barns in Nebraska unlike any other design I've encountered. After photographing the barns I doubled back towards the sharp steeple. Driving up to the church, an adjacent cemetery with display of the United States flags all unfurled at attention thanks to the constant wind, made a moment for me to contemplate and be thankful. Three to four generation families pulled up into the cemetery, piled out of their suburbans and surrounded grave markers of their loved one. This sincere rare display of respectful recognition reinforced the hope our society isn't unraveling.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNz2PvJvCEc1sMArO1GV5Bur8ODZupcAdiweIVH3E09Za-AiINMxWqYx0ZJbnpcAnicIf2hEsk2BCXCIUCfxyqwrF0lLkiT8KdaHALFlG8IHaetWmhtnKA4kVZJjAqHZ2QJ11vaymWP6E/s1600/neb4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNz2PvJvCEc1sMArO1GV5Bur8ODZupcAdiweIVH3E09Za-AiINMxWqYx0ZJbnpcAnicIf2hEsk2BCXCIUCfxyqwrF0lLkiT8KdaHALFlG8IHaetWmhtnKA4kVZJjAqHZ2QJ11vaymWP6E/s640/neb4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It doesn't get any more Midwest than this</td></tr>
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Back to the fast pavement, my focus was to reach the Denver area, camp the night and reach Utah by the next day to visit with friends Daphanie and Carlos for a couple days. The same time zone issue that plagued me for weeks is now working to my advantage. As I crossed into Colorado, I saved an hour so I adjusted my day's destination to Vail, Colorado which would shorten my next day drive by a couple hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhblgo2w1hedx11bNxZPlcx0xmeP0Uyl66jR866NWeDRF1oriTdZDlgkbq9kvvW0nS8TP20YWI1UK8h-NQPg5O-x03ntQTVIdT4JC1f0YfSUFDvPjzP1ij7SPcagbwlmK2XgEH67YH9us/s1600/colo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhblgo2w1hedx11bNxZPlcx0xmeP0Uyl66jR866NWeDRF1oriTdZDlgkbq9kvvW0nS8TP20YWI1UK8h-NQPg5O-x03ntQTVIdT4JC1f0YfSUFDvPjzP1ij7SPcagbwlmK2XgEH67YH9us/s320/colo+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Turning south it felt as if my direction was going downhill. The extra hour and the diminishing winds once I entered into the Rocky Mountain passes gave me a deeper strength and endurance. Winding and cutting through the mountains via tunnels gave me hope I would reach Vail before dark though the jagged peaks had only a dash of light highlighting their western tips. Along the way I kept a vigilant look out for a state park to camp at but nothing appeared plus I began to think whether it would be wise for me to camp in these mountains with snow still dotted on the ground. A quick change in weather could lead to a miserable night after a 775 mile drive. OK...I caved and pulled into a Holiday Inn Express in Vail. The young man behind the hotel desk checked me in and then he asked what I was doing for dinner. My mind was caught a bit off guard until he explained the hotel has a sushi restaurant and Mondays are half off night. A perfect end to a long day behind the wheel<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tvQxXZd3m-esadGnE1rvM26BJSvqOhIxO-3QCG4RZK3jH6oxR8x_IrJxPJKJM_vOJECezF7PLper7rDOsX24yjdLkX79hE-vgL0qZshfABriiyyt1EByqmGbJSqCUb2Bncb0yffIOMk/s1600/colo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tvQxXZd3m-esadGnE1rvM26BJSvqOhIxO-3QCG4RZK3jH6oxR8x_IrJxPJKJM_vOJECezF7PLper7rDOsX24yjdLkX79hE-vgL0qZshfABriiyyt1EByqmGbJSqCUb2Bncb0yffIOMk/s320/colo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tunnels cut through the mountains save alot of time</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrmlg6bpxeFWB4VMNSjaB1DvVFnnFiZEHGMk92OXEABhPmAh8bxxC8zXldB1fJw0vNAYxNNi-0kefJ2cPsiseMeUiKhVnkXRS77i2h3F3QfAFAjhZswcgCTp-4BPBO29ehUnZ_-xbv-4/s1600/colo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrmlg6bpxeFWB4VMNSjaB1DvVFnnFiZEHGMk92OXEABhPmAh8bxxC8zXldB1fJw0vNAYxNNi-0kefJ2cPsiseMeUiKhVnkXRS77i2h3F3QfAFAjhZswcgCTp-4BPBO29ehUnZ_-xbv-4/s320/colo+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not much daylight left</td></tr>
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. I dropped my bag in my room, made an about face, stepped into the restaurant and within minutes was being entertained by the artistry of two Japanese sushi masters. The saki, beer, and miso soup was a great beginning to a fine sushi dinner. Once the sushi was finished...I felt finished and soon was in deep recovery mode for the next day. </div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-15460956668178621332013-05-30T05:28:00.001-07:002013-06-09T18:41:09.790-07:00Midwest in a Blurrrr<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMJ0jFs04x6rS_irkD27nE8gsnm07_UaU2ktRqeYD9D3RIIvSt3iUDSvygKKlPYzO3JCDyt2r55EXu84Mi62krlvP-hgc37dxB8qygj06o-t5hVT9BuAMTjIj6LA5oo_U9ldDespLrtw/s1600/ohio+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMJ0jFs04x6rS_irkD27nE8gsnm07_UaU2ktRqeYD9D3RIIvSt3iUDSvygKKlPYzO3JCDyt2r55EXu84Mi62krlvP-hgc37dxB8qygj06o-t5hVT9BuAMTjIj6LA5oo_U9ldDespLrtw/s400/ohio+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Frank Gehry designed building across from my hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The morning I left Cleveland the wind ceased and the sun shone. I can't stay another day because I have to cross two thirds of the United States, visit some friends, drop off the Interstate for a few miles, and make my drive seem casual all in five days. No problem...a walk in the park, a can of corn. But first I had to get one more photo of the Frank Gehry building with actual sunshine before moving on.<br />
