BACK IN TENNESSEE

SUNDAY

I am feeling much better this morning -- which is a good thing. 

Jackson is socked in with rain and I suspect I will be in rain most of the day.  I checked my maps for an alternate route to Nashville, but the Natchez Trace Parkway is really the most direct route.  It's an easy drive at 50 mph, which is reasonable in heavy rain on any road, and there will be little traffic today.  So I will drive it, as planned, even though I may not get to see much.

I scan the brochures for Jackson, before I leave.  There are several interesting things to do here, but it's early Sunday morning so most things won't be open:  the state capitol, Medgar Evers home and museum, Eudora Welty's home.  I decide to find Eudora Welty's home (one of the best preserved literary homes) and at least take a photo of it. Again, I could come back here another time to do all the things in this area.  My list continues to grow.

Eudora Welty's home

 At Old Trace Park just outside of Jackson is Ross Burnett Reservoir.  To get here I've driven through some classy neighborhoods and passed a few yacht clubs; it looks like a great lake for all kinds of recreational opportunities.  But today the sky and water are both grey; a few whitecaps punctuate the waves.  It must be beautiful on a sunny day; even more spectacular when the leaves turn in a few weeks. I am reminded of being at the ocean on a rainy day, knowing that on other days it looks very different.

The Mississippi Arts and Crafts Center is a lovely gallery of pottery and art and quilts and glass.  The rain hammering on the tin roof accompanies my wandering through the exhibits.

I am listening to Oprah again this morning in a conversation with the author of "Directed by Faith."  Many of his examples are stories come from his work in the film industry.  He says for your own development and your own success stay in your own movie.  Don't get in anyone else's movie; you have to stay in your own.  It's a good reminder that I need to live my own life, by my own rules and expectations, and not worry about what other people expect or think.

I drove up to the Jeff Busby viewpoint, through a very nice forested campground and picnic area.  It is totally socked in with rain and fog, but I stopped for a moment anyway, wondering what I might see on a clear day.

trees in the rain

meadow in the rain

By mid afternoon the rain has eased for an hour or so when I cross into Alabama.  Very few people are traveling this road today so I have it to myself.  In bad weather it's nice not to worry about the traffic and the trucks and what other people are doing on the highway.  The leaves are just beginning to turn a bit as I proceed north. Before long I cross the Tennessee River -- a beautiful, wide river with a boat or two crossing under the bridge.  It was a nice surprise after driving through the woods for the last two days.

Within a few miles I cross the border into Tennessee though I am still 375 miles from home, according to the GPS. I am no longer the odd ball with a Tennessee plate on my car, as I have been for the last four weeks. I am in my home state and it feels a little odd at the end of this adventure. There is a significant difference in how much the leaves have changed as I continue north.  Many leaves have already claimed the ground.

I learned today in a Natchez Trace brochure that Meriwether Lewis, of Lewis and Clark fame,  is buried here.  I never knew that until today.  It's rather fitting that this burial site is near the end of my trip since I followed much of their exploration path through North Dakota, Montana, and other parts of the Northwest. I grew up with their history; I can't remember a time when I didn't know about them.

The grave of Meriwether Lewis

I haven't gotten out in the rain today for much of anything, but I got out to pay homage to Meriwether Lewis. The broken column is symbolic of a life cut short. I was touched in a rather strange way. I didn't know he committed suicide because things had not worked out between him and the government in the years following the exploration's conclusion. They owed him a lot of money that was not approved for payment until after his death. I didn't know that he was here in my state and that he chose to die here and not some place else.  It's a grey rainy day and I find it strangely sad.  Lewis's grave is within six hours of my home and I don't know how I never knew this.  It bothers me because his expedition explored so much of the area where I grew up and the place where I feel much at home. I have appreciated over the years, my whole life in fact, what those men did to get all the way to the West when no one had been there before.  And then to find out that his life ended pretty darn close to where I live now.  The questions is, "How does that make me feel about all these years I've been in Tennessee and I never knew that?"  It makes a difference to me though I'm not sure in what way, but it's like there are kinfolk here.  I don't think Southerners or Easterners can understand the impact and importance of the Lewis and Clark expedition like those of us who grew up in the West and who are only a few generations removed from those men.  I feel a connection with them.  I don't know exactly how to explain it but maybe there's a heart connection in some way.  Maybe it's because I have just driven almost 8,000 miles and some of the early miles were where Lewis and Clark had been and unsuspectingly and surprisingly I am ending the trip where Lewis had been. I feel like I need to read more about them and understand their journey better -- better than what I learned in elementary and high school. I bought a book in North Dakota about the Lewis and Clark Expedition from the Indian perspective but I might do some other reading as well.

