Day 4


Eight is for a wish...





So after our haunted night at the Red Garter, we had a great breakfast of warm blueberry oatmeal scones and coffee before we headed onto the Grand Canyon Railway train ride into the Grand Canyon at 10:00 AM. In between we spoke to the owner and refurbisher of The Red Garter, John, about Williams, what the Inn was like when he got it (a tire company storage building), and whether he believed in ghosts or not. Kinda on the fence, but he’s heard plenty of stories from guests, and experienced a few oddball things himself… He’s a swell proprietor and we wish he had two nights at the B&B, instead of one. We’ll wish this even more the following day when we return for breakfast before heading out to Holbrook, AZ. But I’ll end on a happy note, The Red Garter was charming, evocative of western style, and a hoot too.

OK, back to the train. It’s an old steam locomotive that was refurbished to carry passengers from Williams, AZ to the Grand Canyon. There are several rates, the cheapest in Coach with yellow school bus seats and windows, to the domed topside of a car for a 360 view. We opted for the bay windows in first class. The train runs at about 35 MPH, so it takes 2:15 minutes to arrive. I thought we’d just be sitting back, enjoying the view, but oh no, the cheese begins before you board the train with a shoot out with some would be outlaws. Susie says: “Those blanks are really loud – Ow!” So get aboard, and there’s food and more food: Juice, coffee, soda (or pop as out waitress says), muffins, and fruit salad. Then there’s the roaming cowboy singer with a sweet-ass guitar. He was a former Hollywood stuntman…Fun. He didn’t like my cap. Then there’s the conductor with his dusty gloves, and the Sheriff from the shootout patrolling the cars. Like I said, cheesy, but it helped pass the time. As for the Grand Canyon, when we arrive at the site we got herded onto a bus as we only had three hours at the park. (We had tried to get reservations for a mule ride down, or better, a horse ride down on the other rim from the rez. But both were booked months before we called. So we’re on the bus.) We immediately took to our tour bus guide, a little woman in her forties, with 1970’s style Streisand hair, and the presence of an elementary school principal. She liked to talk out loud. Here’s an example: “Yeah, yeah…Yeah. That there wasn’t a condor. No. Those birds has a nine foot wingspan – You can’t miss that. That one was a raven, yeah, they get big here and tend to flap their wings more. The condor rides the updrafts like a hawk, but have that big, ugly, white, head with no feathers like a vulture, yeah. They can’t help it though, and we’re happy to have them around. They have tags on their wings you can sometimes see. They name them, like number fifty, not like Robert or Bob, yeah.” So we get on the bus with her and immediately go the buffet lunch, because we must be hungry, it’s almost 12:40! The fare on our plates was mystery meat beef stew in a tomato-y sauce, some fried fish, fresh from Mrs. Paul’s, some “Spanish” corn (I guess that means it has diced peppers mixed in.), and fruit salad. I describe this all as, oh, six or so hours later will be my first instance of Montezuma’s revenge. But onto the good stuff….

Ok, so it’s a big hole in ground. However it is a beautiful hole in ground. I have this totally irrational fear of heights, and ten feet away from the edge I started to feel some butterflies – What a wuss? But I did get closer. Highlights included seeing the hawk and raven aerial antics, and the glorious colors. We really need to hike or horseback it down and experience it. Meanwhile it was back on the bus, and then the train ride home, which included much of the same, and a hold up. OK, so this hold up included men racing the train on horseback, shooting in the air, then coming on board and asking for your valuables. Susie wisely surmised this was their funny way of getting tips. I’ll just take a dip into this embarrassing memory. I didn’t get the joke for tips thing, so I thought they were playing around when asking for money and whipped out a penny. In my defense, we were at the front of the car, so I we were the first victims. The train robber turns to Susie and says, did he lose the funny hat contest and that’s why he’s so cheap? Susie meanwhile is laughing it up.

Anyway, we disembark to the former historical Fray Marcos Hotel, now called The Grand Canyon Railway Hotel, and supposedly refurbished. I’ll say that the lobby was refurbished, but the quality of the rooms and details are cheap Motel 6 furnishings. And it was slightly more expensive that The Red Garter; Disappointing. But the canyon was not, so I’ll leave you with some shots.

Tomorrow, the ride to Holbrook, a serious trip down memory lane for my days on the Navajo reservation, and an answer to that eternal question: Wouldn’t you like to sleep in a Wigwam tonight?

Adios!



Joe & Susie

Poll #825756 My Hat Stupid or Damn FINE?
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 3

Do you like my Kangol cap? I've gotten some ribbing from cowboys...

