Coast to Coast Egg Roll

"No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn"

2008-09-03T21:32:00.000-07:00

Sunday, 8/31/08 and Monday, 9/1/08

It was about a five hour shot from the mountains to Brooklyn. However, the two environments could not have been more different. The experience of trying to get into the Holland Tunnel was the polar opposite of our most recent experience of sitting at the lake at dawn. How funny and immediately frustrating! After about an hour, we were through the tunnel to the other side…New York City. We passed Ground Zero and saw the big hole in the ground, surrounded by cranes that still seemed unsure of what to build. We entered the Brooklyn Tunnel and popped out on the other side in just as much traffic as there was going into the Holland Tunnel. Apparently, there were a lot of festivals going on since it was Labor Day weekend.

Our next task was to find a good place to park…in Brooklyn. The streets were lined with metered spots, all covered with the sign “No Parking Sunday or Monday” for the festival. Yet, we knew that we had made it all this way and we just prayed for God to show us the space He already had for us. And He did…about 10 paces away from the gate to Doug’s apartment building, and there was literally nothing else anywhere. This never ceases to amaze us.

We had not yet visited Doug since he moved from Chicago to Brooklyn about nine months ago, so we were very pleased to make it the last stop on our great adventure. He greeted us on the street, then showed us the way to his apartment where we nearly clogged his shower drain by washing off the last three days of camping. We love camping, but civilization has its perks, and hot water is high on the list.

There was a Rockabilly Festival in Coney Island, and Doug was eager to take us there. We also had the privilege of meeting his friend Sarah, who had gone to college in New York and decided to stay. Coney Island is like a never ending carnival, with rides, games, side shows, and of course, Nathan’s Hot Dogs. Before checking out the music though, Dan couldn't resist the opportunity to “Shoot the Freak”, where for five dollars you get to shoot fifteen paint balls at a young man wearing bug eye goggles and a helmet, carrying a shield. One shot was wide right, the other fourteen were brilliant.

While the music at the Rockabilly Festival was average, the “Side Show” act between sets was the farthest thing from average we had seen in some time, though not abnormal for Coney Island. We cringed as we watched a man pick up a sixteen pound bowling ball fastened by chains to his earrings and swing it around in circles. If that was not enough, he picked up a fifty pound anvil the same way and swung it side to side. We wondered how he discovered this talent, and what he might do for a living. The latter question was soon answered when we saw him walking around letting people staple money to him with a staple gun. When we finally made it home, we were touched by the fact that Doug had put fresh linens on his bed and offered it to us. This was a beautiful gesture and we were very thankful for it.

We slept in on Monday, but we didn't miss breakfast. Just down the street from Doug’s place is Kennedy’s Fried Chicken and Donut, and they serve breakfast all day. We ate what were quite possibly the best bagel sandwiches ever created, and home fries made with as much butter as potatoes. We walked it all off though, as Doug took us through Prospect Park, and then on to the Caribbean West Indian Festival that takes place every year in his neighborhood. It was a beautiful display of color and song, with people representing all of the islands in their traditional dress and dance. We could have spent the whole day there, but alas, it was time to point The Egg home. We said our goodbyes, and this time, plugged our own address into Gladys and let her route our last leg of the journey.

The ride home was bittersweet, and we rejoiced and reflected on all that we had done. And it was good. We couldn't believe we had actually done it, and we had loved every mile and every minute. When we crossed the line into Virginia, we rolled our windows down and took a big whiff of our hometown air, somewhat of a tradition in Melody’s family. We quickly rolled them back up though, since our exhaust was roaring in front of the broken Catalytic Converter, and that sweet smelling hometown air was undoubtedly full of hydrocarbons spewing out of The Egg because of it. We got in Monday night, September 1st, 2008, after 32 days on the road and 9286 miles behind us. It had been a dream, and now it was a reality, and it was worth far more than it had ever, or would ever cost us.

Thank you all for coming along for the ride. We hope in some small way that you have been blessed by our stories, and that you are encouraged to not only chase your dreams, but to grab them, hold on tight, and make them happen. All of your comments were a tremendous encouragement to us, and we eagerly checked the blog for new ones everywhere we stopped. It is hard to bring the egg roll to and end, but it must be so. We love you all more than you could know, and we are grateful to have you all in our lives.

Stay tuned for one last entry, as we gather our thoughts and share our reflections from the road, and of our journey across this magnificent country.

Love Dan and Melody.

Cadillac Camping

2008-09-03T03:46:00.000-07:00

Thursday, 8/28/08 through Sunday, 8/31/08

By noon, we were on our way to our next destination, Farmington, NewYork. We were going to camp in the Adirondack Mountains with Melody’s high school friend, Michelle. Somewhere around Erie, PA., we heard a sudden increase in the exhaust volume, and knew something had broken free under the egg. At the next pit stop, Dan investigated its source and found that the catalytic converter had broken loose where it connects to the down pipe. It had broken clean at the weld and could not be reattached. There would be no five dollar fix this time. The exhaust system was still supported and was not in any danger of falling off, so we settled in for a very loud push into Upstate New York.

It was another long day of driving, but we were rewarded with a familiar hug on the other side of the door when we finally reached our destination. Michelle refreshed us with ice cream and we headed to bed in eager anticipation of the next day’s journey. After a restful night’s sleep, Michelle gave us a tour of Historic Canandaigua while we bought Dan a New York fishing license. Michelle had made all the necessary preparations, and we headed out with cars loaded, looking forward to our weekend in the woods.

We had reservations at Eighth Lake Campground, just north of Inlet. Although it was Labor Day weekend, it did not seem crowded. The camp site included a fire pit, a picnic table, ample parking for both vehicles, and the mansion tent that Michelle brought for our comfort. We set up camp and settled right in to “outdoor living” as Michelle calls it. She had everything planned, even the delicious meals. What a gift it was for us.

On Saturday, after lingering around the campfire for breakfast and conversation, Dan rented a canoe and took it out on the lake to fish while the girls went to Inlet for a little shopping (and ice cream). None of us could believe how quickly the time went by! Before we knew it, we were sitting around the warm campfire after dinner once again, talking, laughing, and reminiscing about our adventures of the day. After a game of Checkers (that Michelle dominated), it was time to turn in for the night.

On Sunday, we woke up early enough to take a hot cup of coffee down to the lake and watch the steam lift off the water as the sun rose into the sky. It was so quiet and so serene…like those parts in the movie when the music hasn’t even started yet. You are simply captivated by the silent movement of creation. The ducks were pretty entertaining too-- walking right up, ready to eat right from your hand. We returned to camp to eat, put stickers on the Egg, pack up, and head out. Again, it was hard to leave. However, we were blessed by the extended time that we did have with Michelle.

Horton Hears A Hoosier

2008-09-01T22:08:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, 8/27/08

This morning, we woke up early with building excitement. In just a few hours, we would be in Indianapolis with Melody’s sister, Heather, her husband Josh, and their 4 kids. We were eager to get packed and on the road to maximize our time with everyone. We aimed to be there a little before 2:30 pm so that Aunt Melody and Uncle Dan could surprise the 2 older boys, Isaac and Elijah, by picking them up at school. When we were about an hour away, Melody called just to make sure what time school let out. Heather said that she had just gotten home with the boys. Immediately, we realized that we had not accounted for the time zone change, and we had been running an hour behind all along. Oh, man! However, Heather had not told the kids exactly what time we were coming, so they were surprised when they opened the door and saw us. They were very excited, giving hugs, each wanting to be picked up, and sharing favorite songs, toys, and games.

