Just Blathering On

Dodge Champion Motor Home

2011-11-28T19:24:00.001-05:00

A motorhome is a step toward a new chapter of retirement living. I'm hoping to get her road worthy over the winter and make a few test runs in the spring. She drives well and has been carefully maintained. The coach equipment including bath, stove, and heat all work well. It needs a new fridge and a generator. These old gas hogs are very cheap to purchase, and I feel I made a good deal. She even has a deck for carrying a motorcycle. (That was the clincher for me.) Roadtrip 2012...let's roll!

Open mic night in North Tampa

2011-11-10T19:25:00.001-05:00

George Draper & Friends

It's raining in Tampa

2011-10-29T03:03:00.001-04:00

It's been raining for most of the evening here. It's late and I was thinking about the people at Occupy Tampa. My friend had told me that there was occupation all day and all night now. I wondered how people were staying dry, and felt sure that there either would be very few people, or a large number of wet people. I went to the park. There was a large number of people and only a few umbrellas. I took my umbrella from under the car seat and rolled down the window. I stopped the car in the street where a few people were standing. A woman approached and thanked me for thinking of them. She smiled as I handed her the umbrella, and I did also. I felt involved, a little. But I felt sadness, or hurt, and the Occupy cause seemed more important to me. It IS important...to me. It's going to rain again tomorrow.

Things Keep Changing

2011-10-21T08:59:00.001-04:00

There's an active group of people demonstrating against what is mostly described as corporate greed. Demonstrations are ocurring throughout the country as well as Tampa's downtown. Occupy Tampa it is called here. I spoke with a few of the demonstrators last night and got a sense of their commitment. One guitar strumming singer quoted Mussolini's definition of fascism. Another group of ten or so sat cross-legged in silent meditation. Silhouetted against a backdrop of night sky, several of the larger buildings stood before me forming an old, familiar pattern. I'd seen the same shapes against the bright noon sky during many of my lunchtime walks through downtown Tampa over the last 30 years. Now, I walked through downtown in jeans, a mandolin case over my shoulder, a ponytail hanging down my back. I had a sense of the changes in my life. As was told to me the day I announced my retirement, "This will just be another part of your life."

Hummer v. Yaris

2011-10-13T10:59:00.001-04:00

I traded in my Hummer and came home with a Toyota Yaris. The greatest motive for the trade was my discomfort with how much room the Hummer took up. The Yaris takes up much less space, and I'm much happier being able to fit both the car and motorcycle in the garage comfortably. The fringe benefits are the greatly decreased fuel consumption and increased manueverability. Rather than 13 mpg around town, I'm getting a steady 30 mpg. I haven't checked highway mileage yet. I'm hoping for something close to 40 mpg. It's really a fun car to drive.

Day 38 - Connecticut

2011-09-11T10:10:00.001-04:00

I came into Westport, the town I began to grow up in 50 years ago. I've been back to the town several times over the years and felt a bit of a connection, but I felt a little disappointment this day. The town is different, and there seems to be a difference in the people I spoke with. Maybe ot was me, tired and worn a bit from my journey. It will always be my hometown though.
I greeted my brother and family rolling in to their home in early afternoon. How warm it is to have welcoming family from a long roadtrip. We got caught up, mostly with stories of my adventures, and I filled up on a grand home cooked meal. I slept soundly, and woke to start my motorcycle maintenance operations. I rode with my brother and my nephee Teddy, to get lunch and gather supplies. I went into the Walmart and tried on a real pair of cotton blue jeans. What a treat! I put them on when we got home and I didn't take them off until I got back to Tampa. I'd had enough of the lightweight polypropelene pants. The oil change went smootly for the most part. I thought I had cross-threaded the filler plug but with a little added force, the threads responded. My neice Annie brought some lovely artwork she created. She makes beautiful flowers, purses, wallets, and pencil holders from simple household items like duct tape. They are wonderful creations. Teddy suited up for his first football game. Playing defensive end, he pressued the quarterback twice and assisted on a tackle. It was a gorgeous clear day. I had a respect for Teddy's achievement. I know he is commited to playing football. Here is a picture from shortly after the team's first win.

Day 32 - Riding to Boston

2011-09-02T23:53:00.001-04:00

Today was a good day. Taxing for both man and motorcycle, trying to get through the weekend traffic leaving Boston, but a great day nonetheless. I road to Boston from Matt's house in Effingham NH and found a couple of motorcycles to park next to in downtown. I phoned Jake, my nephew, and in a half hour, he was there. We hadn't seen each other in over 20 years. Waht a great sight. He looks really healthy, and had as big a smile for me as I did for him. We had lunch and started to catch up on family stuff, and on our relationship. Work people can only do in person. I look forward to getting to know Jake again. I'm sure we will meet up again, and maybe in Florida. It's a good thing to be connected to family. I felt a sense of connection to family. It's a good family, often apart, but with strong ties.

Day 30 - Riding from the ferry to Moncton/Shediac

2011-09-02T23:49:00.001-04:00

The ferry ride was very comfortable, once I got my sea-legs. I staggered some as I made my way about the ship. There was a nce buffet for both dinner and breakfast. I met up with Thomas again, the BMW rider from Sarasota. We chatted again at length and agreed to meet up again back in Florida. Arriving at Jimmy was staying at Emile LeBlanc's house and offered that I wouod be welcome as weel. I had met Emile once back in Tampa, and was happy that I got to see his home in New Brunswick.

Day 31 - Riding from Moncton to Effingham

2011-09-02T23:41:00.001-04:00

Leaving Emile's home on the beach on the north shore of New Brunswick, I rode the 500 miles to Matt's house in New Hampshire. I took some back roads, but spent a good deal of time on Canada Highway 1. A good deal of construction slowed be some. The sun was bright in my face as the day wore on. There was an event in New Brunswick I was invited tobut could not attend given my schedule. The Wharf Rat Rally is the biggest motorcycle rally in Canada. After a long day, and a bit of night riding, I finally arrived at Matt's house in the woods. I gave him his whale hat frim Newfoundland. And we caught up on the last two weeks since I'd left there. His cat, Marley is gone. Matt fears she succumbed to a fox outdoors. She liked being in the woodsbut despite the cautions Matt always took to keep her safe, she did not return. Matt misses her a lot. We breakfasted again at the Miss Westlake Diner, and I headed for Boston.

Day 28 - Fishing trip to Lk. Cochrane

2011-08-30T07:27:00.001-04:00

I met a fellow the other day who said he was also a fly fisherman. I said that I had not wet a line since I had been in Newfoundland and he insisted on taking me to a fishing pond to catch some trout. Several 3-5 pound fish had been taken recently and he thought we might have some luck. We met at a gas station out on CA 1 and flew off to the lake. It was within five miles. The Dept of Natural Resources ranger actually had an office on the lake and we met the ranger who lived there. The lake was large and several seaplanes were docked. I'd have bonked my head on the wing of one of them had I not noticed it at the last moment. A heliport was also available there. We rigged up our equipment. Steve suggested a brown muddler I had in my collection. I made a number of casts in the blustery conditions following Hurricane Irene's arrival to the westbut still no bites. We changed to the windward side of the lake and casting was a bit easier, but there were several bushes behind me that took a greater interest in my fly than the trout. As dusk set in, we fished until I could just barely see to thread the line onto the hook. And then the fish started to feed. Several jumped and Steve was able to get a good sized fish on, but wasn't able to land it. I did get a bump from what could have been a parge fish, but could not get hin to take the fly again. We called it a night when it was too dark to see the flyline in the water and I headed back to camp.

Roadtrip videos on Youtube

2011-08-29T07:53:00.001-04:00

Check out a couple of roadtrip videos at:

www.youtube.com/peteykale

There's a crazy little campground fox that came to visit a bit. And a kayaking video in NH.

Day 27 - Hike from Witless Bay to Marine Bay

2011-08-28T15:53:00.001-04:00

This was not a big hike, but once again, over each rise and turn, a panorama of sea and cliffs unfolded. I started to get the feel for whale watching. I'm figuring that unless you pay someone to take you out in a boat and do the watching for you, you have to keep your eyes on the sea. I did that today. I saw what I thought were plover. No puffins yet, and no whales, and no icebergs. Earlier in the year I'd have seen plenty of each. But pulling the binoculars from the pack and just watching for them is fun. I took a dip in the North Atlantic. Brrr. I struggled down the rocky beach and secured myself between to big rocks. The waves crashed onto me and shivering, I smiled feeling brave and courageous. My hike turn out to be about 5 miles long. A fine sunny day.

Day 26 - St Johns to Middle Cove

2011-08-28T08:28:00.001-04:00

I local fellow I met riding an1984 Honda Gold Wing led us along the coast north of St Johns. Tremendously scenic views of the sea magically appeared after cresting a windy ridge along the rocky coast. Small scenic fishing villages dot the shore. We came to a spot honoring a papal visit from John Paul II. We stopped for lunch and rode the loop back to town.

Day 25 - This blog is way behind!

2011-08-26T09:22:00.001-04:00

Holed up here in St Johns Newfoundland waiting for Hirricane Irene to pass to West before getting me and the bike on the boat back to Nova Scotia. Jist downloaded a Blogger applocation that may help blogging from the Droid phone easier. We'll see. If it is, I'll get some updates done later today.

Day 13 - Ferry Crossing

2011-08-21T20:43:00.000-04:00

Up early to catch the ferry from N. Sydney, NS to Port au Basque, NFLD. I'm getting pretty good at breaking camp and setting up. Even for one night, it is not too much effort. A couple riding a Harley were behind me in line as we rode onto the ferry. They were Newfoundlander's, and were experienced in lashing down the motorcycles. I foujd the couple again upstairs in the seating area and we started our 4 hour ferry ride. I learned that they had been to Florida on their bike in the past. This trip they were returning from a loop through Pennsylvania and Virginia. I described my roadtrip and destination. They highlighted the best route for me on a map and described some attractions and scenic rides that I should not miss. At the time, I started thinking about riding to the Avalon Pennisula and exiting the island from Argentia rather than touring all the way East to Jimmy's house and then back West to Port au Basque. That still seems like the most reasonable plan.
I exited the boat and started riding north. I've ridden some 75 miles and out toward the St George penninsula. I set for dinner of pork chops and hope to find lodging shortly. The best bet seems to be the campground on the way to Gros Morne National Park.

...more to follow

Day 12 - Crossing the border into Canada

2011-08-21T20:31:00.000-04:00

This was a big travel day. I crossed into Maine from Matt's house and across Route 9 toward Canada. I spent some time on route 1, checking out the smaller harbors along Maine's rocky coast, but for the most part I just moved along to the border. Crossing into Canada was completely uneventful. I crossed and found camping in New Brunswick. Numerous people warned my about driving at night. Moose are a big hazard in Canada. I heeded their advise. Reaching Nova Scotia I ate close to the campground. I had a wonderful spinich salad at a place called Jane's near the campground in North Sydney. Homemade apple pie a la mode sent me back to my tent satisfied. I had a lunch in New Brunswick of lobster rolls. I skipped the processed food place that featured, McLobster. Not for me, thanks.I camped in a provincial park near the Bay of Fundy. Standing by the shore with the waves lapping, I realized the waves were crashing closer and closer. The movement was about a foot each minute. It was slightly ennerving.

Day 11 - Effingham, NH

2011-08-21T20:20:00.000-04:00

Today was a busy day touring around in Matt's Lotus through some areas very familiar to me as a child. I went to summer camp Eaton, NH. As we drove through I had a running commentary about all the adventures I had had there as an 8 year old. The area brough back many fond memories. Matt and I took his kayaks to Lake Chocorua. There are a number of pictures and video of the trip, but they will not post from my phone just yet. In the afternoon, we took a picnic lunch up Green Mountain and climbed the fire tower. With the wind blowing gusts to 20 mph, I was a bit nervous, but managed to get through lunch ok, and get back down to solid ground. There are also some pictures on top of the tower.

Day 10 - Effingham, NH

2011-08-21T20:13:00.000-04:00

It was mostly a rainy day at Matt's house. We went to breakfast at a great diner. We went to the Dairy Bar for lunch afterwards. That evening, after catching up on all of our old times during high school, we sat up watching a series of movies titled, 'Kill Bill'. Very entertaining.

Photos to follow

Day 9 - North Conway and Crystal Lake

2011-08-21T20:08:00.000-04:00

Today was a real treat. My old high school chum Matt has opened his home in the woods to me, and has helped me reaquaint with a part of New England that was a big part of my childhood. After spending summers here in the 60's, and developing many of the outdoors skills I hang onto today, as we travel through these familiar towns, I'm reminded of many happy childhood experiences.

Day 8 - Effingham, NH

2011-08-21T20:05:00.001-04:00

I rode from the truckstop campground in eastern Pennsylvania through Connecticut and Massachusetts and into NewHampshire. Riding the backroads is so much more fun than riding the highways. I stopped at a Harley dealership in NH and borrowed a crescent wrench to adjust my windshield. The salesman I talked to was very curious about my Moto Guzzi. I decided to take my time getting to Nova Scotia. Riding the consecutive 500 mile days would not have been worth the effort. Codfishing will just have to wait.

Day 7 - Bike repair and travel day

2011-08-10T10:08:00.000-04:00

Sometimes things just work out, don't they? I rose early to tlhe singing birds, packed my tent, loaded the bike and set off for the motel where the throttle cables were being shipped to. I'd bid my Goldwing friend a safe journey the day before. He's actually another story...that I'll save for later. I rode with one hand holding the handlebars, and the other operating the throttle cables with a small visegrip from my lap. Rather awkward, but doable. I rode 50 kiles back into Harrisonburg and spoke to a charming woman who'd been expecting me. She checked the motel's mailbox for me, but there were only letters and no parcel. I'd resigned to register for a night at the motel to wait another day. But first I called Harper's MG in St. Louis who'd said the parts were arriving today. I checked he tracking number online and found the parts to have arrived in town. I rode down the street to the Post Office and asked if the parcel had gone out. The clerk went to the back, and a funny thing hapenned as I stood waitng. My glance came to rest on a postage label. It was for an amount that is significant to me. Whenever this sequence of numbers occurs, be they in the form of a date, a time of day, or an amount, I am prompted to tbink of things spiritual. Right away, I was aware that the outcome of tbis venture was not in my hands. A moment laterthe postal clerk returned with my parcel. It had been on the truck, just preparing to leave. Funny how things just work out, eh? I rode with the package to a parking area behind the Honda dealership nearby and asked the service manager if I could work on the bike there. I installed the cables in a short time, and was on the road in an hour. I stopped to thank the motel clerk, and she understood about how things work out.
I've ridden now some 500 miles to Waterbury Ct. That's not far from where I grew up, and where my brother's family lives. I will be stopping in to see them on my return trip South. For now, the big question is whether or not I can still make my ferry ride set for dawn on Thursday. It's ver 1000 miles away, and I have 2 travel days. Is it worth it? Will I get to Harbour Mill before the codfishing season ends on Sunday? It's a long haul. We'll just have to see how things work out, eh?