Day 3 High Desert High Cheese




(Due to a combination of spotty wireless, and then no wireless for a few days, I’m behind. Now that we’re in Santa Fe, I hope to catch up. Even so, the photos for the next couple of days will mostly be grouped at the bottom to save time. I'm sure you'll figure it out.)

So, after a night of wind storms rattling the windows, and our bellies still full from The Hungry Bear, we got out of Needles as fast as we could. My exact memory of Needles that morning was of white asphalt, blazing morning that felt barren. Now in Needles defense that end of town where our motel was contained the exit of I-40 E, our non-descript, half nelson applying, motel, two gas stations, and the entrance to I-40 W, not exactly Elysian Fields. (Speaking of which, can you believe the area around Dodger Stadium is called Elysian Fields? The nerve!) Plus, most of all, the road was calling.

Susie and I have always heard the call of the road. Most of our vacations have some aspect of driving involved. But this trip has it built in, every day, and I am really enjoying it. Especially on a day like today where the road from Needles, CA to Oatman, AZ was the best stretch of Route 66. The road was twisting around bends, up mountains, around a mountain (on the outside ledge) then back down on the inner ledge. The speed limit varied from 15 on some uphill twists to 35 or 45 MPH on a stretch of straightaway. I was smiling the entire way. The landscape was scrub brush and full of birds. I had to break had twice, once for a road runner (Bleep! Bleep!), the other for a flock of dim witted quail. There was one quail that liked running in front of the car…Hilarious. Now, Oatman, AZ, for those out of the loop, was reported to be a former gold mining town that was one step away from being a ghost town. And why? Because the miners released their burros to the wilds around the town, and the generations since roam the streets of Oatman like stray cats.

We arrive at 10:30, shortly before our Netherland couple, tour the old hotel where Carol Lombard and Clark Gable spent their honeymoon night, and then walked the town’s main street (Rte 66) for…Yes, that long. And did we see any burros? Perhaps one off in the distance? The closest we came was this:




So we skipped out of Oatman, en route to Kingman, up past the mountains and abandoned mines to some glorious roads. There’s almost nothing finer than seeing an open stretch of road unwinding below you as you descend a mountain as the sense of freedom is not just palpable, it’s achievable. Kingman had one distinction, it marked the end of this beautiful, and most likely the best stretch of Route 66 we’ll experience. Yet ol’ 66 continues on, to Hackberry. Hackberry is a supposed village, though Susie & I saw little evidence of that claim beyond the spectacular Hackberry General Store. This place is a perfect example of what makes these parts of Route 66 unique and worthwhile, for while we’ve all experienced the imitation of the general store, full of memorabilia, and some snacks, this is the source, Zeus’ forehead, Yggdrasil’s root – You get the idea. The proprietor is an older gentleman, white-haired and bearded, with a floppy hat, and from the conversation he’s having with three customers whom he was showing around, you can tell this is his passion. His memorabilia ranges from the cheese tourist stuff, to celebrity photos and history of Route 66. A pair of highlights include a soda jerk bar which serves Route 66 Route Beer, and a stereoscope of old Route 66 postcards from Chicago to Santa Monica. I picked up a vinyl Route 66 Shield stick-on for Shelly, and a glass bottled Coke, which he popped open for us as we toured his collection of old cars and Burma Shave signs out back. He also marked the first instance of someone who was there for Route 66’s glory days of the 30’s – 50’s. And the road calls on, as does lunch.