As Micah continued to nap, Melody helped Heather with dinner while Uncle Dan took Isaac, Elijah and Ashlynn out to play in the backyard. When Melody came out to play, she found that Dan was being held prisoner by 2 Roman centurions (the boys). He was handcuffed to a lawn chair, but would run for it occasionally and ultimately be chased, beaten, and handcuffed again. As his wife, by default, Melody was found guilty and handcuffed as well. After a delicious dinner, Josh took us out with the kids to hunt for stickers. Returning home successful, we helped the kids to bed, and the adults sat up for a few more hours of conversation and laughter.

After a big breakfast on Thursday, the kids put their stickers on the Egg and we all went out to take the boys to school. We walked, hand in hand, up to the front and waited until the doors were opened, the classes were called, and the kids all started to file through the doors. Once inside, we walked the boys to class and met their teachers. The school reminded Melody of her beloved Cub Run. How strange and yet exciting to be on this side of the school day-- dropping kids off and saying goodbye instead of being the teacher that greets parents and incoming students. It is a different season of life.

We said our goodbyes, and Josh headed off to work. The rest of us headed to Starbucks where Melody and Heather could chat and laugh (and cry) over good coffee while Dan steadily worked on updating the blog over the free WiFi. Ashlynn and Micah were easily entertained, and the cause of many customer smiles. Alas, it was time for the Egg to roll on. We never like to say goodbye, but we always look forward to the next visit.

Scrambled Egg

2008-09-01T21:12:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, 8/26/08

We awoke this morning and took our tickets for free breakfast down to the kitchen. Here, you actually order your choice of eggs, a choice of meat, and 2 choices of bread, all included. And they are fast! We packed up quickly and went down to the parking lot where Dan began working on our own Cracked Egg.

An auto parts store was conveniently located next to the hotel, and after 2 trips, we had the right sized bolts to match the right sized nuts, which would be a good replacement for the one lost somewhere in California. We were delighted and thankful to find that the rattle was not from the catalytic converter, but rather from a separated exhaust flange where the broken bolt had once been.

Dan pulled the car up onto a parking tie, as a makeshift jack, to gain the necessary clearance in order to crawl underneath the Egg and make the repair. Melody crouched nearby on her knees, watching and encouraging Dan from the side. In a few minutes, the bolt was replaced, and for 5 dollars, the rattle was gone.

Outside of Bismarck, North Dakota, we were pleased to meet a very interesting couple from New York. The man immediately spotted us as fellow road trippers when we pulled into the rest stop. “Not many of us out here this summer” he said. John and Iris were very friendly and experienced, with an extensive history of road trips all over the country. Their longest ride to date was a trip to Alaska and back with their sons, totaling over 11,000 miles. “You really learn a lot about yourself out here,” John said, “but the trip can take on a mind of its own and ultimately you must follow where it leads you.” Steinbeck would agree.

We continued our journey on a sunny, albeit windy, day as we drove across Minnesota, through Wisconsin and eventually into Illinois. By early evening, we had located a Starbucks within a Target and decided to take a break from the road and catch up on the blogs. It was here that we met Alethia and Jody, our baristas.
The girls were very friendly and curious about our cross country travels. As Alethia prepared our wake up drinks, Melody told her about the travel blog and gave her the address to keep in touch. As we steadily worked and reminisced, Alethia would check on us with a big smile and offer us samples. Through our conversation, we found out that she has dreams of her own to travel to Amsterdam with her husband and young son…maybe next year. We encouraged her to follow through and make it happen in spite of the challenges ahead. A dream realized is worth far more than what it costs to get there. Incidentally, tomorrow, 8/27, is her 3rd wedding anniversary. Keep going, guys, it just gets sweeter with time!

After crossing 4 states, we checked into a hotel in Rockford, Illinois, just west of Chicago, completing Day 2 of our marathon dash back east.

The Bison And The Badlands

2008-08-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

Monday 8/25/08

We stopped for breakfast at McDonalds outside of Yellowstone and reaffirmed our original plan to avoid national parks because of summer tourist crowds and the inevitable slowing of time to get back east. Many vehicles dotted the edge of the road as fishermen took to the streams alongside. In Bozeman, Montana, we stopped in to visit Fins and Feathers, a well known fly shop who just happens to be the only Orvis dealer in the town.

The road stretched out before us with farms on either side, irrigation equipment watering the crops, and bales of hay rolled in perfectly golden fields.

Just before sunset, we stopped at a scenic overlook of The Painted Canyon in the Badlands. Large rock formations stretched out before us as far as the eye could see. Every once in a while, we could focus enough to see the bison feeding below. Apparently it is common for these large beasts to roam the rest area and scenic overlook as well, evidenced by warning notices of their presence and the occasional bison pie left in the grass.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon, it washed the canyon walls in a symphony of color and shadow too beautiful to describe. As we continued east through dark, broad countryside, absent of any city lights, the stars emerged and put on a display that rivaled any we had ever seen. It reminded us of the view from Paardeberg Mountain in South Africa, on the other side of the world.

We pulled in to the Days Inn for the night, and met a couple who had been curiously inspecting our little car as we went in to make reservations. They were originally from Norway and the Netherlands, but had been living in Vienna, Virginia for the last 4 years as the man worked for the Embassy in D.C. Small world! They, too, were on a road trip to explore the U.S., but would be heading back to Europe by the end of this year. As we parked the Egg for the night, we noticed that the noise had gotten louder, and we knew that we’d have to check it out tomorrow before leaving town.

When You Come To The Fork In The River, Take It

2008-08-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

Saturday 8/23 and Sunday 8/24/08

We had a very restful nights sleep at a Courtyard Marriot Hotel in Boise Idaho, where we plotted our course to the next major fishing destination, Henry’s Fork of the Snake River. This section of the Snake River winds its way through Last Chance, Idaho, a tiny little town where it seems there are more fly shops and guides per capita than in any other place. It is a Mecca for the trout fisherman, known to contain some of the most difficult and technical water in the world. As a result, the trout grow large and strong, feeding in the myriad of micro currents on an incredibly rich and diverse selection of aquatic insect life.

We stopped in at Henry’s Fork Angler, one of the aforementioned fly shops, where Alex filled us in on current hatch information while he printed up our licenses. It was going on dusk, so we got right to the river to catch the evening caddis hatch. Much like in the tail waters in Colorado, these fish required extra long leaders and a downstream presentation. Unlike Colorado, these fish only give you one shot. If the drift isn’t absolutely perfect, the fish spot the leader when it passes by and they are down, indefinitely. Mosquitos made their evening appearance as well, and joyfully dined on us as Dan tried to coax a rising trout. There was only one take, and though the hook pulled free, Dan was pleased to have tricked a Henry’s Fork Rainbow. We had dinner beside the river at The Trout Hunter, a fly shop/restaurant/lodge/guide service, and the only place to eat in town. After the meal, we checked in late at World Cast Angler, just across the street, where we would spend the next two evenings.

Our accommodations were perfect, a small cabin right in the middle of all the best fishing. The next morning we stopped at the tiny local grocery store (also a fly shop), to gather provisions for a long fishing day. Melody donned Grandpap’s waders and we made the mile hike into Harrimen State Park at the famous Railroad Ranch section of the river.

It was here that Dan, as long promised, began teaching Melody to Fly Fish. Though she is well versed in other forms of fishing, this is the milestone they had both longed to reach, and it was extra special that it took place on this most famous of rivers.

As with most things, she was a quick study. At one point while practicing a drag free drift with a hopper pattern, a broad shouldered rainbow of nearly two feet long rose to inspect the fly, and nearly took it before seeing us and fleeing upstream in a colorful flash.