Day 6 - Shenandoah NP hiking.the AT

2011-08-07T18:04:00.001-04:00

Waiting for bike parts to arrive, I'd already left today as a hiking day rather than a travel day. I won't have enough time to fix the bike and still get to the ferry in Nova Scotia before my resevation on Wednesday, the 11th. I'm ok with the change in plans. I had a great hike along the Appalachian Trail today. I met a number of thru hikers, folks headed from Maine to Georgia. Wouldn't that be great to have on your bucket list! I hiked about 5 miles. There was plenty of up and down terrain. Not much like Florida. Little critters were plentiful. And quite a number of insects. In order to make a looped trip, I hiked a mile or so along Skyline Drive. That's a very scenic drive along the Shenandoah ridgeline. There many bikers, and I stopped to talk to 3 Harley riders on there Sunday ride from Elkton. We agreed that one another's home turf made a great vacation spot, and agreed though the grass appears greener on the other side, we liked vacaioning to the other side, and living where we did. I returned to my campsite for a cool drink and a little nap. I have my mandolin and picked a few easy tunes, to keep my chops up. And then assembled my laundry for a trip to the camp store, not expecting my first ever bear encounter. The laundry and baths were closed for cleaning and I had 40 minutes to kill. Chatting with the campstore attendant, I learned of her bear encounter opening the store several mornings ago. She said it was just a yearling, but that it was only a.few feet away when each startled the other. He ran off and she was left with her heart ppunding. That's exactly how I felt when after showering, sitting at the picnic table behind the campstore, I heard a rustling in the bushes. I looked up and saw a nice, large, presumably hungry black bear standing with his front paws against a tree about 20 feet from me. He quickly hopped about 10 feet up the tree and gained a much better view of me and my groceries. He made a rather loud, and slightly agressive sounding, hrrrumph, noise. We exchanged glances briefly, and he climbed back down the tree and left. I went inside to tell the campstore lady about the encounter and found I was rather speechless. I did manage, 'Big bear'and she followed me back out to see. He was gone. Afterward, there was a strong desire to see him again. It's very exciting. My thought is that since I had opened the jar of peanut butter, and though closed again, it was in my bag on the table, the bear jad gotten a whiff and come.to.check things out. Very exciting for me.
There's quite a large thunderstorm moving slowly over the park. I'm stuck in my tent waiting for it to pass. My groceries a locked in the plastic motorcycle luggage, and definitely not in my tent with me. When the storm passes I will male dinner. I'm starved! And then I'll pick up my bike parts tomorrow. This is a great life!

Day 5 - Skyline Drive, Shenandoah NP

2011-08-07T18:03:00.001-04:00

If you zoom in on the seat in this photo, you may see some duct tape and a small visegrip. It wasn't a great day mechanically. A throttle cable broke out on Interstate 81, and the vicegrips now control the throttle. At least I got to a wonderful campsite in the mountains. I'll do some hiking here while waiting for parts to be shipped to town. Things could be worse. I'm glad I'm camping in the mountains and not in a motel in downtown Harrisonburg. This difficulty could hamper my effort to make the ferry reserved for Thursday morning. I'll call to either cancel or reschedule. I'll have to talk to Jimmy in Newfoundland and see how the delay fits in. This a wonderful life. I couldn't ask for more. Be happy all, we are truly blessed.

Day 4 - Canton, NC to Lexinton, VA.

2011-08-06T08:09:00.001-04:00

This day had a mechanical scare. The issue is not unresolved, but I believe I will be able to move forward today. I left Canton sad to be parting with my new found Guzzi friends. The common experiences formed rapid bonds between us. Covering 350 miles, I alternated between the highway and the backroad routes. In Marion, VA, after riding interstate speeds for an hour, I made a gas stop and found the bike missing on one cylinder upon restart. I moped along on her, missing on the one cylinder, to a grocery store and stopped to let her cool down. I replaced the plugs finding one fouled a sooty black, and tried to restart, bit again found her missing on the one jug. I stopped again, swapped the coils, and still had a weak spark to the left side. Weak spark, hmmm. I tightened the wire to the coils and put them back as they were. Whatever I did, the peoblem was over. I sill don't quite understand. When I camebto a stop this eveningafter running interstae 81 most of the rest of the day, the problem resurfaced. I believe it is a cooling issue, riding along in a traffic jam with stop and go trafficit happened again. Then once fouled, the plug continues to misfire. If the problem starts again on Saturday, I'll hange the plug on the left side.
It's Saturday morning now, and looks to be a clear and happy day. : )

Day 3 - Roadtrip 2011

2011-08-04T17:22:00.001-04:00

Today was a rest day. I hung around the campground until noon and then went to town for supplies. This picture is of Tom's 1993 Guzzi 1000 SP III. It's one of two or three hundred SP III's in the US. And a nice example of one. In town, I had a huge breakfast. I had a meat lover's omelet with enough saturated fat to clog my arteries in a flash. I'm hoping to get back to my regular menu of fruits and vegatables tomorrow. My plan is to get a little more rest this afternoon, get to bed early and head North before dawn. I'll ride either backroads or interstate up through West Virginia and into Pennsylvania, but I'm not sure which. I believe I'm still on schedhle to catch the ferry out of Sydney, Nova Scotia on the 11th, but I don't think I need to hang around the South here much longer...eh?

Link to Youtube videos from Roadtrip 2011

2011-08-04T07:59:00.001-04:00

www.youtube.com/peteykale

Thos link brings up my Youtube home page of videos. The most recent are of Roadtrip 2011 - Tampa to Newfounland.

Day 2 Roadtrip 2011

2011-08-04T06:38:00.001-04:00

There is another blog entry for day 2, but it is not posting to the page properly. It had multiple pictures that may have caused an issue with size. Here is a summary of day 2. I left Pam's house in Blairsville shortly after noon. We made a trip to the dump in Blairsville, and if you can believe it, there's a beautiful mountain view from there. I rode to my friend Bill's house in Blueridge. There's a video at my Youtube page: www.youtube.com/peteykale. Bill !nd I worked in the same office in Tampa. He retired a year before I did. His home is scenic and remote. It's a great environment for enjoying the birds and other critters, including bears, so I'm told. I left Blueridge for Canton, NC and the Moto Guzzi National Owner's Club rally. A fair amount of the ride was on a large 4 lane, up and down through hills. As I approached Murphy, NCI saw a bike shop and several bikes parked outside. I turned back and pulled in. I met a couple of Harley riders who managed the parts and service shop. One said he'd owned a 750 Le Mans back in the 80's. He liked the Moto Guzzi, and wished me well on my trip North. The other rider said, "I've half a mind to load my bike on the trailer and ride up there with you. I wondered what the connection was between 'ridiing', and 'trailer'. Bit hen again, he 'rides' a Harley . Arriving at the Blue Ridge MC CampgroundI was the only Guzzi rider. I was early. The event did not start until Friday, bit there were a number of other riders. Mostly Gold Wing riders. Talking to several, I think I understand more clearly what my 'wing', friend Greg was telling me about bringigbthe 'big' tent and the chair with arms. The wing riders I met gave a couple of barbeque spare ribs that were delicious. It certainly tawted better than my backpacking food. Each wing rider and several chaors qith arms. Now I get it, Greg. The end of the day brought an impromptu jam. A rider from Jacksonville was playing the campground's guitar, and I had my mandolin. (I'm glad I brought the mando as opposed to the chair with arms!) He taught me how to play dueling banjosand we played ot pver and over until we both were yawning.

Day 1 of 2011 Roadtrip

2011-08-02T23:17:00.000-04:00

The roadtrip began today as I headed North on Rt. 129 into Georgia. The trip was uneventful but for a minor gasoline spill and one wrong turn. I left Tampa at 4 a.m. and arrived in Blairsville at 7:30. I had originally planned to stop and camp along the way, but decided I would go ahead and ride the entire distance in one day. I was quite surprised that the Moto Guzzi was as comfortable to ride on a long haul as was the much newer BMW I rode to Alaska in 2004. The MG, loaded with an estimated 80 pounds of gear, pulled very well through all of the back roads in Florida and Georgia. The most difficult part foe the bike were the hours between noon and 3 p.m. The heat was stifling and very oppresive leaving Florida. There was no breezeand the feels like temperature topped 100 F. At several points, the Guzzi misfired in low rpms, and started to ping after the motor heated up further. Until the shadows lengthened, and the temperatures dropped somewhat, there was no relief from the pinging without stopping and letting the motor cool down. Once the afternoon turned toward dusk, the motor staryed to purr smoothly and quietly. I'm very pleased that there were no other issues for the Moto Guzzi on this long, hot ride. The accompanying photograph

Loading up for Newfoundland

2011-07-29T09:36:00.001-04:00

I'm getting a little anxious about the start of the journey. Will there be campgrounds on the backroads? What will the expenses be? Will fuel prices rise? How will the traffic be? Will the carburetors need tuning with the change of altitude? Should I bring the flyrod? Is the new 'dual-fuel' campstove too heavy? Will the saddlebags leak? And on and on go the questions in my mind. And though most things I worry about never happen, the list of concerns will undoubtedly get longer. In truth, much of the outcome is not in my hands. I think that is part of the adventure.

Fixing the ac in the hummer

2011-07-26T14:08:00.001-04:00

bad blower motor resistor.

Late night run for donuts and coffee

2011-07-26T11:39:00.001-04:00

Test from phone 2.

2011-06-21T23:56:00.001-04:00

Tulip drawing. Test 3. Test 4.

The "Tuzzi" - Rebuilding the Second Moto-Guzzi

2011-04-12T17:34:00.000-04:00

Yesterday began a renewed effort to bring the black Moto-Guzzi back to life. She's still got a ways to go, but yesterday and today brought some real progress. Given that the weeds were growing for remote locations in the motor, there was extensive cleaning in order. The tank, fenders and side-covers have cleaned up well. There's a nice metal-flake black and chrome under all the grime. The wheels have cleaned up fairly well. I've started working my way through the electrics, looking carefully for loose or frayed connectors. I replaced one of the connectors in the ignition system, and found a loose wire at the starter. There is also a mystery wire, that I'll have to resolve later. It's always helpful to have a look at the red guzzi, for she runs just fine, and has identical systems. The braking system doesn't seem to be as troubled as first thought. The handbrake should clean up well. The pistons in the front caliper operate in response to application of the brake. It should just need new pads, and a good flushing. I opened the switch box on the handlebars, and loosened up the frozen switches. I lubricated the throttle cables as well. I drained the float bowls again, and can see that there is a problem with poor fuel.

3/5 & 3/6

2011-03-06T22:56:00.001-05:00

What a great day! I saw an aquaintance I'd seen around for years, who must have stopped taking some mood altering medications. She seemed to be present, and not off on a cloud somewhere. Now after years of these meds, she actually seemed real. What a blessing she was able to come back to reality. I told her to keep it up, and that she sounded really good.
Today, Melinda and I went to Four Green Fields. This pub in Tampa served us potato leek soup, and Irish soda bread. Once we got the soup heated properly, and bread with no hair in it, we had quite a little feast. A troupe of fiddlers and guitarists played Irish fiddle tunes. I heard a penny whistle and an accordian. Dancers hopped and spun to the music. It quite fun for both Melinda and I. Yesterday, rode on the Moto Guzzi to Tarpon Springs. A Greek baker sold us a large loaf of freshly baked bread and some Greek cheese. We sat and ate by he sponge docks. It was a happy, (and filling), time for us both. Leaving Tarponwe rode south to Clearwater to meet fellow Pittsburgh Pirate fan, Tom Papadakis at a spring training game. It was fun to watch the Pirates play again. It reminded me of the times I met my father in Bradenton to watch spring training games. Melinda and I had a great day. That evening we rode out to Plant City for thier monthly bike night. We met our friend Dean along the way and rode there together. There were hundreds of custom Harleys, and a few unique custom trikes. I think there are a lot of bikes in town for the Daytona Beach Bike Week celebration. Riding back to Tampa we ran into a good deal of cold and wet weather. I wasn't as well prepared as Melinda and stopped to dry out and have coffee at the 301 House. Then we rode home. Brrr. What a great that was, as well. A grand weekend with my best friend. Wonderful!

T 3

2011-03-03T09:54:00.001-05:00

T 3

January 2011

2011-01-06T09:55:00.000-05:00

I'm happy to have some time to attend to my blog. Hopefully I'll spend some more time writing during 2011 than in 2010. I've developed some retirement life routines that enhance my life significantly, and much of the urgency to attend to affairs has dissipated. I'm no longer rushing to fill time that I spent employed for the local government. I'm uniquely concerned with a retirement life full of activities I'm passionate about. Life is very good, and getting better all the time.

From Blairsville, GA. to Ann Ruby Falls

2010-10-20T23:23:00.000-04:00

18 month anniversary

2010-07-27T03:43:00.000-04:00

It's been 18 months since I started this blog. It's been 18 months since I stopped working, retiring from my government job. It's time to take a shot at describing what's happening for me now, and how it is different from when I first stopped working.

I can tell that things have changed. I have a sense of comfort with myself and my new lifestyle. I have some daily routines that I enjoy. Daily activities like meditation and exercise. I play music. I focus on maintaining a healthy diet. I do housekeeping. I attend social events. I meet and talk to friends. I'm happy. I've been happy, but now there's an elevated sense of comfort, and peace with this new environment. Sometimes, I have some tremendous feelings of joy and satisfaction. 18 months is not a long time. I still feel a sense of withdrawal from a couple of work related things. The levels of urgency and a need to keep myself occupied has leveled off. It hasn't gone away completely, but it's leveling off. I make efforts daily to just "be". There's also a sense that my particular work environment was not entirely a healthy environment. I still feel inklings of withdrawal from the hostile work attitudes. I felt angry today reading about a new law being considered in NY state. It would make lawsuits against hostile employers easier to file. Though I didn't think to file some such complaint, I thought about the incidents of workplace violence I'd witnessed. Now, I just feel sad about it. So that part of withdrawal from work related issues does surface from time to time. At least I don't think about the workplace itself during the day. In the beginning of my retirement, being able to see the building I use to work in from home and from my exercise route bothered me. At least that doesn't bother me anymore. I'm sure all this will pass on altogether before long.

Today I watched a DVD of the movie called Julie and Julia. The story involves writing and the birth of the two main characters as writers. The movie also developed the idea that one can remake one's life. And that being passionate about something is all one needs to pursue and that success will come if it is meant to be. But the important thing is that the effort be directed at something one is passionate about. One character was a daily blogger. I was inspired by that character to do some more blogging. Let's hope that continues.

What did they do to Ellie Mae?!?!

2010-06-04T19:07:00.002-04:00

Here's Matt and I at the Tour de Pizza media kick off event for his bike ride to NYC. Ellie Mae sure got quite a makeover!

Paul Hawks

2010-06-01T14:08:00.000-04:00

Paul Hawks died May 24, 2010. He and I got to talk several times before our regular bluegrass jam on Monday nights. I first met Paul at the jam when it was held at the Bluegrass Parlor, thursdays. I'd bring my guitar, but was too shy to take it out of the case. I'd just sit in the audience. Paul and I had the same music teacher, and he told me that I could sit in the back with Paul and play. That way, I wouldn't have the pressure of being part of the regular group. At the next jam, I took my guitar out of the case and Paul welcomed me to the back row. I played to the music in the jam, and Paul was the first person to actually hear the music I was playing in public. Over time, both of us joined in the jams. It's been a sad week for the many people whose lives Paul touched with his generosity and kindness. I'll miss him.

Ellie Mae finds a new home.

2010-05-18T12:56:00.003-04:00

Ellie Mae, the homemade trailer I towed cross-country last year, has found a new owner. She's going to be carting several extra bicycles to NYC from Tampa, while her owner rides alongside. The cyclists are seeking to promote their idea about their pizza diet. A proven weight-loss, weight-training workout program that improves health and fitness. Tour-de-Pizza of St. Petersburg, FL. is sponsoring the event and is holding a kick-off at their store on June 4, 2010. Free pizza!

It was sad for me as I drove off. I stopped in Ybor City on the way home for a slice of pepperoni to honor the day. Returning home to my far more spacious garage, I realized this marked the end of special part of my life. I don't plan to build a new trailer, so as the construction project really carried me through the initial phase of my retirement last year, I felt that sense of loss. But moving on, I see the garage as host to new projects. The first to be a full reorg of tools and materials. "Yea", for retirement!

Tiger

2010-05-11T23:15:00.000-04:00

...

Eddie & The Longtimers playing at Tanya and Matt's

2010-04-28T11:00:00.003-04:00

Although Eddie isn't in the picture, here's a shot of my favorite band in Tampa. Eddie and The Longtimers

The elephants at Busch Gardens

2010-04-24T00:31:00.005-04:00

...

"Circle" at the local coffee shop jam

2010-04-09T16:43:00.000-04:00

Click on the link below to watch a portion of our, "Will the Circle Be Unbroken."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXxMSldZb3o

1st and 3rd Mondays, 7:00-9:00 p.m. at Cafe Kili in Tampa. (Behind the Applebee's on Fowler and 56th Streets.

Busch Gardens in April

2010-04-03T17:04:00.001-04:00

Here's a picture of brother Art's family taken during a great day of fun at Busch Gardens, Tampa. We'd just gotten soaking wet on a flume ride dunking us all in the water. We walked the whole park, rode several roller coasters, watched the animals and took a train ride through the jungle areas. We ate well, then headed for the exit, exhausted. What a fun day!