I ended my day at the Loveless Cafe, a local legendary place at the northern end of the Natchez Trace.  I recognized everything on the menu in this cafe that specializes in southern cooking.  I dined on fried chicken, coleslaw, fried green tomatoes, biscuits, and chocolate pie for dessert. I felt very comfortable there and the food was excellent.  And yes, it felt like home.

 

SOME STONES WON'T SKIP

SATURDAY

I left Houston about 8:30 Saturday morning, after two days of fun visits with the great niece and nephews and their parents and my brother.  I waited until the kids were up and fed and ready for a bit of conversation before I left. Though we've seen each other in June and September this year, we don't generally see each other very often.

Houston is totally socked in with rain and visibility is minimal this morning.  I had hoped for a better day weatherwise, but I can't complain after thirty days of perfect weather. As I wind my way out of Houston, heading for Natchez, Mississippi, a little orange "wrench" light illuminates on my dash.  I pull over to check the book to see what it means:  oil changed needed.  Because today is Saturday I hope I can get service someplace.  I know there is no possibility tomorrow since it's Sunday and by Monday I will have driven another 1000 miles.  My nifty car tells me where the nearest Honda dealer is -- 9 miles away -- so I show up and their service department is open.  They have me in and out in about an hour with an oil change and tire rotation.  The only problem is they hit a button on my dash and held it too long, which erased my miles and gas mileage for this trip.  Not a huge deal, because I know approximately what the miles were, but I like accuracy in these things.  I am on my way out of Houston by 11:00 -- later than I planned, but I only have driving 400+ miles on my schedule for the rest of the day.

At the Port of Houston I am going over a very high bridge.  I saw it at a distance, but it is different actually driving on it.  The bridge is steep and high to allow the ocean-going vessels to pass under it; I can't see past the high point of the bridge as I cross it. It's an odd experience when I can't see the other end of the bridge.

I'm listening to Jane Fonda on Oprah's network as I drive.  She says when we are young we adopt survival mechanisms, but then they last too long.  She says her survival mechanisms served her very well, but I guess the problem for all of us is that we don't let them go when it is time.  We keep doing what we've always done even when it's no longer appropriate.  She also says that our goal is not to become perfect; our goal is to be whole.  I know she is right.  Probably most of us, at one time or another, have tried to be perfect, to do everything just right in order to be accepted; we eventually found out it doesn't work.  Wholeness is certainly a more achievable goal and is what I have tried to work on, once  I gave up trying to be the perfect teenager, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect Southern lady.  Once I embraced who I am and not worry about who or what others think I ought to be, then I am able to live with more integrity and contentedness.  Jane also says you have to know your enemy, you have to know what you're fighting -- whether it's age or fear or whatever you continue to fight against.  She says look at what scares you and stare it in the face.  I don't know what it is that scares me any more -- not too much, actually.  This trip has been about doing something I wasn't sure I could do.  I thought I could do it, but I wouldn't know until I tried.  Now I've done it.  Now I wonder what's next.  I don't have any other adventures planned, but perhaps I need to figure that out pretty soon.

I cross into Louisiana heading toward Lake Charles.  The rain has eased a bit but there is no sign it might stop any time soon.  Everything is very green, very flat.  The drive is pleasant enough, but the rain and the blinding spray of the trucks make it more difficult than I like. 

I tried a new burger for lunch today:  Whataburger.  The main thing I noticed is the burger had lots of mustard on it -- which is fine.  It was good, though I don't know if it is better than Burger King.  I was all set for Burger King, but decided to try something new today.  Since I got a late start this morning, I needed a lunch I could eat while I drive -- and I had not restocked my veggies to go with my peanut butter that has been my usual lunch on this trip.

At Lake Charles I cross another bridge similar to the one in Houston.  I wish I could see what the entire span looks likes as it crosses the river, to see the engineering and the artistry of this bridge.

There are fields of green plants along the highway that look like corn, but it's definitely not corn.  The plants are very close together, like corn, but not as tall, and the tops look a little like small palm branches.  I have no idea what they are.