Through the rest of the day, we fished several sections of the river, including a very swift canyon section, where Dan landed the only fish of the stay, a feisty little rainbow, on a heavy streamer swung deep in the current. We rode our bikes back to the ranch section for the evening rise, where Dan had two more takes, the last one the biggest of course. This fish took a caddis pattern just as darkness set in, and snapped the 7x tippet in a large swirl. It was maddening and satisfying, and it is always the big fish we don’t catch that makes us vow to return someday.

We talked to the couple that ran Worldcast Angler for a while the next morning before heading Northeast through Montana on route to Bismarck, North Dakota.

The Great U-Turn

2008-08-27T07:42:00.000-07:00

Friday, 8/22/08

The first order of business was to drive the Egg over to Jiffy Lube for an oil change. This was a first for us and the Egg since Dan typically does maintenance on the car at home. Also, we had noticed a peculiar rattle under the car and a small exhaust leak. The rattle had become increasingly noticeable in San Fransisco, and Dan thought it might be the catalytic converter coming apart inside. He asked if the guys at Jiffy Lube could verify its origin. They suspected it was a loose bracket, but they did not have a definite answer. We would have to wait until Dan could lift the car himself to be sure.

We headed east through the Sierra Nevada Mountain range and drank in the beauty of the Lake Tahoe region. Tall pines grew along rocky cliffs and high peaks sheltered cool alpine lakes, undoubtedly loaded with trout. As we crossed into Nevada, we found the northern region of this state of a different quality than its southern counterpart. It consisted of vast rolling hills covered in golden grasses in a more temperate climate than the desert below.

We crossed into Oregon on a lonely stretch of highway far from the interstate. We were surrounded by vast plains and rolling hills, bracketed by mountain peaks in the distance. As we followed the curve in the road to the left, Melody spotted a coyote standing in the field off to the right. He turned briefly to watch us pass, and then scampered off across the field. Later, we pulled off to watch another sunset and were awed by the deep red, purple and pink hues cast by the lowering sun against the big western sky.

We nearly ran out of gas on our way to Jordan Valley, our closest destination for a refill. The husband and wife who ran the place came out to pump our gas. In response to our confused look, the man said, “It’s full service.” We asked about the other side of the pumps; “Is that full service?” The reply came, “It’s all full service. It’s Oregon. All our gas pumps are full service across the entire state.”

The women’s restroom was not in order, but Melody was given a key to Room 103 of the Sahara Motel located behind the station. Cautiously, she opened the door and found that the light switch didn’t work. Upon crossing the room to turn on a lamp, the door swung shut. Melody pushed back the panic to continue her pursuit for light, a locked door, and ultimately a bathroom. At last, it all worked out and she thankfully rejoined Dan back at the car for the trip into Boise, Idaho for the night.

City By The Bay

2008-08-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

Thursday, 8/21/08

We arrived in San Fransisco before lunch and decided to spend the day in the Pier 39/ Fisherman’s Wharf area. From the top of the parking garage, we caught our first glimpse of Alcatraz and the vibrant activity in the street below. People moved in and out of shops, got on boat tours, sat with coffee or ice cream, and admired floating platforms covered with barking seals.

The sun was warm and the breeze was cool-- a perfect combination for walking around, taking in the sights and ducking into the occasional store in search of interesting wares and, of course, stickers. We settled into The Crab House for lunch to sample the infamous Dungeness Crab, a San Fransisco specialty. We felt a little odd tying on the bibs, but they certainly came in handy. Our Russian waitress reminded us that we did need to use our hands, and she brought wet naps for when we were done. As usual, they were a lot of work, but well worth it.

We left the city at sunset and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge to the viewing area on the other side. This offered spectacular views of the city and a perfect place to photograph the bridge. Travelers and visitors from all over the world converge here just as Steinbeck did almost 50 years ago. We even saw a troop of Irish bikers who had shipped their bikes here to travel the Pacific Coast Highway. After one last look at the majestic span, we pointed the Egg northeast toward Fairfield for the night.

Onward and Upward

2008-08-27T06:29:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, 8/20/08

We left Simi Valley and made our way through lush farm lands of ripe crops on Route 1 toward the coast of California. Migrant workers donned the appropriate protective clothing while harvesting strawberries and other delicious foods that are often shipped east. It is somewhere along this route that we picked up another riding companion-- Inez, the fragrant hula girl, who doubles as our air freshener.

Once near the water, we saw kite surfers riding the wind and the peculiar site of elephant seals napping on the windy beach. At first, they looked dead, but after a while their hilarious characteristics (like snoring) were observable. The coast is gorgeous. It was hard not to pull over at every vista. Cyclists whizzed by, and we even met (after being initially scared by) a stray dog who refused a piece of bread that Melody tossed him. However, he was content to lay down near the car and watch us as we took pictures and reveled in the beauty of God’s creation.

We had intended to make San Fransisco by nightfall, but instead settled in Monterey after taking in the sunset over the Pacific. We crossed the street from our hotel for a late dinner at Denny’s, where we could rest and recount the adventures of the day. After being seated, we could not help but notice a dirty and disheveled man seated at the bar who appeared to be homeless by the large pack at his feet. He would intermittently fluctuate from calmly sipping his coffee to jumping out of his seat, flailing his arms wildly, throwing punches in the air, and mouthing words at some unseen force that seemed to taunt and torment him. Other customers would steal looks for a few minutes and then look away. The staff would silently refill his coffee cup and ignore his behavior completely.

After observing him for some time as we ate, we quietly discussed what, if anything, we might do to help or comfort this man. Not wanting to make a scene inside and not knowing how he would react, we prayed for an opportunity to speak with him away from the crowd of the restaurant. As we paid our bill, he left his stool at the bar and walked outside. We walked through the door, and found him standing by a trash can nearby. Dan asked him his name and shook his hand. He introduced himself as Eric Josh. We asked how he was doing and he admitted that he wasn’t doing so good.

With some difficulty, he explained that he was a Marine who had suffered great injury, including head trauma, during conflict in his service to our country. Through our conversation, we learned that he was originally from Alaska and he was trying to make his way home. He said that he wasn’t afraid of the street, but he wanted clean pants and a tent to sleep in. When asked if he believed in God, he said no. However, when Dan told him that we believed in God and asked to pray for him, he immediately grasped Dan’s hands with both of his. We bowed our heads and prayed for Eric Josh and specifically for the things that he had asked for. Not once during our entire interaction did he slip into the tormented man we had originally seen. We bid him goodnight and crossed the street back to our hotel, continuing to pray for him. In the morning, we saw him at the bus stop, backpack in hand, seemingly in a right mind, and waiting for his ride out of town.

One Stop for the Gipper

2008-08-22T08:07:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, 8/20/08
We arrived at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library precisely when it opened at 10 am. The views were astounding from the hill! The tour began with a short movie about the life of Ronald Reagan, his love for Nancy and his legacy to future generations as a freedom fighter. His rise to governor of California, through popular tours with General Electric, and his eventual win as our 40th president can be charted by his unwavering faith in mankind and the pursuit of freedom for all.

The Air Force One jet that flew him all over the world for face to face contact with leaders and people of other nations has been encased in the museum for visitors to tour. Of course each section designated as a meeting area included his famous jar of jelly beans and pen and paper for his personal journals. It was amazing to board the plane and contemplate the thoughts he must have processed as he traveled to Florida for his famous "Evil Empire" speech, to summit meetings to discuss the disarmament of nuclear weaponry, and to the Brandenburg Gate to tell Gorbachev to take down the Berlin Wall. His strong convictions for peace reminded us of Martin Luther King Jr.'s fight for freedom. It rests in the belief that every man has value, and not one above another.