My first solar panel

2010-03-31T16:59:00.004-04:00

A new addition for road tripping is a small solar cell for charging a couple of 12 volt batteries. The 2 deep-cycle marine batteries are in the aluminum box on the left, and the solar panel is sitting on top of a box on my porch. It appears that it will charge the batteries fast enough to power both a cell phone and my GPS device without drain to the 12 volt batteries. It's a 5 watt panel, about 12" x 12". As for the laptop, trailer fans, refrigerator or a Ham radio, I'll have to use larger solar panels. And I'll know more after the coming week I have planned for camping at Myakka River S.P. Also, I've arranged to make blog posts directly from my cellphone, with pictures! That may prove a bit too high tech for me in the long run, but fun for now. Real-time travel posts to the blog will be a step up.

Windy the cat.

2010-03-31T14:36:00.002-04:00

Jammin'

2010-02-17T21:54:00.004-05:00

Two pics from the Monday night bluegrass jam in Tampa. We have an awful lot of fun.

Retirement - year end comments

2009-12-30T12:40:00.005-05:00

12/30/09: Some thoughts come to mind as I close in on completion of one year of retirement. I'm surely in a great time in my life. How tremendous it is to have so many choices as I pursue new goals. Making the lifestyle change to retirement has presented large challenges, but as the adjustments take place, I'm discovering that there is more peace and calm in life than I ever imagined. I've been saying goodbye to unwanted chaos and the sense of urgency. I visited my mother's grave this summer and had the thought, "Everything is different!" And indeed everything seems to have changed. It has indeed been a beautiful time for me. I'm really experiencing a new dawn. I'm rewriting my life. I've begun to do things I'm passionate about, and I am seeking and finding a whole new presence I'd never imagined. I hope everyone has a Happy New Year.

Retirement - As the dust settles, or after the batteries die.

2009-11-23T15:18:00.012-05:00

Monday morning. Not what they used to be. No more Sunday evening dread. No more Monday morning scramble to work. Just another day. But what potential there is! I can make this day everything, or just let it slide by. My best choice is to make something happen. Today's a great chance to be me.

I loaded the motorcycle with my laptop and mandolin. I pictured sitting in the park, overlooking the bay while blogging. (Pic) The mandolin travels much more easily than a guitar. Actually, it wouldn't hurt to cart that mando around more often. Sometimes I'd like to be able to play it while I'm out, just on the spur of the moment.

I've been using the lifespan of my laptop batteries to govern my blog time each day. Rather than plugging into AC power at a Starbucks, I simply let the battery run down and then know that a couple of hours have passed.

I've lengthened my meditation routine. I was reading a tongue-in-cheek quote from someone that read, "A half hour of meditation if usually enough, unless I am very busy, then an hour is required." I'm up to half an hour now. It's not that hard, and the effect is larger. I appear to have developed a higher tolerance level for stillness. I'm listening to YouTube videos of Dan Tyminski and his band. There's a great calm available to me.
I researched writers' workshops in Tampa. The Tampa Writer's Alliance meets monthly. They critique submitted works. It's $30 per year for membership. Guests are welcome to sit in. A guest submission is welcome 2 weeks prior to the meeting. The next meeting is Dec 2, and I'll be there. I don't have great expectations for my blather, but I could improve. I'd like to make some of my writing more interesting, and more formally acceptable. After all, I'm not devoid of talent.
I have a memory of a man I knew when I was working for the government. He retired while in his fifties, and didn't go back to work that I know of. While I was still working, I remember seeing him at a park, sitting in his truck, his head resting against the driver's side window, his eyes closed. That wasn't where I wanted to be during retirement.

Road trip Blather Summary

2009-11-18T14:33:00.006-05:00

11/18/09: I hope to review these compiled notes from my 2009 Roadtrip. I'll edit, add and subtract text and photos. Narrow down my target audience. Possibly decide names should be added, or remain anonymous. I hope to get in touch with a local writer's group and spend some constructive time crafting text, or at least develop some basic storytelling skills.
To summarize the road trip 2009, I can say that there was guidance I received that spurred me on during preparation. When I was ready to sell the trailer and trade the truck for a gas miser, I, as I've noted, spied the tool-cabinet and realized that tipped over, it would fit on top of the motorcycle trailer...thus creating the base for Ellie Mae. As the trip preparation progressed, things stalled, decisions about power supplies, heat, air-conditioning, lighting, and ventilation all seemed too much at times. As my retirement activities started to expand, the idea of traveling with Ellie Mae seemed less and less appealing. Then all of you started asking when I was going to go on my trip. And then I felt obligated to finish. And to get on the road. I set a deadline, and decided to get on the road at whatever level of completion Ellie Mae was in. And on September 9th, I pulled out of Dodge, (Tampa).
I've described the trip as cathartic. I gained a freedom and a confidence I'd not known before. I gained a level of serenity and peace, staring for hours at the campfire, reflecting, detoxing from civilization and a thirty years of racing the rat. Things are just different now. I'm happy, confident, curious, relieved, secure. I wouldn't have done anything differently. There's so, so much of the beautiful United States that's been preserved and natural. There's still plenty more trips out there. There are many more people to meet, and to listen to their stories, and to tell mine to. There's a grand life, and it's entirely available. No restrictions, just peace.

Another day at the beach - Compo Beach, Westport

2009-11-18T14:09:00.007-05:00

10/11/09: Here was the last planned class reunion get-together. Compo Beach was the largest beach in Westport. During summers it crowded with residents and only visitors willing to pay the fees for parking and admission. Residents obtained a sticker good for the season. During the winter there was far less activity, but still proved popular for fisherman during bluefish runs up the Atlantic coast and into Long Island Sound. During high-school days, we came to get away. From parents, school, the establishment, and be free in our windswept white sands. Three jetties reached out into the water. Each created it's own tidal pools chocked with small crabs and fish, endlessly satisfying the curious toddlers and young adults alike. The harbor accommodated our boats. Our parents had the larger boats, we played with our sailfish and sunfish. A few of us had catamarans, and later Hobie-cats joined the scene. A mile off-shore lay Cockonoe Island. Visible from Compo, the island was less than a mile long and the only access was by boat. This day, the group brought coffee and bagels and we sat and ate, and reminisced about our new friends and still more about our old times together.
A couple of things were said to me that I'll take with me forever. Ed said that it seemed that I was more like I was in elementary school. John said that he thought he picked up on a sense of something positive about me, gesturing with his hands, maybe referring to an aura, or so it seemed. Here was the circle for me. Was I coming around, or was the circle complete? Here I was, having drifted away in cloud from adolescence right through my twenties, to emerge now, here in my early fifties, seeming to others that I was more like I was in elementary school. Granted, I'm way past the halfway point in my life, and possibly past the halfway point of my adult life, and I've found and acceptance from others I'd not found before. Was it the guilt or shame of poor decisions of adolescence, an insecurity born of childhood drama? Who knew? The feeling of being accepted, and of being whole and full was worth the effort.

Old high-school chums / Elementary school

2009-11-18T13:47:00.005-05:00

10/10/09: Another day at the beach. I'd like to note a couple of folks who I was able to reconnect with, if only briefly in some cases. There are some special recollections that to keep here. There's a fellow by the name of Ron, whom I referred to in an earlier post as a motivational speaker who's mother belongs to the Appalachian Mountain Club, and who had hiked with someone I'd happened to have dinner with at an AMC lodge in New Hampshire, earlier in my roadtrip. Ron is one of the people at the reunion I went to elementary school with. When we met at the reunion he immediately referred to posts commenting, "I just love your blog!". Several of were thinking back to our 2nd grade teachers, and that the boys all had crushes on the one teacher back then, Miss Siebert. Each week Miss Siebert gave a student a word, a seldom used word that a second grader wouldn't likely be familiar with. The word would remain in "jail" in a paper "cell" on the classroom wall. At the end of the week, the student would have to give the definition of the word to the rest of the class for the word to be released from jail. The word would then be taped to the front of the student's desk. Possibly not surprisingly, we each remembered our words from some 46 years gone by. What fun we had remembering the childhood days. Jonathan, Peggy, John, Ed, and several others were all from the same elementary school. Those were the days of competing by flipping baseball cards against the school wall. The card closest to the wall took the other players' card. Elemenatary school began the boy - girl playground games also. The shoe game was a big one. That one involved a boy stealing the shoe of another boy, and giving it to the girl thought to be the object of the boy's affection. If the girl felt a mutual affection, she would run with the shoe, chased by the boy with one shoe. A whole gang of boys and girls would fly across the grassy playground field and fall on the ground, the result usually being some kind physical contact between the boy and the girl. This game could get complex, as innocent as it was. I remember it being a bit dramatic for me at least.

Staples 35th High School reunion - The big party

2009-11-17T15:43:00.007-05:00

10/9/09 (cont.) I drove home from the tour of Staples and found the family working in the yard. My brother said that with all the trees, leaves had to be either raked or blown 4 or 5 times a year. My niece and I raked a big pile in just 15 minutes or so and jumped in. The dog ran through the yard, playing and loving all the family's outdoor activity. Although I'd planned for my reunion dinner by packing one dress shirt and a pair of slacks, I was left with the same slacks to wear to the big Saturday night bash as I'd worn to the social at the bar on Friday. My brother offered to let me wear one of his shirts and ironed one for me. He's also retired and has an inactive dress clothes wardrobe that I also have. I wonder when in retirement we give some of that up? I have a previous blog post about the sock drawer that touches on the idea of work clothes relative to retirement. I dressed and headed back out to the big event. It was a good 30 minute drive out to a restaurant and banquet facility in the Black Rock area of Bridgeport. Although it occurred to me that it would be a long trek, the towns are all so close, and so accessible to one another that there really is nowhere that's far away. In most instances, traffic is a far greater consideration than distance. Considering that downtown Manhatten is less than an hour's drive, the extremely rural environment is quite surprising. I went into the restaurant and found my nametag. Checking in I was greeted by a dear old neighborhood classmate. We'd grown up on the same street, one block from the high school. There was a warm greeting, and again, I knew that I was on the path back to...acceptance? (I'll have to touch on that some other time.) I could recall many childhood experiences with my friend, and many of them came back to me as we chatted. I met a number of other friends from school. There were pictures of friends from during the high school years. Great memories, and also some sad ones as I saw the photos of friends who had passed away. There was a grand buffet of many of our favorite dishes. There were miniature hamburgers, ribs, pizza, roast beef, and many varied appetizers. All the food was flavorful and hot. I was happy with everything, all in all. I can't help relating one thing that happened with my friend Tim. To recall a time way back in the 70s, Tim, Eric and I were playing a game in his parents' judo studio, in a large outbuilding in the back of his yard. The entire floor was padded. The game involved chasing one another with a judo belt, looped with an end in each hand. The goal was to approach someone and loop the belt over their head, quickly get it down to their ankles, and then pull firmly, jerking the person's feet out from under them. This was a vivid memory for me as it was I whom Tim had pulled the feet out from under from. I recall gasping for breath having had the wind knocked out of me, and wondering if I was going to live. At the restaurant, this all came back to me as I saw Tim from across the room with that same mischievous grin, preparing to launch one of the Class of '74 reunion mini-frisbees to me. He was an expert and must have been practicing. The little 5 inch disk whizzed across the dining room, tilting as it passed behind the head of the homecoming queen, hovering for a moment at the scotch waved by our class president, and then landing with deft precision at my chest where I was able to fumble for a moment, and then retain my grasp on the disk with the agility of a Staples Wrecker receiver. Tim's grin was priceless. It harkened back the old days, and gave me another recollection of the humorous, laughter of innocent days passed. He could have been tossing a pinwheel, (one of the contraptions made from soldered heads of dissecting pins stolen from the Biology Department), or any of the various flying disks of torture that seemed to proliferate the high school. It was a priceless reunion for me.
I had another cheerful moment when a woman approached and asked if I remembered her having a crush on me during high-school. I grinned, remembering of course, her smiling face as she looked up at me from long ago. She had really made an impression on me, obviously. And again today, at the reunion. I asked if she'd be open to my looking her up on Facebook...and she agreed. Though so much time had passed, there was the little bit of stirring on my part that had to be pursued. There was a fair amount socializing going on, all of us arriving from various backgrounds and geographic areas. It would be something to note, that as we came from a relatively exclusive community, just how did our current lifestyles and environments give rise to the interest we took in one another. Was it so difficult to find people out there in the world that came from a similar social clime? I would venture to believe that. Westport was most certainly a unique community. Many notable celebrities were among us, as were the families we came from in addition the noteworthy individuals that chose Westport at their home. Over and over I come to believe I was privileged to have come from the time and location that I did.

Staples 35th High School Reunion (cont.)

2009-11-16T14:19:00.008-05:00

10/10/09: On Saturday I'd volunteered for niece and nephew sitting for my brother. I learned how to play my niece's violin, not knowing that twisting the wrist is a requirement for drawing the bow back across the strings. When the family had again assembled, I headed back to Westport for the tail end of the Frisbee playoffs at the reunion, and then took a tour of the remodeled high school. It was so clear outside, and only slightly cool. The sun was shining on the athletic field and everyone was warm, smiling and cheery. I spotted a few more folks that I remembered, and chatted about my road trip, and having retired from the government. One fellow whom I'd been friends with in elementary school, I realized was next to me. It was a shock to see him after having the only memory of him at 12 years old. It was much more rewarding for me to have these contacts with the people I'd been to elementary school with. These were the people who knew me before I'd strayed so far from the mainstream beginning at adolescence. Seeing these men and women from some 45 years ago gave me an unusual sense of camaraderie. It touched an old innocence. There was a knowing, a peace. Somehow I realized that I was coming full circle. All of the longing for home I'd had in Florida over the years, especially during the 70's, and even the longing for home when I came back to Westport for a visit, it was all satisfied as I spent this time with my childhood friends. More followed before we parted on Sunday morning. There were many more faces that looked the same as they did in high-school, with just a touch of age and maturity. We took the tour arranged by one of our classmates who currently teaches history at the school. He answered many questions and took us through the entire campus. In our day, there were walkways between nine separate buildings. It required that coats be worn and carried throughout the winters. Now, the buildings had all been joined and lockers accommodated the coats. There were laboratories and greenhouses. And there were numerous energy efficiencies. The last portion of the tour took us through the studio. In our day, there was a radio station that broadcast from the school, managed by students. Now, there was a television station with a complete studio for recording and production. Very impressive. The auditorium still held the stage. Seating was still for 2000. The proscenium was the same, even what appeared to be the same flooring and lighting systems. But I'm sure they'd been replaced. I took a look up the ladder that led to a catwalk from which the lighting and other stage equipment was serviced, a great hiding place when skipping classes, and I saw that not much had changed there either. A classmate asked if I was checking out my old hiding places. I think that was the only time I even felt a twinge of shame for having made the choices I did in those high-school days, and a touch of embarrassment. I made a joke and laughed it off knowing no one really cared all that much. As we were leaving, I overheard a group of folks talking, and realized one of them made a reference to an organization I'd also been a part of in recent years. I made note to approach him about it later.
The plan was to go home, rest, and come back for the big reunion dinner that night. As I was pulling out, I heard someone comment about my having brought my canoe, (strapped to the roof of the SUV), to my reunion. It was an amusing moment for me.

