Monday, 11 – Avignon

Today we walked down the street to check out the nearest laundry, having decided that we’d pay to have it done rather than use the Laundromat.  It was closed and we couldn’t get a response to the bell the sign said to ring.  Oh well.  We could make due another day.  We also went to the train station to get tickets for Tuesday to the Pont du Gard, a portion of a Roman aqueduct and a pedestrian and cart bridge.  It’s one of France’s major historic sites and a short bus ride from Avignon.

Business taken care of, we were off to follow Rick Steve’s walking paths through Avignon, some of which we had already walked.  This time though, we walked beyond the Pope’s Palace up to an arbor at the edge of the promontory that rose above the Rhone and protected the river side of the Palace.  Here were great views of the river, the island opposite us (the largest river island in France) and the Saint Benezet Bridge.  This is one of Avignon’s most famous landmarks.  Two sections of it extend 2/3s of the way across the Rhone.  The rest is gone, having been destroyed at least twice. There is famous folk song about the bridge.  We walked down and on to the bridge, which also gained us access to the ramparts of the city wall.  Now we’re talking.  Shooting arrows through the slits at those Holy Roman Empire bastards.  Yeah, baby!

We meandered back through town toward the Halles (Market Place), arriving just after 1:00 – closing time.  Oh well.  We continued on to what turned out to be one of our favorite parts of town, the Rue Teinturiers.

That night we went back to the Place de L’Horlage (central square) for dinner.  Connie had the toughest piece of beef we’d ever known and my lamb chops were paper-thin.  The ratatouille was mush, though both of us thought the potatoes were good.  And, we ordered dessert and digestifs – something we never do.  Crème Broolay and a taste off between Cogac and Armangac.  Bad as the entrees were, the evening was great fun.  I credit the company.

Sunday, 10 - Avignon

It was another catch up on our sleep night so we didn’t get up until late.  By the time we finished our breakfast, other patrons of the café were ordering lunch and beers.  There is a walking district in Avignon and we walked it without much of an agenda.  It was Sunday and most of the shops were closed.  (! I need to say here that both Connie and I are allergic to shopping in general and are definitely not vacation shoppers!)  However, parenthetical disclaimer aside, we are interested in a certain kind of basket the Megan brought back from France with her so many years ago and colorful fabrics.  But just that.

Eventually we wondered out of the no-traffic zone and found ourselves in a place where immense structures seemed to have grown out of the roughly carved stone ahead of us.  Added to that was the music coming out from the narrow shadowed canyon like alley between them.  I did a pano video of the place that captured the music.  As we walked through the curving alley, I stopped to show the old man playing his accordion that his music was on our video and droped a coin into his cup.  He was delighted.

Turns out we were on the backside of the Palais de Pepes (Palace of the Popes; more about later) and the square in front of it.  From there we walked back to the central square and had lunch.  A couple about our age from Reno sat down at the table next to us and soon we were engaged in a conversation about where we were from, our current itinerary and former travels.  Before we knew, two hours had passed.

On the way back to our room we picked up a couple of coffees to go.  Once back, we spent the afternoon catching up on this blog – me writing and Connie working on the picture gallery.

Our Hotel

Both Rick Steves and hotels.com recommended Hotel Boquier.  It is on a short side street, Rue   Boquier, and family owned and operated. It is in what was a three story home built in the 16th century and nothing is perfectly plumb, level or square.  There are only 12 rooms and the stairs are steep and narrow.  The owner gave us two keys, one for our room and one for the front door.  Instead of a thumb turn on the inside of our door, there’s just a key slot so when we’re in our room that’s where the key stays.        

But, our bed and pillows are comfortable and the shower adequate and those two things are what matter to Connie and me.  We are on the deuxième étage, so there will be no one above us to come stumbling in in the wee hours.  Our window opens on to the street and, sitting here late on a Sunday afternoon, it is nice listening to the conversations of the people walking by.

Saturday, 9/9 - Barcelona/Avignon

Without having used multi-day RailEurope vouchers before, we were a little nervous about trying to redeem them just before our train was to leave, so after breakfast we headed out to Sants Estacio Central (the train station) to get things figured out.  On our trip back, we got off of the Metro at the bottom of the Ramblas to wander around the Bari Gotic for a while before we had to leave for Avignon.  After lunch it began to rain so we picked up our bags at the hotel and took a cab back to the train station.

What a delight the train was.  We’re used to the commuter train between San Jose and San Francisco – a jerky, noisy, bouncy and wobbly ride.  This was smooth and quiet whether racing along at near 200 MPH or slowly approaching a station.  We sat across from each other in comfortable seats with a table between us with leaves on each side so it could be narrow or wide depending on our needs.  I used the time to catch up on some of this and then just stared out of the window.  I can’t remember a more relaxing transportation experience and we were approaching Avignon in what seemed a lot less than four hours.

It turned out that the train station where I thought we’d land and from which it was not a long walk to our hotel was not where the bullet train dropped us.  We had to cab it into town and when we walked into our hotel at a little after nine, the owner knew who we were.  He usually locks the door at eight but had kindly stayed up for our arrival.  After helping us to our room and showing us where to go for dinner – we were both tired and hungry – he took his leave.  Past the Irish Pub, across a main street, down an alley and past a church and, voila, a couple of cafés.   We sat outside at the one he recommended and were glad we did.  A piece of hearty French bread with tomatoes, cheese and basil all toasted for each and we shared a platter of salami, Brie, pate and small pickles and a bottle Cote de Rhone.  More food than we could handle, but we walked back to our hotel well refreshed.

Sagrada Familia

The first time Connie saw the Sagrada Familia was when she and her friend Kris were bumming around Europe in 1968.  At that time, the northeast façade (The Nativity Façade) and some of the transept were all of the above ground construction completed.  When we toured it in ’02, the transept and apse were enclosed, some more of the smaller towers were complete and the frame of the southwest façade (The Passion Façade) was near completion.  The forest theme of the interior was a little overdone, however, there being a forest of scaffolding throughout.  Even so, it was obvious we were standing in a special place.