At 2:30 I think the rain has let up a bit, and within a few minutes it pours harder than ever, and the sky is dark, the kind of early evening dark just before the last light disappears.  I am crossing a very long bridge/elevated highway over a swampy area near Butte La Rosa.    I've seen similar bridges in other parts of the South and I am amazed at the engineering required to build four lanes of highway in such wet places. This bridge is at least ten miles long and it crosses multiple water features including lakes, rivers, bays, swamps, a pilot channel, and  bayous.

At Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I cross the Mississippi River for the third time on this trip. At Clinton, Iowa, I crossed it at its widest point.  At Hastings, Minnesota, I crossed it at one of its northernmost points.  And now I am crossing it near the Gulf of Mexico.

By 4:30 I am in Mississippi and heading towards Natchez and the beginning of the Natchez Trace Parkway which will take me all the way to Nashville, Tennessee tomorrow.  I am seeing a few cotton fields along the highway, with the white cotton bolls very visible against the dry plants.  As I come through Natchez a little later, I would love to drive through the historic area and see the homes it is so famous for.  But it is late, and very wet, and dark, and I still have two hours to drive.  I will add this to places I want to come back to -- and since it is not that far from home (compared to the other places I have been) I can return another time.

The Natchez Trace Parkway is similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway -- nice two-lane road, bordered by lots of trees and mowed grassy areas.  The only difference is that the Blue Ridge Parkway is up on the mountain ridges, while this one is not.  The hay in the open fields sits in round bales waiting to be picked up. Most of the trees are deciduous so I am sure they will be gorgeous in a few weeks. While the bridges here are not stone, they are curved and simple. The speed limit is 50 so I can make fairly good time in the rain; I wouldn't be driving much faster if I was on an interstate.  I've seen at least seven deer run across the highway, as well as a herd of wild turkeys beside the road.  It's too dark and rainy to take any pictures, unfortunately, but it's an easy, lovely drive with very little traffic.  There's plenty to do along the parkway in better weather.

By the time I get to Jackson, it's after 7:30.  My GPS, I discover after thirty minutes of trying to find my hotel, has confused north and south on this particular road.  After I call the hotel, I am able to locate it within ten minutes.  I ask the clerk for restaurant recommendations; she suggests two that are nearby in the downtown area.  I plug the addresses into the GPS.  One of the restaurants has scads of cars outside, but not a single place to park within two blocks.  I am just not willing to walk several blocks in the dark and rain in a city I don't know.  The other restaurant is already closed for the night.  By now I don't care where I eat, so I search the GPS for the nearest Cracker Barrel.  They have roast pork and apples on the menu which sounds like great comfort food on a cold rainy day.  The waitress returns in a few minutes to say they are out of the pork, so I recheck the menu and make a new decision.  Whatever sense of humor I had at the beginning of this day is way past gone, though I am courteous to the server.

I get back to my room by 9:30 and am too tired to write the blog, too tired to do anything, except check the weather channel for tomorrow.  Guess what -- due to the weather, the hotel has no TV reception. I realize I am not feeling well -- not really sick -- just off.  I check my blood sugar:  64.  I realize my glucose tablets are in the car, so I gather my change and go in search of a vending machine.  I purchase a bag of peanut M&Ms and within twenty minutes I am feeling better and my blood sugar is within normal range.

I go to bed, hoping a good night's sleep will make for a better day tomorrow.



 

REACHING HOUSTON

THURSDAY

This morning the Belgian waffles at the hotel were Texas-shaped -- of course!! -- so I enjoyed one.  It would have been nice if the plasticware were sufficiently strong to spear a bite of waffle without the fork bending.  It's  pet peeve of mine.  I don't mind plasticware in such situations,but it would be nice if it was sturdy enough to really use.  I know the heavy stuff costs a bit more, but at least it works.

The sky is grey and overcast as I leave Kerrville, Texas this morning.  Just outside of town the highway is a downhill 7% grade -- just to prove there really are hills in Texas.  The drive is a pleasant one -- much greener and many more trees than I expected.  Evidently there's been enough rainfall this year to keep the landscape green.

