Travelogue

Ground Floor Room at Super 8Up early, helped in part by the change to Central Time Zone, I was ready to put in some serious miles in my journey west.

As there really was no plan, I had considered stopping in Nashville but rejected it since I didn't enjoy riding in city traffic just to find expensive lodging. Also, it was too soon to stop for the day, and I had no real interest in country music. Finally, I feared feeling homesick when around crowds and/or in places that I knew that Lorry would enjoy.

Memphis, TN was the next city on route to be considered, but reluctantly rejected for much of the same reasons. Although, to this day I still wonder what it would have been like to visit Beale Street, the "Home of the Blues".

Instead, I headed west on I40 and after 5 hours had covered 250 miles and crossed the mighty Mississippi leaving Tennessee, and entering Arkansas. This river crossing, like all those before, seemed to mark the beginning of the trip into the "real west".

I immediately pulled over into the Arkansas welcome center to void my bladder, still wearing my earplugs, and charged to the mens room. When I exited, an older man that I think may have been trying to get my attention, continued to gesture and try to speak to me.

Tasty Braums Double BurgerHis intention now obvious, I removed my earplugs and was surprised to learn that he was seeking me out to hand out brochures extolling the virtues of Arkansas' twisty motorcycle roads. It seems that there is a considerable tourist business catering to motorcyclists. I explained that I was just passing through, but would consider his offer on my next trip through his state.

After 5 more hours I finally pulled into Fort Smith Arkansas, the last town on I40 before Oklahoma, and one that we had actually visited in the motorhome with family in 2002. In fact, it was the last of the lower 48 states that we visited with our boys in the Lazy Daze, and completely filled in the "sticky state map" on the interior of our coach's door.

It was a full day of 523 miles, but my timing probably could have been better. Fort Smith was hosting a major gathering of motorcyclists, (mostly Harley riders), and almost all the motels were full.

I pulled into the 2 star rated Super 8 Van Buren/Ft. Smith Area in hope of getting a ground floor room as I always had so that I could easily unpack my bike and keep it secure. The receptionist encouraged me to take a second floor room, but then offered that there might be one left if I didn't mind a bit of noise.

After unpacking and showering I walked to the highly rated Braum's Ice Cream & Burger Restaurant for their specialty double burger and milkshake. Judging from the average girth of their clientele they must be doing a good business.

Finally back in my room I understood the receptionists desire to get me on the second floor. Even with the aid of silicon earplugs and a few beers I couldn't avoid the sounds of celebration in the room above my room.

Oh well,,,

Travelogue

Cades Cove MeadowSomewhat groggy from the previous nights excesses, I tried to come up with a riding plan for the day.

Many cups of coffee later my will re-materialized and I realized that I would forever regret it if I did not take a ride through Cades Cove. It was most certainly the only time in my life that I would be able ride this on my motorcycle, and probably the first or second thing that friends would ask when they learned I visited the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. So, I decided to go, even though it would involve a 4 hour detour back through the park.

Once again, timing was in my favor. While I had heard horror stories of "bumper to bumper" traffic throughout the entire loop during autumn, on this early weekday morning in April, I almost had the entire loop to myself.

The clouds hung low over the Cove, but no rain materialized. Instead, I was treated to sunbeams breaking through the clouds and illuminating the morning fog in the meadows.

Honda ST1100 SupermodelI posed my trusty steed in an empty parking lot, and photographed her under the soft light with sunbeams in the distance as if she were a supermodel.

A little further on the loop I strolled around the grounds of the Cable Mill Visitors Center and photographed the gristmills.

OK,, I now had to make up some time and start riding west on I40. Coming out of Gatlinburg I had to pass directly through Pigeon Forge of Dollywood Fame. The entrance to the park was enormous with parking lots as far as the eye could see. I was glad that it was off-season and that without traffic I could make good time to Knoxville. I cannot imagine what this would be like in the height of the summer tourist season.

At Knoxville, Lorry had found another Chipotle so I set that as my destination and had my second lifetime dubious Chipotle lunch.

Full of beans, I headed west on I40 and tried to make up some time.

After a while, I found an Econo Lodge in Lebanon, Tennessee that was in walking distance to a highly Yelped restaurant named Los Compadres Mexican Grill. So after another dose of Mexican food I was sated and soon asleep in my room.