As a symbol of the end of the Cold War and the renewed relationship with Russia, a piece of the Berlin Wall is on display outside. The decorated side is from West Berlin, clearly depicting their freedoms of expression among others. The other side is plain concrete since the people in East Berlin were hardly allowed to even approach the wall. Powerful video footage and commentary reminds us all of the cost of Communism and the enduring hope for a better future.

Across the lawn designed exactly as the South Lawn of the White House is the final resting place for Ronald Reagan. This conjured up emotions from when we watched the funeral on TV back in 2004. We admire the love he had for Nancy, for his family, for God, and his example to the world that human life is to be respected. He is missed, but his legacy lives on as a beacon to us all, and to future generations.

The Teach At Seal Beach

2008-08-22T00:23:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, 8/18/08
We left early in the morning for the beach. The skies were overcast and the breeze was cool, but we held out hope for another beautiful day. As we sized up the surf for fishing, we noticed a lot of people out on boards in the waves. This was a surf school where kids of all different ages gather to hone their skills. We watched in amazement as they tried over and over again to ride, stand and surf the modest swells. What determination! Dan found his niche along a rocky jetty where the fish were jumping and chasing his fly. We had to leave them hot, though, since we had an appointment at noon to tour the Autism Partnership Clinic.

As many of you know, Melody has worked with children with Autism for the last 15 years. In college, she started with individual families who had their own home programs and paid for the therapists to get extensive training in Applied Behavior Analysis. After a few years, she consolidated her clients through Autism Learning Center, which was supported by Autism Partnership (AP) in Seal Beach, CA. Through regular training sessions with Sandy and Mitch, Melody began a long standing positive relationship with the partnership.

After getting her Masters Degree and teaching the Preschool Autism Class at Cub Run, Melody was pleased to be under the guidance of AP once again. Ron Leaf and his colleagues were selected to be the consultants for the Autism programs in Fairfax County Public Schools. It was like a homecoming for Melody. Now, in Seal Beach, she had the chance to tour the facility and observe a young group of kids during a summer camp program called "Sparks". It was heart warming to finally see the clinic that started it all so many years ago, and she counts it a privilege to know such authorities in the field of Autism.

After the tour, we made our way back to the beach and had lunch in a Fifties Style Restaurant at the end of the pier. While walking the pier, we couldn't help but notice an older couple enjoying a peaceful afternoon together, still so very much in love. It was inspiring and it was beautiful. It is fun to think that perhaps one day we may be the subjects in a young lover's photograph. We made our way back to the jetty, but the tide had moved out taking the fish with it. So we settled for some ice cream on the Main Street and hunted more stickers for The Egg in the shops there. We loved our time at Seal Beach, and left much later than we had planned.

We made it to Venice Beach just in time to catch the sunset and go for a twilight bike ride along the boardwalk. We were surprised, though not alarmed, to see the sheer number of homeless people in this area. It is not hard to understand, however, given the beautiful beach scenery and consistently delightful weather. We pedaled until dark, then decided it was time to head farther North through Malibu and toward Simi Valley, home of the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library.
We checked in late at a Motel 6 just outside of Simi Valley, where we had our first experience at In and Out Burger, a West Coast fast food chain. The service was uncommonly enthusiastic and the food was quite good, especially this late at night. It had been a full day, and we rested well from its many blessings.

The Other Shining Sea

2008-08-21T22:58:00.000-07:00

Monday, 8/18/08

We spent Sunday night in San Diego and then headed toward the coast. After Dan purchased his California fishing license, he was eager to stalk Corbina in Torrey Pines State Park. Melody was eager to see the ocean and nap in the sun:) We walked the shore until we found the perfect spot with sandstone cliffs behind us and the glorious Pacific Ocean in front. The fish were there and we saw them, but they lived up to their reputation as being spookier than a Flats Permit. Regardless, it was a beautiful day at the beach and we were thankful for it.

On our way out of town, we stopped for gas in Oceanside. Melody spotted a parked bike with a Chihuahua sitting in the front and a skateboard lashed to the side. The dog just patiently waited, looking at the door of the shop, until his owner returned. Once inside, Melody and Dan met Lincoln, the cashier. He moved here from Bangladesh over 20 years ago, and he has family scattered all over the world. He likes Southern California because it has the same climate as his homeland. After taking one look at Melody, he quickly assessed that she has a good heart. He said that working many years behind the counter with Chevron has made him an excellent judge of character. Dan agreed wholeheartedly with Lincoln's reading.

We journeyed up the coast and checked into a European boutique hotel on Seal Beach, just minutes from our primary target for Tuesday: The Autism Partnership Clinic. Tonight, however, we had friends to meet for coffee. Back when our good friends Mike and Nancy were getting married, we met James and Danielle. Both James and Danielle are very talented with media, photography and videography. Recently, they have relocated from Northern Virginia to Burbank, California, as James pursues his career in film making. It was great to meet up with them on the West Coast and share how things are going in all of our lives. We related to and were encouraged by their convictions to follow their dreams in spite of the challenges. This is adventure in its truest form!

Leaving Las Vegas

2008-08-21T21:52:00.000-07:00

Sunday, 8/17/08
After church, we prepared for the long desert pass with basic survival gear: 2 gallons of water and 2 big slurpees. The traffic between Las Vegas and San Diego was reminiscent of beach traffic along the 95 corridor back home. However, the landscape provided some entertainment with large pillars of swirling dirt and sand called "dust devils". We stopped to stretch our legs in an old ghost town called Calico. Once a busy mining town during the Gold Rush, the town now offers a glimpse of the past with many of the buildings still intact. We were especially amused with the sign that read, "Hot Baths 25 cents, Used Water 10 cents."

Our next stop was to share dinner with our friends Preston, Krissy, and their daughter Jordan in San Diego. Dan, Preston and Krissy all went to Fairfax High School together, but Preston is originally from California. They have recently relocated back to San Diego, and we were blessed to be able to see all of them, as well as Preston's mom. It is so comforting to see familiar faces and share a home cooked meal when you are out on the road. Their company, laughter, and hospitality were a true gift.

What Happens in Vegas...Gets Posted on the Blog

2008-08-21T08:06:00.000-07:00

Saturday, 8/16/08: Vegas is one of those places that we just wanted to see. When you watch the Ocean's movies, you see characters that grew up here. Vegas holds a special magic for them, all wrapped up in dreams, Sinatra, and who you know. Anything can happen in Vegas.

You can understand the initial attraction. There are replicas of every major destination in the world: Paris, New York, London, Italy, and even Disney World. The water fountain display in front of the Bellagio is fantastic. Hoards of people walk in every direction, pouring in and out of stores, casinos, hotels and restaurants. There is an excitement in the air, and the promise of fortunes to be made.

However, there is also a shadow cast over this city that echoes of something less than desired. Late into the night, pictures and lights flash in every direction, people line the street offering prostitutes within 20 minutes, street children sell candy from a box, and noise is everywhere.

When you pan out, you see what is really going on here. Indulgence in any form is available. You can have anything you want, but at a great cost. That is always the moral to the story, isn't it?

Sunday morning, we attended Hope Baptist Church on our way out of town. The pastor, Vance, spoke about the realities of adultery, and the importance of protecting your marriage and investing in it. His message was not one of condemnation, but of hope and encouragement. His love and compassion for the people of Las Vegas was evident, and it was clearly his calling to shephard a church there.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Aron Ralston)

2008-08-19T17:49:00.000-07:00

Friday, 8/15/08
We stayed Thursday night in Grand Junction, CO, and got a relatively early start to head into Utah the next morning. Utah is amazing, covered with vast open plains and high rolling hills for as far as the eye can see in all directions. It is so harsh, dry and desolate, an unforgiving environment that is largely uninhabited. At times it looks just like you are driving through an incredibly wide gorge of the Grand Canyon. We talked about how difficult it must have been for the explorers who first came through here many years ago. At the Utah Visitor Center we climbed the steep and narrow path up a hillside for some spectacular views. Dan chased lizards and grasshoppers, while Melody filmed. We got to thinking about what a challenge this hill would be on a bike, so Dan put it to the test.