Though still years from completion, the church was consecrated by the pope in 2010.  When it is completed, ownership shifts from the City of Barcelona to the Catholic Church.  The entire southeast façade (The Glory Façade), with its great bronze doors to become the main entrance and four more of the great towers has yet to be built.  The two southern chapels have to be built and the cloisters on that end of the church enclosed.  And finally, the greatest of the towers need to be completed.

But that’s all outside.  Once inside, Gaudi’s dream is all but realized.  I’m not capable of doing its artistry justice – you’ll have to see it yourselves.  I’ll just note a few things.  The interior is at once familiar and unlike anything else.  All the traditional cathedral features are there and yet there’s nothing traditional about them.  For example, the great columns that run through the nave and transept branch and then branch again before coming in contact with the roof.  By doing so, more of the roof and towers loads are transferred to the columns eliminating the need for buttressing the exterior walls.  And the foliage features that form the forest canopy were designed to enhance the acoustics of the huge space made of stone, metal and glass.  The use of sunlight is also cool.  The ample windows on the sunrise side are in varying shades of reds and yellows to warm the day.  On the opposite side, the colors are blue and green to cool the afternoon’s heat.  But coolest is that from bottom to top the shades go from darker to lighter causing the observer to lift her eyes to heaven.  And, finally, in the museum below, we saw an incredible web of string and tiny little sand bags.  This turns out to be a way to reverse engineer the shapes of arches based on their widths and loads (the little sand bags).  If he did not devise the system himself, Gaudi was a major contributor to its development.

Gaudi began work on the church in 1888 and was killed in a trolley accident in 1926 with little of the above ground work completed.

Friday, 9/8 - Barcelona

We got up early and took a taxi to Sagrada Famillia in time to have breakfast before going in (see below).  After the tour, we decided to walk up to Parc Guell.  It was a long uphill trudge through more work-a-day neighborhoods.  We thought we’d just buy tickets when we got there.  Connie remembers just walking in back in ’02.  But it was a zoo and we had to be content with walking around the two terraces and not being able to take pictures of the dragon stairwell.  Tired and hungry, we took a cab back to Plaça Catalunya for some lunch. 

Barcelona

Barcelona is in the southeastern corner of Spain.  It is the principle city of the once (and future?) country of Catalunya.  Catalunya, alone and through various treaties, even had its own empire, albeit small and short lived.  And before King John of England was forced to by the barons to cede some control, the Catalan Prince signed a document far more reaching in the establishment of democracy. 

            The oldest parts of the city are down by the waterfront.  The Bari Gotic is surrounded by other small districts and pretty much made up the whole of the town until the nineteenth century.  There are several buildings in the Bari Gotic that date from as early as the 10th century.  But starting almost 200 years ago, Barcelona began a great expansion called the Eixample.  It was built according to a plan by one of the city’s great architects (whose name I can’t remember).  The plan called for the construction of great city blocks of apartment buildings, with commercial establishments on the ground floor, the centers of the blocks open for sun, air, lawn and gardens for the residents and the block’s corners all cut off at 45º to accommodate great traffic circles.  The traffic circles have given way to modern stoplights.  Many of the buildings were built during the Art Nuveau period and all have the ubiquitous, and famous, balconies with wrought iron railings.

            A spider web of boulevards crisscrosses Barcelona.  These Passeig (PAH-sah) are wide with one or two lanes for motor traffic on each side of a tree lined center strip for bike traffic, pedestrians or both.  We took pictures of the bike lanes for our anti-motor vehicle crusader son, Peter.  A lot of the walking Connie and I did – 7 to 8 miles a day – was under the trees of these avenues.  The most famous passeigh is the Ramblas.

            Throughout its history, Barcelona has been one of the most liberal places on the planet.  The area was one of the last to hold out against Franco during the Spanish Civil War and he made them pay.  He even went so far as to ban the Catalan flag and language.  He had his own building phase and though the many apartment buildings aren’t quite as grim as Soviet Union construction, the outer rim of Barcelona claims no part of the architectural fame and beauty the city is known for.

            Finally, there is an argument for Catalan being the first Romance language.  Many Roman soldiers retired to Spain, with the higher-ranking vets preferring the north and central parts of the country and the enlisted men preferring the south.  It’s argued that the Romans in the north resisted the effect of the local language on their Latin while those in the south were more amenable to change.

Thursday, 9/7 - Barcelona

Turned off the light at 9 and got out of bed this morning at 8:30.  We were tired.  After breakfast we walked through the Bari Gotic area to the Picasso Museum.  Housed in a 13th Century apartment building size home, it follows his development from a 13-year-old prodigy to a world famous artist.  He had such a long and varied career that the museum covers pretty well, though some periods are a little thin on the art.  We’d visited it before in 2002 and, over dinner, talked about how much we enjoyed it again today.

            From there, we walked to the Sagrada Familia Church, a trip that was punctuated by a stop for coffee and sweet toast and lunch once we’d reached our destination.  I can’t think of anything that is like Gaudi’s church.  It is nothing like just another of Europe’s long history of magnificent architectural paeans to the glory of God.  For that, you can look at the National Cathedral in DC, which began construction around the same time.  To me, Gaudi’s work exposes pure joy in architecture.  And in his magnum opus, it melds with adoration.  Unfortunately, we didn’t follow Rick Steves advice to buy our tickets online and there was no going inside today.  When we got back to the hotel, we bought tickets for the earliest time slot for tomorrow.