Travelogue

Highest Point on the Blue Ridge ParkwayWell rested and restored from my visitation to Biltmore Estate, I set out to plan the next few days of the trip. The Trader Joes stop had supplied both food and drink for a few days of unsupported travel so I could camp as well.

The original plan was to head over to Deals Gap and try to ride the "Tail of the Dragon" the next day. However, the weather forecast was for a slight drizzle for most of the day. In addition, the stop would probably add a day or two to the overall trip. Finally, I had already experienced some extreme twisties on my fully loaded bike through an inadvertent turn into a road that was posted as the "most crooked road in Virginia". With steep descents, horseshoe decreasing radius turns, and narrow lanes it was not an experience that I would intentionally repeat. Thus, I programmed the bike to head to Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Those who know me might wonder why I would possibly subject myself to a monumental tourist trap, especially when the ride would take me directly through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where I probably could have camped and taken a ride through a highlight of the park, the "Cades Cove Loop".

Mountain Farm MuseumThe misting rain played a large part in my decision, and I figured that I could always backtrack a bit on the next day to do the Loop under better weather conditions. So I returned again to the last of my ride along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I arrived at the Richland Balsam Overlook, which at 6053 feet, is the highest point along the parkway. A quick selfie and I was back on the road.

Next stop was the Oconaluftee Visitor Center in Cherokee, NC. It was a great spot for a break and to have a bit of lunch. I strolled through the adjoining Mountain Farm Museum and took some photos of the relocated dwellings from the 1800's. Despite the intermittent drizzle, the parking lot was full of motorcycles setting out to enjoy the twisty roads through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. As I don't like riding in a group, or being in front of a group, I waited till they had a bit of a head start, and then headed out myself.

Moonshine Tasting ShotletsThe ride was thoroughly enjoyable, although I did give a thanks to the folks at Aerostich in Duluth, Minnesota who had the made the expensive, but very waterproof Darian Jacket and Pants that I was now my daily "office wear". Although they cost over $800 new, I consider it a good value since it has protected my butt and other vital body parts for over 40K miles through rain, sun, freezing and desert hot temperatures.

In far too short a time, I arrived at the kitschy tourist trap of Gatlinburg Tennessee. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but what I found was a very nice, clean, community filled with enough tourist attractions to fulfill the vacation fantasies of its millions of annual visitors. Fortunately, on an April weekday I was ahead of the crowds and pretty much had the place to myself.

I quickly secured lodging at an Econo Lodge Inn & Suites at the Convention Center, which was in walking distance to the main tourist drag and had a burger dinner at the Smoky Mountain Brewery.

Satisfied, I started my stroll down the main strip to see what adventures would await me.

Ripley's Believe It or Not! OdditoriumI lost my "moonshine virginity" at Ole Smoky Moonshine. It was an open air bar built to handle patrons 10 deep, but during this evening it was myself and a few other "tasters". I "think" it was free since I can't find any record of a charge and I also "think" that they offered up to 10 little "shotlets" of liquor that they labeled for the tourist trade as "moonshine".

Feeling warmed up, I continued down the street and found Davy Crocketts Moonshine. To my surprise, it was the same deal here. Stand at the bar and wait for a bunch of little shot glasses of moonshine to be delivered without cost?

Finally, in what can only be considered as an irrational act of excess, I found the last remaining moonshine emporium on the block. Doc Collier Moonshine provided the same deal as the rest, and I almost certainly should have declined. But... when in Rome..

I staggered back to my room, drank some water, and went to sleep....

Travelogue

ST 1100 at Cumberland Knob Recreation area overlookAfter two nights on the road, I was beginning to get into a bit of a rhythm. The "laundry", consisting of a pair of e-officio underwear, wool socks, and a long sleeve wool shirt which were washed in the sink with shampoo, and dried overnight using the motel rooms heater. Nourishment in the form of 2 packs of Maple and Brown Sugar Oatmeal and a mug of coffee were prepared using hot water from the microwave or coffee maker.

My clothes were contained in a black waterproof "river bag" that was strapped on top of a waterproof black Ortlieb bag which contained all the soft camping gear. (Big Agnes UL3 Tent, Mountain Hardware Ultralamina 32 sleeping bag, luxurious X-Ped large sleeping pad, and a Kermit camping chair.)