We met Jim Bitton who was traveling through Utah with his wife, listening to a CIA book on CD. His first question was if we were government agents. Dan told him if we were, he’d never know it. He told us that this area was once called Thompson Springs. “You used to stop here if you needed water for your radiator“, he said. He told us a story from 40 years ago when he went out to Sego, an old ghost town that had been a mining town. There, he saw a fire pouring out from an old mine shaft creating a pillar of smoke that was visible for miles. Back then, half of the area was government land and half of it was on Ute Indian grounds. You could visit, but you had to get permission from the tribe in advance. He coughed as he told us of his allergy to a non-native plant, which he called tamarack, that grows on the side of the road where water collects. When he heard that we were headed to Las Vegas, he said, “You guys don’t look like Vegas people. You should stay in Zion or Hurricane.” We explained that we wouldn‘t have adequate time for most national parks on this trip, but we‘d like to hike through them and earn a patch for the backpack someday. “Well, then, you should go to Hurricane. There’s a great bike path out there that you’d probably like.”

We stopped again for gas in Green River, Utah, where we met Lonnie. He had one arm in a cast and a brace from his wrist to his shoulder. He had a large motorbike in the back of his pickup truck. When Melody asked if it was responsible for his injury, he just smiled and said that he was helping a friend move a piano, actually. He lives in Salt Lake City now, but he’s originally from Portland, Oregon. He and his family had just been to the East Coast for his sons rugby tournament, and he commented that Virginia was beautiful. They were now on their way home from a bike swap with a guy from Denver. We told him about our Eggroll and the blog, and he offered us a place to stay if we needed it.

Headed south, we passed through the San Rafael Reef, a wall of slanted rocks that stretches from the east to the west. Back in the 50’s, people flocked to this area to extract uranium for our nuclear weapons program. In the 70’s, some 3.5 million cubic yards of rock were removed to make way for Interstate 70. Driving through the reef was eerily like our trail from Bright Angel to Cottonwood in Grand Canyon, except in a car.

We took Jim’s advice and stayed in Hurricane Friday night. This gave us enough time for a nice dip in the pool and hot tub, a good Mexican dinner, and a restful night of sleep. On the way into town, we passed a tree that had been decorated with shoes. It reminded Melody of the electrical wires near the apartments at George Mason. This must be some right of passage for groups of friends or at least the best known practical joke in town.

Of Rising Trout and Tiny Flies

2008-08-16T19:15:00.000-07:00

Dan and Joe got to fish every day while we were in Breckenridge, and the fishing did not disappoint. Dan had called and gotten the local scoop from a fellow fishing manager at the Orvis store in Englewood, Tucker Bamford. Tucker is a Colorado native, and provided a lot of inside information on the rivers and hatches we would encounter in the areas we planned to fish. This is just one of the many benefits Dan has working for Orvis. He is part of a very large network of Orvis Stores, Dealers, and guides that stretches from coast to coast. No matter where we go, there is someone with ties to the company who is more than willing to share fishing conditions, access points, and local hatch information, all very important to the traveling angler.

The Blue River flows right through the town of Breckenridge, and served as our home water for the time we were there. It was on this river that Joe caught his first trout on the fly, a milestone for any fisherman. The fish rose gently to a well presented dry fly in soft current beside a boulder as the sun set behind the mountains. It couldn’t have been more perfect and Joe was beaming from his accomplishment. Dan caught some nice trout from this river as well and it was so nice to have good fishing this close to the condo.

Another highlight was fishing in the fabled “Dream Stream”, a 3.8 mile stretch of the South Platte River between Spinney Mountain Reservoir and Eleven Mile Reservoir. This section of the river is famous for growing extremely large trout and it was only about an hour from Breckenridge. It was here that Dan met another fellow Orvis employee, Dave Lovell from the Denver Store, who was wearing the same Helios hat and introduced himself. Dave was fishing on his day off, and was generous enough to share his knowledge of the stream as well as giving us a few flies that he favored. It is incredible to be a part of this “family” and to see this played out time and time again. While we couldn’t get the fish to cooperate, we certainly got to cast at a few that were easily over 25 inches. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by mountains in all directions, with water so clear you could watch your nymph drift right past the uninterested fish.

By far the high point of the Colorado fishing experience was catching an 18” Rainbow Trout in the tail water section of the Blue River right in the town of Silverthorne where the outlet stores are. This section is well known for its very large trout that are seldom caught due to the heavy fishing pressure it gets year round. There is a bridge over the river from which you can spot these oversized trout as they hold in their lanes and feed on the microscopic insect life typical in tail waters. From this same bridge, outlet shoppers gather to watch visiting anglers flog the water in vain trying to fool these weariest of fish. It is a challenge that is utterly irresistible. This is technical fishing of the highest order, requiring precise casts with twelve foot leaders tapered to 7x (about 2 lb. test), with flies so small they show merely as a dimple on the flat surface of the water. It is all sight fishing, where you must spot the fish first, sneak into a good casting position, and make your presentation downstream so the fish sees only the fly and not the leader. Dan caught four trout total like this, but the fish pictured was the biggest test. He worked this fish for over an hour before it finally rose and took a size 22 Griffith’s Gnat. Little did Dan know, that Melody, Angie and Joe had just arrived on the bridge, and got to witness the take, the fight, and the elated fisherman, so proud of his catch.

Come up on the mountain, and be on the mountain

2008-08-16T18:25:00.000-07:00

Breckenridge, Colorado: August 9th - August 15th.

It’s hard to write about spending time with good friends because there is so much history there, so much understood without explanation. Friends can laugh at old jokes, make up new ones, tell old stories that get funnier and funnier with time, share heartache, pray for one another, share hobbies, share dreams, and just be together in the same space with a comfortable silence that doesn’t require anything more than to be one’s own self. Long time friends have seen you through almost every phase of your life and still love you regardless. Time makes these relationships sweeter because you have grown through all that life has thrown at you, and have still decided to cling together and love.

We very much enjoyed all the time we were able to spend with Angie and Joe, regardless of time or location. We ate out in restaurants, walked along the river, walked along shops, gathered in the living room for meals, rode around in the car, and kept up on the Women‘s Gymnastics and Men‘s Swimming in the Olympics. When the boys would break off for some much needed fishing, the girls just continued with laughter, old memories, new stories, pedicures, hot chai tea, a soak in the hot tub, and plopped down just about anywhere for a talk.

The weather in Breckenridge was gorgeous and variable. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the rain that sprinkled at least once a day only lasted 15 minutes at the most. On Monday, Dan and Melody decided to take the bike trail from Breckenridge to Frisco as recommended by Dave, Kathy and Rachel. It is was a gently rolling trail, mostly downhill until the last mile and a half. The distinct upward turn requires not only a down shift and standing up on the pedals, but eventually a stop on the side of the trail to catch your breath. Incline at altitude is almost criminal at first, but an iron will of determination to finish the course puts you back on the bike, back on the trail, and celebrating with a bagel and a protein drink at a bakery in Frisco. We made it! In the end, it was a good ride…22 miles total. A good soak in the hot tub was in order once we walked our bikes through the house to the back porch. Melody sat down out of breath with shaking legs. “You should stretch out”, Dan wisely advised. “I have to wait until I can stand back up”, was Melody’s smiling response.