I'm looking for a Wal-Mart this morning to run a few errands and mainly to replace my watch battery.  I discovered as I was getting ready that my watch died at 5:00 a.m.  While I don't really like to shop in Wal-Mart, when I am traveling I can take care of most errands at one.  I finally decided, that if I was going to find one easily, I need to do a search on my GPS system.  The nearest one is four miles away.  When I get there everyone I see in the store, including the clerks, are senior citizens.  I know, I am one too, but these people seem really old.  After watching the jewelry person struggle for ten minutes to remove the back on my watch, she asked me to leave it until this afternoon, when someone else would be in who could do it.  Since that was not an option for me, I took my watch and will try to get a battery in Houston.

As I travel through San Antonia and later into Houston, I am on highways 6-8 lanes wide, filled with traffic, the overpasses make what the kids used to call "pretzel bridges," and generally these cities look like concrete jungles.  It's a transition I don't much like, after being in the wide open spaces of Arizona, New Mexico, and the rest of Texas. I navigate both cities, without a single wrong turn.

The car will turn over 7,000 miles today and I am still at least 1,000 miles from home.  My original plans said the trip would be about 7,100 but it will exceed 8,000 by the time I get home.  I have a hard time believing I have really driven that far -- or that I have been gone for nearly a month.  After this, any road trip will seem like a piece of cake. I am supposed to be home on Monday which seems way too soon.  I may take an extra day in the Great Smoky Mountains just to delay my return a bit. 

It's been a busy few months since my mother's illness and death in May, the memorial service, birthday celebration, and family gathering in June, then the tea room trip with Shawna in July, then a beach trip with friends in August, and finally this trip beginning the end of August to return Mother to Oregon and to deliver her books and mementos to family and friends.  When I get home,I have no major plans looming in the future, so I will be living in a new time.  My manuscript will be back from the critiquer, with comments on changes that need to be made. I know I will have hours of work on that project.  I've already made plans to resume my piano lessons after a six-month hiatus.  I am looking forward to the discipline and challenge of practice.  I will continue meeting with my knitting friends every Tuesday night.  Other than that, my time and schedule and plans are open for the fall.  I won't rush to fill any blank times with other activities.

Once in Houston we are having great family time with my nephew Phil's family and my brother Bill.  Candice, Landon, Caroline and I spent a delightful late afternoon at the Houston zoo. The last time I was at a zoo was probably at least thirty years ago, so I enjoyed it as much as the kids did.

   

TEXAS SPACES

WEDNESDAY

I found out at the hotel in Artesia this morning that there was more scenic route I could have taken from Albuquerque to Carlsbad yesterday, but it would have added another hour to my trip.  Even if I had known about it, I'm not sure I would have had time.  It's good to know it was there, even though I missed it.

The wide open spaces provide a different perspective.  Do we have to have great scenery all the time? Do we have to be entertained all the time?  Do we have to have exciting things happening all the time?  The drive across the desert yesterday is what I call fallow time: a time with no distractions that allows me to just enjoy the space.  It gives me time to think without being oohed and ahed by grandeur at every curve. Of course I like that, too, but a steady diet of awesome is not necessarily what's best for us either.

There are lots of fields of alfalfa here in New Mexico.  The alfalfa is usually baled and used for animal feed.  After is is cut, the new growth gives the fields a rich greenness.  I remember many fields of alfalfa in Walla Walla when I was growing up, so I see similarities here.  The main difference is that the flat spaces are much large here and the hills are farther away.

The sky is overcast as I leave Artesia this morning, allowing me to see the fiery plumes at the oil wells along the way.  I am sure there were plumes of fire yesterday, but they were more difficult to see in the bright sunlight.  I continue to see a few oil wells along the way; the booms look like the giant crow heads, bobbing up and down.

Texas oil rig

After two hours of driving, I cross the state line into Texas and enter central time zone.  It's a challenge to know what time zone I am in, since it changes often, and to know the time difference for my friends and family when I call.  My car and cell phone change automatically as the time zones change.  However, my watch and my travel alarm clock have to be changed manually.  That fact can get me in some difficulty if I'm not paying attention.

I found a car wash in Fort Stockton, Texas so my car is now presentable for Bill and Phil to see it tomorrow in Houston.  The car had already gathered a layer of dirt and dust in Arizona and New Mexico before I took my off-pavement adventure yesterday afternoon.  Shiny and clean is a very good thing.

Once I get on I-10 heading toward Kerrville, where I will stay tonight, the speed limit is 80. Up until now I've been running at 70 or 75, even on some of the two lane roads.  The roads are so straight and there is so little traffic, those speeds are posted and possible.  This morning a tanker truck in front of me pulled out to pass a car when another semi pulled from a side road into the left lane.  We all pulled onto the wide right shoulder to allow the trucks to pass each other and avoid a head-on collision.  Thank goodness for wide, flat shoulders!