Staples 35th High School Reunion

2009-11-16T13:47:00.005-05:00

10/09/09: The first event at the reunion was a social at a bar in Southport, CT. It was Friday and the club was packed. Parking was a little difficult. I was a bit early. Walking up, after having decided that turning back wasn't an option, I thought about who would be there, what people would look like, and how I would be accepted. At the hostess station, I announced I was with the reunion and was directed to a couple of standing tables near the bar. I went in and seeing no one that looked at all familiar, at what I thought were the likely tables, I headed for the bar. There was another couple at the bar that were waiting to be served, and I started chatting. I explained I was here for a reunion and that I didn't recognize anyone yet. The gentleman said that I was brave, and that he'd never been to a reunion. He'd have been worried about how to socialize with folks he hadn't seen in years. After a time, I realized that folks at the standing tables were greeting new people and receiving little stickers to put on their lapels. I headed over there. A tall man I'd have never recognized as a high-school classmate introduced himself. He remembered me. We'd been in some classes together. Another man, seated eating nachos, looked at me at the same time that I looked at him and we both said each others names at the same time. Tim and I had fished together during junior and senior high-school. We laughed and took each other in for a moment. The man sitting next to him looked familiar now, and I realized they themselves were old friends. I made the connection and asked if his name was Eric. Sure enough, I'd made a connection right away. These were folks that had been up to some of the same shenanigans that I'd been up to in high-school. I was connected, and tension faded. Ironic, but as I think about how the entire visit ended, 3 days later, I realize that the things some people said as I was leaving was about the man I had become today, as opposed to who I'd been in high-school. That's significant because I did indeed change, and was rewarding for me to hear it from another, by the same folks who at this time I was so concerned about being accepted by. I stayed fairly late into the evening. I met half a dozen old comarades. Eric and I agreed to fish Sunday morning at one of the old haunts. I was glad to have gotten to Westport. I went back to Art and Nancy's house and went to bed. It wasn't very late.

South from N.H. to brother's home in CT.

2009-11-13T14:09:00.006-05:00

Heading South out of New Hampshire, I was starting to feel a bit more like myself. The flu had taken its toll. I was coughing and weak for another 10 days, but at least I was on the mends. In the last 4 weeks I'd only been heading North and East. Now I was heading South, toward home and some warmer weather, at last. There was really only one scheduled event for my entire trip, and one location I'd felt definite about going to. I was getting closer to my High School reunion in Westport, and feeling a little nervous. What would people think after 35 years? Would anyone remember me? Would I fit in? I felt some reassurance remembering what I was told, "At the 10th and 20th reunions, folks are still concerned with who's done what and who knows who. By the time the 35th reunion rolls around, most folks are just glad they made it this far, and that they made it back to their hometown to see everyone else.
The plan was to stay with my brother's family in New Canaan, with 10 miles of Westport where the reunion would be. I stopped in Plymouth, CT. I spent the night in a cheap motel, (I was getting spoiled with all the indoor plumbing!). Plymouth was small, and apparently suffering some from the economic conditions of the country. I saw a number of vacant storefronts. I woke and headed for Route 7 toward Danbury. In Kent Falls, I went to the falls and sat in the field for an hour or so. I picked my guitar and started getting some real peace. There was another primitive trailer whose owner had reconditioned it. It was originally built in 1961 and was toting a family of 6. I went further North on Route 7, up to Cornwall Bridge. That's where the Cornwall Bridge Fly Shop is. Art had directed me there several years ago. I remembered the owner. He's an ex-stockbroker who decided he'd rather be fly-fishing than be on Wall Street, and made it all happen. Across from the fly shop is the Housatonic River. There's a large section of river there that's designated fly-fishing only. I pulled out the guitar again. Heading back down Route 7, I came upon the hot dog vendor that had been there several years ago when I'd been there last. I stopped, of course, and had a hot dog.
On the way South along Route 7, I couldn't resist stopping at a BMW motorcycle shop I saw along the route. I left with a bar-end mirror. The shop had quite a range of bikes. There was the standard Beemer fare. R1200s, K1300s, LTs, and GSs. But on the way back to the parts area, they had 5 Indians for sale. These were the brand new ones. The ones that my friend Don's son had created. To be sure, Don's son, Steve had purchased the Indian marque, and a wearhouse full of motors, and started recreating the Indian brand. These motorcycles were BEAUTIFUL. I threw a leg over the big dresser, and got the feel of the balance and weight. It's no doubt a heavy bike, but it felt balanced and manageable. The sales pitch included an offer to come ride one anytime. The bikes were all based on the same platform. They were available with various styles of bags and fairings. But each one had all the top of the top of the line accessories. All of the best 6 speed transmissions, all the custom suspension parts, and the top aspiration. Prices started at just under 30K and went up from there. Then...if getting to see the Indians wasn't enough, the shop owner kept his collection of classic machines in the waiting room. He had an R69S, a Laverda, and a Vincent. What a beautiful machine, that Vincent.
I got to Art's around 3:30 that afternoon. I didn't feel much of the pressure of the N.Y. metro area. Coming from the North, before the weekend, there wasn't much traffic. The owner of the fly-shop had referred to the "leaf peepers" that would be driving up Route 7 on the weekend. The trees were starting to change color, but couldn't rival the colors further north.
My niece and nephew came home from school shortly after. What a treat it was to be staying with them. (Pic) I learned how to play the violin from my niece, at least some basics. And I got to get beaten again playing video games by my nephew. I ate very well, rested up from my many days on the road, and still got over to my reunion in Westport.
The reunion, (StaplesClassof74.com) was a great event. The graduating class was around 1,000, and we had 300 people attend the event.

The Highland Center AMC - White Mountains, N.H.

2009-11-06T14:54:00.015-05:00

10/2/09:
It was a strenuous hike back down the Greenleaf Trail to the trailhead at Franconia Notch. Crawford Notch, and The Highland Center, was on the other side of the mountain, and a short drive. Here, I'd made reservations at Appalachian Mountain Club's newest 'hut', The Highland Center. There were some pet names for the new center used by those more accustomed to the primitive huts run by the AMC. The Highland Center is still a bunkhouse, in that it supplies rooms with 6 bunks per room, as well as rooms with only 2 bunks. But there are also private rooms available, with telephones, bathrooms, heat, towels and linens. All prices include a dinner and a breakfast. It was these comfort features that gave rise to the pet names from the seasoned AMC members. Although I reserved a bunk, given that there were vacant private rooms, I was given my own private room. Instantly, I was spoiled. This would be only the second night I'd spent in a room in a month. Ellie Mae and I were getting quite comfortable taking care of each other each evening. And now, a private room, with a hot shower and linens. I was in heaven. And maybe the timing was good. Though I thought that my sore joints and fatigue was from the hike up Lafayette, I was coming down with moderate to severe case of influenza. Possibly going by instinct, and the strong desire for a comfy-cozy place to rest, I booked 2 more nights at the center. I ate well, rested, and met a number of very interesting people. Though his physical issues with his knees kept him from very many hikes, Frank was a past president of the AMC, and stayed involved with the Highland Center helping the guests. Frank had a great way with people. He served as a volunteer information resource at the center. Several people rotated duties for this position, at the front desk, but Frank had all the greatest stories and could plan the best hikes. After spending my first night in a private room, I was booked into the bunk room. There was only one other bunk, and though initially I'd have been there alone, I was to share the room with a man whose wife had fallen into the creek. She'd gotten a little banged up and her and her husband had decided to spend an extra day and night at the center. I didn't mind sharing, but struggled with getting any sleep that night. I spent a fine evening in the lobby chatting with staff until dawn. I learned about his recent graduation from college, and his interest in a government position in Portsmouth. We got to talk quite a bit about government service. He appreciated my experience with large administrations and the associated political savvy one does well to develop. At dinner, there were great opportunities to meet and get to know people. I was sitting at a table with women from an AMC chapter in New Jersey, and after I spoke about my high school reunion in Westport, CT., she told me she knew Ruth Kaufman very well, and had met Ron Kaufman. Ruth was an AMC member also, and Ron was her son, whom I'd gone to elementary school with, and whom I would see again shortly at my 35th high school reunion. Yes indeed, it is a small world. At another meal, I met a woman who was taking some rigorous hikes that day on her own. She was thin and lithe. We talked, of course, a bit about retirement and my road trip. I explained that in this time of economic stress in the U.S., that I frequently felt guilty and often just told people that I had "stopped working" in January, rather than saying I'd retired. The last thing she said before she set off was, "Don't feel guilty", and that I'd put my time in. There was a highly energetic woman named Doris. Doris said she was an AMC member in South Carolina and that she had won this trip to the Highland Center. She had never hiked before and was looking forward to getting out to a trail. I'm not sure if she ever got out, and I wondered if after I'd recovered some from my flu, if I'd have been able to take her on a short day hike. Actually, I was slow to recover, and never did get back with her on the hiking.
In the lobby area, there were tall ceilings, large windows looking out at the mountains, and very soft seating. I met a woman by the name of Laurel who was a Very Small Home enthusiast. I didn't understand what they did, but she explained that she was an anthropologist who had taught in many different countries and had been exposed to many community environments. She was currently living in Ridgefield, CT. She had a PhD. She explained that in coordination with a green, earth oriented movement, there existed possibilities of engineering communities at a level that were sustainable. Sustainable, in that a minimum of infrastructure would be required to sustain them. I had some knowledge about sustainable living, say, 'off the grid'. And Laurel talked about how in a small house, in a community of small houses, sustainability is enhanced and that shared resources would aid the group. I mentioned that B.F. Skinner book I'd read long ago, 'Walden Two". There was some correlation. I wonder if that's worth some research. Certainly getting into a developing environment of sustainable homes would be easier that getting into an isolated sustainable home, and starting from scratch. There was a great staff at The Highland Center. Everyone was there to help. I understood later that there is a great deal of staff from Europe that sign up for U.S. jobs for the short term. Usually students, but that have no idea of the environment they will be put into. I'm sure that landing in the middle of the White Mountains could have come as a shock to some. To put things in perspective, I mad an effort to find an all night diner, and landed at a 24 hour Dunkin' Donuts in North Conway, NH some 45 minutes away.
The troop of 10 eight year olds under the care of 3 dads. They were thrilled to have found a video machine in the building that would play their copy of Jaws. It gave them an hour or so to grab a few beers.
During my extended stay, not feeling quite up to a hike and still feeling quite achy and listless, I did manage to get into town to do some laundry. A man came in and I asked if he had change for a dollar. I was short a quarter for the washer. He said he didn't and suggested I try the restaurant across the street. He asked me about my Hummer's gas mileage. His name was Mike Whitcomb. Mike is a retired fire-fighter not far from where we were. When he retired severeal years ago, his wife asked him what he was going to do, now that he was retired. He said, "I'm going home." She said, "You are home, silly." To which Mike replied, "No, I'm going back home, by the Big Hill, (As Mount Washington in known). He has a home on a piece of property in town here, where he spends weekdays, and on weekends his wife comes up to town to stay. Mike said that he is one of four men who can say that he built the diesel engines that climb Mt Washington on the Cog Railway. Mike is an engineer. He said the locomotives are powered by John Deere diesels. They push 70 passengers in a railway car up the mountain, and let them back down. He invited me to come out on a weekend if I wanted to see the shop. When I returned to load the dryer, Mike asked if I was a fisherman. And I said that I had a fly rod in the truck. He told me that the river just in front of the Mt Washington Hotel (PIC) was stocked with trout regularly. I should purchase a license at the general store, and try a specific fly. The fishing flies were available at the general store as well. I did fish, and though a couple of fish rose to the fly, never landed one. It was a great day to be wading out on the river.

I had one of those, "I can't believe I get to do this," moments.

Greenleaf Hut - Greenleaf Trail up Mt. Lafayette

2009-11-05T14:44:00.012-05:00

10/2/09: David and I headed out of Lexington, MA. early Friday morning. We planned a breakfast stop in New Hampshire. David swore by the pancakes and had real Vermont maple syrup with his. We continued up into N.H. and parked at Franconia Notch. This was across the street from the trail head leading up to Greenleaf Hut, and about 5 miles from Mt. Washington. We hiked the 3.7 miles with 3500 feet of elevation gain through a dripping, snow filled treetops. I could have sworn it was sleeting, but Dave assured me this was just ice falling from the trees. I was getting pretty weary, slightly cold, and wet. David suggested he carry my fleece that I'd tied around my waist so that it would stay dry. Good suggestion, and though my pride kicked in, wisdom spoke and I let him carry the coat. It was an unusual sight. Fallen ice on the ground, dripping ice water from the trees, and the trees still coated with snow and ice. There were grand views back over to the Old Man in the Mountain. When I was young, the face of the old man was clear, but after years of erosion, and despite several repair efforts, the rock formation collapsed. It was still a powerful view looking at the rock face.
Although I was cold at the start, we hiked with a steady pace and things warmed up quite a bit. I was fairly comfortable. This was easily the most strenuous hike, and the most difficult terrain since my journey began.
When we arrived at Greenleaf Hut I realized I had been there before. When I was between 8 and 12, I spent 8 weeks every summer near Conway, NH. We took 1, 2, and 3 day hikes into the White Mountains where I learned about staying in the mountains and saw some of the most beautiful scenery in the U.S. Old memories came back to me. Inside the hut, there were logbooks dating back to the early 1960's. I started to go through the entries from 1965 and 1966, looking for some reference to the people I'd hiked with back then. There were several entries for summer camp groups and boy scout troops. Some with obviously a child's writing. But I didn't see anything referring to Camp Wonalancet. I am absolutely certain that if I'd spent more than a few minutes with those logs that I'd have found either my name, or the name of someone I knew back then. It was with a sense of belonging, and a remembering of times long gone, a time of innocence, that I reflected before we set out for a hike up Mt. Lafayette. Lafayette was snowy and icy. We emerged barely about treeline and again I had the certain sense that I'd been here before. The cut of the trail through the short trees, and the path itself, all felt as though I'd been there not all that long ago. This was a priceless feeling.

Stress and the NY Metro area

2009-11-05T13:23:00.003-05:00

10/1/09: I left Greenwood Furnace campground in Pennsylvania after breakfast and an easy load up. It was a convenience to load when I was able to park the trailer on a hill and roll the bike in on an incline. The ramp is a little bit steep and any incline is helpful. I passed through all of the farms and roads on the way back out to the highway. It's the horse drawn carts that add a quiet and peaceful air to the setting. I wished I had longer to stay, just so I could spend some time riding the old Beemer back through these roads. It was all too soon that I reached I80 and the path that would take me East to Interstate 84.
I started to sense a change in the traffic conditions as I made my way East on 84. I was within 120 miles of downtown Manhattan, and that was all to close for me. Understand that traveling Interstate 84 to New Canaan, CT. is not the most direct route. And also that this route was chosen only because of the tension involved in driving through the New York metropolitan area I've felt in the past. Granted, I was pulling a trailer and had to pay attention to the engine speed relative to the hills, but there was something about the pace that initiated a gnawing anxiety in me while I drove. Incredibly, the old stress knot just below my right shoulder blade started to ache. Not strange that I hadn't felt that more than once since I'd retired, it had been a daily occurrence when I was working. Though I'm sure I'll be back to this part of the country, I had to ask myself why I had arranged this portion of my trip to include the Northeast at all. I vowed at the time to never return. As I got across the Hudson River and passed into Connecticut, I psyche started transitioning into the scrambling, scurrying mode that allows one to survive this part of the world. Thinking back to the night before, the crackling fire and peace of the wooded campsite in the night got me curious about where I'd really like to be living my life. I was somewhat surprised that I made the trip straight to my friend David's house without a wrong turn. This in no small part to the marvels of geo-positioning systems. When I walked into David's house, he'd been watching the National Parks special that was running on public television. I since seen parts of it, but there's indeed no substitute for being there in person. David and I planned the next day's hike, loaded some equipment and turned in.