Next we travel on via a comforting countryside of rolling hills and twisty turns in canyon country, through several small towns, the southern edge of the Hualapai Reservation in Peach Springs, which is mostly filled with non-descript Bureau of Indian Affairs buildings (Just so you know, I’m holding back a rant against this “institution”.), and onto Seligman after 21 miles of Route 66. (Pronounced S’lig-Mun.) Seligman is like the town Happy Days was based on. I know it’s not, but has that 50’s and early 60’s era charm, just growing out of its Norman Rockwell childhood and into something pubescently edgy. We’re looking for Angel Delgadillo’s Sno-Cap roadside place. His older brother Juan, recently passed away, and Angel are the mayors of Seligman, full of history from the dust bowl days to now, and also its pranksters. The Sno-Cap serves burgers, dogs, some chicken, I think I saw a taco on there too, and off course, shakes. You enter in and wait on line to order from Angel while surrounded in this narrow corridor of memorabilia and customer appreciations and photographs. Angel has a few gags he likes to pull on you, and he’s full of mischievous charm. As Susie orders a chorizo burger with cheese, onion rings, and a diet Coke, and I order a green chili burger with the works, but no cheese, and a large coffee (I have some road ahead of me after all!) you can tell he’s holding back a bit after ribbing this large (6 folks) family ahead of us. But when he gets to the coffee, he starts to warm up. “We only have yesterday’s coffee, so I hope you don’t mind.”, he deadpans. He then goes on back to hand the order off to the cook, as Susie steps outside to the patio. When he comes back to ring me up, he looks around, and asks, “Did she leave you already?” with the most concerned look in his eyes. Then come the sight gags, like the “Do you want any Mustard?” line when he reaches for the mustard squeeze container and squirts a string of “mustard” on you. Or hands you a set of rags for napkins…You get the idea. So we sit outside, grab a table, and look around. There are several vintage cars around, some well kept, some not so much. Several of the not-so-much cars have had their windshields painted with eyes ala the Pixar film Cars. There also a backyard full of Route 66 memorabilia and a pair of toilets, because that’s always funny. The food comes, we get the rags, and the woman in front of me in a nice top, with nicely coiffed blonde hair, gets the mustard (she screamed!), and Susie’s ecstatically charmed by the smiley face in her onion rings basket. The folks around us include that large family, a really cute older couple in their seventies who are grinning ear to ear and tenderly affectionate, an eccentric nuclear family with a packed to the gills Suburban and a map of the US magnetic bumper sticker with every state they’ve visited colored in. (They had 40 of ‘em but need to see the northern corners.) What makes them eccentric are not these facts, but how totally into this road trip they are. They’re wearing Route 66 clothing, yes, even the toddler in his stroller. They have a Route 66 quilted diaper bag, and name tags – Yes, even the toddler. Fascinating. But more intriguing are the five “bikers” in the corner. They look to be in their late 40’s to mid-50’s, and are completely garbed in Harley Davidson clothing and leather, which is so new, it shines and squeaks. Angel has the Route 66 Oldies Station on, and when Barbaran come on they all start singing along in their thickly German accented English. Hilarious! (I was later told this is quite common for Europeans to come here, rent some hogs, buy some leather, and do 66. With the Euro being so strong lately, it’s really boosted business along the route. Here’s another oddball fact: The largest contingent of Europeans comes from The Netherlands. Speaking of whom, we ran into that couple again by the gag toilets out back.) The last thing I’ll say about Sno-Cap is: That was the finest burger I’ve had in years! And that chorizo burger – Spice-y! Yum. Then we hit the road to arrive in Williams, AZ, gateway to the Grand Canyon and our B&B: The Red Garter Inn and Bakery.

Williams is another long railroad town with two streets. And while revitalization is a better description, what it looks like is the gentrification we’ve seen in Brooklyn and Queens, without the housing, which is sparsely spread out in areas we’ll only glimpse on 66 tomorrow. There are two coffee bars, two old bars, an old west museum, a classic car museum (out of a retired mechanic’s converted shop), an old 50’s diner with cherry soda phosphates (!), an Irish-Mexican Bar restaurant we avoided, an old diner whose main attraction was it’s pies, yet they looked overly creamy, and a ton of tourist shops. Three other places of note: The used bookstore with a great selection of old paperback Science Fiction (as the owner’s a fan), a collectible train and British soldiers (Corgi, etc.) shop next to it, and a new restaurant, The Red Raven, with some modern Mexican-American food that was so good, we ate there both nights for dinner. As for the B&B, yeah, it was a former bordello, among other things, during William’s rough & tumble railroad days. And it is reported to be haunted by a former, er, worker there. There’s one particular photograph that’s over a hundred years old, which shows a dour family in the lobby area, and in the corner by a mirror is a pretty young Mexican woman, grinning widely. Yet, there’s no reflection of the woman in the mirror… I must admit, that while writing this, late that night, as Susie was asleep, I felt something brush my hair lick (Yes, I still have enough hair for one.) three separate times. Believe it, or not…

Tomorrow, The Grand Canyon, and the highs and lows of being a total tourist.

Adios!

Joe & Susie

Road Trip Day 2 – Route 66 and the Mojave


We’ll step back in time a bit - Just like flying around the Earth real fast to save your girl. - to immediately after our trip to the San Diego Zoo. It was late afternoon in the city of a thousand goatees, and Susie felt like seeing the gaslamp district. We had the impression it would be old-time SD, like Gramercy Park, but bigger and left coasty in all those ways we like. Instead it was more like an upscale shopping area, mixed with a lot of frat boy and tourist restaurants. On the upside, there was also a Ghiradelli ice cream shop; Can you say banana split with pineapple and strawberry sauce, and a choice of milk or dark chocolate fudge three times fast? Regardless: Yum.