Tuesday, 9/5 & Wednesday, 9/6 - Barcelona

On our way to SFO at 5:15 Tuesday morning, Connie and I watched a large full moon, striped by a couple of thin clouds, set over the hills.   It was amazing and I considered it good omen for our journey.  Oddly and even more fun, as we approached the coast of Spain with the marine layer below a smooth and even gray fading into varying intensities of yellow on the horizon, Connie spotted something strange out the window.  It was a bright orange/red horizontal disk in the distance as if there were an intense fire just below the cloud cover.  Over the next couple of minutes it gradually changed shape until it looked like a bowl and began fading from sight.  Just before disappearing completely, a bright crescent began forming above it and soon it became the rising sun.  Good night Moon.  Good morning Sun.

            Door to door, 22 hours.  Our hotel is on the Ramblas, the Pier 39 of Barcelona.  Picking a hotel from the travel sites is chancy, but we did well with this one.  Small with small rooms, it’s updated and delightful.  After some rest, we had a variety of dishes at a café in the Plaça Reial (contrary to Rick Steve’s advise) and came back and hit the hay.

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Epilog

Epilog

So there you have it.  37 days on the road, 5515 miles, two nights camping, 16 different motel/hotels and, thankfully, the hospitality (and laundry facilities) of the Megan and Zack Sterngold, all the Cauwets in Phoenix, Reen & Brian Bookman & Rob & Nancy Schwartz (all family).  And, hundreds of pictures and over 20,540 words.  And, a lot of lessons learned along the way.  And . . .

From Portland, we made it to Roseburg, OR, where we spent the night.  I drove over Siskiyou Summit and on to Weed, rain threatening.  Connie took over then and it began to actually rain.  We’d forgotten how long the descent to the Central Valley is – a 127 mile series of twists and turns going on forever in the rain.  We finally reached flat land in Redding and by Red Bluff we were done in and stopped.  It rained all the way home the next day, but the smile on Rosie’s face when we walked through the door, made us forget the last, long stretch.

Lessons

            Itinerary

            Our starting date was determined by Maya and Lila’s spring break.  Early spring around here may be a bit rainy, but the temperatures are usually pretty mild.  However, the Great Basin must average an elevation of over 5000 feet.  We drove over passes near 9000 feet and saw lots of snow.  We also saw a lot of the coming Spring pushing hard at the door and a lot of resorts and campgrounds waiting for the season to open.  Our course to the Yellowstone country was altered by the spring weather.  Though camping was part of our expected experience, weather and timing limited that option.  Lesson 1.

            Our trip was essentially a tour of the Southwest and the Northwest with a lot of driving in between.  We’ve decided to plan better in the future and spend more time exploring one such region.  More time to look around and more time to visit friends and family.  Lesson 2.

            The Land Yacht

            Although we hadn’t done any long camping trips in it, we had done enough short ones in the van to know that, with a few planned improvements, we could camp just about anywhere.  What this trip showed us was that our Dodge/Fiat self-converted camper van was every bit the vehicle we had hoped it would be.  It was comfortable for driver and passenger, able to handle all the road conditions we encountered and, when challenged, thumbed its nose at the wind.  A couple of the added in – house electrical details need some fine-tuning, but all in all, its maiden voyage passed with flying colors.  Lesson 3.

            Hotels and Motels

            Though we had planned to stay in a motel occasionally,  we had pretty much given up on camping by the time we left Colorado.  Back at Gallup we were talked into joining HHoners, one of the clubs chain motels now offer.  It was free and offered easy check in and points, etc. for stays in any of the Hilton family of hotels.  We probably stayed in 5 Hampton Inns.  The nicest ones were deep in the Navajo Reservation and were much cheaper than others in cities.  The only bad motel we stayed in was in Springdale, Utah (Zion NP).  We splurged when we stayed in downtown Vancouver.  Though it was nice in some cases to be able to go down to the hotel bar for a snack when we were too tired to cook, we still would rather have camped.  And, all that high living made the trip cost a lot more than we had planned for.  Camping availability is now high on our planning checklist.  Lesson 4

            Road Food

Burgers, nachos, burritos, pizza, fish & chips, chili, sandwiches, enchiladas . . .  Fries or slaw with your order?  As the lodging expenses went up, the dining budget suffered.  We did have some great meals – at Elote in Sedona, at the National Park Hotel on Mt. Rainier, at Pike Place Market, and, also at the hotel in Kayenta, way out in the middle of the reservation.  And, one huge disappointment.  Near where we stayed in Boise there was a seafood restaurant voted best for seafood.  I was drooling for some trout.  All they had was farm raised Atlantic salmon in a variety of preparations.

We like to cook and are very good at camp cooking.  (See Lesson 4)

           The Blog

Connie and I have both been blessed to be able to do a lot of traveling.  We’ve both kept notes and about our trips and I’ve written travel logs about some of them.  Some are yet to be completed, I admit.  Doing a travel log as a blog while traveling is a little like taking your homework with you to the movies.  It’s always there and you’re always behind on it.  On the other hand it is the most complete memoir of our travels we have and knowing it would be read by an audience other than our future selves, has made me pay more attention to the writing.  Will I do it again?  That’s a definite maybe.  Lesson 5

A couple of fun things and then the end

Connie and I really like the Southwest the best.  We love learning more about the First Americans of that area, especially the Hopi and the Navajo.  But one thing was strange.  We never saw the riverbed through the water until we got to the Cascade Mountains in Washington.  All the rivers and streams before then were heavily laden with silt.  Mother Nature is still sculpting the land out there.

While driving through Oregon we passed a highway road sign that said, “45th Parallel, You are now halfway between the equator and the north pole”.

Looking out our hotel window at Mesa Verde, I brought up the compass app on my phone to see if I was looking east.  I was.  Then, on a whim, I held it against an interior wall.  It was perfectly aligned north-south.  After all we know and had recently learned about First American culture of the southwest, it blew me away.  Was it intentional?  Or serendipitous?