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One last breakfast d'elegance at the Glidden, finish stuffing my meager belongings in my duffel, run down the back stairs, jump into Cheeky and drive. This time I really have no direction home other than west. I poured over a map of the US and had three rough out choices for a camp. Potato Camp near Lake Michigan seemed like a good start. If I make it fine...if not....well...there's always a motel. Leaving Cleveland the sun continued to shine and did so throughout the morning. In the beginning I stuck to some backroads that lead me through Amish communities but soon I needed to make some quick miles so I drove onto the "Toll Road" and drove fast out of Ohio into Indiana. As the sun began it's decent I began to pay more attention to the GPS as I approached New Liberty, Indiana.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9nGRoOrCTYJSqPa9srJE6vQNMw7_6KLT0SBVKRuxzuI9fxbDvbh3iMZoNWgo7ui1Tz1n6L3BH3itoZoagP74QJQiEGx7ZogvwGL5ntd98w9Y0n1KoeDKsokXEDV_Hq8nS4CwQNnjAhE/s1600/ohio+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9nGRoOrCTYJSqPa9srJE6vQNMw7_6KLT0SBVKRuxzuI9fxbDvbh3iMZoNWgo7ui1Tz1n6L3BH3itoZoagP74QJQiEGx7ZogvwGL5ntd98w9Y0n1KoeDKsokXEDV_Hq8nS4CwQNnjAhE/s320/ohio+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wondering through Amish country was peaceful</td></tr>
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I made one slight error before leaving the Glidden House. I programmed Minnie to a town near the state park where I thought I should spend the night since the state camp ground wasn't recognized on my GPS. Not a problem but I forgot I programmed a close address when I got to the area and only realized it when I made my fiftieth turn in the rural farm lands of New Liberty. I programmed the local state park, Potato Camp and quickly discovered I went about 30 miles out of my way. Oh well I got to the Potato State Park and the girl at the front gate said they had a tent spot but it would cost me $7.00 and then proceeded to the actual camp ranger station to get my site pass, vehicle pass, and the set of camp rules and pay an additional $32.00 because because it was Memorial Day Weekend. It was late so I continued to drive on to my $39.00 camp site along with the 200 other family campers. The only difference between me and my fellow outdoor seekers was my tent verses the rest being in RV's. I drove to my site that had a nice large shade tree and a grassy area and erected my tent.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDo0x78jAv3I7tll1aEXQhU0mXX4xNQ_DbfkDTpaZVibs_zMqK7SX-jKpdvvF578Eo4e5k2X9UMHxT9WcjFyEP7ydw3XZnrVHCWNi-JmzaaQIbUxP3debEyBL-EKySI-dYu7iibJoyN8/s1600/ohio+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDo0x78jAv3I7tll1aEXQhU0mXX4xNQ_DbfkDTpaZVibs_zMqK7SX-jKpdvvF578Eo4e5k2X9UMHxT9WcjFyEP7ydw3XZnrVHCWNi-JmzaaQIbUxP3debEyBL-EKySI-dYu7iibJoyN8/s320/ohio+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Next to me was a nice young family sitting at the camp supplied picnic table next to their older RV having a crockpot dinner. With my tent complete with sleeping bag and Therma Rest, I began digging around in my provisions box to see what I was going to prepare for dinner. I must have looked pretty pitiful because the dad walked up and offered me a hot plate of scrambled eggs and potatoes nicely mixed together. I thanked him and as he walked back, I pulled out my salsa to spice up this midwest delight. After cleaning my plate I pulled out a box of Bisbee chocolates and walked over to the family and gifted them the sweets. The whole family thanked me and it wasn't till the middle of the night that I awoke and realized I neglected to warn them that one or two of the sweets could have chili powder in them. Oh well what do they expect from an eccentric old fart from Bisbee (where ever that is)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uKRyOH7P7cEM4ZrtWGoZGpcnWqB7D3WvPtsycEUNg7Kwdx1KPHxaCqhNXOoHK7f8cXyurafowmJ25_9f9LS8gUgzte0EMBWnwbIrV7k738z3Jivp-lCAj5TdburxtiKLHMUj7Vue0lQ/s1600/ohio+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uKRyOH7P7cEM4ZrtWGoZGpcnWqB7D3WvPtsycEUNg7Kwdx1KPHxaCqhNXOoHK7f8cXyurafowmJ25_9f9LS8gUgzte0EMBWnwbIrV7k738z3Jivp-lCAj5TdburxtiKLHMUj7Vue0lQ/s320/ohio+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rain all the way across Iowa</td></tr>
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It was just past seven when I climbed in my tent to read. Within minutes I was asleep and didn't wake until 5:30AM. Refreshed I went to the park bathhouse, took a hot shower, had some cereal, broke camp and was on the road by 7AM. I knew this time I had to make 600 miles to Des Moise, Iowa but as I left Indiana, the sky turned dark...I mean it was like someone turned off the light switch. The coal black clouds began to dump rain and it didn't let up even as I entered Des Moine, a town much larger than I had ever expected. I stopped at a pub that served cajun food. Ordered dinner, a beer and then came to the realization there was no way I could camp in this storm so once again I searched for a hotel room and this time it was The Fort at Des Moise Hotel, a large vintage hotel with a history of playing host to a number of presidential candidates. I schlepped my bags to the 5th floor, did some writing and quickly hit the sack for the next day was going to be my longest reach across the Midwest. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuC7klAYxzFyecGGq-gtPkOfXK6CHGcFE7nqowPouOANUj1SbxPIKBem_EB76xj4JEryjIVzICIgA7sz3ulswSrrNbn1E9-1OqhXZFQwI_H0boSz0bdQSiOjsPQfwBf76C8upsSgQSvNY/s1600/ohio+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuC7klAYxzFyecGGq-gtPkOfXK6CHGcFE7nqowPouOANUj1SbxPIKBem_EB76xj4JEryjIVzICIgA7sz3ulswSrrNbn1E9-1OqhXZFQwI_H0boSz0bdQSiOjsPQfwBf76C8upsSgQSvNY/s320/ohio+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fort Hotel overflowing with political heritage</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-18373214610215847412013-05-29T16:01:00.003-07:002013-06-09T09:20:18.122-07:00Rockingly Overwhelmed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Even though I had a great satisfying dinner last night, I was looking forward to breakfast at the Glidden House. An array of hot cereal, croissants, juices, fresh fruits, and coffee delighted my soul for looking out the sun room's windows I could see I was in for another nasty day...weather speaking of course.