One day as the boys went off to fish the “dream stream” (see details in the next blog), the girls headed to Vail. Melody did finally experience some altitude symptoms (slight claustrophobia mixed with dizziness and pre-fainting light-headedness), but thankfully they did not last long. She mentioned this to Angie just in the event that she would collapse. Angie made her use the handrails on the steps, and told her NOT to faint:) Walking slowly down the street, the girls reminisced about how the architecture reminded them of Ireland. The buildings were close together, flowers of all colors hung from each old fashioned lamp post, and people gathered in groups to window shop. The girls spent two weeks in Ireland when Melody’s sister, Heather, lived there with her husband Josh and baby Isaac. What fun that was! What memories!

In an internet café with a delicious banana, strawberry and chocolate crepe, Angie introduced Melody to the world of Facebook. This is a fascinating point of connection where people can actually write a profile, make comments, add pictures, and collect friends to keep up with. This process instantly throws you back into a myriad of memories of the people you see, yet confronts you with the time you have lost by showing you current pictures of people you haven‘t seen in years. What an advanced and addictive new habit this could be!

As we strolled the streets of Vail, we posed with bronze statues, snapped pictures, admired all the flowers, watched people, and took in the sights and sounds. We noticed girls tugging at their clothes, young boys running to jump on one another’s backs, couples holding hands, children riding bikes, and teens skateboarding. As evening approached, we walked a curvy path of fine gravel along the river back to the parking lot. Soon, we were on the way home to see how the boys did fishing, and to eat the delicious pot roast that had been simmering in the slow cooker all day.

It’s always hard to say goodbye. We dragged out the last day as long as possible, and parted with the promise to get Joe fitted for some Orvis waders when they come back home to visit soon.

Together We Are What We Can't Be Alone

2008-08-12T16:38:00.000-07:00

Saturday, 08/09/08 From Fountain, we headed north to Lakewood, CO for lunch with our friends Kathy, Dave and Rachel at their home. We met this family last year when we were backpacking in Grand Canyon. As God would have it, we had the same itinerary the entire time, so we got to learn a lot from these outdoor experts. They whipped our butts on the trail, and were so willing to share from their experience and wisdom gathered from a life outside. It was so fun to reunite face to face and be able to fellowship and share all that God is doing in our lives. They had a colorful spread ready for us outside on the patio, lined with beautiful flowers. The weather was just gorgeous-- sunny with a cool breeze-- perfect for a visit outdoors. We had a tender time of sharing, which was all the more meaningful since this family was such an encouragement to us in Grand Canyon. They gave us some good ideas for our next stop, Breckenridge. Dave was in his element as he marked out points of interest on a map he had of the area. What a helpful and encouraging time this was for us!

By dinner, we arrived at 416 South French Street, which is the time share where we will vacation with our great friends, Angie and Joe, for almost a week. Melody and Angie became friends in high school, attended George Mason University together, and even got apartments in the same complex in Centreville, VA. Melody was already dating Dan when Angie met her neighbor, Joe, who is now her husband. For many years as we shared Bent Tree Apartments as our common home, we would all have dinner together on Thursday nights, a tradition that Angie and Melody had started years before. Since Angie and Joe now live in Boerne Texas, right outside of San Antonio, we look forward to our vacations together.

So, we will be taking a brief hiatus from the travel blog as we enjoy our time in Breckenridge. Stay tuned for our updates by the end of this week. After Breckenridge, we plan to travel across Utah, into the south of Nevada, and eventually make our way to the West Coast. On a personal note, thank you all for sharing this trip with us, and thank you for all of your responses in email and comments on the blog. It is very encouraging to know that people want to stay in touch. We love you all, and we are thankful for the opportunity share these experiences with you.

Deep Roots and New Growth

2008-08-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

Friday, 08/08/08 Our drive across Kansas was gorgeous. Notable sights included wild sunflowers, oil drills working in the fields, a wind farm, and a herd of buffalo. We also saw a sign for the Oz Museum, but it was too far off our path toward Colorado. We did stop for gas in Wilson, which we found out is the Czech capital of Kansas. There we met Joyce, a lady at the gift shop, who gave us information on the Czech Festival that happens each July. We purchased a painting from a local artist, Kapka Belton, who also paints hollow eggs in traditional Bohemian patterns. This was endearing to us since Dan’s heritage is of Czechoslovakian descent. His dad’s father came here from the Land of the Bohemian Crown and settled as a coal miner in Pennsylvania. Many immigrants from Czechoslovakia that originally settled in Pennsylvania moved to Wilson, Kansas when the government offered free land in the west.

We made our way to Fountain, CO by dinner. We were excited because we had made plans to stay with Dan’s step brother, Eric and his fiancé Shawna. Their neighborhood is so new, Gladys did not recognize the address, so Eric met us at his buddy’s house and lead us in. Eric and Shawna share the home with General Omar Nelson Bradley, an English Bulldog, Mack, a tabby cat, and a newly adopted Painted Turtle which was found and collected from the street on a recent trip to Virginia. They were so welcoming and hospitable, and they prepared us a delicious dinner. We had a great time talking and laughing and very much enjoyed their company. After dinner, Shawna, a professional photographer, helped Melody take night photos of the lights of Fort Carson from a tripod on the back steps. Fort Carson is where Eric is currently stationed. He is a Staff Sergeant in the United States Army who has just returned from his third tour in Iraq. We are grateful for his service. After a restful night of sleep and delicious Breakfast Burritos, we watched a bit of the Olympics (women’s fencing and volleyball). It was hard to say goodbye since we were having so much fun, but we had to keep going. After pictures and hugs, we made plans to return and spend more time together.

Beauty From Ashes

2008-08-12T16:25:00.000-07:00

Thursday, 8/7/08 We stayed Wednesday night in Norman, Oklahoma, just outside of Oklahoma City. It was 2 am by the time we got our room and we had put over 650 miles behind us since Lafayette. Needless to say, we requested a very late checkout for Thursday. We set an alarm in time to claim our free breakfast and then went back to sleep for several more hours. Later, we drove to downtown Oklahoma City to the memorial where the J. P. Murrah building once stood. As with the Civil Rights Museum, we were ill-prepared for the emotions evoked by this tribute to those we lost, and to all who helped during this unprecedented attack on our own soil.

The memorial was built on the exact footprint the Murrah building once occupied. The entrance is through a large wall with an inscription honoring the fallen and reminding us to never forget. Once through the wall, you see an expanse and then another large wall on the other side. These walls are placed exactly where the outer walls of the building were and represent the actual depth within the city block where the building stood. The inside of one wall reads “9:01”, representing Oklahoma City as it was just before the bomb went off. The other wall reads “9:03”, representing the moment after the blast when our country was changed forever. In between the walls, in stark contrast to the events of that day, is a peaceful reflecting pool. It is flanked by 168 chairs on one side, representing the adults and children who were killed in the attack. On the other side stands the defiant Survivor Tree. Not only did it literally survive the bomb’s blast, but it also represents the unwavering faith and strength of mankind when faced with such an event.

The building next door has been converted into a museum where a walking tour takes you back to the events of that day, both tragic and heroic. As you walk through the museum, you are moved from the shock and despair of the bombing to a tender reflection of the rescue efforts. You experience the stories of the professional rescuers who rushed to the scene and got to work pulling people out, and of the authorities that immediately began organizing the crime scene and creating a point of communication for the families of the victims. Locals poured into the streets to help in any way they could, offering personal affects, covering victims with blankets, and delivering food, drinks, hugs and prayers to those in need. This is the outpouring we often only see in movies-- a tangible sense of family among strangers, and a total leveling ground for all people regardless of race, religion, or culture, uniting in the face of tragedy. It is remarkable how flawlessly everyone worked together, and it is a testimony of the faith, love, and ferocious iron will that resides somewhere inside us all.