We listened to 5 books along the way: Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, The Fallen Man by Tony Hillerman, The Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline, Honolulu by Alan Brennert and The Dark Wind also by Tony Hillerman.  The Hillerman books are part of a series of mysteries, the main characters being two Navajo Reservation policemen and all the action takes place on or near the reservation.  We both have read most of them and learned a lot about the ways of the people who live in that part of the world.  The Orphan Train takes place in 2011 and the early part of the twentieth century and is about the struggles of a foster girl about to turn 18 and her relationship with a 91 year old woman who road the orphan train west after loosing her Irish immigrant family in New York City.  Though suitable for older teens, I would recommend it to anyone.  And Hololulu is a history of the city and Oahu seen through the eyes of a Korean “picture bride”.  Again another recommendation.

Okay.  Enough.  Connie and I really enjoyed being on the road and are looking forward to the next one.  Hope you’ll ride along with us then.

The End

Day 33, 34 & 35

Day 33, 34 & 35 (5/3, 5/4 & 5/5)

The best for last . . .

            We drove into Seattle and parked below the freeway adjacent to Pike Place Market.  While I was putting the parking receipt on the dashboard, a gentleman approached me and told me that if we parked there, our bikes and anything of value would be missing when we returned, courtesy of the local homeless.  We thanked him and were able to find free parking on the street nearby without too much trouble.  After walking around a bit and buying a tee shirt from City Fish Co. to replace the one I’d bought there twenty years ago, we had a great lunch (real seafood!).

            Our main reason for stopping in Seattle was to visit with family and friends.  Anna, whom Peter dated years ago, is both a friend and part of our extended family.  She and her husband have been living in Seattle for the last nine years and we have enjoyed watching their daughter, Mable (8) and son, Jackson (5) grow up on Facebook.  It had been a long time since we’d seen Anna and we spent a while over coffee in the back yard getting caught up until it was time to walk over to the kids’ school to bring Mable her shoes for PE. 

            They live in the Queen Anne district of Seattle, a neighborhood of older houses on top of a hill west of the freeway.  The school, a few blocks away, is amazing.  The exterior looks like your standard multistory urban school with an enclosed play yard.  But most of the interior is connected open space, including the ground and second floors by an atrium.  It’s like the classrooms were turned inside out.  The classes have their own spaces and the openness is broken up by bookcases, banks of cabinets and cubbies, screens and so on, but there seems to be more of a general sense of overall community there.

            After dropping off Mable’s shoes, we walked back to Anna’s house by a different route to get more of a look at the neighborhood, talking and getting caught up.  Anna talked about moving out of their cramped place, but finding a school as good as the one they have there sounded nearly impossible.  When it was time to pick up Jackson and his pal, we walked back to the school again.  Mable had an afterschool hip-hop class and we once again sat in the backyard and talked until she came home and, all too soon, it was time for us to leave.

            Anna wanted to show us another part of the neighborhood with great views and hopped into the van (the neighbor was watching the kids).  We drove along a wall where hillside fell away and got some great views of the sound and the peaks beyond and them came to a little parking area where we had a fantastic view looking down on the Space Needle.  We got out and took pictures.  Anna said she’d walk back, but we drove her home anyway, vowing to not wait so long to visit again.

            It took about an hour’s drive south to get from Anna’s house to Federal Way where Jimi and Rebecca and their girls live.  When I originally texted Becca that we wanted to take them out for dinner on the night we’d be there, she responded, “That sounds nice, but who are you?”  My phone number was not in her contacts.  After we got that straightened out, we told her to pick out their favorite restaurant and let us know where to go.  Jimi wouldn’t be able to join us because he was working late, so we arranged to have breakfast with him the following day (and, of course, with the girls).

            We had met Rebecca only once, at Jenny and Jesse’s wedding (Jenny is Jimi’s baby sister).  Phoenix was only a toddler then.  But, Connie and I have enjoyed watching Phoenix and her sister, Coral, grow up on Facebook through Becca’s many and Jimi’s fewer posts.  And, we felt we had gotten to share a little in the Cook family’s life over the time we hadn’t seen them.

            As it turned out, Puerto Vallarta Mexican Restaurant was in the shopping center across the street from where we were staying, though we drove the van there on a circuitous route, having looked it up on Google Maps.  They were sitting in the back corner when we joined them.  After hugs, Phoenix (5) told us that she doesn’t like to talk much – a fact her mom confirmed.  She then talked nonstop until we buckled her into her car seat and said good night.  Coral (2 ½), though not as talkative, was every bit as cute and engaging.  We talked with Rebecca about how they had come to live in Federal Way (from Modesto), what they were doing now and how their lives were changing.  They’d followed Jimi’s career here and since then, her career has also been taking off.  It was the most fun we’d had at dinner since leaving Phoenix (kind of cool, huh?  I mean the Phoenix thing).  The time came to leave and though Phoenix wanted us to come home with them to see how fast she can run, we had to say that we’d see her in the morning for breakfast.

            Biscuits Café is next door to Puerto Vallarta and this time we walked over.  Jimi looked great after his extra long day of work, but the girls were a bit subdued, even after their whipped cream topped pancakes came (ah, to be young again).  Jimi elaborated on their plans and told us about his new career as a voice over actor.  He’d built a studio in their house and is considering pursuing talk acting while staying home and caring for the kids while Becca works at her job.  Having breakfast with Jimi and the girls was, like dinner, great fun and when we said goodbye it was again with the promise to visit again soon.

            Lily, Kris’ daughter, lives in New Castle, about halfway between Bellevue and Renton on the east side of the Lake Washington and less than an hour from Federal Way.  We hadn’t seen her since Peter & Meghan’s wedding.  She came out the back door of the condo as we pulled into the parking place ready to show us around.  First it was the condo Kris had bought a few years ago.  She told us about how horribly it had been decorated before and what effort it took to cover up the garish paint colors the previous owners had painted the walls.  We met Buster, her pugnacious lap dog who doesn’t like anybody – though I’m pretty sure he and I parted on good terms.  Then, it was off to tour Lily’s world.