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUB0akmiICVYyHoSAcPaByALQaoZPWcKwJGxM2QoUfZ5r_DFmjEF_IZ8pHSkqXf93iOXTn4gZgN3QIDnPyN2eVtt1sIKYrrKcHnrNFJp2ces2AaeF0wuLu60N80US5urKs767JEiOkc8/s1600/cleve+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUB0akmiICVYyHoSAcPaByALQaoZPWcKwJGxM2QoUfZ5r_DFmjEF_IZ8pHSkqXf93iOXTn4gZgN3QIDnPyN2eVtt1sIKYrrKcHnrNFJp2ces2AaeF0wuLu60N80US5urKs767JEiOkc8/s320/cleve+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I will insist on chandeliers at breakfast from now on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The morning weather didn't improve when I left the hotel...in fact it was worse. Cold chilling winds thundering off Lake Erie cut me to the bone. I wanted to get to the Rock and Roll Museum early to allow me time enough to take in all that had to offer and to get ahead of the crowds. After programming Minnie, I was off to the lake front district of downtown Cleveland. I must take back all the disparaging things I've said about Cleveland in the past...this is really a very nice city and if you haven't had the chance to visit it would be well worth catching a cheapo flight to the city for a few days.<br />
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After a quick park on the pier I stepped out from Cheeky to be blasted by the bare freezing winds off Lake Erie. Hunched shouldered, collar up, and layered up, I briskly made my way to the museum. On the way a plaque addressed why Cleveland was chosen for the Rock & Roll Museum. OK..This is for you Aunt Geri...Alan Freed in 1951 was the first DJ in the country to broadcast Rock, Blues and Rockabilly music to the masses. His syndicated radio show served up this new form of music across America and He was the first promoter to stage a Rock and Roll concert. So I can understand now and hopefully Geri can too why Cleveland has the museum.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffO2E3BvKO8Y46sq9uAMqQOvMkZ3DZXktJqlmJY1GMYBgNnaXtnFSSSnEOQvsiiOPkHrGegZ-ap9se8bE16hrQX_vMwFTwnSb7QgmlWLZwBNgtwx84q_VQQyGlncZmUxBjdUomZHPpOU/s1600/cleve+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffO2E3BvKO8Y46sq9uAMqQOvMkZ3DZXktJqlmJY1GMYBgNnaXtnFSSSnEOQvsiiOPkHrGegZ-ap9se8bE16hrQX_vMwFTwnSb7QgmlWLZwBNgtwx84q_VQQyGlncZmUxBjdUomZHPpOU/s320/cleve+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rock and Rock Museum</td></tr>
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There were only a few people so I was soon escalated down to the first of 6 floors of exhibits. I instantly became overloaded with massive amounts of rock memorabilia. It took me about 30 minutes to slowly understand and absorb the showcases full of handbills, guitars, costumes, and set lists by about every musician you've heard of plus many others that I'll be researching later. No doubt it's a phenomenal museum...a must see for everyone. After five hours of strolling down memory lane I thought I'd better see a bit more of downtown Cleveland.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ6VTo0Et43Gtnnb17BYWPxLq6VwSq1hJAtPEwZY0MjMbXge5Ky87Qo3tpX8jxq9RUpxhFi0UT6YtKAZ9q6nzzR5PSRsbq54pBe7VWScgvzZrpVaVBq6pSnJRObIxujIBrPwN05xxk6g/s1600/cleve+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ6VTo0Et43Gtnnb17BYWPxLq6VwSq1hJAtPEwZY0MjMbXge5Ky87Qo3tpX8jxq9RUpxhFi0UT6YtKAZ9q6nzzR5PSRsbq54pBe7VWScgvzZrpVaVBq6pSnJRObIxujIBrPwN05xxk6g/s320/cleve+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The interior of the museum</td></tr>
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I walked out of the museum and was immediately assaulted once again by strong bitterly cold winds. I made it a couple blocks and did an about face back to the car. Cold and hungry I remembered the art museum had a cafe. I fired up Cheeky, asked Minnie to direct me back to the Glidden House and with 30 minutes I was walking through the doors of the museum into the atrium and into the cafe. I made a quick pass looking at all the incredible options but decided on a New England Clam Chowder, a quinoa salad, and a Thai Shark Steak wrap. Yum.... After lunch I walked a bit more around the museum taking some photos and then decided to explore the Botanical Garden across the street. These venues are widely separated by large landscaped grounds making the walks pleasing.<br />
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With the condition of the weather I asked the young information assistant how to get to the large glass enclosed rain forest. She also said butterflies were released only a few minutes ago so I should have a good look at them. I pushed through the double door entrance and soon transported from 40 degree weather to a tropical 80 degree jungle with hundreds of colorful butterflies flitting about. Once I warmed up and actually began a sweat, I explored the grounds around the building. Because Cleveland had warm weather in the high 70's before I arrived, some flowers began to bloom so it wasn't all bleak.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30eg9pmFGsdPUmbhiAyFwNnV4SxPMKeifKt9AkNNzQVd0abK1ql8Lpxu1l6tZ4VRzqbFJcoT8QwnVDqnyma9RxOz-2uJy95iEOtjEFZ7s364X4ClS3rg_Mx4uAAMnJgN9YC81Y8Fs1k0/s1600/cleve+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30eg9pmFGsdPUmbhiAyFwNnV4SxPMKeifKt9AkNNzQVd0abK1ql8Lpxu1l6tZ4VRzqbFJcoT8QwnVDqnyma9RxOz-2uJy95iEOtjEFZ7s364X4ClS3rg_Mx4uAAMnJgN9YC81Y8Fs1k0/s400/cleve+9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mossy grotto inside the botanical garden</td></tr>