Long mesas edge the horizon on both sides of the road.  They appear to be absolutely flat on the top.  While I would not call them mountain, they are interesting land formations.  Like so many of the landscapes I have seen, they are equally difficult to photograph.

When I left Artesia I was heading south to Fort Stockton, Texas.  Then I got on I-10 and am heading directly east.  It's quite windy out here, enough to blow the car around a bit.  So it is not surprising I am beginning to see wind turbines, many turbines, on top of the mesas as I head east.  Based on the wind I am experiencing, turbines seem like a really good idea.  The last turbines I saw were in eastern Washington, many days ago.  I'm glad we are taking advantage of clean energy sources.

As I continue to drive east, the landscape is getting more hilly and the road occasionally goes through some cuts.  The hills are creeping closer  to the highway and I am driving through a flat valley.  The valley is quite green, in contrast to the tan and rocky mesas. Like yesterday, I was prepared for desert driving today, and have once again been surprised by rolling hills, green shrubs and grasses.  This is all new territory for me so my preconceived ideas were incorrect.  In the past, when I've come to Texas, I've always arrived from Tennessee to Houston on the eastern edge of Texas, which means I've hardly seen any of Texas until today.  By tomorrow afternoon, I will have experienced the expanse of Texas.  Like Montana, you can't make it all the way across in one day. 

I am enjoying this great expanse of country.  I don't mind that it's not as picturesque as Yosemite or Lolo Pass or some of the other places I've been, because it has it's own beauty.  What I've experienced on this trip is the great variety of landscape and geography -- and it's all good.  One just has to look at it with eyes that say, "This too is part of our country and this, too, is beautiful."  There are people who live here and people who like this more desolate terrain.  They are here for a lot of different reasons but I'm learning that I don't ever dismiss the geography just because it might not be my particular preference for a place to live.  It's good to visit, it's good to see it, it's good appreciate it for how it was formed and how long it's been here and how long Native peoples have lived in places like this and made a life for themselves.  It shows me that people can make a life just about any place as long as they've got natural resources like water and trees and fuel and things like that.

As I continue east, the road goes across and through the hills I've been watching in the distance.  I am loving this drive, so much better than I expected.

Note to Adam:  6900 miles, 27.9 mpg.  At 80 mph with the cruise control on, the car goes up steep hills and long grades, maintaining 80 mph without missing a beat -- no coughs, sputters or hesitations.

I get into Kerrville about 5:00 with no plans for the evening, except to swim in the hotel pool.  In my room, I take a quick look at the guest services directory to see if they have laundry facilities, but in the process discover that James Avery Jewelry is headquartered here.  I have known about them for years and own a few of their unique pieces.  I jot down the address, put it in the GPS, and am there by 5:15; the info I had said they close at 5:30.  Turns out they are open until 6:00 so I have time to browse the retail showroom, try on a few earrings, and drool over the exquisite designs.  Multiple buildings are scattered around the campus, including a visitors center where I watch a video about James Avery himself and how he started the business.  Had I been there earlier I could have watched the craftsmen at work.  As I leave, seven deer are roaming the campus, watching me as much as I am watching them.

Entrance to retail salesroom

Time at James Avery gave me time to pause and reflect about creativity and how it comes to us and how it expresses itself.  I am reminded once again, that creativity resides in all of us.  We just need the courage to look for it, an ear to listen to it, and the desire to give it life.

A tree for Fred on the James Avery campus

GOING UNDERGROUND

TUESDAY

Last night in Abuquerque I recalculated my mileage and schedule for today, to discover I had 300 miles to drive and I had to be at Carlsbad Caverns no later than mid afternoon in order to tour. By the time I figured it out, it was too late to let the B&B owner know of my morning departure change.  I set my alarm for 6:30 and was ready to go by 7:00.  I called the B&B owner; she met me at 7:15 to finalize my charges.  This change saved me at least 2 1/2 hours because scones and coffee were scheduled at 8:30 and the main course of breakfast at 9:00. The owner told me she used to serve breakfast earlier but vacationers want a more leisurely morning.  I think I have missed more breakfasts than I have enjoyed at the B&Bs. So I've learned a few things on this trip, about what works best for me.  I'm calling it "Tweak the Adventure." But it was either a leisurely breakfast or make sure I am at the caverns in time to tour.  Easy decision.