            She drove through suburbia on a dizzying route until we reached the campus of Bellevue College where Lily is working toward a nursing degree.  The former community college had recently been partnered with Eastern Washington University, part of the UW system.  She spoke of the trials of getting into the program she wants, mostly because of its director.  Then our tour continued on to Bellevue where we eventually stopped at a falafel & gyro restaurant.  I have to say that the food was the best I had ever eaten in that kind of restaurant.

            Connie and I had only intermittent contact with Lily when she was growing up in Anchorage, but, like Kris, she had always been part of our extended family.  During our visit it seemed as if Lily wanted to catch up on some of those years, as she talked almost nonstop.  She told us about the condo, school, living in the area, her friends, Bellevue, etc.  We talked about politics and travel and maybe getting together when Kris comes down in the summer.  We really enjoyed being with Lily and talked about what a nice visit it had been when we finally said goodbye and headed back to our hotel in Federal Way.

            Our final scheduled stop was in Portland to see Nate and Arianne and, of course, Kale and his new baby sister, Maize.  Unfortunately, Nate was in New York on business for his great new job (in Portland, not NYC).  We got to hold Maize while Arianne took a shower and she immediately fell in love with Connie, like all babies do.  I had a rougher time, though there wasn’t much I could do about feeding her and it didn’t take mom long to come to my rescue. 

We got a tour of the almost complete duplex they have been building next to the house and heard all about trials of their construction project.  To my professional eye, it is nicely laid out and well built, which I’m sure, makes up for some of the business hassles they had to deal with.

            Kale (2 ½) came home and immediately started talking to us.  In addition to being tall for his age and smart, he is also very gregarious.  We decided to go to Pine State Biscuits for lunch and walked the seven blocks to get there.  I’ve told complete strangers about Pine State Biscuits, though I recommend it for breakfast.  Their specialty is biscuits, of course, but the rest of the food and the down home atmosphere keeps us coming back whenever we visit Portland.

            Kale kept us thoroughly entertained through lunch and the walk back home, but by the time we got back, there was no putting naptime off any longer.  We decided to head out then – reluctantly.  We were 700 miles from home and really sick of the road.  But, the last two days reminded us that though ancient ruins and natural beauty may be the lure of the road for us, the best times are those we spend with family.  That is the first note we will apply to our schedule for the next voyage.

Day 32

Day 32 (5/2)

Remember that firewood . . .

Rather than take another hour long tour of Vancouver’s outlying neighborhoods by following 99 all the way back to I-5 at the boarder, we detoured on to Highway 1 to save time and aggravation.  I had lain awake the night before worrying about dealing with boarder guards over out lack of passports and when we got to the kiosk, we were directed to park over there and go into that building over in that direction.  The guy who interviewed us to establish our citizenship was so laid back he asked if he could call Connie Connie instead of Constance. 

We breezed through that and were sent to the agriculture counter.  There we met the Nurse Ratchet of boarder patrol petty bureaucrats.  Humor, empathy and kindness were dirt she wiped off the soles of her shoes at night.  Yes, we did have 4 oranges, some carrots and lettuce, all of which we had purchased in the good ol’ US of A.  She would have to inspect the van.  I had to go out and lower the bike rack in order to open the back doors.  Then we were told to go sit on that bench over there.  When she came back, she had the oranges (the carrots and lettuce apparently don’t constitute a threat of any kind).  Ok, cool.  So we are free to go, huh?  No!  The fucking firewood.  We’d bought it in Gallup, NM, hauled it around over 4000 miles through 6 states and Canada but couldn’t bring it back across the boarder.  YOU MUST RETURN TO CANADA!  But what can we do with it?  Not my problem.  Fortunately, a couple of helpful officers working outside told us of a RV camp that would take it back up the road a few miles and soon we were back at and able to cross the boarder only an hour and a half after we had originally arrived at it.

Our target was Edmonds, a suburb north of Seattle where Connie’s best friend since 7th grade used to live.  Several times we brought the kids up to visit for vacations and we stopped for a while on our trip in ’85.  Following her job as editor of The Milepost (the ultimate travel guide for Alaska), she moved to Anchorage about 15 years ago.  We had decided to stay there for old times sake and picked a motel down by the waterfront.  We walked along the waterfront to the ferry terminal, reminiscing about old times and being awed by sunset over the snow capped peaks of the Olympics across the sound.  Then we walked into town a little and ate dinner.

In the morning we walked again to the ferry terminal and bought round trip tickets.  We didn’t have time to do more than ride across to Kingston and back, but being on the water is better than being next to it and the views are so beautiful. 

Day 30 & 31

Day 30 & 31 (4/30 & 5/1)

Whistler . . .

            Whistler is wonderful.  Right from the beginning.  At the corner we just took a right and never turned again until we were turning into Whistler an hour and a half later.  Through the rest of downtown and Stanley Park, across Lion’s Gate Bridge and then following along Indian Arm (the fjord) on the Canadians’ take on a freeway.  One minute you’re driving along on a four lane divided highway at 90 (km/h, that is), winding in and out among the cliffs overlooking Indian Arm and as you round a bend, the road becomes two lanes, two way and 55 (~ 35 mph) with a stop light 100 m ahead.  Big and small, fast and slow, freeway and surface street, changing over and over again and, apparently no problem to anybody (except maybe me).

            We stopped at Whistler Creekside – just a couple of miles short of Whistler – and bought some supplies.  Once we turned into the resort, it didn’t take long to find Rob and Nancy’s condo.  You just keep going uphill.  After checking in, we moved in bring with us nearly every piece of clothing we’d brought in the form of dirty laundry.  I’m not exactly sure why, but as soon as we looked around we felt comfortable.  It wasn’t just that this was not just another hotel room.  It was more like we were their guests even though they weren’t there sharing it with us.