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I returned to my hotel and because of the large late lunch I didn't need any dinner and focused on writing, watching some basketball playoffs, and hitting the sack early knowing I had a long day of driving ahead of me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZz8XYpxDB4PaN88WyY71iZ2Do4uYRhxfZVYUkY0XtgsmHTFbHPvsyMSNeTTm6j7PRvqHfWOlIfqDonkZXUKxk1oX-7PWeC62Y49rEcCaqgZLX_rw8EIeiGTVqYYyLhBgj6NxiKv2rtOw/s1600/cleve+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZz8XYpxDB4PaN88WyY71iZ2Do4uYRhxfZVYUkY0XtgsmHTFbHPvsyMSNeTTm6j7PRvqHfWOlIfqDonkZXUKxk1oX-7PWeC62Y49rEcCaqgZLX_rw8EIeiGTVqYYyLhBgj6NxiKv2rtOw/s320/cleve+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janis Joplins 356 Porsche Speedster</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiWXVKavMr8GnbQrj4aS5IqcIxHLW_394j9XAq54jXtQwbheCaxL6s621YXIvMuYOTNEaqt_a0ZEiE6kgAUasehs12V6xHVlJeJK1wHZGXSrU3FDPrdbO-B2Vxr1mscltpmu5fSfSLUs/s1600/cleve+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiWXVKavMr8GnbQrj4aS5IqcIxHLW_394j9XAq54jXtQwbheCaxL6s621YXIvMuYOTNEaqt_a0ZEiE6kgAUasehs12V6xHVlJeJK1wHZGXSrU3FDPrdbO-B2Vxr1mscltpmu5fSfSLUs/s320/cleve+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Paul's 1946 first electric guitar</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw43hkX2BMLCSYnpDGxnIbHSywTUrL3ve8wxhXOmnHw4I1b194bseKbvzqFY1TwSF67JCxKUe_rREl8m552gbfNXm5CjNMCfZ9vAt-uXC-GMRubSLbYfSUlrlguPKczWjr4TYtg_HbI4/s1600/cleve+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw43hkX2BMLCSYnpDGxnIbHSywTUrL3ve8wxhXOmnHw4I1b194bseKbvzqFY1TwSF67JCxKUe_rREl8m552gbfNXm5CjNMCfZ9vAt-uXC-GMRubSLbYfSUlrlguPKczWjr4TYtg_HbI4/s320/cleve+5.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mick Jagger's set list</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsd0mdBpCJq4uLbCY5NVYRx6h3JcivP8bTKohDInzLnnCM1PaFXqDvEbo0KhH9zEGXA37NA6ZBf4w7gWbwmRCfTA5d8CrOkc53Eup0Iq-WyUnHVa_161R4NZkAI9bojRb3nS1JX9KTkcc/s1600/cleve6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsd0mdBpCJq4uLbCY5NVYRx6h3JcivP8bTKohDInzLnnCM1PaFXqDvEbo0KhH9zEGXA37NA6ZBf4w7gWbwmRCfTA5d8CrOkc53Eup0Iq-WyUnHVa_161R4NZkAI9bojRb3nS1JX9KTkcc/s320/cleve6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inductees Hall of Fame Theatre</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch at the art museum</td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-29673300082870756192013-05-29T14:27:00.002-07:002013-05-29T14:38:34.203-07:00It's Not Only Rock & Roll But I Like It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was jubilant leaving the farm for the last time. My quest was complete and now my next destination was Cleveland, the home of the Rock & Roll Museum. Earlier in our travels we stayed with Sharon's Aunt Geri and when she heard I was going to Cleveland to visit the Rock & Roll Museum she strongly vocalized her disgust with the museum not being located in Memphis...the birthplace of Rock and Roll, Blues, and Rockabilly. She flatly believed the decision was wrong. I couldn't think what the reason was either but I soon found out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldHafIzFUD0jAfHAgkwCBz6Sg_NGiNUVYv_GqPJHJv26BN-d82mPN2EwAg7qAekycWZ1Fenb2H6KVo4YxRQ5sjnMqmkTUCpr0RwE0cDPHqtK3FeNa6zfrj1Ydc1_h8PCmbncrPLwom4s/s1600/cleve+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldHafIzFUD0jAfHAgkwCBz6Sg_NGiNUVYv_GqPJHJv26BN-d82mPN2EwAg7qAekycWZ1Fenb2H6KVo4YxRQ5sjnMqmkTUCpr0RwE0cDPHqtK3FeNa6zfrj1Ydc1_h8PCmbncrPLwom4s/s400/cleve+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Glidden House was comfy and elegant</td></tr>
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Because Cleveland is a large city and the weather being cold, windy, and raining I opted for finding a hotel to spend the night. I had no idea what exit to take or what part of the city I should look for a room so my decision was to find the art museum and then look around that area. Usually art museums are placed near the happening parts of a city so I programmed Minnie to take me to the museum. I exited the interstate and traveled a distance on Martin Luther King Blvd that wound me through a series of beautiful lush green forested parks all the while the rain poured down. Making a few quick turns I arrived at the entrance to the museum, parked at a meter space and programmed hotel into Minnie. My choice was based upon a close small non corporate hotel close called The Glidden House. I called to find they had a vacancy and parking as well. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1q7tCVe8JOjyxhXFifasRM_Cu2sX80AqjtndHPhmWDEyXJgtsuiUTJI_ZiOx-KCSDGe16KQURq4NMo5BrWnKlAExvS1PKTV-mjC_B9I8XobjGPQo9jd334mV7uVgrltqfjuyTnIdmjc/s1600/cleve+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1q7tCVe8JOjyxhXFifasRM_Cu2sX80AqjtndHPhmWDEyXJgtsuiUTJI_ZiOx-KCSDGe16KQURq4NMo5BrWnKlAExvS1PKTV-mjC_B9I8XobjGPQo9jd334mV7uVgrltqfjuyTnIdmjc/s400/cleve+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panorama of the Cleveland Museum of Art atrium</td></tr>
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The hotel turned out to be a fantastically beautiful former estate of the Glidden paint family. I pulled Cheeky up to the front of this elegant chateau and unloaded my bags, then checked into my room. I still had some daylight left so I went exploring the neighborhood retracing my route back to the Cleveland Museum of Art. On the way I passed the Cleveland Botanical Garden and the Museum of History. Looking at my watch, I had a couple hours to see the art museum before it closed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbyIwgpbjA8XCYzYovxyzQ38UqgJC_VlIDWNwgUyTmNaZBh78-paTEb5fuIUJM4QnsDqaRNJw066T77lFugA9OpO04fI9uKONJBOQbjSLCTnr-NuKEKtpnzLQkq0mCuMbbRRxNYJfJXU/s1600/cleve+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbyIwgpbjA8XCYzYovxyzQ38UqgJC_VlIDWNwgUyTmNaZBh78-paTEb5fuIUJM4QnsDqaRNJw066T77lFugA9OpO04fI9uKONJBOQbjSLCTnr-NuKEKtpnzLQkq0mCuMbbRRxNYJfJXU/s320/cleve+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sound installation ushered me to a different world</td></tr>