Hiking the Mid-State Trail (MST)

2009-11-03T14:53:00.002-05:00

9/30/09: After a long and restful night by the fire, and a warm sleep in the bunk, I woke rather slowly and fixed my usual breakfast of hot oat bran, bananas, peanut butter and honey. I started off the day exploring the campground around the lake. There were several exhibits describing the furnaces, and how the CCC had been created to provide jobs to the many unemployed men following the depression. These areas replanted the trees that were stripped during the boom times of the late 1800s. These areas in Pennsylvania were where there was water to power machinery, ore to be mined, and timber to burn. This combination resulted in large areas of deforestation. The furnaces created a level of heat needed to change ore into a material that could be refined further into marketable...steel? The jobs and the CCC were created to reforest the area and bring income to the many unemployed. There were remnants of the furnaces, and this answered the question I had about why some many towns were called 'furnaces'.
I reviewed the map again and decided I'd hike the spur trail from the campgrounds out to the Pennsylvania Mid State Trail. Then I would had down Detweiller Run down to the recreation area, and back up the dirt road to the campground. It was around 11:00 a.m. I found some good elevation gain getting to the MST. Not a tough hike, but up and down a few hills and valleys. As I descended to Detweiller Run, the trail turned and became 6 foot wide path of 8 inch to 12 inch round rocks. The trail may have been a dry stream bed, but it's also possible these stones were place here to establish the trail. It was a clear trail, but required a good deal of attention to keep from turning one of my weak ankles. That would be that last thing I wanted to have happen.
I was at about 2 miles down the run and found things getting a little damp. The trail now ran alongside a stream and the foliage got more and more green. There was some dampness in the air. At some point, I realized that this trail was pretty far out, and that it felt as though I should be hitting the cross trail that brought me across to the recreation area. I went back to the map, checked the scale, and saw that the map was 1 inch to 2 miles. For whatever reason, I'd thought the map was inch to one mile. That accounted for the long hike to the MST, and also why I hadn't found the cross trail yet. The two mile from the spur to the rec area, was now was a four mile hike. And the hike back up the road wouldn't be two miles, but another 4. Hmmm, I thought that it was good that I'd done some conditioning before I left Tampa. Along Detweiller Run the forest closed in on the trail. I was within 10 feet of the stream, but the branches hung down forming a tunnel, in many places just tall and wide enough for me to pass. The ground was very wet, and there were several stream crossing. There were a couple of wooden bridges, strong and secure, but very wet and slippery. Again I was glad to have hiking poles. The trips along those wet logs would have been treacherous.
I finally reached a sign indicating the direction to the recreation area. It was a long hike in. There were several old and broken cabins. Large wooden structures that appeared to accommodate campers or scouts during the summers, but possibly had fallen out of use. Most of this area was flat, and as I proceeded, I was glad for the house that appeared to be inhabited. At least the barking dog was a sign of civilization. My GPS, proved helpful at this point. I was able to view the direction back to the campsite. When I came to the road, I was fairly confident I was turning in the right direction. A man pulled his car over, rolled down the window and asked if I'd lost a dog. He's seen one barking. I said that I had not, and before I could question him about directions, he wished me a good hike and drove off. I was getting pretty tired. I stopped and ate my last PB&J roll up. And drank most of the remaining water. Peanut butter and jelly pack very well in a soft tortilla. I felt some energy rolling back in. I hiked the last 4 miles up the road and came to camp. At the very end, withing the campground, an older man and his daughter were hiking and we stopped to talk. They were surprised that I'd tackled the lengthy hike, and I explained the map-reading error. The woman said she'd tackled one of the trails out of the camp once, but found it very steep and didn't continue. This was one of those hikes that conclude with very little fanfare. I sat in my folding chair with a refilled water bottle, and just closed my eyes for a bit. I made dinner and then gathered firewood for the evening.
The next day I drove into "town", and found a convenience store. I bought some firewood, and and a can of beef stew, and a "hoagie". In the store were the construction workers I'd heard the day before. I really didn't have anything to say at the time. I did talk to the woman that took my sandwich order, and I volunteered some information about my trip. Noting to myself her hands that appeared those of someone hard-working, she said, "It must be nice to be able to do that." It made me think about people who would love to have the resources to travel a five week vacation. I was humbled.

East into the forests of central Pennsylvania

2009-11-03T14:09:00.002-05:00

9/29/09: I had an easy travel day from Buckeye Lake into Pennsylvania. I knew that I wanted to camp in a state forest. In 2005, heading home on a motorcycle trip from Toronto, I came through an area of Western Pennsylvania to the North of Pittsburgh. The forests were majestic, and I'd always wanted to return. So after reviewing the atlas, and seeing so many state parks throughout Pennsylvania, I found something off the beaten path that looked promising. I called the park and was assured there would be no problem finding a primitive site. It had been cold and wet recently. I didn't hear the ranger tell me anything about the construction taking place at the park.
There were many, many rolling hills on the winding back roads through central PA. It was truly pretty countryside. I passed a number of horse-drawn carriages piloted by the Amish farmers. When I arrived at the park in the early evening, the ranger station was closed but another ranger drove up and we chatted. I found that there would be construction in the area, but there were many sites available and some were prime sites. The ranger was interested in Ellie Mae, (my teardrop trailer), and also said he's stop by my camp to hear some bluegrass guitar picking. I wasn't sure if he played as well or not. I found the camping area and saw some construction equipment, but without any hesitation, I set up camp at a great site, close to hot showers. This would be a great few days! I took a shower, made dinner and turned in for the night.
At dawn, no, it was actually before sunrise, every conceivable piece of construction equipment erupted in a cacophony that I thought would tear the needles off the pines. The paint on the trailer may have loosened from the racket created by all the gas-powered chain saws, hydraulic jack-hammers, roaring diesel backhoes, diggers, shovels, trucks and tractors. This moment was one of those times I'd wished I'd made the trailer just a few inches taller. As I sat upright in the bunk, I crashed into the roof-beam with unusual force. Though this happened occasionally, this morning I had to check for blood.
On the bright side, it was a great night, and I'd just have to go to the ranger station and see if there were other campsites in the area. The Penn-Roosevelt S.P. was suggested and I found it fairly easily. I first tried to get out to the park on the beemer, but was rather chilled and after 5 miles of dirt road, I turned back to the ranger station for detailed directions. The best move at that time was to load up the Ellie Mae and head back out the dirt road to the park. I pulled into an empty park at a lake with great primitive tent sites. I and was cautioned by signs that this was "tent-camping only". At first, I positioned the trailer and truck and began to set up. I walked down to the pay-station and found an envelope that reminded me again that this area was for tent-camping only. Now they had my attention. Fearing removal after getting set-up, I decided to had back out to the ranger station. This was not a short haul. It was some 20 miles of dirt and paved roads through lovely forested areas, but still, and hour long drive. I was able negotiate a couple of nights with Ellie, and headed back to camp. The rangers were very accomodating and thought that I would have a minimum impact on the area being Ellie was so small. There's indeed something about a home-made teardrop trailer that just speaks, "innocent". There were many people I met on this trip that had an interest in my trailer. Most people had positive things to say, and were a bit envious. Ellie is certainly not a Prevost, but she goes places and hauls stuff the Prevost would certainly fail at.
Here's a picture of my Penn-Roosevelt campsite. (PIC)
I spent 3 nights at this site. It was some of the most memorable time of the trip.

Ham radio operator in Buckeye Lake, OH

2009-11-03T13:57:00.002-05:00

One more story from Buckeye Lake, OH.: I'd going into town later in the evening and met a guy at a meeting and found we had a hobby in common. Chatting, he mentioned ham radio, that he was a ham, and that on 10 meters, there was a weekly net of like minded folks. We traded callsigns and emails, and I said I'd look up the net and try to jump in one day. It's a VOIP net, so having a radio isn't even required. Russ said he was also a retired state employee. He said he never went back to work. Russ has family in the area, keeps up with local ham radio activities, and does volunteer work. But he never went back to work, formally. (Why do I keep hearing that message?)

Eastbound into Buckeye Lake, Ohio

2009-10-28T15:40:00.002-04:00

9/27/09: Buckeye Lake is a small, resort town with a park and a big lake. There are many small businesses catering to tourists that come to the lake. There were water skiers, swimmers, and boaters. There was a persistent noise of drag racing motors that continued the evening. It wasn't overwhelming. I found a KOA campground that was a great relief to find after having such a difficult time with camping in Bean Blossom. There was a laundry facility and showers. The whole camp was very clean and well ordered. With all the rain that had fallen recently, there were many spaces available and I found a suitable site close to the showers. There's a price to pay for such a great area, but in this case it was worth the money. I unloaded, collected my dirty laundry and headed for the washers and dryers. I got a couple of loads started and went off to find a quick dinner. Dinner out was a treat, but I was getting a little spoiled after eating quite a bit of festival food the night before. Which reminds me of the conversation I had with James Shelton. As I made the CD purchase from him, he insisted I tell him where I'd gotten my banana split. I told him about learning to pick leads before getting very good at playing rhythm guitar, and he said, "It's all about the rhythm." I said that I had some catching up to do. I found a moderately priced restaurant that served Mexican food. After having eaten great Tex-Mex in both Texas and New Mexico, I was skeptical about eating Mexican in Ohio. But I ordered the house specialty and was pleasantly surprised. Though not the richly cooked, deeply flavorful, and relatively spicy of the American southwest, it was satisfying. And much better than festival fare.
Returning to the laundromat, I met a man and a woman that were traveling West for their son's wedding. They turned out to be from Nazareth, PA., though this came to me as I was folding my T-shirts. We were chatting casually when Bob (McGovern), said, "Is that a Martin Guitar t-shirt?" He said that he knew Chris Martin quite well. He said that Chris is involved with the community affairs of Nazereth, PA., as was Bob. (For non-guitar people, Nazareth is the home of the 166 year old C.F.Martin & Co. guitar manufacturer.) Bob said that Chris was the kind of fellow that would be only too happy to give someone a personal tour and I said I might take him up on that. I'd visited the Martin Guitar factory in 2006 after attending the Gettysburg bluegrass festival. In 2006, a guitar playing friend had told me how close the factory was and I'd driven there then. (See great series of photos of my Martin factory tour in my Facebook photos.) Bob and Brenda and I chatted all through a wash and half of a dry cycle about guitars, the Martin family and our careers and retirement plans. They were great folks and though I didn't trade emails, I hope to meet them on the road again. They were driving a newer style Class B motorhome. An Eco-Trek? I stayed a pleasant and quiet night in the town of Buckeye Lake, and moved on the next day. It would be an easy drive to Greenwood Furnace, PA. Site of what looked like a remote State Park in Rothrock State Forest.

Waffle House - The Waiter

2009-10-28T15:28:00.002-04:00

9/27/09: Here's a quick note about a conversation with a waiter at a roadside Waffle House restaurant. I started talking with him about the road trip and my retirement. He said that he'd recently retired from Cummins Diesel as an engineer. He didn't have to, but he worked just to be around people. He was completely satisfied with his job and enjoyed talking to the travelers that came and went. He stayed in the area to be around his grandchildren, whom he treasured. He said that he takes it easy at work, and that he's the happiest that he's ever been in his life. That really got me, "The happiest he's ever been in his life". I could say that. It's true, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life.

Bean Blossom, Indiana

2009-10-27T13:24:00.003-04:00

9/26/09: Bill Monroe's Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival. Here was a great show. It took most of the day and a good part of the evening to get from Eureka Springs, AR., to Bean Blossom, IN. Saturday was the last night of the show, due to end at midnight, and I still had to pay full price when I arrived a little after 9PM. It was pouring rain. But worth every penny. I was led to a densely packed RV camp area, and got a ride back to the stage on the escort's golf cart. Jessie McReynolds and his band was playing. 86 year old Jessie was absolutely ripping on his mandolin. I was so glad to be able to hear him. Then Ralph Stanley came on. I'd seen Ralph here in Tampa at Skipper's Smokehouse a couple of years ago, and he put on a great show, but this performance at Bean Blossom really changed how I thought about his music. He's a true gentleman and grand musical performer. He gracefully and professionally handled the audience, small as it was under their umbrellas, sang and led the band through a number of his old tunes, including "Man of Constant Sorrow". I was carefully watching his guitar player. I didn't remember him from the show in Tampa, but won't soon forget his relaxed, delicate, and detailed flatpicking. His Martin D28 projected magnificent tones, great rhythms, and graceful leads through each of the numbers. He's got a way of making the licks look easy. James Shelton is a true professional and deserves all the accolades available. After Ralph Stanley performed, J.D. Crowe and The New South came on. They just couldn't hold a candle to Ralph's performance, but then too, the rain was still beating down and thinning the crowd. The Grascals were due to close out the night, but the rain had erased my desire to stay, my hat was beginning to soak through, and I was fairly exhausted. I decided to head back to camp and set up for the night. Unfortunately, I never did stay the night, and pulled out to start my trip East that night. My camper/trailer situation doesn't accommodate the rain very well, at least not setting up in the rain. It's just too dangerous to try to unload the motorcycle with a wet ramp. Of course, in order to lower the bunks and to sleep in the trailer, the motorcycle must come out. When it's raining, the tailgate is slick as can be, and navigating the 450 pound bike down the wet ramp is just too much, especially in the dark, while fatigued. I'd had one incident with the slippery tailgate a few years ago, and still have the scar from it. And it's just so much easier drive and to find a nicer site to camp than it is to struggling with unloading in a difficult area. Plus, what is it about leaving that's so attractive to me. Leaving has it's own set of rewards. I've known this for years, but that's another story altogether.

Eureka Springs, AR

2009-10-27T12:55:00.003-04:00

9/25/09: My friend and I met in the morning and went for a bike ride. There are several well-known motorcycle loops through the area. Some are and hour, some would take most of the day. All have little one lane bridges, windy and hilly roads, and broad, rich nature views. The air was cool, yet the sun was warm. The old Beemer purred along calmly, loving the cooler air and the dips and curves in the road. I dropped her back in town and I headed for the local BBQ joint. Bubba's is a casual place with great food. Large portions and a good choice of sweet or hot sauce make for a warm and tasty meal. http://www.bubbasbarbecueeurekasprings.com/
Next door to Bubba's is the Century 21 Realty office, http://www.c21woodland.com/ where my realtor works. She's showed me a number of homes over the last year or so, and I just haven't made the commitment to make the move. She's so, so patient with me, and always available. I stopped in to say hello. Right away she remembered me and though at first surprised I should just walk in, she asked someone there how much the cabin in Hogscold was going for. She described the property and asked if I'd like to take a ride out there. I thought a moment, and considering it was a great price, had out-buildings, and was on 20 acres out in a great part of Eureka, I said yes. We road out and walked the property for more than an hour. It was a great place, and I was pretty much sold. I said I'd have to think until the next day, and talk to some people. And wouldn't you know it, the next day she called to say there was an offer on the table from someone else. And before I put anything together, there was a contract. I guess that one wasn't meant to be. Here's a of the out building, then the cabin(PIC).
After looking at the property, I had a great steak in town, then went out to meet Dan at the park. It's a very rule-laden game, croquet. Not like the days when we played as kids. Dan has developed a team of croquet players that travel in the area to compete. It was good to catch up. Dan needed crew for racing the next day. His sailboat was competing on the lake and some of his crew wouldn't be able to make it. Since I'd already determined I'd be leaving to go to the Bill Monroe's Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival in Indiana, I said I'd meet them all for breakfast at Myrtie Mae's Restaurant, but that I'd be leaving town that day. I went back over to my camp and made preliminary arrangements to load up. The thing about loading up the night before, is that there's only so much you can do and still sleep in the trailer. The bike can't be loaded until you're ready to drive. So, the next morning I rolled the bike into the trailer and headed for Indiana.

9/24/09: Back in Eureka Springs, AR

2009-10-27T12:32:00.004-04:00

The trip through Oklahoma and back through the stovepipe in Texas seemed to drag on. I sneaked a nap at a rest stop and arrived at the City of Eureka Springs, Lake Leatherwood Campground in the early evening. There was an middle-aged couple who were tent camping at the prime site overlooking the lake. My old favorite site, further down toward the lake, where I'd run over the fire ring last year, was occupied. Though the occupants would likely have left before the night was out, it was a large party of noisy young folks by the campfire. I decided to pull up to a site near the showers. Being near the bathes is never a bad choice.
I called my friend whom I had met in town last year. Dan was a high school history teacher. He's a sailor, an innkeeper as well. After we'd met last year, he had asked about trading services. He said that if I let him stay at my home Tampa while he attended a sailing school in Clearwater, Florida, he would let me stay at one of his luxury rooms at an inn later in the year. That had worked out perfectly for the two of us and I was looking forward to meeting up with him again. Dan who said he'd be playing croquet at the park the next evening and invited me to join him. I said I'd be there. I started setting up Ellie Mae for sleeping. I rolled the motorcycle out, removed my toolboxes and lowered the bunks. Instantly I was home sweet home. I took a luxurious hot shower. How long had it been? Twelve days? I had been showering under the spigot of a 5 gallon water jug perched on top of Ellie Mae. I don't think I've enjoyed a shower so much as that evening. I dressed for town, cranked up the bike and headed into Eureka Springs for the evening. It was a Thursday, and not much night life was going on. I found that one of the clubs was doing an open-mic night. I went in and ordered some food. The first act was an acoustic folk singer. He wasn't that bad, and certainly entertaining to sit and listen tolive music. Deonn walked in. Deonn was my friend from Eureka Springs who had spent some time in Tampa with me last year. I chuckled to myself. This was a small town, but what were the chances that she would walk in when I was there. She sat across the room from me at the other side of the bar. I was still chuckling, thinking whether I'd approach her, and how. It had been a long time since I'd seen her, and hadn't told her I'd be in town. Then she turned and looked across at me. I guess it was a little too dark for her to recognize me as I waved and smiled. She turned back around to the singer making no response. I chuckled again thinking that she would be rather surprised to see me if I walked over and decided that I would do just that. As I approached smiling, Deonn still didn't recognize me for a moment, but as soon as I spoke she realized who I was. She gave me a big hug. We both laughed. She told me about having a new place in town, the friend she was seeing, her new job, and how cold it had been the winter before. I got her up to speed on my travels so far. We decided to walk over to another bar. We walked along the thin sidewalks, by the thin streets that parade you before the multitude of shops and boutiques and diners and pizza joints. These businesses seem to multiply with each of my visits to Eureka. We found the spot that was playing some kind of bluesy bluegrass. We heard the end of one song, but the bar closed and we had to leave. We walked back to the open-mic and I got introduced to a few of the singers. I asked Deonn if she would like to take a bike ride the next day, and said I'd call her. It was really a treat to have these friends to visit as I traveled.