The rest of the bike was packed as follows...

• Left side saddlebag inner compartment - Nalgene water bottle, Jetboil cookset and Jetboil stove, Starbucks Italian Coffee, and a Nissan thermos.
• Left side saddlebag outer compartment - Propane, Bagels, Peanut butter, Quaker instant oatmeal, and a partial roll of paper towels
• Right side saddlebag inner compartment - Small soft cooler with beer, water bottles, wine in Arizona green tea bottles
• Right side saddlebag outer compartment - Progresso canned soup, purple mist Gatorade, Triscuits, Knorrs Rice Sides, Mountain House dinners, and a bag of cashews
• The rear Givi bag contained my Canon G12 camera, a Go-Pro, a small laptop, AAA maps of the country by state, and my Gerbing Heated Jacket when it was not needed to be worn.
• The tankbag contained my chargers for the phone, headset, and GPS, as well as a cover for the entire bike. A map for the current section was visible in the top clear pouch.

My pre-flight routine had also been refined somewhat.

• Start the bike and let it warm up while finishing the packing process
• Get Google Maps on the phone positioned to the next destination, start the Strava application to record the gpx track, and create a playlist for the day on Google Music
• Check tires, lights, and all controls
• Plug in heated jacket and adjust the vents on my Aerostich Darien Jacket for the forecasted temperatures in the early morning.

Bad Helmet Hair SelfieToday would be a great ride. I was heading down some of the most scenic parts of the Blue Ridge Parkway and Lorry had convinced me that I should treat myself with a few days in Ashville so I could visit the Biltmore Estate. Living in NJ we had often visited the Mansions of Newport Rhode Island, but had not yet visited the largest of the Vanderbilt Mansions. I wished that Lorry could be here with me, but I promised to take a lot of photos so she could vicariously enjoy the tour with me.

On the road one again, I enjoyed the two lane Blue Ridge Parkway that meandered down the ridge of the mountains past rolling hills and occasional farm fields. After 45 minutes I pulled over at the Cumberland Knob Recreation area overlook and photographed my trusty steed with the mountains in the distance.

Biltmore EstateAs I continued on, I got a call from Lolo with a suggestion for lunch. She had grown somewhat concerned with my diet so far on this trip, and had found what she thought might be a more healthy fast food alternative. By tracking my projected progress she directed me to a Chipotle in Boone, N.C. At the time I had never eaten in a Chipotle so I headed off the parkway to enjoy a "healthy" mexican style lunch. I have to say that it was tasty,, but by the time I had finished adding sour cream and other embellishments I am sure it was a high caloric meal of with dubious health qualities. (This was before the recent norovirus outbreak would have made this choice of dining venue even more questionable.)

Fueled up, I headed back to the Parkway and almost immediately pulled over to stroll around the Moses H. Cone Memorial Park. A few photos, and the next pullout was at the Hefner Gap Overlook at elevation 3067 where a "bad helmet hair" selfie was taken. I had already been over the Pilot Ridge Overlook with an elevation of over 4000' so the heated jacket was dialed up even though I was in North Carolina and had thought I would be enjoying warmer weather.

Biltmore Estate GardensThe Ridge Junction at 5160' was the next stop and then off to the Craggy Gardens Visitor for a quick pee break. I met a couple of older guys there on BMW GS 1200's that were on their way to a BMW camping event so they could ride the "Tail of the Dragon" near Deals Gap. For those unfamiliar with this road, with "318 curves in 11 miles" it is considered one of the top 5 rides in the world, and one that I would try to get to in a few days.

After a few more miles I managed to navigate to the Super 8 in Ashville where I would spend the next two nights, allowing for a "rest day" where I could tour the Biltmore estate.

Up early in the morning I rode for the first time on this trip, without the extra burden of all my extra luggage. It felt liberating and simpler even as I navigated my way to the ticket area of the Biltmore Estate. Lorry had researched this and already purchased my ticket for a Tour of the Mansion at 11:30.

Women in Period Costumes at Biltmore EstateStrolling the beautiful gardens and the interior of the mansion I started to feel a bit lonesome for the companionship of my lifelong partner. When riding long distances on the motorcycle I have no longings since I know that Lorry would not actually enjoy the experience as much as I do. However, I know that she would enjoy a good Mansion Tour and stroll in the gardens so I had to make do with a phone call where I tried to give her the best virtual description I could.