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At the front desk of the museum, the docent gave me a quick rundown on what to see within the limited time before closing. I took the guide pamphlet and quickly made my tour throughout this impressive building and incredible collection of contemporary work, classical works, and medieval collection plus a sound installation comprising of a classical chorale in a room surrounded by Baroque masterpieces. I couldn't have landed in a better spot after a long drive. Upon leaving the museum, I inquired at the information desk as to where the Rock and Roll Museum was located. The woman explained that it was down on the lake front about 5 miles away. At first I thought I made a wrong choice for a hotel location but later discovered I happened upon the best area to stay.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgds49BBlw6GtcdJc_rp8-i9xF0ZIWU51vXBWt_jJNa7_x4pK74r2VtKAtRhH0BCK3JdyALy-JwNA06brNXJPe3NU6ElxE35ehP87qEZm4MlE0wWRPAqRUKzi1vITwym7ns8LFQgnIn1LA/s1600/cleve+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgds49BBlw6GtcdJc_rp8-i9xF0ZIWU51vXBWt_jJNa7_x4pK74r2VtKAtRhH0BCK3JdyALy-JwNA06brNXJPe3NU6ElxE35ehP87qEZm4MlE0wWRPAqRUKzi1vITwym7ns8LFQgnIn1LA/s320/cleve+7.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Medieval Display</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsnT2dmm7O52J_izJSsB5c_KUx17QUES7ZnKTC4utx2pxVWkf1aFDxltqHHbsa_IwyCx1inIikD7Fqye-U3iDaiKA-p7puQLQOwnNuJ1G56TQ4AlrYiIDhF0QHBsFEbDSKytcbEX_fjo/s1600/cleve+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsnT2dmm7O52J_izJSsB5c_KUx17QUES7ZnKTC4utx2pxVWkf1aFDxltqHHbsa_IwyCx1inIikD7Fqye-U3iDaiKA-p7puQLQOwnNuJ1G56TQ4AlrYiIDhF0QHBsFEbDSKytcbEX_fjo/s320/cleve+6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring tried to break through</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqfhOMaZnXmf_mswqvy76HmqVOD4_1e-05Y1h4G4boy4y3pl-IpSX0ubCBmmRpMKFZK41b2we87JVkDubrs1WGRmUXOwSNKyGmQT_aiVq9jNkPNxVUguaJ_6VkkazUiq7e18g_K8Rs04/s1600/cleve+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqfhOMaZnXmf_mswqvy76HmqVOD4_1e-05Y1h4G4boy4y3pl-IpSX0ubCBmmRpMKFZK41b2we87JVkDubrs1WGRmUXOwSNKyGmQT_aiVq9jNkPNxVUguaJ_6VkkazUiq7e18g_K8Rs04/s320/cleve+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gardens outside the museum</td></tr>
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Returning to my hotel, I inquired at the front desk about a recommending a restaurant within walking distance. The desk clerk smiled and insisted I walk about 20 minutes to the Little Italy section of Cleveland to Mia Belle Restaurant. I cleaned up a bit and within a half hour I was walking in the continuing rain to the restaurant. Across the street from my hotel I noticed a building that looked like a Frank Gery contemporary design. It was incredibly bent, twisted, and metallic. Later I found I was correct in my assumption. Onward sloshing along the boulevard I came to the Mia Belle, a small family owned corner bistro. Sitting a the bar, I ordered a Mia salad, scallops in red sauce, and a glass of Italian white wine. The salad was crisp with a nice variety of veggies and the scallops were the most flavorful tender bites of Neptune that ever slid over my tongue. Dessert was a caramel custard ending my full blown Italian culinary experience.<br />
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With the rain now accompanied with a strong wind, my walk home was a bit challenging but the lingering flavors of Mia Belle and the thoughts of the Rock & Roll Museum for tomorrow occupying my mind, I was soon at the doorstep of the Glidden House.<br />
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-37227114020274055672013-05-27T22:17:00.000-07:002013-05-29T13:16:15.540-07:001 Turn, 2 People, 3 Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Leaving Greenville felt like I found the items I wished for but I wasn't feeling complete. Something was missing so my hopes hung on my going north a bit more to the Ohio and Pennsylvania border.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7K7p__zse9TdLezccDIaCQCFJIPtzZdR2HeYM4SzwCeVDRvUWTSkR-xJNuwjxXqhACnX-OnUhK0QvQqyh9GL-4eHwuSm4gpPhZTqFTKLUOmHFqkQhBQsOYKJetB68dcHH7eiUGWKsC04/s1600/lines+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7K7p__zse9TdLezccDIaCQCFJIPtzZdR2HeYM4SzwCeVDRvUWTSkR-xJNuwjxXqhACnX-OnUhK0QvQqyh9GL-4eHwuSm4gpPhZTqFTKLUOmHFqkQhBQsOYKJetB68dcHH7eiUGWKsC04/s320/lines+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main Street Linesville PA</td></tr>
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The evening and early morning brought a solid rain but I was comfortable and dry inside Big Agnus (the tent) but the rain creates extra work in the morning trying to dry the tent before packing it into it's stuff sack. I made some coffee and ate cearal to reduce cooking and clean up. The morning began sunny interspersed with big clouds so I quickly assembled everything, packed, and drove east about 3 miles on to Main St. I saw the post office and remembered Sharon had left a book on tape for the Bisbee Library in one of provision boxes. The tape would be way overdue if I didn't send it so I walked up and down Main Street until 9AM when the Post Office opened. Besides if I got to my Grandparents farm too early it would be a bit rude of me knocking on the door asking for permission to poke around.<br />