The mountains at Albuquerque look high and rugged, silhouetted in the morning sun.  I wish I had time to do some things in Abuquerque but this is not a big city trip.  I didn't get into town until 7:00 last night (because I spend wonderful hours at the Painted Desert), then had dinner, which got me back to the B&B about 9:00.  By the time I wrote the blog, verified today's mileage, and checked the website and AAA book for Carlsbad, it was 11:30 by the time I got to bed. I'll save Albuquerque for another trip.

Most of the drive heading toward Roswell, New Mexico is through very flat, fenced grazing land.  Occasionally I see a few cows amongst the low green shrubs that dot some of the landscape. The only hills I see is a long mesa off to the west.  The road is straight as far as I can see.  This is probably the most boring drive I've had, there's just not much of interest, though the scene is pleasant.  There are absolutely no cars going in my direction; in the opposite direction there is an occasional car, every mile or so.  I've seen one or two barns or houses in the last couple of hours.  There's no traffic, no places to stop, no towns.

South of Roswell, at the town of Artesia, I saw my first oil well of the trip.   Off to the side I saw three or four oil heads bobbing up and down.  When I was in North Dakota I heard there was a lot of oil in the state, but I didn't see any oil wells there.

I spent most of my afternoon in Carlsbad Caverns.  My first time underground on this trip and it was very interesting.  I kept trying to take photos, which was extremely challenging in the dark, but partially lit interior.   I took pictures until all my batteries died -- I suspect the flash used up the batteries quicker than outside pictures.  I often felt like I was the only one in the cave which is a really eerie feeling.  The paths were paved with handrails on both sides, but it was quite dark.  I found it almost disorienting because of the darkness and the strangeness of the cave.  The cave is magnificent and worth the effort to get here.

stalagtite & stalagmite, almost touching

From the visitors' center at the cave, which is on top of a mountain, I look out over the landscape and it is totally flat as far as I can see.  The only mountains and hills are where I am standing and behind me.  After I toured the cave, I took a nine-mile loop drive in the hills just beyond the visitors' center.  The sign said the dirt road was not passable for low-clearance cars but I decided my car was high enough to make it. I drove slowly, keeping my eye out for jagged rocks in the road.  I was the only car on the road and a couple of times I thought I must be absolutely crazy to take this drive, but I continued on, enjoying the rocks and the mountains and the scenes that were not visible from the paved road.

 

I had to backtrack some late this afternoon to get to my B&B in Artesia, about 50 miles from the caverns.   I had an early dinner when I came through the town of Carlsbad, with a plan to stay in tonight, once I get to my B&B.  I need an evening to chill, get caught up on a few things, and just relax.  My B&B is actually a boutique hotel in downtown Artesia.  I went up a long steep flight of steps to the second floor.  The clerk says it is a hotel, rather than a B&B, and they cater to oilmen and businessmen.  Continental breakfast begins at 6:00 in the morning, and they leave it out until everyone has eaten.  This hotel reminds me of one I stayed in in Seattle last year on my Puget Sound trip, except I have a private bath here.  My room has everything I need:  a desk, plenty of outlets for my electronics, a large nice bath, and a fridge.

I checked in at 6:00 tonight.  The reservations for the rest of the trip are made and the blog is finished by 7:30 -- that must be a record!!  The last two days have felt a little too full so a leisurely evening tonight is perfect.

  

ARIZONA TO NEW MEXICO

MONDAY

I left Flagstaff this morning, after a delightful three days of work and play and conversation with Carol.  The sky was overcast and rain was falling as I left, though it only last for a half hour. The nearby mountains of our yesterday were shrouded in clouds and fog.

By 3:00 this afternoon I am only half-way to Albuquerque because I stopped at the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest. I drove around for several hours and probably took a hundred photos -- spectacular views are everywhere.  This place is different than the Badlands of North Dakota or the red rocks of Sedona, but it's related.  The stripes of colors on the land formations and the red of the canyons are awesome. I've been fighting the wind and the rain a bit, but the rain never lasts for long.  I skipped a couple of walks through the petrified forest because of the strong winds.  However, I was able to see some petrified logs without taking a long hike. 