Leaving the Gila, New Mexico

2009-10-21T17:07:00.003-04:00

9/23/09 Wednesday
Though it got pretty cold last night, I stayed warm in the confines of my trailer. I curled up inside both sleeping bags. I’d had some sort of visitor during the night. I know that there were no more campground neighbors. I was sure this was an animal looking for food. It made a scurrying, scraping noise on the roof. It was poking around the water containers I kept up there. If there were any seeds that had dropped from the trees, it’s possible he was poking around those. He returned a couple of times during the night, and I heard the same sounds, but I never really figured out who he was. It was after dawn when I woke. It wasn’t late, but it was later than I usually woke. I’d made the curtains and hung them in the windows yesterday. I think that the early morning light that usually woke me didn’t get in until the sun had actually risen over the ridge. The curtains provided a little privacy, and kept the trailer a bit darker. I was thankful that my evening visitor wasn’t able to peep inside either.

Today marked 1 week I’d been at the same tent site at the Upper Gallinas campground in the Gila Wilderness. It was still early when I heard Ken’s bike go by. It was that low idling sound of a Japanese motorcycle, a Suzuki, quiet and well muffled. That was all I really needed to start thinking about heading down the road again and finding a new campground, or maybe another state to camp in. It had been a nice stay in New Mexico, but this really was turning into more of an extended visit, and if Ken was back to see if “his” campsite was available, I wondered to myself if it really wasn’t time to turn it over. I'd heard the bike pass by once, but not return. I started packing, loading the truck and the trailer in preparation for getting the motorcycle inside. I decided that the last thing to pack into the truck would be my guitar. I made a point of sitting down on the picnic table, with the truck fully packed, and playing one song. I'd gotten very familiar with a song written in long ago called, "Home Sweet Home". This wouldn’t be the last time I played that tune just before I pulled out of a campsite. I enjoy that sense of feeling at home. I had that feeling after getting settled into a campsite for a couple of nights. The feeling of being transient, or temporary goes away. There’s a feeling of order and properness. I feel connected, domestic. Also, loading up your things in preparation for travel can be exciting, it’s a closure to the present location, and I get a sense of transition, but if you’ve never gotten to stay long enough at one place so that you feel at home, then you don’t get the feeling of excitement about moving on. Dominant is the tedium and frustration of having to load up again way too soon. I had that feeling more than once.

As I pulled out of the campground, my mind drifted to the best direction to take. Was I to head North, South, East or West? With cold weather to the North and West, and with the lure of warmer temperatures in Arkansas, by process of elimination I decided to head East. I’d take my time given the 3 weeks before I was due to arrive in Connecticut for the high school reunion. But I didn’t know exactly how. Temperatures in Colorado were unusually low, as were temps in California, Oregon, and Washington. I had an old riding chum who’d just arrived in Nevada, and it occurred to me that I could head that way, but temperatures were also way too low there. So off to the East I went. New Mexico would be as far West as I would travel on my road trip. I knew that the higher mountains would only tax my towing situation pulling Ellie Mae along, and the cooler temps would tax my thin Florida blood, so I accepted the situation as it was and headed out of the mountains and down into Silver City. After replenishing supplies of food and water in Silver City, and taking a moment to prepare for travel, I had to turn around and came back by the camp to get back to I-25 and the trip North by Albuquerque to I 40.

On the trip north on I 25, I stopped at a small fuel and RV grocery store. I entered the store and began answering his questions about Ellie Mae. I told him the story about she having begun life as a tool shed, and about my having removed her doors and tipped over onto the trailer, how she'd been a perfect fit and simply needed to bolted down. He offered some help about how to avoid the traffic in Albuquerque to the north. He said that I should be sure to gas up at every opportunity. There would be no fuel on the back roads. When I got to the exit the grocery store owner suggested, though I’d passed several service stations along I 25, I found no gas at the exit. Obviously this was what the shop owner had in mind. Though I became frightened momentarily, I did my arithmetic and felt somewhat confident that I’d get at least to I 40 before running out. I'm sure if I'd taken his suggestion and gassed up at the earlier exits I would have avoided the issue. As it turned out, there was gas available on the way to I 40. I stopped for dinner and chatted with a waitress at a local restaurant. She told me about living in remote areas. I was in the New Mexico desert some 75 miles South of I 40 and 150 miles East of I 25. It was indeed desolate. The town had 2 service stations, 3 restaurants, and the one flashing yellow light. There was nothing but desert in 3 directions and mountains to the East. The mountains rose steeply in the distance. Several pictures are shown above. The waitress said that she went to once a month to shop for meats. She said she liked the remoteness. She’s bought property years ago for very cheap, and had realized large gains as she sold off portions of it. She’d lost most of her earnings, and had started a second family later in life, but enjoyed working the late shift at the restaurant. This was actually the restaurant that she owned at one time.

9/22/09 Getting organized

2009-10-21T17:04:00.004-04:00

9/22/09 Tuesday
Today was a day for organizing equipment. Org days are rewarding. They aren’t exciting or adventurous, but they can be quite satisfying. It would make me caught up. Getting my camping equipment in order gives me a sense of confidence that prepares me for my next adventure. I tackled Ellie Mae first. Out onto the picnic table came all bedding, then came the backpacking gear. I swept her out and dusted some of the Texas sand from her shelving. Then I looked to emptying the truck. With all the cooking and camping gear, and all the clothing and motorcycle gear, I chose to keep to simply put everything in its proper storage spot. The stray sock or pair of shoes went back into the duffel bag. The cooking gear and food went to its bin. The windshield got cleaned and the canoe straps checked. Things were now in order and I felt comfortable with whatever was next on my agenda.
The temperature is predicted to drop to 30 degrees tonight, and as the weather stripping on the tailgate had deteriorated during the trip, I decided to refresh the sealing material. I visited the local Ace Hardware in Silver City. I found weatherstripping as well as a set of curtain rods and some curtain material. I stopped for a haircut, and while chatting with the barber, learned of a home available for rent. 3 bed/2 bath for $700, 5 minutes outside the city. The big drawback to this community was that it was a deed restriction area. I headed back to camp with my supplies. Making curtains for Ellie Mae was an adventure in itself. I've next to no experience sewing, but using double sided tape I was able to fashion something to effectively enhance my privacy. Honestly, I don't know that I was ever camped within view of another campsite so as someone could see into my small windows, but drawing them closed in the evening gave me a sense of security. Maybe when the bears came to visit this evening they wouldn't peer in to see their dinner as I slept. I gathered wood and made a fire.

9/21/09 Bushwhacking to nowhere

2009-10-19T15:54:00.003-04:00

I really thought the most important thing about hiking was having enough water. Not so. Having a map and knowing where the trailhead starts is top priority before starting a hike. I had a map, but unfortunately the trail head was not well marked. I had a good idea that trail started from North of the parking lot, but couldn't find it along the road. I parked and started hiking north alongside the stream. I felt sure I was to cross the trail within a few hundred yards. I hiked up and down ravines and across logs and rocky outcrops in the woods. I crossed over and through the "hollers", but saw nothing resembled a trail. I was getting tired. I hiked directly south downhill back toward the stream. I heard the rush of the cars on the road as I got closer. I hiked about a mile back along the road to my car and gave up on that hike. I drove a small distance to a well-marked trailhead and I did find a nice hike to the North. The hike started at Emory Pass and I hiked South. The trail was long and fairly level. There was no elevation gain to speak of. No great views, but there was deep, dense woodlands. The forest was very soft and sweet smelling. Each step cushioned with pine needles. It was a radical departure from the lowland desert near the city. Silver City was always available for when I needed a dose of civilization, or to replenish supplies. But I was becoming quite at home in the mountains. Above is a picture of my camp area. Ellie Mae, the old Beemer and the H3. We were all very comfortable together.

9/20/09 Gila Cliff Dwellings

2009-10-19T15:22:00.003-04:00

The sun has slipped behind the mountain. It’s 6PM. My after dinner nap was interrupted by a fresh nip in the air. A new neighbor had arrived and it's possible he could have woken me. It was to be my first neighbor. The weekend rush has begun. During the summer, the campsites usually fill up on the weekends. The earliest arrivals get the best campsites. I assumed this neighbor was the first of many to be arriving today.

I woke this morning after a somewhat difficult sleep. Just after midnight I began to debate loading up my things and heading for Albuquerque. My friend from Boston would be there and invited me to stay with them if I arrive in Albuquerque. But I decided to I just take another day here, maybe. The first thing this a.m. was some prayer and meditation. Exercise would be put off until after I worked on the motorcycle. There was an issue with the old Beemer. I knew that I'd have to clean the battery basket. The battery had leaked onto the basket and was threatening to corrode the frame. Cleaning the battery basket and frame are fairly major operations when I'm home in my garage. On the road, I cleaned things up the best I could. I used water and baking soda and a toothbrush. Then I examined the battery. It was WAY overfull. Somehow, before I'd set off on my trip, I'd added too much water to the battery. It's no wonder that I was getting acid all over the bike. Up until this point I'd thought that there was a leak in the battery. I drained a considerable amount acid out onto the ground. I felt some fear of being caught dumping this caustic substance onto the ground in a park, but I didn't see a choice at the time. The total amount was no more than 2 or 3 ounces. The old Beemer looks and seems to run much more happily now. I decided on a test ride.
I loaded the bike with some hiking gear and rode up to Emory Pass. I left the bike, caching my saddlebags in small cavern in a rock ledge, and walked up a pine ridge. There’s a helipad a short distance along the way and then the trail continues around and over a couple of ridges. I didn’t recognize the scat in the trail. Recognizing animal excrement can be a good tool for knowing who and what is nearby. It seemed to be rodent, or possibly deer dung. Further along, there were the usual chatty Mexican Jays. I also saw 2 woodpeckers. The woodpeckers were either the hairy or downy woodpeckers, I didn't know which. I watched a hummingbird come down into an array of wildflowers, hover for a moment, then dive in to take nectar of the flowers. It was the first time I’d seen a hummingbird in the wild. I returned to the bike with a couple of miles completed. There was a rush of wind. The same sound had preceded the storms of the last 2 days. The sound is a warning for me that the weather will soon change.
I gathered wood for the evening and lay down for a nap. I picked a few tunes on the guitar, smiled, and set to starting the evening’s fire.

9/20 (Sun) After my usual breakfast of oat bran and fruit, I packed the motorcycle with some hiking gear and rode out to the Gila Cliff Dwellings area. It was a tremendous ride. I saw lots of hills and curves and magnificent vistas. The arroyos had filled and drained sometime in the last night or so, and left some large silt deposits in the road. I encountered several of these and had to make diversions. There was also some water still in the road. There was a tremendously gorgeous pine forest, some 10 miles from route 152. The ground was barren but for the brown pine needles and the large. Though I’d never been to the redwood forest, this reminded me of the pictures I’d seen. There were spectacular forest views. It was so very hot. I parked in the shade and walked over to the Visitor Center. The helpful volunteer gave me directions and fee amounts for admission to the Cliff Dwellings area. I got some information about the day hikes in the area, and set out for the afternoon.
I hiked through rolling hills in a very dry desert environment. Not devoid of shrubs and trees, but harsh and arid. I lizard peeked out from a rock and rattled over to another rock. He posed for a few moments as I removed my camera. Then he skittered under the next rock. It was really too hot to stay away from the shade of the stone. A pair of horseback riders approached on the trail. I was hailed with a, “Hello there!” even before I could see the horses. It seems as I clattered along banging my hiking sticks I’d unnerved the lead horse. I asked if I should give way, and as the rider acknowledged an affirmative, he kept a reassuring chatter going for the horse saying, “Yes, that’s a man, just like us, not to worry”. I wondered as they passed by if my sticks made me appear as some human praying mantis?
Further down the trail, as it wound around a valley and over a ridge, I came to a large snake rattling his tail at me. Obviously objecting to my proximity, I strayed wide to the opposite side of the trail. He settled down and stopped his racket after I eased past. I dug for my camera and focused but some communication error occurred between the body and the lens and I had to give up. I tried a different lens a few minutes down the trail, and finding it working, I returned to where I’d seen the snake but couldn’t find him. I didn’t make a large effort to set him rattling again though.

I finished my 5 mile hike, fording the Gila River 2 times. My hiking poles provided all the stability I needed in the rushing water. I could envision giving my camera gear a dunking, and really was appreciating the poles. On the hike out, I spotted a group of birds flying from one group of wildflowers to another. They hung upside-down as they drank from the flowers. (PIC) I'd never seen a bird do that before.

I stopped at the only convenience store near the Cliff Dwellings hoping that this was the store Ken had told me about. I hoped it was the store run by Paul who made his own little cups of ice cream. I met Paul and described Ken. He recalled and we started to chat over a yummy little cup of homemade ice cream. Paul was German. He spoke with an accent. He looked and my old BMW motorcycle and said he used to own them in Germany. He told me the story of a local policeman in Germany that rode a BMW. It had a sidecar. In the sidecar was a dog. A shepherd. Paul told me that during an investigation, he’s seen the officer point to an individual and direct the dog to address him. The dog could go to a person in the crowd, look at the officer, and based on the officer’s hand signals, either go to the next person, or ‘encourage’ the person to go to the officer. I picture quite a scene as the officer directs the dog to retrieve a suspect. Paul told a long story about a cougar, or mountain lion he’s had to hunt down and destroy. The convenience store was also a campground for motor homes and travel trailers. There was a hot tub, and a woman in the tub had had to call to her husband to scare off the cougar that was watching her in the tub. Paul said there were 2 distinct types of cougars in the area. One that could weigh as much as 150 pounds, and one that usually weighed less than 100 pounds. He said that this cougar had killed his cat. Paul told in an obviously painful and heartfelt story that he and his wife had adopted a stray cat. It turned out to be a very independent cat. Not overly warm and friendly, but quite territorial. Somehow, this cougar had approached Paul’s home and his courageous cat, standing his ground against a predator 10 times his size and weight, succumbed to the attack. Paul said he heard the disturbance and upon lighting the scene saw his cat’s head in the mouth of the cougar as the cougar turned to see Paul. I felt sad for Paul. Being and expert marksman, after obtaining the correct licensure to hunt the cat out of season, Paul took the cat down after seeing him on his property one more time.
As the sun started to get lower and lower in the sky, I excused myself and headed out for the bike. Paul came out to hear her start up. I think we were both glad to have met.