Then we hit the road to Los Angeles. We tried to stay off of I-5 as it was around rush hour, and route 1 just kicks butt. And despite getting confused and arguing with the Neverlost tm in the car, we arrived in L.A. and in our friend’s Rachel’s neighborhood. By the way, have I mentioned we’re traveling with two pieces of luggage, one day tripper, and a seventy pound monstrosity which I have been lugging up way too many staircases in an attempt to hold the world record for self-inflicted Half Nelson's? Anyway, Rachel’s got this great apartment she just moved into that’s this classic old L.A. building, which is being refurbished, and thus has this Barton Fink feel; it’s huge by NYC standards, and full of character in all the right ways. The building’s gonna look quite posh when it’s fully renovated. Back to Rachel’s place, it also has a balcony, complete with views of Hollywood, the neighbors, and a too-low wall that gets Rachel and I bit nervous of falling over. I hereby declare that all vacations should include time with friends in distant cities.



OK, full disclosure; I came in to L.A. knowing that I disliked almost everything about it. But Rachel showed Susie and I some beautiful parts, and some of the neighborhoods (like Los Feliz) that only a resident can, The Magic Castle, The Scientology Castle (I kid you not, it’s a castle.), and what has rightly been described as The Gayest House in L.A. To say that it’s some surreal, Francesca Lia Block inspired Bluebeard for young guys only scratches the surface. We walked in Griffith Park up to the observatory, learned what a soroptimist is, shared that Beck is a Scientologist (Just the sad, naked truth, I swear.), had breakfast at Fred 62 (excellent frittata!) and set off to points east on Route 66.

Here’s another bit of information: If you’re looking to travel on Route 66 in California, you should skip almost all of it except for the road from Barstow to AZ (or vice versa). This is also known as San Bernardino sucks. We spent about an hour driving through that town – AN HOUR! But I’m also skipping over getting lost on Santa Monica Boulevard (the wrong way), dodging a car on fire, eating our first In N Out Double Double – And we gotta say it, it was good, definitely fresher, but no where near the hype. – The first McDonald’s (All together now: Big Whoop!), and that Pasadena’s a pretty town.


When we finally shook off the shackles of ill timed street lights and hit the desert country on the way to Barstow, the sun was beginning to set behind us and a desert wind storm was brewing. It turns out that we caught the gentle end of a desert storm that had winds of 35-45 miles per hour by us, and above 60 in Nevada. The winds were so strong in NV that two extremely large cranes fell over and destroyed a good chunk on highway 93 between the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas! In east coast terms, 35-45 MPH winds are a tree falling, power losing, catastrophe. Here, it was kinda shrugged off as long as it stayed under 50 mph, as the trucks wouldn’t thus tip over on the highways. Fortunately, I heard these pearls of wisdom after we passed the storm, and many a truck, and were already en route to Needles, CA from Barstow, listening to the Route 66 station news, in between the Alice Cooper show. (Who knew Alice was a Creedence Clearwater Revival fan?) Here’s a shot of a couple of sand storms twisting up like mini tornadoes to our right.

Did I mention that the Taurus handles like a three-legged cat?

So, back to Barstow…I was expecting a sleepy little town, and while it was that, it was also a bit more. You can see that it was caught between being a modern oasis and a past favorite, now past its prime. Something about the character of this horizontally long town, windswept and dusty with the storm, felt like a timeline. We entered in from the west end, with old Route 66 faded neon motels and gas stations, and ended our visit with a stop at the Starbucks for a Venti Soy Pumpkin Spice Latte, no whip, where upon entering Rufus Wainwright’s Greek Song was playing. (The donut shop/ Chinese take out was closed, but regardless, I love that song and would’ve stepped into Starbucks just to hear it out.)





Barstow to Needles took another two hours, with the sunlight fading out our rear window, the winds dying down, and the roads climbing as did the speed limit (75!). Have I mentioned I miss driving Shelly yet today? It was dark, I was exhausted, and the iPod adapter was in the trunk. So we arrived in Needles at 9:00 PM, tired and hungry. We drop our luggage (after the seemingly requisite half nelson I give myself lugging that steamer trunk), and head off to what we hope is a decent diner, The Hungry Bear, which turned out to be just the medicine we needed. After a drive through Needles, which was 95% closed up, we arrive and as it was closing in thirty minutes, asked if could still get served. Maybe it was honest question, or that the past middle-aged waitress really is that friendly, she welcomed us in, and sat us down. A real tasty BLT for Susie and French Toast for me, and before we know it, we’re chatting with the waitstaff and the only other couple in the place. Turns out this other couple is from the Netherlands (yes, the woman was in pig tails and blonde) and drove from San Francisco, down Route 1 (The prettiest stretch of road we’ve ever seen!), and now across on 66. So they’re discussing what they did that day, and plan to do tomorrow, and I just had to chime in as it was the same itinerary. They’re sweet, and we’ve actually run into them three other times so far, startling them each time with a hello. (OK, it really is because I make them jump in recognition when they see me greeting them familiarly that gives me a thrill, but it’s a small guilty pleasure.) Then we head back to our nondescript room, chase out the moths, pull the dead beetle out of the bedsheets (It was actually tucked in.), and go to sleep.