Petrified Log

Cross-section of petrified log

Cross section of petrified log

I hadn't even planned on this side trip today, but did it at the suggestion of Rich and Carol -- and it has been definitely worth it.  The colors here are sage green, dark chocolate brown, purple, rust, grey and pink -- the combinations and stripes vary from formation to formation. Another watercolor day.

I've been listening to Debussy Images Book 2 as I make my return trip through the Painted Desert, looking for my interstate.  The music seems very appropriate -- some of it seems rather ethereal and some of it is very vibrant and some of it is slow and meditative and some of it is very high energy.  It's very much like the desert.  The prairie-like parts are ethereal as I watch the wind blow across the grasses and the sagebrush.  Then I come to a part where there are vibrant colors and stripes and a canyon and big rocks and the more vibrant music is just right. Music has been a theme throughout this trip, whether or not it fit the scenery. Because I've been listening to classical music much of the time, I am just very aware of the mood of the music and the mood of the place where I am driving.  The music enhances the trip in ways I hadn't planned.

The painted desert

Some of the places in the Painted Desert, where I don't see cars or people or buildings, and I look across these huge landscapes, some of which are prairie-like and some of which is red-colored canyons and cliffs in the distance and huge piles of rocks and other formations,  it's an other worldly experience.  It doesn't take much to imagine I'm on another planet like Mars, which is called the Red Planet.  A lot of what I am looking at today is various shades of red.  Or maybe it's the landscape of the moon -- kind of barren and harsh -- except the shrubs are green today because of recent rain. I could easily forget I am just a few miles from another town or a major highway.

After I cross into New Mexico, the scenery continues to be spectacular.  There are red cliffs and cream-colored cliffs and interesting rock formations, similar to the Painted Desert except they are right along the highway.  I was  prepared for a desert ride today and it's been much better than that.  What really makes it nice is the greenery in places which makes it feel less like desert.

I've been thinking that when I get to Knoxville I need to take a route through the Smoky Mountains, particularly through Cades Cove, which I have never seen.  Because I've been through all these other national parks and scenic areas, I think I need to see the most famous and scenic one that's close to home. The end of my trip is changing as I get closer to home.

Sign of the day:  Zero visibility possible.  The second sign says:  don't stop in the travel lanes.  I don't know what this is about -- whether this is an area where there is fog or dust storms or what.  Visibility today is fine.

I am watching a rainbow form above the low hills in the distance.  The red and orange appear first, then gradually the green, blue, and purple next to it.  The pattern is a little fuzzy at first, then the colors tighten and intensify, and within ten seconds it is gone. The colors left in the same order they appeared. I've never seen this phenomenon before.

I've been listening to a little bit of T. D. Jakes on Oprah's radio network as I drive late this afternoon.  He is talking about passion and life purpose and how those two concepts are intertwined. He says you can't be passionate all the time but sometimes you have to be like Peter:  get out of the boat and walk on the water.  Do something you've never done before.  This trip is like that -- it's not that I haven't been to some of these places earlier in my life, and it's not that I haven't driven a lot of miles over the years.  When I  put all the pieces together it becomes something new. This trip is a whole thing, in some way, symbolized by the route on my United States map.  It's a full circle, and I've never done something exactly like this before. So I guess I did get out of my boat and I am walking on the water by myself out here and walking across the desert and over the mountain passes and across the prairies.  I'm loving it because it's a very freeing experience.  I touch base every once in awhile with someone I know.  We anchor for awhile, get reacquainted, talk about whatever is important to us, and then they send me off.  I willing go, but they also send me off to complete my journey.

I ended my day in Albuquerque with a glass of wine created in New Mexico, a pork chop with burgundy sauce, and creme brulee for dessert.

The historic Painted Desert Inn

SPONTANEITY

SUNDAY

Carol and I decided to play first today and work later.  We began our day, after a very long breakfast, at the Flagstaff Farmers' Market.  What I loved most were the natural hand-dyed, hand-spun, Navajo Charro wool yarns. I wish I had had my camera with me to capture the spectrum of yarn colors.  Gorgeous!!

After buying a few veggies, we walked in the woods at Schultz Pass -- one of Carol's favorite places for solitude and meditation.  Listening to the morning wind in the Ponderosa pines was a lovely reminder of early camping trips with my family in the mountains and forests of the Pacific Northwest.  I remember sleeping and waking to the brush of wind through the upper pines.