The Mansion was as impressive as expected, but the volume of tourists made it a bit crowded. Also, I had become accustomed to going my own way as a solo traveler and now had to adapt to being just another of the many cattle herded around from room to room.

Afterwards I had a stroll in the gardens and sat down on a bench by the lake for a snack. My phone rang and Lolo asked me how I was enjoying the view (she could see me location on Google maps). That cheered me up a bit as I described the scene in front of me.

I took a bit of a detour while leaving the estate to enjoy the grounds, stopped at a Trader Joe's in Asheville to replenish my stores, and got back to my room in time to rest up for the next days journey west.

Travelogue

Herb with Honda ST1100 at Bacon Hollow OverlookWith the aid of a few beers that were still cold from home, I managed to have a pretty good first nights sleep in my frugal motel. Upon awakening, the coffee maker yielded enough hot water for an instant oatmeal breakfast, and enough coffee to fuel me and my thermos for the day.

Today promised to be a good one. The weather was overcast, and I was poised at the start of the Skyline Drive in Front Royal. Yesterday had been a day of mostly congested highway traffic trying to get out of the NY and Philadelphia metropolitan areas. This should be the start of the "fun part" of the trip without the congestion of the northeast, and into the pretty twisting road that l had imagined when I first planned the trip.

It would have been easier and shorter to just head to San Francisco on I80, as we had done numerous times before in the Lazy Daze, but this was to be a motorcycle trip. One where I could enjoy all the twisty narrow roads on 2 wheels instead of fighting them in the 6 wheels and 7 tons of the motorhome. Besides, I this was probably my last opportunity to motorcycle on the east coast and I didn't want to leave without trying some of the "classic best motorcycle roads" that had escaped me for the last 40 years.

Mabry MillSpeaking of tonnage, my fully laden steed probably tipped the scales with a full tank of gas at close to 800 lbs. Once moving, the weight magically seems to disappear, but it would immediately return when stopping and/or attempting a slow speed turn. In addition, it was nearly impossible to push backwards up the slightest of inclines so I would have to be careful that I always parked the bike in a spot where the gradient would work in my favor when departing.

I headed out before nine and managed to ride for 1.5 hours to arrive at the Harry F. Byrd, Sr. Visitor Center at milepost 51 for a long anticipated pee break. It was great riding, but it felt good to get off of the bike and stretch a bit. The road was beautiful, but twisty and the posted speed limit kept my average speed well below 40mph.

After 20 more miles I stopped at Bacon Hollow Overlook for a few photos of my bike with the misty mountains in the backdrop. Someone notice me taking an awkward selfie with the phone, and I was able to have him take a real photo with my Canon G12 of myself with the bike.

I soon ran out of Skyline Drive and headed west to Staunton where I could get on I81 and make up some time going south to the better parts of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Technically, the Blue Ridge Parkway starts pretty much at the end of Skyline Drive, but I had read the the best parts of 469 mile park were actually the southern section, so in the interest of time efficiency I bypassed this section and barreled south on I81 past Roanoke, and south at Christiansburg towards the Mabry Mill in the Meadows of Dan.

Disturbing Morning Selfie in Country View InnFrom earlier research I had found that the Mabry Mill at milepost 176 is considered one of the most picturesque locations on the entire parkway. As an amateur photographer, it was a location that I did not want to bypass.

The Mill did not disappoint, and I spent some time there composing the usual Mill shots, and some arm's length selfies. The cloud cover gave great diffused lighting and spirits were high.

As I rode south I would occasionally come across signage on private farmland extolling me to Repent, and/or otherwise seek forgiveness for my sins. This seems to be a shared sentiment among many farmers throughout the country though I had never seen it in this part of the south before. While I am not personally involved with any organized religion, I did try to understand why some portions of the country and perhaps farmers in particular are more demonstrative in their religious beliefs.

Meanwhile, I soon needed a place to stay for the night, and Lorry had found the the Country View Inn in Fancy Gap which was just off the Parkway. I rolled into the parking lot, checked in, and was soon sheltered in a cozy room, complete with Bible opened to Hosea 9-11. I tried not to take it personally.