            But, the best thing (besides the washer and dryer, of course) was the kitchen.  We had long since become sick of road food.  We love to cook anyway and don’t go out to eat very often.  And to have no choice but to do so for going on 5 weeks was bringing us down.  We’d bought steak, potatoes and asparagus and were looking forward to dinner.

            But first, since it was just early afternoon and we were hungry, it was time to do some exploring.  The path beside the condos led to just above the bottom of the sky run and the base of the lift.  Skiers and boarders were still heading up the slopes, though they had to go all the way to the top of the mountain, way beyond the first crest.  Others were taking the lift, some of whom were walking back down.  This is the Blackcomb run that ends in the upper village.  The Whistler run ends in the lower village.  We confined our walk about to the upper village and eventually sat outside a café and ate lunch and watched the people going by.  Finally, we went back to the condo where Connie did laundry and I got started trying to catch up on the blog.

            By dinnertime, we were still too full from lunch so we each just had half a baked potato and the asparagus.

            While I slept in in the morning, Connie, per Rob’s enthusiastic suggestion, went down to the bakery and picked up some muffins.  I fried up some eggs and we sat down to a great breakfast.  The muffins lived up to their reputation.

            We hung around the condo doing more laundry and just hanging out.  Today we would explore the lower village.  When we finally did get going, we walked downhill and onto a path that led a covered pedestrian bridge that crossed Fitzsimmons Creek.  The creek separates the upper and lower villages and, being surrounded by enough wooded open space and with trails on both sides, it offers a wonderful, quiet get away from the bustle of the villages.

            The lower village is twice as large as the upper village and both are filled with unique shops and restaurants, cafés and ice cream parlors.  In a world where national brands have eliminated mom & pop operations, this was a refreshing respite.  We walked around stopping to check out what interested us.  I saw a hardware store and, because it seemed a little out of place, went in to ask the clerk about its history.  She was the owner’s wife and said that they had started the store when the resort was young and probably wouldn’t have been able if they’d tried later.  I told her I thought they had a gold mine of a location.  We had been steadily walking down hill and eventually came to the lower end of the commercial part of the village.  Hungry, we turned around and retraced out steps almost completely until we found the café where we ate lunch.

            Connie and I like the artistic style of the First Peoples of the northwest and weren’t finding anything to our liking, so we decided to head over to the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre.  This took us back through the lower village, through the Winter Olympic Plaza and, after confusing help from a couple of locals, a lot farther than it should have before we got there.  The entrance we used took us directly to the gift shop where Connie found a tee shirt she liked and I happened upon a blanket I really liked.  After buying both, we suddenly realized how tired we were after walking all afternoon in surprisingly hot weather and we headed home.

            Whistler is an interesting place.  Like Moab, its sole purpose is as a gathering place for people coming to have fun doing out door activities.

And fun is infectious.  We saw lots of young people in boots, snow pants, jackets and helmets and goggles, carrying their boards to or from the lifts.  There were also skiers in various levels of dress, including a man is skin tight short shorts and tee shirt.  Several of the people wandering around were tourists like Connie and me out enjoying what was apparently one of the first truly warm days there.  One man even walked down through the village clad only in his undershorts.

            But there was another interesting aspect of Whistler.  It reminded both Connie and me of Disneyland.  As far as I could tell, the resort began some time in the eighties.  Even if earlier, everything has been so well kept up as to look brand new.  And, like in Disneyland, there are people who go around cleaning all the public places.  Unlike Disneyland, it never felt crowded, or busy, or noisy and we never once had to listen to “It’s a Small World After All”.

            More home cooked food: steak, baked potato and left over asparagus; chopped up steak bits & cheese in the last two eggs with more of the great muffins.  Thanks again Rob and Nancy for a great break from the road.

Day 29

Day 29 (4/29)

            Biking around Stanley Park . . .

We had to pay for another 24 hours of parking by 9:11 or risk being towed, so we got an early start and got there about half an hour early.  Since we were going to wait until the last minute to pay, Connie walked back to the hotel to get her phone, which she had been charging.  Once she was back, we set out to explore the nearby Gastown district.  This is where the city started out and the roads and many of the buildings are original.  After walking around a bit, we went into the Smart Mouth café for breakfast.  On the way back to the hotel to pick up our bikes, I noticed a Royal Canadian Mounted Police store and went in.  It wasn’t officially attached to the Mounties, but had lots of Mounty souvenirs.  I spied a tee shirt with RCMP blazoned across the front and bought it – Rob, Connie, Meagan & Peter.  Later, Peter reminded me that had been our very first computer password.

            We got our bikes and headed down to the waterfront.  When we got there we found that we were 3 levels above the walk/bike path.  So, we took the elevator – much to the amusement of the people standing around I am sure.  For most of its length the bike and walk parts of the path are separated.  We covered familiar ground until we go to Stanley Park and began to ride around the inner harbor.  Along the way there were some great places to take pictures of the downtown area from across the harbor, which we did.  We also stopped at a totem pole display with an area of several fine examples.  While there, I spotted a Bald Eagle circling high in the sky.  On we went until the greater part of Vancouver Harbor was exposed and we could see the North Vancouver across the water.  We could also see Lion’s Gate Bridge, which spans the harbor from the north point of the park and over which we would be driving tomorrow on our way to Whistler.  Not long after we rode under the bridge, we rounded a point and immediately knew we were on the windward side. 

There, you look out into Salish Sea (to the north of Peugeot Sound) with ocean going ships at anchor far out and Vancouver Island filling in the horizon between the north and south points of the land.  The wind wasn’t that bad and, after a while, we stopped adjacent to a pair of stairs that led up to a café and teahouse (English, not Japanese).  We decided to push on and before long came to a public swimming pool that was being readied for opening.  Warmer weather was obviously just around the corner.  Not far past there we missed a turn we should have taken and ended up following the path we had taken the day before toward Granville Island.  Once we got straightened out, we were soon on the path back to where we would head up to the hotel.  We rode past the elevator we had taken earlier and not 100 yards beyond found the bike path ramp that brought us to street level.