Asters in the woods

Ponderosa pine cones

A little later we began our drive to Snow Bowl in the San Francisco Peaks area.  Our purpose was to get a higher view of the Flagstaff area.  The road was winding as we climbed the mountain, but it was sufficiently wide and had guardrails most of the way.  Snow Bowl is the largest ski area and the highest elevation in Arizona.  The leaves of the white-trunked aspen trees along the road were just beginning to turn fall yellow.

Aspen trunks

We decided to drive until the road stopped or it got too rutted or rocky for safe driving. At the end of the road we came upon a parking lot filled with cars, a ski lodge, a cafe, and a chair lift.  We chatted with a few people in the parking lot.  They said the chair lift was wonderful, that it was very cold on top but definitely worth the view.  "How cold was it?" I asked.  "Forty-five degrees," the woman said.  We gathered what jackets we had and headed for the ticket area.  Carol and I scanned the mountain, assessing the lift that went several thousand feet to the top.  "Do you want to ride?" I asked Carol.  "I'll go if you'll go," she said.  With no discussion our decision was made. I've only been on one chairlift in my life -- the one at Natural Tunnel in Virginia and it was small compared to this one.  Carol has never been on  a chairlift. We bought our tickets and a cup of hot chocolate for me.  I went back to the car for my waterproof, windproof jacket with hood and cuffs that can be tightened around my wrists.

The view from the bottom

We told the lift operator we had never  ridden a chair lift before so we needed his help.  He told us where to stand, slowed the chair down for us, told us when to sit, how to put the bar down, and we were off. As we lowered the bar, we were grateful for a place to rest our feet.  The ride was slow and easy and quiet up the mountain and it never seemed like we were very far off the ground.  We only felt the slight vibration of the cable that moved us. We started out among the trees and finally rose above the tree tops.

Aspen trees on the way up

Aspen trees on the way up

The ride took about thirty minutes; we could feel the temperature drop as we neared the top. We started at an elevation of 9500 feet and reached an elevation of 11,500. -- the highest I have been on the entire trip.  The sign on the bathroom at the top says it's the highest restroom in Arizona!  The view was fabulous, even though the sky was overcast.  On a clear day you can see the south rim of the Grand Canyon from here, almost 80 miles away.

The view from the top

We stayed  until we got too cold, then we began the descent -- a totally different experience than riding to the top.  We felt higher off the ground and the descent was face first downward, which felt less secure than the ride up.

The view going down

The chair lift was our spontaneous act of the day.  We had no idea it was there or even if either of us was game for such a ride.  We decided in a quick moment and went -- it was an absolutely wonderful ride, much gentler and slower and more secure than we expected -- and we loved it.

We ended our day with a wonderful dinner at a local Thai restaurant.

Tomorrow I am on the road to Albuquerque.

SCENERY AND PONDERINGS

SATURDAY

After working all morning in Carol's office, we took the afternoon off to see the sites near Flagstaff.  Our first stop was at Oak Creek Canyon where we walked the canyon rim, and oohed and awed over the rock formations and the winding road below that we would soon travel.

the road we traveled from Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona

Close up of Ponderosa Pine bark

When we left the canyon we drove a snaky road to Sedona, the site of the red rocks.  Many of the old Western movies were filmed in this area.  We took a loop road near Sedona that provided fabulous views of the red rocks in the afternoon sun.

We finished the day with dinner at Taverna, a Greek grill restaurant.  I dined on beef and lamb kabobs, lemon potatoes, and baklava cheesecake for dessert. Besides fabulous food, periodically the waiters serpentined through the dining room to the beat of Greek music.  Fire-breathing waiters entertained us several times throughout the evening.

During our drive this afternoon, Carol and I talked about what I like about the South (a question asked by my long-time friends several weeks ago). I haven't really thought about the South on this trip, but I promised my friends that I would ponder this question which I could not answer at the time I was asked.  So I pondered today with Carol's probing questions and here is my best attempt at an answer.

Things I like about the South:

• country ham biscuits
• my good friends, none of whom fit the Southern woman stereotype
• I have created a life I love here
• Southern hospitality has taught me gracious entertaining
• an appreciation and love of home decorating in the Williamsburg and Southern Living traditions
• within a small group, learning that answers to prayer and a personal relationship with the Almighty are indeed possible.  This group encouraged and supported my spiritual journey.

I know this is a short list but it feels complete for the moment.

fruit on a prickly pear cactus