From Oklahoma, we made our way north to Wichita, Kansas for the night. We had a very comfortable room, one of the last in the area, due to the fact that most people stop there on their way through to somewhere else. The hotel clerk was born and raised in Wichita, and she was itching to get out. We asked about her hopes and dreams for the future, and she was looking forward to traveling. However, she still had parents and a grandmother in the area, so she was skittish about leaving too soon. Dan met some guys from Gunnison, Colorado who were in for a college baseball tournament. One of the highlights of this journey is meeting the people wherever we stop and getting to hear even just a portion of their story.

Houston, we have a problem

2008-08-08T20:27:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, August 6th: Next exit, Houston Space Center. We found our first drawback with Gladys. She cannot quickly account for the long side road/ access points to the major highway in Texas. If we are close to it, she thinks we’re on it. Therefore, getting to the Johnson Space Center in Houston really did feel like rocket science. However, there is something to be learned in all situations. For us, this was patience and the reminder not to choose technology over common sense.

Once inside the doors, we were in awe of the enormity of the kids’ play area-- Daredevil Island-- immediately in our midst. A boy was swinging from a trapeze and then fell onto a huge, air cushioned mat, kids in body harnesses bounced from bungee cords on giant trampolines, and children crawled through an enormous gerbil maze, similar to a fast food play land, but three times the size. It was total sensory overload for us and all we could do was laugh out loud. It was incredible.

The tram tour had been aborted due to weather (the weakened version of Eduardo heading inland), so we viewed internal exhibits including the history of space travel, touching a real moon rock, entering the cockpit of a space shuttle, and continuing the pursuit of stickers in the gift shop. We kept thinking how much our nephews and niece would love this place, so we bought postcards to tell them.

As we drove toward Dallas, we kept thinking about the good Mexican food that our friends Angie and Joe get down in San Antonio. So, we got some ideas from Gladys about where to go. Her “Points of Interest” function makes it very easy to search for places by category and makes hotel reservations a snap in conjunction with the cell phone. This almost makes up for her trouble on the way to the Space Center.J However, our search for Mexican food quickly became a bit of a wild goose chase. Many places that were listed on Gladys were actually changed to other restaurants once we arrived at the address, or they were simply closed. A last ditch effort landed us on the wrong side of town. A bit frustrated, but still hungry, we settled for Denny’s and pulled out the map of our proposed route. Over a club sandwich with seasoned fries and Moons Over My Hammy, we decided to drive all night until we reached Oklahoma City.

There's shrimp all up in them waters

2008-08-08T19:26:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, August 5th: There’s something luxurious about sleeping in on a big, white, fluffy bed. It makes you feel like royalty. And a view of the city below is even better from a high perch. By 6 am Tuesday, boats were moving up and down the Mississippi. It was fun to watch for a little while and then climb back in under the covers to drift back into dreams-- a rare indulgence. Our next destination was Grand Isle, Louisiana. We wanted to include a beach trip since the next coast we will see will be in California. We programmed Gladys for the Bridge Side Marina where Dan had called about a fishing license. It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed talking and laughing on our leisurely trip to the Gulf through the salt marshes of southern Louisiana. All along the water’s edge, you could see shrimp boats with their trawler arms raised, ready to go out for the day’s catch. At the marina, we purchased the license ($20!) and a tarpon decal for The Egg in memory of the one Dan caught last November in the Florida Keys.

Dan grabbed his new 8-weight Orvis Helios fly rod and began casting to breaking fish which he soon identified as mullet. These fish feed on algae, so they are not predatory. In other words, they can be very difficult to catch. A short distance away, Melody met a couple of men fishing from the bridge with their sons. One man had previously been stationed in Norfolk, Virginia when he served with the Navy. The boys joined in the pursuit of mullet with Dan, but the fish did not cooperate. So, we decided to hunt for fish on the beach.

It was gorgeous. The sun was high, but the breeze off the water kept it cool. The sand was dark and well compacted instead of grainy and giving. Not more than 10 people scattered the beach. Kids played in the waves on boogie boards, parents watched from folding chairs, and an abandoned crab cage sat in the surf. Upon closer inspection, 3 crabs were attached to the outside, picking the bait fish clean one pinch at a time. Later we met Pete and Vicki who were catching crabs with a string of chicken necks hanging between two poles. They were having great success due to Eduardo‘s aftermath.

While Dan fished the surf, Melody filmed her own version of The Blue Planet with the sand crabs on the beach. One timid crab would slowly climb out of his hole in the sand, turn and spot danger (Melody looking on), freeze, and then quickly return to his hole. This dance continued, with little variation, about 15 times before Melody was satisfied with her video of him and walked off to find her fisherman. Dan reported that fishing conditions were a bit rough, with a strong head wind and heavy chop. So we leisurely walked the beach back to The Egg and decided to head for the next stop.

Dan saw some fish jumping in the canals as we headed back north to the mainland, so Melody got some classic footage of him fishing from the side of the road, carefully timing his back cast as cars went whizzing by. We couldn’t resist one more quick stop for a photo-op on a couple of old children’s rides before driving into the night. We knew it was too late to aim for Houston, so we settled into Lafayette, LA for a good night’s rest.

Where the Riverboat Sails Tonight

2008-08-07T10:44:00.001-07:00

Fluid thoughts on experiences and things observed from Memphis to New Orleans: hundreds of brightly colored dragonflies, test messages on the cell phone (another 1st for us), a Betty Boop tattoo on the forearm of the hotel clerk in Grenada, Mississippi, falling into bed exhausted, turning the TV documentary about steroids off right before a man’s biceps explode (we didn’t want that visual), accidentally spilling orange juice on Dan at breakfast, stocking the cooler with fresh strawberries and other groceries, trains, homes on the Bayou only accessible by boat, French Press Coffee Shop with the internet password latte, high winds later identified as Tropical Storm Eduardo (maybe we should start watching the weather channel), a labyrinth of of mausoleums that trigger Melody’s memory of searching for Evita’s grave in Argentina with Heather, bike messengers, iron railings in the French Quarter, and the gold trim on the doorman’s uniform (nice!).

Gladys was programmed with the only landmark we had in New Orleans--The Boondock Saint-- an Irish bar in the French Quarter named after the independent film. Dan’s brother, Doug, had found it on a previous trip and recommended it as off the beaten path. He told us that 1 of the 3 televisions displayed a continuous loop of the movie at all times. Once we found our target, the goal was good lodging in the near vicinity. That brings us to Hotel Monteleone. From the outside, it looked like an historic luxury hotel that would be found in DC or any major city. Flags flanked the front, there was a doorman, it reached at least 15 floors high, and the lobby was illuminated with the warm yellow glow cast by dimmed chandeliers. Pleasantly surprised, we agreed to the affordable rate and took the elevator to the 11th floor. Our “deluxe king” had a grand view of the Mississippi River and the steamboats that call her home.
With one night in New Orleans, we wanted Jambalaya for dinner and something with crawfish. We settled into a cozy little restaurant and met our server, Miranda. Interestingly enough, her family has worked carnivals throughout the Midwest for the last 5 generations, and her parents still work the circuit in Illinois. She has grad school and law school on the immediate horizon, but wants to squeeze in a trip to backpack across Europe before she’s 30.