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I got some ice at the small market, bought some lubricating oil and a "hide a key" at the hardware store, mailed the package, and drove north about 15 miles when I came to a "Road Closed" sign just before my Grandparents farm, or the best that I could remember where it was. I took the detour routing me to the Ohio border. This time I ignored the detour sign and doubled back slowly looked for the farm. The distance from the farm to the border was the only clue I had in my mind. As I slowly drifted down the pavement, a dirt road that looked kind of familiar on the right side of the road caught my eye, I turned and began driving on it, first passing a farmer on a tractor, we both nodded giving each other mutual recognition as I continued up the road. Next about a 100 yards further a good sized man was working in a newly planted garden. I spied the buildings behind him and the garden but none of the structures were my grandfathers.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQI-VNlQ9bhbAKfhc-JamuO9iUGLhQ5YzpmCdC6DT3BtO7-xOl8EOJyoY4fdp55rW3crhkh9gkcVeDp9T_qJA79si23wb5YHSbL3J4TnyeLbkby5tpjEAl04Xh2PRU_mg1J2zhKB30tA/s1600/line+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQI-VNlQ9bhbAKfhc-JamuO9iUGLhQ5YzpmCdC6DT3BtO7-xOl8EOJyoY4fdp55rW3crhkh9gkcVeDp9T_qJA79si23wb5YHSbL3J4TnyeLbkby5tpjEAl04Xh2PRU_mg1J2zhKB30tA/s400/line+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill and Jean Thompson...my new cousins.</td></tr>
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You see, my grandfather, Paul Batory was a tall strong craftsman and construction foreman for large projects such as dams and road building so when the original two story farm house caught fire in the 1940's, my Grandpap built the new house himself around the damaged one while they still lived in it. When it came time to remove the old house, Grandpap had everything ready to complete the interior in a couple weeks.<br />
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The farmer turned and stared at me from the middle of his garden wondering who I was stopping at his property. I got out of Cheeky, smiled and introduced myself and then explained that I believe this property was my grandparents one time. He asked their names and said the Batory's farm is about a half mile further towards Ohio and believes the renters moved out quite some time ago so the place may be empty. He seemed very comfortable and relaxed then continued on about his property at one time belonged to Billy Gilroy. He began<b> Story One</b>..."Billy was quite a character. He had a 600lb. razor hog and he would slip an ear of corn in his back pocket and that hog would sniff that ear of corn following Billy around the perimeter of his property. That's how he walked his hog." <b>Story Two</b>..."He had a brother Jimmy that wanted to buy a farm about a couple miles down from here. Now this was in the 1930's...He worked for Ferguson Tractor and had saved up $2,000.00 for the down payment for the farm. Remember this was the 30's so $2,000.00 was a lot of money then. Well Jimmy had sat on a tractor and plowed a field and the wide tractor seat dislodged his wallet from his back pocket somewhere in the field. Jimmy borrowed a plow horse and rake implement and walked behind that horse until dusk when he decided the wallet was lost forever. He began to unhook the horse when the horse stomped kicking forward a tuft of dirt and Jimmy saw something fly across the ground. Walked over and reached to his disbelief, it was his wallet with all the money. He said he never felt more like kissing a horses ass in his life"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkmBrfUHNONTWELJiD29RRw5hUxVyg4Lq5xtnWTb_Mn5B-EXUSG0FmTQ1QpkZQi-KlckrdpgV92ewRfECNdSQ4LvF-pASoLyuUmQHLRzddlxDkuI-7M210cT0ALgfOnCF9B0eezbVvCw/s1600/line+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkmBrfUHNONTWELJiD29RRw5hUxVyg4Lq5xtnWTb_Mn5B-EXUSG0FmTQ1QpkZQi-KlckrdpgV92ewRfECNdSQ4LvF-pASoLyuUmQHLRzddlxDkuI-7M210cT0ALgfOnCF9B0eezbVvCw/s320/line+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandpap Paul and Granma Esther's house</td></tr>
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When he finished with the two stories I began to put together the lineage of characters in his story and when he told me his name was Bill Thompson and that his daddy's name was Merle, I became elated. First off....the two people in the stories were brothers and those brothers were my uncles. Not the sharpest boys but hard workers. The farmer, Bill Thompson's father, Merle was my Uncle Merle because my grandmothers sister married Merle. It was said Merle was half American Indian and he and my Aunt Ruth lived across the state highway from my grandparents. Merle and Ruth had a large farmhouse with wooden floors<b>. Story Three</b>...One Saturday when I was about 6 years old I walked over to my Uncle Merle's to sit in his living room and watch professional wrestling with him. Merle thought the wrestling was real and every Saturday you could hear him across the highway yelling at the Philco black and white TV. I sat and watched both the wrestling and Uncle Merle rolling a cigarette from the can of Prince Albert next to his wooden chair. He had the cigarette almost done but a piece of tobacco left the paper and went up his nose causing Merle to violently sneeze and behind the sneeze came Uncle Merle's teeth flying from his mouth and skipping across the wooden floor in front of the Philco. I honestly thought my uncle had sneezed so hard that he blew out all his teeth so I ran home to my grandparents screaming "Uncle Merle blew out his teeth". That's when I learned about dentures and that they are just like stars...they come out at night.<br />
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I explained to Bill that we are related only by marriage but it was sure great getting to meet him and his wife Jean who smiled so sweetly. I asked to take their picture and Jean said she isn't pretty enough and Bill told Jean it isn't too often that a girl gets to have her photo taken with such a handsome man.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hSZjZvDU8rb_Yc16QU8j_b9aZY_o802BAFw0qFPtrLGutaIfKdtzfapIb9KKvc3iVaS6Mk_GE07x0gWrF6GVkZtPEMo4NxyHZiqDm16T2_D9wh7HKh8XSFOpswOEwVkwpY4r67Bqcm0/s1600/line+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hSZjZvDU8rb_Yc16QU8j_b9aZY_o802BAFw0qFPtrLGutaIfKdtzfapIb9KKvc3iVaS6Mk_GE07x0gWrF6GVkZtPEMo4NxyHZiqDm16T2_D9wh7HKh8XSFOpswOEwVkwpY4r67Bqcm0/s320/line+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbers family grave site</td></tr>