Travelogue

Up the Block to Start the TripAs an electrical/computer engineer of Germanic descent, it might be obvious that I would be a bit of a perfectionist, maybe a bit stubborn, and one who prefers to "do it all yourself", instead of depending upon the supposed expertise of others. I also have almost a clinical fear of failure and/or being made to feel like a fool.

As such, once the idea of this trip had been solidified, I started the process of trying to maximize my chances for a safe, uneventful, and enjoyable journey cross the continent. Both the bike and myself would need to be in top condition. I had the month of March and most of April to finalize my preparations.

My own physical condition was basically sound, as both Lorry and I regularly exercise daily throughout the year. However, I do have some spinal challenges. My lower back L4/L5 when misaligned can develop severe sciatica down to the left toe, and my neck C3/C4 vertebrae result in numbness in two fingers of my right hand. Sitting on a motorcycle without much opportunity for exercise could certainly aggravate both conditions.

Spelunker Burger DinnerSo,,, for the 5 weeks prior to the trip I would take extended rides once or twice a week on my bike into the Catskills and along the Delaware river from our home in northern NJ. I started off with just a hundred miles, and worked up to 350 miles prior to starting the trip. Fortunately, I had a Gerbing heated motorcycle jacket and heated grips on the bike that allowed me to ride even when the temperature dropped below freezing. I even had to dodge a snowstorm once in the Catskills before returning the the relative safety of I95 and the slab of highway for the ride back home.

My Bike, a Honda ST-1100 with a water cooled V4 engine that I purchased new in 1996 also needed to be in top shape for the trip. While it had over 40K uneventful miles on the odometer, there were still a few things I needed to take care of before this trip.

First on the list of bike maintenance was the brakes. This particular bike, especially when ridden over salted winter roads has a tendency to develop corrosion in the aluminum brake calipers where the piston seals are seated. As such, the brakes may seize in the ON mode at the most inopportune time, resulting in continuous breaking and possible overheating of the brake disks. Don't ask me how I know that it costs $450 for a replacement front disc. Anyway, I did a complete rebuild of all brake pistons, seals, and front and rear calipers.

I also changed all brake and clutch fluids, rear differential fluid, and cooling fluids. Spark plugs, air filter, and battery were also replaced. Finally, the rear drive shaft gearing was lubricated and wheels removed for new tires and balancing at the local Honda motorcycle dealership. FWIW, tire changes where the only maintenance items that I had performed by a dealer in almost 20 years of ownership.

I also put together a comprehensive repair kit of tools, spares, and even tire compressor and patch kit that I hoped would keep me on the road in case of mechanical failure.

Scottish Inns RoomI put together a packlist and organized my gear in both side saddle bags, the rear GIVI bag, front tank bag, and two waterproof duffle bags that held clothes and camping gear. The plan was to motel it most days, but camp out whenever a beautiful warm opportunity presented itself.

When the day of departure finally arrived it was with a mix of excitement, anticipation, and mild fear that I kissed Lolo and started riding up our block towards the west coast. We had rarely been apart for this length of time during our 30 years of marriage so I was uncertain if loneliness would be a factor. Fortunately, modern electronics once again would help. I had a new Sena motorcycle audio system with which I could use the cell phone to both navigate, play music, and also call Lolo periodically for updates. In addition, we were location sharing on Google Maps so that Lorry could literally track my progress on computer monitor. This would prove to be quite useful when crossing Texas.

Day one went pretty much as planned. I rode from our home south down 287, across the Delaware River on 78, to 81 past Allentown PA, Harrisburg PA, and eventually to the Scottish Inns in Front Royal, VA. This was primary interstate highways which Lorry and I had done once before so it was pretty uneventful. It did serve the purpose however of positioning me at the start of the scenic Skyline Drive which would be the highlight for tomorrow.

Travelogue

Lolo with Szukalski’s "Last Supper"Rhyolite is just 35 miles from Furnace Creek, with no big mountain passes to cross, so it’s an easy side trip from Death Valley.

As I mentioned, Herb had been here about 3 weeks ago when crossing the U.S. on his motorcycle, but he thought it was worth repeating so that he could see it with me. I thought that was so sweet. He won some spousal points on that one.

We went first to the Goldwell Open Air Museum, an outdoor sculpture museum in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been to so many outdoor sculpture gardens before, but this one’s setting in a dramatic desert landscape certainly ruled out the term sculpture “garden.”