Tomorrow, the high desert and high cheese as we leave Cali behind and hit the best stretch of Route 66 so far, see our first scary hitchhiker, get serenaded at lunch by German Harley Riders doing Barbaran by The Beach Boys, and end up at a bordello.

Adios!


Joe & Susie



PS To the all the folks I haven't said boo to in a while, yes, this is my way of catching up...Hi! I miss you. Post a reply.

Joe and Susie’s path to adventure across the mother road, and points south, has begun. We left home on a flight that was delayed by seventy minutes, and fortified by Wok ‘n’ Roll General Tso’s Chicken (A personal indulgence of mine since working at a B. Dalton in the mall at Valley Stream from sun up to sun down one winter.), and a half-pound bag of “Just Nutty” salted nuts. The in flight movie was X-Men 3, a film I had already subjected Susie to, and been disappointed by myself (in comparison to Claremont’s run in the comics). Yet Susie watched as I read how the Joads left Oklahoma on Route 66, in an old Dodge, and made it to California border, just by touchdown. Damn! Steinbeck’s a good writer of character and dialogue. (A shocking revelation, I know.) Aw heck, I feel like abbreviating ever’ thing in this here entry with apostrophe’s and tin eared version that would go sompin’ like this. Yet, I will hold back.

So we land, and despite calling to confirm that I would have a full size vehicle, with a Neverlost ™ GPS system, and a cruise control, when we arrive at the car rental station, they tell me they only have two vehicles on the lot with those features, a mini van and a Jaguar. (That would be Jag-U-Are to the Brits, apparently.) Now, left with this choice, which would you pick?

So here’s us driving away with our Jag, at a slight 10% increase in price. I’m used to my Mini, Shelly, where you feel the road. (The advertising translates this as motoring, yet I don’t disagree with it.) We were gliding in this plushly leathered vehicle. SWEET! Yet, we returned her the next morning as we both felt too ostentatious in it, to the point where I feel like I needed to explain why I have this pretty thing. Plus, we felt it may prove a dangerous lure on the road, outside of the big cities…? So we exchanged it in for a Taurus. But we feel relieved, even though it handles like a three legged cat, almost nimble, but not quite.

But back to San Diego…What a pretty city! Although, I have decided that San Diego is not just pretty, but also the land of 1,000 goatees. Upon arrival to our hotel, where we were told that we did not have a reservation, and had in fact checked out on the 9th, we raised no hell, and got a room with two full size beds (instead of a king size), but a fantastic view. And serendipity happened and we were able to meet up with Brian Selznick who so kindly waited for us in the lobby so we could enjoy the expansive San Diego nightlife. OK, so despite the fact that we had 30 minutes to grab some food and drinks before the only place open on Shelter Island closed for the night, we chatted away and had some tasty fried seafood, then came back to hang on the balcony and wake up the guest next door. (Sorry!) It was great to catch up, gossip just a wee bit, and have to opportunity to tell Brian to his face that the his first novel was not only wonderful, but inventive and will break some boundaries in storytelling that haven’t been done in novels for middle grade readers in too long a time. And he’s such a sweetie!


So after a late night we woke up, exchanged the car and relived some highlights of past favorite vacations by: Going to a Hawaiian restaurant (Da Kline) for some poke, spam sushi, and roasted pig and guava juice, eating a banana split at Gherridelli’s and squeezing the zoo in between. The zoo was very large, and amazingly hilly, and we have to say, lived up to expectations. With one exception, it’s showing its age in some of the older installations, where you can see the innovation, but now have seen the innovation improved, and find some here, particularly when it comes to size, lacking. But it’s still larger than the Bronx Zoo and fantastic! Some highlights include the one month old giraffe, Toby, who survived his great fall in birth (No Judeo-Christian analogy here.) – Six feet! – And is so cute. The tree kangaroos whom were clever and adorable. And the Panda exhibit with the nuclear family in all its crazy glory.















OK, tomorrow the drive up to Los Angeles, and Route 66!

Joe & Susie