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We said our goodbyes and I now was off to finish up my business. I drove down the highway and looked for the block house out on the road Bill explained to me. I saw the block house up ahead and sure enough way back off the road was my grandparents home where I spent most of my weekends growing up. The house was empty and in need of a little care but I had full run of walking about reliving in my mind so many warm memories. I turned away from the house and walked into the thick woods to where I remembered the Barber family grave site. This family was involved with the underground railroad hiding black slaves and assisted them from the south to the north. I walked with my memory as my only talisman then bingo there were the graves.<br />
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Walking back to the farmhouse I felt a sense of total satisfaction. My memory served me pretty well and the happenstance of meeting my new far removed cousins was a sweet surprise. <br />
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I returned to Cheeky, fired up Minnie, programmed in Cleveland, Ohio. This time not only was I on my way to the next roadside attraction but I felt completely joyful not only finding the farm but stumbling upon Bill Thompson and his wife was the really Holy Grail.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HUez94bXGLOFKW2mF8vmVZs7IVv1B7c4R4XUoJTe0X35dnBRXvtLBOWGiKKPkviuwxpt4dpsZo9OlshcOwIwT8KcR_NeNgM9ZqNheU-kAWXu3hnw90v6LSu5vYHj42p_HtTVXnwh1T8/s1600/line+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HUez94bXGLOFKW2mF8vmVZs7IVv1B7c4R4XUoJTe0X35dnBRXvtLBOWGiKKPkviuwxpt4dpsZo9OlshcOwIwT8KcR_NeNgM9ZqNheU-kAWXu3hnw90v6LSu5vYHj42p_HtTVXnwh1T8/s320/line+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geneva on the Lake.</td></tr>
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PS: On my way to Cleveland I saw a sign for Geneva on the Lake, a beach community on Lake Erie. my mother used to talk about fondly so I stopped by to see what turned out to be a stunted version of the Jersey Boardwalk</div>
On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420073316056128298.post-61002314306086987702013-05-26T20:11:00.000-07:002013-05-26T20:22:38.214-07:00North To My Birthplace<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilC03sJciCtZqos3yVWhZLGJNHvO_R2vviTl3n_iVC9160ZgqKrb5Ppteb5CCrfHJ2FLhzpaVPHAQlt4mljzjSBBG9nfwQV0JQy6qg7w_yqr_67LGjGoGUjbW2m27vEH694XC0rlJkRVE/s1600/green+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilC03sJciCtZqos3yVWhZLGJNHvO_R2vviTl3n_iVC9160ZgqKrb5Ppteb5CCrfHJ2FLhzpaVPHAQlt4mljzjSBBG9nfwQV0JQy6qg7w_yqr_67LGjGoGUjbW2m27vEH694XC0rlJkRVE/s320/green+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main Street Greenville</td></tr>
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The next couple days are the reason for this trip. The journey has been great but real sweet stuff for me is to visit my birthplace, Greenville Pennsylvania to reacquaint myself with the houses, the neighborhood, school, and surrounding areas. I wanted to smell the dirt, taste the air, feel the light, and get a real sense where my life began. Youthful eyes are pretty silly and when connected to the mind, a memory can become easily distorted. Houses looked much larger and the length of the streets are much shorter than I remembered.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBGKxVkp9XoaRgTKopyE6HTZ6nYkGSZaJyS7JmeNQqETbxUrh4KvUnK3ZxRnak2oOliAQmjY86UKc0_cqpTkoULqwoqAP3fGdgz1a8Vxm_b2fAWCfFJuZxywMWzUSVXGOkWgkoehqyp8/s1600/green+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBGKxVkp9XoaRgTKopyE6HTZ6nYkGSZaJyS7JmeNQqETbxUrh4KvUnK3ZxRnak2oOliAQmjY86UKc0_cqpTkoULqwoqAP3fGdgz1a8Vxm_b2fAWCfFJuZxywMWzUSVXGOkWgkoehqyp8/s320/green+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy Trinity Church where Mom taught Sunday School</td></tr>
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Information regarding my early life is limited to a few photos and my memory. My parents are both gone as well as my only sibling. Surprisingly enough my memory was fairly accurate having to search 55 years of past data. Only a couple things I couldn't find and I didn't try to connect with any people. First of all, I attended my first three years of school there and all my parents friends are long gone. The only person that is a direct relative that could lend any help is my Aunt Nita but she is working through some memory issues. So it is up to me to glean what I'm looking for and I'm not certain what is driving me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQq4Ntb7ttlrr4WDjeuDiwN7-S-zXMobf3cXu4NKuGYWX6bh6u-obbbCXCVVZxWcn5E_SgO3u_EICQ2LMX5uIUT0EZ_ClN6KW8k35QKWm8AIWedwoquX-kezFmsPfCwVGY9dtpI1OfHWg/s1600/green+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQq4Ntb7ttlrr4WDjeuDiwN7-S-zXMobf3cXu4NKuGYWX6bh6u-obbbCXCVVZxWcn5E_SgO3u_EICQ2LMX5uIUT0EZ_ClN6KW8k35QKWm8AIWedwoquX-kezFmsPfCwVGY9dtpI1OfHWg/s320/green+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kidd Covered Bridge where I used to play Huck Finn</td></tr>