After dinner, we each took a stool at The Boondock Saint, where we met Barbara. She is a native to New Orleans. This is only 1 of 2 jobs for her and she’s never actually seen the movie with the volume on. She doesn’t drive now since she sold her car due to increased liability insurance rates. However, she doesn’t like getting rides to work from her sister because she “drives too slow to avoid the potholes around here, and you know there are a lot of potholes.” Her dad is a retired mounted police officer and she smiled as she told stories about her own horse. Pete, the owner of The Boondock Saint, had a firm handshake. He is the one who brought Tropical Storm Eduardo to our attention. After discussing our planned route across the country, he had Barbara change the channel to the news so we could view the weather predictions over the next couple of days. He is planning a trip to the Florida panhandle with his daughter at the end of this week, but he is very uneasy about her swimming in the Gulf since 8 people have reportedly died in heavy rip currents within the last week alone. We took Bourbon Street back to the hotel, ducking in and out of gift shops, where we tried on many masks and hunted the next sticker for The Egg.

A Tale of Two Kings

2008-08-04T22:09:00.000-07:00

Gladys led us from church along streets with cable cars, diners, bars and shops on the way back downtown. We got out to take pictures and ducked into a local coffee shop. We discussed our predicament: now there was not enough time to see the National Civil Rights Museum and Graceland. Would it be the King of Rock and Roll or Martin Luther King , Jr.? Without hesitation, we decided that although “50 million fans can’t be wrong”, their numbers can't compare to the billions, worldwide, who have fought, struggled and died for independence, equality, and Civil Rights throughout history. Sorry, Elvis, maybe next time.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, right in front of his room, #306, when he was shot and killed. That motel now houses the National Civil Rights Museum and includes the dormitory building that is located across the street where the shot was fired. Those rooms in the hotel and the dormitory have been preserved as they were on August 4, 1968. We were not prepared for how impactful this visit would be. It is difficult to describe the emotions experienced as we walked through the exhibits and read of the struggles that have existed since the birth of our country. All at once, we were overcome by the shock, horror, and shame of our country's past transgressions. Yet, we were also encouraged, uplifted, and inspired by the triumphs of so many freedom fighters, both Black and White. You are forced to realize how fresh these wounds really are in light of the fact that little time has passed since the 1960s. Some of the most heart-wrenching were the videos of sit-ins, interviews and marches from our own home in the DC area. We do not believe there is a person alive today who would not benefit from the experience of this museum-- to see where we have come from and how far we have yet to go.

Around the corner, we stopped into Ernestine and Hazel’s for a soul burger and chips. Keenan was our bartender, cook and host, who shared with us the rich history of this famous little joint and gave us a tour of the place. The old sundry store still houses the original shelves that held Johnson’s Aspirin, and hand-written menus are displayed from when it was a restaurant. Currently, there are two extra bars out back and one upstairs, which used to be a hotel/ brothel. The location has hosted many of the Blues masters. It has also been featured in several movies, one of which is among our favorites...Elizabethtown. Live jazz was to start at 8 pm, but we had to keep moving south toward New Orleans.

No Black, No White, Just the Blues

2008-08-04T14:32:00.001-07:00

We left Franklin, TN on Saturday, August 2nd, and headed straight for the Bar-B-Q Shop in Memphis. Scott said that it was the best food he’s ever put in his mouth. Dan got ribs ½ wet and ½ dry. Melody ordered a pork BBQ sandwich “southern style” with slaw on top. It sure was delicious! Our server, Heather, gave us some good tips on how to get to Beale Street, where to park, and suggested online tickets for Graceland since it was nearing Elvis Week and the town was crowded. We met the couple seated next to us, LaToya and Jermaine, "Just like the Jacksons", they said. It turns out that Jermaine’s cousin owns the place. We told them about our trip and inquired about a church in the area. They invited us to theirs and gave us directions and service times.

After friendly goodbyes, Gladys (our GPS) got us right to Beale Street. It was jumping, with music pouring out of every open door and ally. Street performers and acrobats provided entertainment, and crowds of people gathered in groups to laugh and dance as the sights and sounds swirled together in the sweltering southern heat. It truly has a pulse of its own. Curiosity shops offered refreshing air conditioning while we browsed aisles, including but not limited to, Elvis memorabilia, drug paraphernalia (“It’s dope, Virgil”), samurai swords, jester hats and voodoo accessories (CREEPY).

We retired to our hotel room-- one of only a few vacancies in the entire Memphis area-- for a very long night, trying to figure out how to use the Google blog on the internet machine. The problem wasn’t so much the site itself as it was the limitations it provided to our own artistic design ideas for the blog, and the newness of the travel blogging experience. There was a bit of a technological breakdown. However, as we’ve learned from any survival situation, we eventually accepted what was given to us and we adapted.

On Sunday, we went to Saint Andrews African Episcopal Church where we were warmly greeted and blessed by the vibrant worship and energetic preaching. The sermon was a very encouraging pep talk. “Therefore, put on the whole armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” Ephesians 6:13. During the sermon, we spotted LaToya in the choir and exchanged a quick, friendly wave. We also saw Jermaine’s youth dance troop all dressed in red. We caught up with LaToya and Jermaine immediately after the service and they introduced us to many friends and their pastor. Come to find out, we had been sitting next to the mayor’s son and his family during church. It was powerful to observe the strong sense of community and be welcomed into the fold. That is the beauty of God’s family. Regardless of where you worship, or your race, color, culture or language, you are worshipping the same Creator and Savior.

O, Brother, where art thou?

2008-08-03T01:06:00.000-07:00

Our first destination was to visit Melody's brother, Scott, with his wife, Shelby, their two sons, and their two dogs. We made it to Franklin, Tennessee, and were greeted with warm hugs and a delicious dinner. Good conversation and laughter continued into the evening, and we held audience for the kids' bedtime story, prayers and song. After a good night's sleep, we awoke for a healthy breakfast, robust coffee, and talks that lingered long after eating was done. Dan also made time to change the oil in The Egg. For lunch, we all headed to Downtown Historic Franklin, where quaint shops and good food is plentiful. Satisfied, we left the deli in search of stickers, which we plan to plaster all over the egg throughout this journey. The boys each picked one and put it on the car. Then, despite the sadness of goodbye, we came full circle to part with hugs and kisses and the hope of more adventures to share.

Square One

2008-08-03T00:23:00.001-07:00

Ah, the open road. Due to a late night of last minute details, we left Friday morning a little later than anticipated. We started driving west and eventually south. The weather was beautiful, the sky big and blue punctuated by dense white clouds, not one of them hinting of rain. We sipped our Starbucks coffee and settled into our new life on the road: reading Travels with Charley (Steinbeck), selecting music that fit the mood, and engaging in deep conversation. Technical endeavors included learning to operate the GPS (fondly named Gladys), and setting up voice mail on the cell phone. Onward to Franklin, Tennessee!

The Back Story

2008-07-30T19:27:00.000-07:00

This is "The Egg". Several years back, our friend Joe named it because it looks just like an egg. Actually, it is a 2001 Suzuki Swift, a gift from our Grandpap the year after we got married. We love the car because it is perfect for our minimalist mentality, and a great fit with the current cost of gas!

Driving across the country has always been a dream of mine (Melody), so we're making that dream come true this month. We got our "Economic Stimulus Package", and we've decided to stimulate the economy all across the country, one gas station at a time. We plan to roll our egg from coast to coast and back again for the month of August. Stay tuned as we gather our gear and plan to hit the road in 2 days.

We've also recently acquired some new technology...namely a cell phone, and a GPS (Thanks Gary and Donna!). For those of you who know us well and have listened to all of our rants about what society deems "modern convenience", you may be thinking that we got hit in the head. Let's just say that we agree with the author of Ecclesiastes..."There is a time for everything under the sun."

Testing, testing...

2008-07-25T15:17:00.000-07:00

OK, this is our first go at this. Just getting started so that we have an idea before the egg roll begins...