Back at the hotel, after putting our bikes back into the storeroom and going to our room, we once again decided to dine in (I know – boring).  However, at the bar – not the café – we found much better dishes than we had on the first night and were satisfied with our day when we went back upstairs.

Day 28

Day 28 (4/28)

            Vancouver!

            Downtown Vancouver and Stanley Park are on a peninsula formed by a fjord called Indian Arm that extends many miles inland and False Creek, an estuary that encircles its southern end.  The rest of Vancouver is neighborhoods and probably 10 times the size of the downtown.  Our hotel was pretty centrally located in the downtown area, though closer to the north waterfront.  At 9 o’clock our parking space became a traffic lane, so just before then we pulled out for the parking lot on Cambie St.  Anxious to get started on our walk, we paid for 24 hours of parking (about $20, US) and headed to the nearest Starbucks for a little breakfast and some coffee.

            Connie and I love waterfronts and the paved seawall walk/bike path encircled both the city and Stanley Park.  Today we just walked around the city.  We passed a cruise ship terminal, marinas, a seaplane tour dock where we watched a couple of planes takeoff, water side cafés, little plazas and parks and more.  To the waterside was the vast Vancouver Harbor, which the eastern tip of Stanley Park eventually reduced to a smaller inner harbor (or as the Canadians say, harbour). 

            The path then crosses the lower part of Stanley park before coming to English Bay on the west side.  There are beaches along this part and, in the distance, we could see two great bridges over False Creek.  The farther one led to our destination, Granville Island.  I was getting pretty tired by then and not looking forward to the climb up to and the walk along the traffic bridge when we discovered that there is a small ferry service to the island and points along the (medium large river size) “creek”.  On Granville Island there is a large public market that we explored, but otherwise I was a little disappointed in the area.  We had some lunch where we had a view of the creek and the underside of the bridge and, afterward, picked up coffee and sat outside the market drinking it.  The large open space outside the market was filled with people enjoying the sunshine and listening to live music.  While we were sitting there, an orchestra whose members seemed to be in middle school began setting up and Connie wanted to wait until they began playing, but as far as we know they may still be setting up, so we left. 

            We took the ferry farther up the slough to a place called Yaletown.  This is one of the unique neighborhoods highlighted on the map.  It is newer and known for its innovative architecture.  In fact Vancouver can take pride in the architecture of its downtown area.  To the landward side of our walk we saw many interesting modern buildings and it was evident that even in building the many high-rise apartment buildings, efforts were made to make them interesting.  One of our favorites was about 20 stories high with a wide, flat disc extending from the penthouse with a 30+ foot tree growing from the center of it.  There was also on the shore of Yaletown a very interesting building with a three-story penthouse that is supposed to belong to a prince from Dubai and is said to have cost him 27 million.  Pocket change.

            By the time we got to Yaletown, we were pretty tired.  Fortunately, we were not too far from our hotel.  Going out to find somewhere to eat was beyond us – we’d walked 9 miles that day – so we grabbed a bite at the hotel grill and retired to our room.

Day27

Day 27 (4/27)      

            Oh yeah . . . we’re cool . . .

            After breakfast at the lodge, Connie and I decided we’d walk one or two of the nearby trails.  We chose the Trail of Shadows, which wound through ancient forest along the edge of the meadow that drew the first developer to this area.  It’s called Longmire Meadow, as is the surrounding area, for the family that first began bringing tourists to this side of the mountain and built and maintained cabins, a gas station and the hotel.  I don’t have words to describe the beauty of the forest.  Everything was green – the moss that seemed to cover everything, the ferns, the hardwood saplings at the edge of the meadow and, of course the magnificent conifers of all sizes, including giants.  Spilling from the marshy meadow along the streams was a plant with a beautiful, large yellow flower, which, like most primitive flowers, was not much more than a more evolved leaf.  We learned from one of the several information signs along the path that it was Skunk Weed.  We came upon pools with bubbles streaming up through them from below.  We felt the water and it was cold.  Later we learned that these natural baths had been an attraction for their “healthful qualities”, until the Park Service figured out that sitting in a pool of water with CO2 bubbling up through it didn’t do anything for one’s health and shut them down.

            Even though the path had been a short introductory nature walk, we were charmed and decided to head out with that good feeling.  We were excited about going to Vancouver and anxious to get on the road.

            The ride down from the mountain and along the western side of the Cascades led us to bucolic farmlands southeast of Tacoma.  Eventually we came to a real highway and headed for Puyallup (yeah, let me hear you say that the same way twice) where we would turn north and go up the eastern side of Lake Washington before crossing over to Seattle on I-90.  It turns out that the road to Puyallup is about 50 miles of El Camino Real, with every fast food restaurant, national brand auto parts store, drug store, supermarket, gas station, sit down restaurant, smog check place, etc. repeated every five miles and punctuated by a stoplight every two or three blocks.  By the time we got to 167N, I was ready for some crazy fast urban freeway racing.  Thirty miles to 90, another 12 to I-5 in Seattle and still another 40 miles north before the traffic and I calmed down.

            About an hour later, we pulled up to the boarder crossing station.  The nice young man in a SWAT uniform smiled and asked us for our passports.  Uh . . . passports?  (Passports?  We don’t need no stinking passports!)  Uh . . . we. . . didn’t bring them.  (World-class travelers Connie and Rob Rice arrested at the Canadian boarder trying to enter the country without passports!)  What, are you crazy?  No, he didn’t say that.  After asking us some standard questions and filling out a small form, he told us to park over there and go into that building.  We were told to sit on that bench (not the group W bench).  I had thought about bringing them a few days before, but on the day we were leaving, neither of us thought to grab them.  Anyway, after checking us out and figuring these dowdy old farts aren’t a threat, they let us into Canada without searching our vehicle – like they were doing to other travelers, or turning us away like they said they usually did in this situation.  Can you say chagrinned?  Oh yeah, we’re cool.