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Monday morning I left my hotel near the airport in Pittsburgh and drove directly north for 70 miles. Again, I left Greenville when I was 9 but when I reached Main Street I drove directly to the Holy Trinity Lutheran Church to get my bearings. This is where I was baptized and spent every Sunday listening to Pastor Brath, fidgeting in the pews, and attending Sunday school doing a variety of puzzles all with a religious undertone. This repetition allowed me to find the church and park next to it without hesitation. With some help from a woman inside the church I found my first school that no longer is part of the school system, the old covered bridge, and our third home which was the prize of my mother's dreams. It was brand new and the only house they purchased in their life. The first house was out in the country and I believe was leveled and the second one near my first school, I just couldn't remember.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3OlJe3UWOpvwq3GSypsNFs9tEbMELHI7QnznJGLrhMdGvvceuL0uQ155FlglcnHgGoxkntFZS4emU2hafXX6Oznosf2PnhPozc2iRkeLkTW3EY5FW4UqY-tLFBExsMWJq-Txhu-ao2E/s1600/green+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3OlJe3UWOpvwq3GSypsNFs9tEbMELHI7QnznJGLrhMdGvvceuL0uQ155FlglcnHgGoxkntFZS4emU2hafXX6Oznosf2PnhPozc2iRkeLkTW3EY5FW4UqY-tLFBExsMWJq-Txhu-ao2E/s320/green+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late Afternoon lunch stop at Paxtons</td></tr>
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I was quite satisfied with what I had found leaving me with a warm feeling. More daylight was available for me to move a bit further north to search for my Mom's parent's farm but first I had to get something to eat. I remember the first time I ate in a restaurant with my mother. We were shopping on Main Street and she suggested we have lunch in a restaurant. I was about 4 years old and when we entered through the doors I took a close look at the line of stools with chrome rims lined up along the counter that was about as tall as me. Mom helped me up on one of the stools and she ordered a hamburger for me. This was quite a joy and obvious I never forgot.<br />
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I walked down Main St a saw a colored awning advertising Paxtons Family Restaurant. The thought of finding the same restaurant ran through my mind as I pushed open the door. When I entered through the second door the line up of stools with chrome rims weakened my knees. I felt as if I entered a time machine. I could feel my Mom walk with me to the counter only this time I didn't need her help and yes I ordered a hamburger plus it was one of the best I've ever tasted.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9f93-p7rnNonFzCWsgYB397DT0fk-cLbOJ3-TaUuKVgQhlWDLROU1Zl4J1WW78oMZdvwR1FdlYJr_d1IJCt_j1YSUWcm3iPl5-kRWydPh8P6qyWvrIDNwO7CQbXIvToVSaKqkN0ZMXLs/s1600/green+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9f93-p7rnNonFzCWsgYB397DT0fk-cLbOJ3-TaUuKVgQhlWDLROU1Zl4J1WW78oMZdvwR1FdlYJr_d1IJCt_j1YSUWcm3iPl5-kRWydPh8P6qyWvrIDNwO7CQbXIvToVSaKqkN0ZMXLs/s320/green+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fish try to jump up the concrete spillway</td></tr>
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Leaving Greenville a bit late I decided to camp at Lake Pymatuming located only a few miles from the town of Linesville, very close to my Grandparents farm. The road leading up to the lake runs atop of a spillway or causeway where the ducks walk on the fish. This is true, the carp are so plentiful, if a casual visitor throws bread in the concrete gathering point for the fish, the ducks will walk on them to get the piece of bread.<br />
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The sky was gray with clouds ready to burst so I was the only one there and I didn't have any bread to feed the ducks but they were both poised ready to perform. This place was a great thrill when my parents would stop a few times a year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylDLjHpMivVCv0ntIdDGJAkA38GkT9cxYLLNpkW1HEHlDd1xofjltDUTSuAFC9rLVmxlEcBcodiiU-h_vVXkzmlEjGxfqoIPyZHF7NVeE9pSlU9Lo11ss7qyXWZ5ni1x3_klSv2kanOA/s1600/green+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylDLjHpMivVCv0ntIdDGJAkA38GkT9cxYLLNpkW1HEHlDd1xofjltDUTSuAFC9rLVmxlEcBcodiiU-h_vVXkzmlEjGxfqoIPyZHF7NVeE9pSlU9Lo11ss7qyXWZ5ni1x3_klSv2kanOA/s320/green+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never saw one make it into the lake</td></tr>
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Looking up into the sky I knew it would be best to get my camp set as quickly as possible before the rains came. I stopped at the small store and picked up some breakfast supplies and scooted out to the lake campground to hunker down for a very wet night. <br />
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The search for the farm would have to wait til tomorrow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg684NlNH5J_ktLrdEIvq4dwWo1BHGlkG0lXvDTm3JD59-FNLuSjCmGUU3k4V_ZqIzzl9-oNKWreGpiaShRYxwcvEUUT_wWfDggZdNL0IfnRdAiBZHZoWHU975DMFlZU8j8T__CZJkl93s/s1600/green+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg684NlNH5J_ktLrdEIvq4dwWo1BHGlkG0lXvDTm3JD59-FNLuSjCmGUU3k4V_ZqIzzl9-oNKWreGpiaShRYxwcvEUUT_wWfDggZdNL0IfnRdAiBZHZoWHU975DMFlZU8j8T__CZJkl93s/s320/green+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The my parents sold before relocating to Arizona</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcKhSd87JrhQTTYzhYIZSm_lcdQQDIVsKzIyifKqnHHsya0XcOStZT9ddJmvOCERirG_QVGDBlxN6TNv9QhMpbJM3RRfrmOyiXIUaq6luZsHnWwQtDwFGbw-aQKKhj2MOXOOJfftOUrs/s1600/green+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcKhSd87JrhQTTYzhYIZSm_lcdQQDIVsKzIyifKqnHHsya0XcOStZT9ddJmvOCERirG_QVGDBlxN6TNv9QhMpbJM3RRfrmOyiXIUaq6luZsHnWwQtDwFGbw-aQKKhj2MOXOOJfftOUrs/s320/green+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home for me after 50 years past...it was dry and comfy </td></tr>
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On The Road Againhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885915328303077639noreply@blogger.com0