Weekend in Gila (Lower Gallinas)

2009-10-07T16:30:00.003-04:00

9/18/09: The sun has slipped behind the mountain. It's 6 P.M. My after-dinner nap was interrupted by a fresh nip in the air. Or it could have been the arrival of my new neighbor. The campsite closest is now occupied. I anticipate the weekend will be a rush of campers. This morning was a difficult sleep. Just after midnight I began to debate loading up and heading for Albuquerque to meet my friend David and his girlfriend Susan. They invited me to stay up there for the weekend. But I'd have to load up and leave my treasured campsite. To follow a "first things first" agenda this a.m., I made my priority a few minutes of quiet time. Then there would be camp and travel equipment chores. The motorcycle battery had reacted to the change in elevation, (now 9 to 10,000 feet), and acid had spilled over onto the frame. This would be somewhat of a major operation. Checking the level, I removed at least 10% of the fluid. I had to wire brush the affected frame points, but I'd have to leave repainting for later. I'm told that a solution of baking soda and water will be beneficial.

The Spring Trail

2009-10-04T00:35:00.004-04:00

I was advised that a short hike that would familiarize me with the area would go up the Spring Trail from Hwy 152. It was a pleasant hike along a spring fed stream into moderately sized pines. I was escorted by small finches along the stream. Crossings were easy. There was a lushness to the area. Though very arid at lower elevations down in the desert, as you climbed into the hills the radiant greens expanded before you. I stopped for lunch and a drink of water. I was starting to feel the peace in this new area. It was similar to Big Bend in a sense. As you gained elevation, you got into the rain enhanced forests of strong pines and crisp air. And as in Texas, as you went down into the desert the air and the land dried out. New Mexico was certainly cooler by day and also by night. I'd be coming into temperatures in the 30s before long.

Silver City, N.M.

2009-10-04T00:29:00.003-04:00

Silver City is a small town. It's an old mining town. And it's still the host to the largest active open copper mine in the U.S. There are light restrictions that help energy conservation and minimize light pollution. Hikes, maps and a list of rules were available from helpful staff at the forest service office in Silver City. Silver City was close by and offered an historic view of the West. The historic downtown area had small stores and tall sidewalks. Stepping off the curb could be a drop of 20" or more.
I met several folks in town and learned of an open-mic night at the local coffee bar. There were lots of cowboy hats and 4-wheel drive pick-ups. It had the remnants of a pretty tough western town. I had the sense, pretty much throughout Silver City, that you needed to fend for yourself. You'd better not be caught out on a remote highway out of gas and exposed to the sun. Nor stuck somewhere on the road when the sun went down and temperatures started to fall. It's a harsh climate.

Lower Gallinas campsite

2009-10-03T10:23:00.005-04:00

9/17/09: I came into the Gila National Forest area and at the highest point I stopped at the Emory Pass lookout for a tremendous view to the Northeast. As the road started to descend, found a number of camping areas along Route 152. I picked out the best tent site I could find at the Lower Gallinas area. Route 152 ran through 6 camping areas. Each had a trash box, a pit toilet, but no bear boxes. Each would accommodate a fair sized trailer, except the Lower Gallinas. Here, trailers were discouraged due the rougher terrain. Little Ellie Mae seemed to fit well there though, and I pulled in. There was a gurgling stream nearby, and a very cozy sheltered tent area. This became home for a whole week. I unloaded the bike and started making camp. The first visitor I had here road a motorcycle with all his camping hear and said this was his campsite and that I'd picked the best in the entire Gila Wilderness. We talked about the hiking and motorcycling around New Mexico and then he plotted a number of options for me that included a trip all the way into the Pacific Northwest. The trip he described would then continue by ferry from Vancouver B.C. to the Inside Passage and to Alaska northward. He described several favorite eateries in B.C. He had made the passage 7 times by motorcycle. It seemed daunting, but I thought I might try that trip. My visitor also told me about the local "Hike and Bike" shop. And about "Nancy and Diane's", the local Mexican/American restaurant in nearby Silver City. I made several trips to both places. Hike and Bike folks consistently recommended great day hikes and supplied maps. Nancy and Diane's supplied great tacos, tamales, and burritos extraordinaire. At Nancy and Dianes I learned about the difference between ordering the red sauce and the green sauce on your meal. Green was hot enough for me, and I'm told the red sauce is actually the real hot sauce. My visit with this man was one of those that can only happen in campground, only with fellow travelers, and in this case, a fellow motorcyclist. He was impressed with my stories about riding from Key West to Prudhoe Bay, AK. This visit was truly a gift for me.

Two hiking visitors

2009-10-03T10:17:00.003-04:00

9/17/09: The morning brought some cool temperatures, and waking up in the 3 season Florida tent, I was slightly chilled. Don't you know! I bought that tent never realizing it had 4 large permanent vents in the roof? I warmed a bit and did my spiritual reading, my morning meditation and then started picking a few tunes on the guitar. Before long, I could hear voices nearby, and getting louder. Shortly, 2 hikers arrived. There was a man and a woman. They were well outfitted with modern gear. The gentleman had a camera harnessed to his chest. It looked very convenient for hiking. I asked for directions to the visitor center at the Gila and was told that I needed to travel 20 miles or so further West on 152 to get to the Gila N.P. I thanked them for the directions and they left. While I was packing, the woman came back down the hill to my tent site and asked for a ride back into town. She said her hiking partner was more of a trail runner and that after they'd stopped to talk to me he'd picked up the pace a bit too much. She asked for a ride back to her home. She helped me finish loading and I drove her and her gear back to town. I stopped for lunch in the town of Hillsboro and enjoyed some fine southwestern tacos.

Arriving at the Gila National Park, N.M.

2009-10-03T10:11:00.007-04:00

9/16/09: I headed North from Big Bend up to I-10 and West to I-25. I stopped for fuel and lunch at a Denny's in El Paso along I-10. Going through El Paso brought back many memories of my motorcycle ride to San Diego. I thought about those steady southerly winds that effected my riding position for 200 miles, and a place known as the biggest Harley Davidson dealership in the country, and also about the basketball knee pads I'd bought at a local sporting goods store. Those knee pads had turned out to be great cold weather wear for motorcycling in the West Texas winter. At the Denny's, as lonely travelers are known to do, I struck up a conversation with the waitress. I stayed and drank coffee and blogged and went on to do my online financial chores for quite some time. But then, I had to head out. It reminded me of one of the characteristics of the traveler. I was frequently leaving a place. I always wondered if that was part of the allure of traveling. Later in my trip, I started growing fond of not leaving, and not breaking camp. Some places just get a hold of you.
I was heading up I-10 toward the exit for Truth or Consequences, N.M. That's when I called my friend back in Boston. We talked about the Gila and where would be the best places to camp. He said that finding the Visitor Center would be a great help. I promised I'd be back in touch with him when I got into a cell phone area. Heading West on NM 152, I spotted what looked like a park sign. It was a small sign on a side road that said "Park Trail". I turned around and headed down the dirt road. I may have been a bit anxious to get to the park. I traveled 6 miles on a rough and windy, dusty dirt road and came to an area marked private property. I spoke to a man who emerged from a motor home parked in a field close to the road and was then advised that I wasn't anywhere near a visitor center, but that the entire area was national park land and that I could camp anywhere I liked. I was anxious to stop and clean up and headed a little further up the road and started to make camp in a clearing by the road. Before long, I heard what sounded like gunfire, then some yelling, and then the sound of a chain saw blazing away. This was very odd as it had been a perfectly quiet area before I'd arrived. I interpreted all this as someone possibly trying to discourage me from camping. I decided that this wasn't the place for me to stay. I headed back toward the dirt road. There's a quick story here about some wild turkeys walking in the road. Are they dumb? Maybe, but I saw that they do cover for each other. The flock was walking along the trail just ahead of my truck as I approached. They realized I was there and started to break off to the right to get out of my way. The birds on the right side of the flock moved off out into the woods, but two birds didn't follow immediately. The bird to the left, remaining the closest to my path in the road, realized he was the most at risk and gave his daydreaming neighbor a shove with his head alerting him to the best path to take. The daydreamer headed off to the right behind the other birds and the other bird followed him along. It was a show I'd never seen before. It was now getting late in the day, and I came to an area with a large fire ring and the remnants of a mining shack. I set up camp and tented for the night. The next day I learned that a woman had set up camp in this shack, against park regulations, and that after repeated entreaties to leave, the park service knocked down that shack when she wasn't there. Seems a sad story.

Where to? Gila National Forest, New Mexico?

2009-10-03T10:04:00.004-04:00

9/16/09: Having left Big Bend N.P. in Texas, I was finally headed North toward the Gila National Forest. Originally, the second target destination for my roadtrip was to Mesa Verde N.P. in Colorado. The thing that sparked my interest in the Gila was a conversation with a local resident who lived near Big Bend. He said that he frequented the Gila and was a big fan. He gave me directions and said he was looking for property there. I didn't know much about the Gila. I called my old high school chum in Boston and asked him about the park. Remarkably, he said that he and his girlfriend loved the Gila and he was able to suggest a few spots to visit. He also said he'd be in Albuquerque the following weekend. It was quite a coincidence I thought. Unfortunately, we never did connect out West. I would have had to leave the Gila and drive to Albuquerque. I'd gotten way too comfortable in the Gila by this time, but more about that will follow. Dave and I eventually did meet up in Boston and we hiked in the White Mountains together.

Ominous warning at Boquillas - Big Bend N.P.

2009-10-02T21:18:00.004-04:00

9/15/09: Here's a picture at the parking lot in the Boquillas area of the Big Bend National Park. There’s a story to tell about the Mexican nationals that cross the border into the park from Mexico. Maybe this activity has been going on since this area became part if the United States. I don't know. The park service and border patrol don’t take action except to put up this warning sign in the picture. I had decided to spend another night in the park down at the Southeast corner near Boquillas. I left the 1st campsite at the western end of the park and got another at the eastern end with the hope of getting the canoe into the water and seeing the tall canyon walls at Boquillas. I'd read that there was a breathtaking view from the river. Unfortunately there was no easy place to launch the canoe and exit downstream. Paddling upstream to the other canyon area was difficult and ultimately too shallow. After reading the warning sign, I decided to take a chance and venture on foot over toward the canyon walls. From the literature, it appeared a view of the walls was possible after a short one mile hike. Though I tried to keep my truck in view, there were a number times when I couldn't see it, and I could tell that as I hiked closer to the canyon, I would not be able to see the truck for at least a 15 or 2o minute stretch. Across the river I could see a small farm. There were fenced areas with a dozen burros grazing. And a small farmhouse. I decided this was too large a risk to the truck. I walked back to the truck. All was safe, but it felt unfair that I should have to keep such a close eye on my truck inside a national park area. Truth be told, I didn't like the idea of people from another country posing the threat. I jumped into the truck and drove back to the trailer. It was undisturbed and I felt relieved. I packed up and readied to leave the park. Where I was headed exactly, other than to the North, I didn't know. Then I heard something peculiar. From behind a dune I could hear the braying of a burro. "Hee Haw, hee haw". Was this some secret communication between my Beverly Hillbillies styled trailer and a donkey? Or had someone crossed the Rio Grande with their eyes on dear Ellie Mae? I assumed the latter. Knowing that people crossed the border into the park to vandalize the vehicles of park visitors, and knowing that the accustomed mode of transportation for this purpose was the donkey, I feared the worst. I'm sure I would have been a victim of a theft had I not left the park at that time. It's also possible that someone would have approached the trailer to sell trinkets. I had also heard that this was not uncommon activity. The park literature states that park visitors who buy from nationals are breaking the law. Maybe I worried too much, but the warning sign back at the parking lot was indeed an ominous warning. What a shame that we must stand guard over our valuables in our own US national park.

Off-road terrain in Big Bend

2009-10-02T21:03:00.002-04:00

9/14/09: Here's a quick video, (click on the picture below), of some of the terrain on the way to the first campsite at Big Bend. Ellie Mae, (my camper/trailer hauling my motorcycle), told the tow vehicle, "Just lead the way", and she followed along just fine. Definitely a four-wheel-drive area and I was glad to have a heavy-duty 4wd vehicle.

I can say a few things about the terrain in Big Bend N.P. The park has it's own play area for off-road vehicles. The park has numerous dirt roads, some for which 4wd is recommended, but they've also groomed an off-road area for off-road vehicles only. I did not approach this area, thinking I was not qualified or experienced in rock-climbing my Hummer. For me, there were enough challenges on the dirt roads leading around the rest of the park. There are many "arroyos". These are washes that are either filled with quickly moving water, simply dry washouts formed from sudden rains. The desert terrain has very little shrubs or plant flora to keep water from flowing across the land during a rain. So when it rains, water flows downhill. The water collects into streams and runs quickly across roads and trails or whatever is in its path. Although there is some infrastructure in the desert Southwest to allow for passage of the water without interrupting automotive traffic, there's no such accommodation in the national park. When it rains, it takes out the roadway. The roads are maintained, which may include grading to improve conditions, or simply signage warning of the impasse. It's not easy to get a sense of the extreme terrain in the video above unless you note the tipping of the camera as the truck rolled over the ledges of the arroyo. On each bank, there were at least twelve inch vertical drops. After the truck negotiated the ledges, the trailer, Ellie Mae, followed along without complaint. The only issues I had with the trailer and rough terrain was when the motorcycle came loose from its tie-downs inside the trailer. This happened several times. Fortunately there was no damage to the motorcycle and none to the trailer. I would note that it wasn't until halfway through the trip that I installed a more secure means of latching the bunks inside the trailer to the side walls. Numerous times previous, the bunks would come unhitched and fall against the motorcycle. I did check on their status frequently and the motorcycle suffered no damage.

Prickly-pear cactus

2009-09-27T23:20:00.005-04:00

9/13/09: Do you know about prickly-pear cactus? Ever try to eat one? Click on the picture to the left to see a close-up of the bright red fruit. I'd heard they were edible, but as I soon found, caution is highly advised. Yes, portions of the cactus' fruit is edible, but you pay the price if you're not careful. I broke off one of the red, rather blistery feeling fruit from the cactus. I saw the spines on the cactus itself and didn't fear the fruit. But beware, the fruit bears fine, hairlike spines that seemingly leap straight into your skin. My fingers were full of the stinging nettles before I ever cut into the fruit. I did eventually cut the fruit in half, hoping not to collect more spines. I scraped out a bit of the fleshy, moist inside onto my knife. With the fruit came a few of the seeds from the very center. I took a bit of the mix into my mouth. It was wet and sweet. Not sour at all. But the seeds are like little pebbles. Very, very hard little seeds. They had to be avoided as well as the harsh exterior skin. The only reason to tackle this chore is if you absolutely had to have some sort of nutrition. So although you may have your prickly-pear cactus fruit, but the reward is small, the hazards great, and really a bit too much work for the price.

Feeding the road runner

2009-09-27T23:09:00.003-04:00

9/13/09: Here's a great little story about a fellow I met hiking. On the trail up to the South Rim, (Yes, back to the trail up to the South Rim), I made friends with a little road runner. Here's the tale: I was hiking uphill, clunking along with my hiking poles. They make quite a racket if I'm putting a little of my weight on them. That relieves a bit of weight from my feet which is nice if my feet are sore. So I'm clunking along and suddenly felt something land on my pant leg. Looking down, perched on my pant leg, was one of the biggest insect creatures I'd ever seen. It seemed to two large bugs mating. They were at least 4 inches long and looked like grasshoppers, or two. I gave them a quick brush with my hiking pole and they flew away. Then, just a moment later, I saw the road runner ahead of me on the trail. He was eating. He was eating what could have been a large bug, or two! Surprised, and always interested in any critters I meet on the trail, I set down my hiking poles and pulled out my camera. I've had an affinity for road runners since I'd first seen one outside of Flagstaff several years ago. They're splendid creature. And not very skittish. I snapped a couple of pics and ventured closer slowly. But he wasn't frightened at all. He was very interested in his meal, and when he finished, he wasn't bothered by my approach. I snapped this pic as he was leaving. Maybe he was waiting for me to conjure up dessert? Indeed, roadrunners are rather large birds, and make their way down the road very quickly, running. Quite a sight to the unfamiliar. Be sure to click on the picture to see it full sized on your screen.