            I’m not going to detail the long drive into Vancouver.  Suffice it to say that our 5+ hour drive had turned into a 7+ hour drive and we were grateful to get to our hotel and get moved in.  Because the hotel’s parking garage as well as all the near by garages could not accommodate our van’s height, we would have to park in an open lot eight blocks away.  However, Derrick the doorman pointed out that the metered parking space on the street in front of the hotel was about to become available and helped me back into it.  Logistics taken care of,  we grabbed a beer (wine for Connie) or two and some snacks in the bar and went off to our room exhausted but excited about exploring Vancouver.  Our day had gone from the sublime to the limit of arduousness, but now it was over.

Day 26

Day 26 (4/26)      

            Mt Rainier . . .

After breakfast, we got the bikes down off the rack and headed upstream on the bike path.  What a nice ride past city parks, condos, older neighborhoods, playing fields and open spaces.  Across the river was more rural country.  We came across a paddle-wheel riverboat moored at its loading ramp.  This was one of its daylong stops on the tours it provides up and down the river.  We’d gone just under 5 miles when we reached the up river end of the path, so on our return we went past our starting point and even did a lap around the parking lot bring our total to 10 miles.

For the last two days we had been driving through the high desert farming country of eastern Idaho and western Oregon.  Around lunchtime we pulled into the town of Yakima in Washington, outside of which our friend Marguerite Fletcher grew up on an apple farm.  We had been there a couple times when the kids were young and the Fletchers were there visiting.  After getting a bite a small barbeque house in the historic district and eating it in the van, we got some coffee across the street at what was the old train.  Connie texted Marguerite what we had done and she told us that she knew the place when it was a pub.

            The farmland grew lumpier and it wasn’t long before we could see Mount Rainier, even though it was hours away.  Soon the rolling hills were covered with both hardwoods and conifers and the shades of browns and reds and yellows of the dry country we had been driving through for most of a month gave way to verdant greens.  We drove through river canyons that would open into farming valleys and then, it was just forests.  At one point we turned onto a much smaller road and wound our way upward through several stands of Aspens and Alders.  Finally, Google Maps told us to turn right.  But the only road near where we were supposed to turn was a dirt road.  We turned around and came back to it and just as we started up, a Park Service pickup pulled on to it.  We both stopped and rolled down our windows.  To my “Does this road lead to the National Park Hotel?”, I got “It’s for park vehicles only”.  To my “Google Maps’ got some ‘splaining to do”, I got assent from all in the other truck. 

            The slightly longer route on the better road got us to the park entrance pretty quickly and a few miles up the road there it was, The National Park Hotel.  Unlike the Lodge at Zion, the National Park Hotel was built a long time ago.  It was the annex to the original hotel built in 1891 and burned down in 1926.  Rooms are available with bath or with a shared bath down the hall.  Though the building was old, it was very well kept up.  We were a little anxious about what our room would be like, but that was dispelled as soon as we saw it.  Though a little small, it was quite cozy and the bed comfortable.

            When we went down for dinner, the dining room looked empty.  Never one to pass up a chance to be a wise guy, I asked the hostess if she thought she might be able to find a table for us.  In fact, we shared the room with two other couples.  I had trout, which I had not been able to get in the Boise restaurant “voted best seafood restaurant for two years in a row” that served only Atlantic salmon in cooked in various way.  Dinner was good, the atmosphere rustic and relaxed.

Day 25

Day 25 (4/25)      

            Too early in the season . . .

            It was in Boise that Connie suggested we stay at Mt. Rainier on the way.  Unlike the southwest, the northwest held so few places of interest to Connie and me – not that we didn’t do our best to find them.  In order to not violate our not more than five hours of driving in a day target, we decided to stop in Kennewick, Wa.  We thought we’d camp there and once we got there, we found out that almost all real campgrounds had yet to open for the season.  We found out that there was a KOA up the road in Richland (one of the tri-cities) and went to check it out.  True to their MO, it was right next to the freeway.  We did a drive around a park full of RVs with a couple of open driveways with charcoal braziers on posts.  We decided to stay in another hotel in Richland.  The first one we tried was full, but the one down the road had a few rooms left.  Right out the back door was a walking/bike riding path that ran along the Colorado River.

Day 24

Day 24 (4/24)      

            Oh Boise!

            We left early with a long drive ahead of us.  Soldier Summit (7500 ft) is about halfway from Price to where we would pick up I-15 in Spanish Fork.  When we stopped there for gas I had to knock icy snow off the pump handle.  That it was under an overhang testifies to the strength of the wind.  But the road was clear and dry and in a little over an hour we were on the outskirts of Provo and on the interstate.  For the next 120 miles, we never left urban freeway, driving past Provo, Salt Lake City, Ogden and Brigham City until we finally turned off to the northwest on I-84.

            This road was obviously less traveled by, with much smoother pavement and less traffic.  Connie took over driving with clear sailing ahead, uh . . . except for the wind.  It had been hounding us off and on since New Mexico and – and this is really strange – it is always a cross wind and, no matter which direction we’re travelling, it blows from the left side.  We traded back a couple of hours later and eventually arrived in Boise.

            The Rice family had had a mini family reunion in Boise back in ’98.  Nephew Nathan Guisinger and his girlfriend, Rachel, were there for the Boise Shakespeare Festival season and each had been cast individually for the roles of Romeo and Juliet.  The play was performed while we were there and it was great fun seeing the two of them playing their parts.  Downtown Boise was so small-town that we had no problem letting all the cousins (Megan, the oldest was 23 then) walk the several blocks to a downtown movie theater at night.

            The city seems to have grown a bit in the intervening 18 years.  And after a long hard drive, it was really just a stop on our way to Vancouver.