Brain fade in the desert sun

2009-09-22T18:39:00.004-04:00

9/13/09: On the previous post you can see a panoramic video of the view from the South Rim. Hiking back down along the rim, the trail ran along the ledge and then cut back east to the trailhead. I stopped along the way to take a couple of pictures. I've also included on picture here taken at campsite #2. Of note is all the gooey, gloppy mud caked on the tires of the truck. It was like a wet clay that hardened during the heat of the day. The following idea came up for me on returning to my campsite. Evening was approaching, and I started preparing for the evening. I found that the desert does funny things to the mind. Some combination of the elevation and the dry heat of the sun gave me some immediate sense of urgency. For some reason I thought it was very important to get the camp area and my things organized before the sun set. I knew the temperature would drop at least 30 degrees, but I was still scurrying around thinking I had to get everything done. One task I wrestled with feverishly was folding the tarp. I'd tried to pitch the tarp with no success. It was larger than the four tent poles could handle in the steady breeze. I gave up trying to create shade with it and spread it out on the ground for folding. It's such a large tarp. Some 18 by 15 feet. I'd hoped it would supply a large amount of shade, but was disappointed. Although I thought that creating shade was urgent, the heat was getting to me. There really wasn't any hurry. The temperature changed gradually. I wasn't in any danger. Not from the cold I anticipated, nor the sun. But the thought that there was a lot to do kept returning until after I slowed down enough to make supper. The was an easy, meandering hike.

2009-09-22T18:13:00.008-04:00

9/12/09: The second day brought another hike. This would be a two-day trip up to the South Rim. The trip to the trailhead brought the ominous warning of bears and mountain lions as shown in the picture to left. I did have an incident I believe involved a mountain lion. I'll tell that story in a moment. I had no encounters with bears.
I had a strenuous hike up Pinnacle Trail. There were beautiful canyon views as the trail wound through Boot Canyon. Deep in the canyon, winding along a slow moving stream, rain began to fall. There were mossy overhangs to my back, and I donned my parka and leaned back against the moss wall. I stayed about half an hour in the rain there. I wasn't very comfortable and was getting a bit wet. I felt rather tired and didn't have a lot of snack food to munch on. I had about enough water to get up to the rim, but still, I was uncomfortable and tired there in the rain. On the upside, the rain brought a coolness that was welcome. It's not often there's rain in the desert, but there's just enough to keep this stream and fertile green area growing. The rain eventually let up some and I felt more comfortable moving on. There was a side trip that I'd planned on taking to summit Emory Peak. It's a two mile hike out and back from the canyon trail up Emory Peak and back down. At the fork, bear boxes were supplied with instructions to leave you pack inside if you were going to scale Emory and come back down. I left my pack in the bear box wondering if there were really any critters that big in the area. The trail started off easily, then climbed steadily. The elevation gain from the trail is near 2,000 feet. Along the way up one of the bushes just off the trail erupted in a very loud rattling a few feet away. Was it a mariachi band? Or was it a set of morracas gone mad? It was an alarming and violent rattling. Thinking for a bit, I realized this was my first encounter with a big rattlesnake whom I'd startled. He never came out of the bush, and I didn't encourage him to. After I had made my way back down to the Boot Canyon trail, this small black squirrel got my attention. (See picture.) I've heard that black squirrels are popular in the West. But it was certainly a novelty to me. I don't recall ever seeing one growing up in Connecticut, or in the last 35 years living in Florida.
I knew I was getting closer to the edge of the canyon. I felt a sense of anticipation as I approached the South Rim. I could see a directional sign ahead, and I knew the view I'd traveled 1600 miles to see was just ahead. But I was able to just stay in the moment and wait as I got closer. It really was a breathtaking view. It was one of those moments when the only words are, "Holy S___", or something like that. The earth just fell away into an open valley of smaller hills, with a perception of the Rio Grande river between. Then off far into Mexico. I came back up to the rim after I set up camp. The sunset was spectacular.
The next morning I was making breakfast. Several deer approached and stood closeby. Then suddenly, as though there were a silent gunshot, they scattered. I'd never seen deer move so fast. I was very wary as I finished my cooking and eating. I never saw the mountain lion, and am grateful he was more interested in the deer than in my oatmeal, or me!

Snake, tarantulas, a coyote and the century plant

2009-09-22T18:04:00.005-04:00

9/11/09: I arrived at Big Bend National Park. It's a 60 miles south of Marathon, Texas. Marathon is 60 miles south of Fort Stockton and I-10. And Fort Stockton is about halfway between El Paso and San Antonio. The closest town to the north of Big Bend NP is Study Butte. (pron. "stoody-boot"). It was around 2 p.m. when I arrived at the visitor center. This was my first contact with National Park Service personnel. The park ranger at the Visitor Center was very helpful planning out a 6 day adventure of hiking, backpacking, camping and canoeing for me. The first hike was a day hike up the Lost Mine Trail. Only 5 miles in and out. On the hike up the trail I met two hikers heading back down to the trailhead. We all took a break for a few minutes and I learned about the amaryllis plant. The very tall, thin plant is actually known as the Century plant. The plant we stood next to was 12 feet high. I was told these plants bloom once every 20 years or so, then die after their seeds drop. Seemed to me an unusual story. I also got some hints from these fellows about good camping areas in New Mexico. There was a great meditative opportunity at the summit. I sat and let my thoughts drift. There was the warm sun and dry air. I was starting to let the spirit guides communicate. In whatever way my thoughts drifted, I got closer to the peace and calm I'd been seeking.
On the way back to the camp I passed a coyote trying to pull a large snake from the road. On approaching, the coyote fled, leaving the large, dead snake. There were many tarantulas crossing the road. Some spiders made it across the road, some did not. I never saw a large spider in the camp areas or on the trail. I'm just starting to sense that the desert southwest U.S. triggers a Native-American kind of spirituality in me. I enjoyed that.

2009-09-21T23:39:00.004-04:00

9/10/09: I checked into Seminole Canyon S.P. It's a two hundred twenty miles East of Big Bend S.P. This canyon had a tour of the caves and petroglyphs available during certain hours. I was a little late for it. I did take a walking tour of the park, escorted by a small bird that stayed just ahead of me on the route. There are several pictures of the caves. A picture of a resurrection plant, (way back, I remember my high school chum, David had one of those in his house). Ellie Mae, (my homemade camper), had to get her face in the picture of the campsite at Seminole Canyon. She's such a ham. Later in the evening, the moon rose and lit the entire landscape. It was only a half-moon, and it shown the whole area very brightly. The sunset was a very deep orange and spread all the way across the horizon. At night there seemed to be billions of stars visible.

Uvalda, TX.

2009-09-21T23:22:00.004-04:00

9/9/09: Uvalda, TX. I exited I-10 in Uvalda, TX. to get food and fuel. I spotted a small Mexican restaurant. I thought for a moment about whether or not there would be a language barrier, but felt reassured seeing signage in English. This meal turned out to be the beginning of only spectacular Mexican food as I traveled through Texas and New Mexico. See picture of my bean and beef burrito. Nearby the restaurant, I stopped for what turned out to be preventive vehicle maintenance. Sometime back before my roadtrip trip started, I'd meant to get the trailer bearings greased. I never did get it done before I started the trip. I spotted a utility trailer sales retail store and pulled in. The owner explained that they'd check the bearings, and though they likely needed to be replaced, he would let me know. Since I'd always wanted to know how to do the job myself, I positioned myself where I could view the mechanic in back. I was also within earshot of the mechanic to boss conversation. Although he said the grease was still green, I had a sense that I may have received the full repair had I not been in back watching. So, fortunately, all I got charged for was the new grease. The bearings were ok. So it goes with roadside repairs. I headed back out onto the highway.

Heading West

2009-09-01T15:41:00.002-04:00

I've done more preparation for this trip than any other. I'm really hoping to get out of Dodge, (Tampa), within a week. I just can't pin down the date. So...my promise is to be out of town within 3 days after the Labor Day holiday weekend. And whether it's only to Big Bend National Park in Texas and back, or all the way round to British Columbia and back through the Northeast U.S., I'm committed. One way or the other I'm on the road by 9/8/09.

A day at the beach

2009-07-26T13:19:00.003-04:00

Here's a look at the trailer with all the paint, flooring and roof in place. There were no substantial changes to the structure after this. I spent a couple of hours at the beach on Tampa Bay as the weather became more and more threatening. Eventually the storm cloud moved in. The trailer took on a strong squall with no leaks. Winds rocked the trailer, and me a little as gusts blew up to 30 knots. The tarp flapped in the wind until the stakes pulled up and the poles came down. But the windows, door, roof and all the seams held water-tight. I was running several electrical appliances. It looks like the dual 12 volt deep-cycle marine batteries will last about a week or so without recharge during normal use. That's really based on a guess, and not measuring the voltage. Electrical equipment at this point include 2 small automotive type fans, a fluorescent light and a 2 meter ham radio. It was a good day at the beach. Of note, the beach scene on the bay near Gandy Boulevard resembled a Mad Max movie. There were a number of 4 wheelers, dirt bikes and go-karts. It appeared that most anything goes, but I was relatively undisturbed. It was a good test ground for the first day for 'Ellie Mae' at the beach.

Trailer day at Alafia River S.P.

2009-07-16T17:46:00.002-04:00

Here are a couple more views of Ellie Mae in its later stages. I've completed the exterior paint, most of the interior paint. I have a floor and carpet installed. The trailer still accommodates the old motorcycle adequately. There are plans for doing more on the inside. I may add insulation, paneling, and mount a couple of bunks. For the most part though, I've resolved the power supply issue. If there are more conveniences requiring more power added, that will shape the detail of the interior design. A water supply tank mounted outside is also in the works. But as she stands, it tows well, provides shade and protection from the elements, and really isn't half bad to look at. Jed Clampett says he approves, but would like to see a stovepipe fitted to the roof.

Installation and sealing the roof, floor, door and paint

2009-07-05T08:14:00.004-04:00

This next phase of development included the application of roof material. I had to make a decision as to whether or not to make a peaked roof. One of the people I consulted presented a strong case for me to build a peak to allow for drainage and prevent ponding of rainwater on the roof. But in the interest of convenience and expense, I chose to make the roof flat. As justification, I knew there were several means of removing the accumulated rainwater. I was advised to use an elastomeric paint used for mobile home roofs. The manufacturer guarantees the paint will resist water for up to 50 hours at a time. Tilting the trailer a bit allows the water to run off. Indeed, this would not work if the trailer were hitched up, or even have much of a load, but during construction, tipping it up seemed a good option for removing water. Certainly wiping the roof off with a squeegee, or parking it in strong sun would work as well.
During this phase of construction, you can also see from the pictures that I secured and sealed in the windows and door unit. I took some extra measures to make them waterproof, sealing the edges with elastomeric caulking. This keeps the windows and door from leaking whether the rain was falling from above while the trailer is stationary, and also remain watertight when rain and spray hit the seams from the front while driving in the rain as the trailer is moving forward.
The floor went in very easily. One 4x8 sheet of plywood covered much of the floor. A cutout was made for the motorcycle chock. The last strip was easily cut and secured. I took a liberty when applying the lower sides of the box. Very conveniently, the scrap pieces remaining from the roof sheets were the exact sizes needed for the lower sides. I simply screwed these into place on the frame to seal up the lower sides from the inside. Given the shape of the trailer frame and the wheel wells, I used a relatively large amount the waterproof caulk as filler and sealant. And although this was a shortcut that avoided custom cuts and shaping of the lower sides, it appeared highly cost-effective. It was certainly much easier than fabricating something from scratch.

Trailer project - first window installed

2009-06-16T17:20:00.002-04:00

I purchased 2 windows and a small door from a mobile home supply store here in Tampa. When I'd finished installing the first window, I was very excited. There may actually be a camper rolling down the road someday. Obviously, the plywood sides was a relatively large effort. Eventually a floor and ceiling were installed as well.

Camper/motorcycle trailer stage 1

2009-06-16T17:09:00.005-04:00

Click the play arrow to show a video of an early stage of a 5x8 flatbed lawn trailer that I used for hauling motorcycles. I've bolted a box to the top of the trailer frame, and have begun construction of a camper. Later this year, I toured the SW and NE United States with the motorcycle inside.

The dissipation of residual urgency

2009-05-05T13:12:00.005-04:00

Could the habit of living from each urgent event to next be fading away for me? Is there evidence that urgency is addicting? Could aging bring the wisdom necessary to ask oneself, "How important is it?" (If you're following any of this so far, my hat's off to you!)
I woke up this morning and proceeded with my 5 mile walk. I slowed to talk to a man walking the same direction at a slightly slower pace. He appeared to be 10 years older than me, though he could have been a good deal older. I asked how long he had been doing the walking. He replied, "10 years". I told him that I was trying to keep a pace of 4 mph, and he said that he could only do 3 mph. He turned off from the path shortly after and I started to wonder how has this man had come to accept that his 3 mph was satisfactory? Why do I push my physical limits and try to do 4 mph? Am I hooked on achieving, and is it about self-esteem? Is there really no urgency to anything, and actually my desire to achieve is linked to a dissipating urgency addiction I felt and nurtured while I was employed?
In summary, I believe my habit of focusing on one urgent task and moving on to the next is starting to be dissipate. There's really no urgency at all. To anything. I'm leaning more toward accepting my day as it progresses, and listening for guidance on what my next effort is going to be. There's really nothing that can't wait.

April 2009 - Camping in the Ozarks

2009-04-30T13:21:00.002-04:00

I found a campground in NW Arkansas with hiking, fishing and cool weather. I slept outside of th tent next to the fire. The temperature dropped into the low forties. My Florida blood was feeling the chill until I threw on the extra blanket. There are wonderful mountain trails for hiking alone. And then there is plenty to do and see in town. There are hundreds of little shops in the old village town of Eureka Springs. I've vowed to return in the fall, before the colder weather hits again. What a great hideaway!

Cell phones with free nights and weekends

2009-04-30T12:53:00.005-04:00

For retiring cell phone users, take note that "free nights and weekends" are a much greater advantage to people who are employed during peak usage hours, or from nine to five. I had a noteworthy experience recently. While negotiating my premiums with my homeowners and auto insurance policy carriers, I spent an excessive amount of time on the phone. Naturally, most of the time was on hold. The extra time I spent on the phone cost me some money. When my bill came at the end of the month, I'd exceeded my peak usage minute allowance and had run up an extra 83 dollars. It just didn't occur to me to limit the time I spent on the phone during the day. So although I saved a considerable amount of money on my insurance premiums, it will take 2 months to cover the cost of getting the premium reduction. Recent retirees would be wise to remain aware of the extra minutes that rack up when they are on the phone at home during the day.

Dress clothes and the sock drawer

2009-04-04T11:44:00.004-04:00

The sock drawer - Although this new post-retirement awareness I'm having seems relatively inconsequential, I find it stirring. My clothes and my work clothing in particular are a reflection of who I am and how I would like to be perceived by others. As I sorted through my dress socks, and started separating those worth keeping and those that to be discarded, I had a pang of emotion. I was detaching from my old job. Do people have levels of detachment from our employment, and that there are different experiences that trigger emotions? For me, today it was the dress-sock drawer. I felt sad, nostalgic. And then I felt the separateness of being retired.
Related, during the last year of my employment I'd made a decision to buy two more pairs of dress shoes at a time I thought I could have made my existing pairs last through the end of the year. I also bought two pairs of dress slacks. It's interesting to note that as I approached my retirement date, I started considering whether or not I needed to buy clothes I'd only wear at work.

Starting my garage projects

2009-03-11T14:36:00.008-04:00

Wow - I'm thrilled. Early in my retirement planning I began setting aside small projects for when I'd have more time to tackle them once I stopped working. Some of the projects were small. One that I set aside was fixing a cast 1/24 scale Indian motorcycle. It was given to me by my mother years ago. The bike suffered a few mishaps. More times than once, it clunked to the floor from off of a shelf. I'd put the bike and remaining parts into a box for another time. I've accumulated a few of these rainy day projects, and today was my first retirement day I spent in the garage. The motorcycle will be one of those projects I'll now have the chance to tackle. I'm in thrilled. As I started work in the garage I'm reminded of old times. I've already remembered the days when my high-school chum and I first started putting up pegboard in my garage at home. I bought hooks to go in the pegboard, we hung tools from them, and sat at the workbench bench racing. Bench racing is akin to fishermen telling fish stories at the bait shop, only specifically for motorcyclists and auto enthusiasts in their garages. It's comforting to touch the old days, and think back to my innocence. I'm very excited and so looking forward to many days down in the garage sorting through projects and bringing back precious memories.