However, it was precisely this stark setting that attracted a group of Belgian artists in the 1980s to choose this location to create their art in the first place.

Szukalski’s "Ghost Rider"There are seven monumental sculptures spread out across the landscape. My two favorites were both by Albert Szukalski, and they both involve an unusual technique he developed in which a live model is draped in plaster-soaked burlap and has to remain still until the plaster dries enough to stand on its own. I can’t even begin to imagine how uncomfortable this must have been for the models. It gets really, really hot here.

Szukalski’s largest work is entitled “The Last Supper,” and it consists of 12 white ghostly shapes arranged as in Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the same name. The shapes have no faces or bodies – just drapes hanging around an invisible form.

My second favorite was aptly called “Ghost Rider.” As in Szukalski’s other works, a ghostly draped figure – minus the body inside – stood beside an actual real bicycle, as if it was getting ready to go for a ride.

Fred Bervoets' "Tribute to Shorty"We went inside the small visitor center and chatted with the gentleman who was the caretaker of the museum. He told us that he was an artist himself and pointed out a series of 10 small paintings he had done, underneath which was the caption, “What if some favorite artists had visited the Rhyolite of today…what would they have painted? Can you recognize them all by their styles?” It would have been better if we had already been to the ghost town, because many of the scenes were taken from there, but it was really fun trying to guess what artist’s style he was trying to imitate in each of them.

Herb and I are both art buffs and a bit competitive with each other, so we immediately started blurting out “Van Gogh,” “Edward Hopper,” “Grant Wood,” “Cezanne,” “Seurat,” etc., trying to beat the other to the answer. We did pretty well, if I say so myself, and declared it a tie.

Rhyolite Train DepotA short distance up the road was the Rhyolite Ghost Town, which we had gotten a preview of in the Goldwell visitor center.

In addition to art, Herb and I love history. Having lived on the East Coast our entire lives, we know lots about Pilgrims, the Revolutionary War, Civil War battlefields, etc., but not so much about the irresistible allure of gold and how its discovery could create towns out of nothing within an instant, only to disappear just as quickly when the gold dried up.

Rhyolite is just one of many examples of that purely western phenomenon. Prior to 1904, the population of the area which became Rhyolite was about 5, consisting of Old Man Beatty and his family, who lived in a ranch about five miles away.

Rhyolite Train Depot DetailThen, as the story always goes, two gentlemen – one named Shorty Harris (they always seem to have cool names like Shorty) and E. L. Cross – discovered quartz covering a nearby hill. Since secrets about gold are rarely kept, word got out and thousands of gold-seekers descended on the area, settling in the sheltered desert basin that is now Rhyolite.

By 1908, the town’s population grew close to 5,000, and with all those people, you need the infrastructure to keep them supplied and entertained. At its height, Rhyolite had hotels, stores, a school for 250 children, an opera house, a railroad depot, an ice plant, an ice cream parlor, two electric plants, foundries and machine shops, and a hospital. Rhyolite even had a red light district which drew women from as far away as San Francisco.

Rhyolite Cook BankRhyolite’s heyday lasted less than 10 years. The financial panic of 1907 made it more difficult to raise capital, and soon mines began to close and the banks to fail. By 1910, production had significantly slowed and there were only 611 residents left in town. In 1911, the mine and mill were closed down and by 1916 the light and power in the town were turned off.

Today, there is not much left of this once lively and boisterous town. Not nearly as much to explore as there is at Bodie State Historic Park near Bridgeport, California, where we really got a feel for what life must have been like in one of these boom towns.

All that remains intact in Rhyolite is a beautiful, old railway depot and the Bottle House, a home made from 50,000 beer and liquor bottles. The most photographed image in Rhyolite is of the ruins of the old three-story Cook Bank. In fact, it is the most photographed ruin in the entire state of Nevada.

Rhyolite had been a very interesting stop and a good escape from the oppressive heat of Death Valley. Here it probably only hit a mere 97 degrees. Time to get back to the pool.

Description

The small town of Rhyolite is located just off Highway 394, near the eastern edge of Death Valley National Park. It is only 35 miles from the Furnace Creek Visitor Center.

For such a tiny, remote town, there are two very interesting sights, which make it a very worthwhile side trip from Death Valley:

Goldwell Open Air Museum

Sofie Siegmann's "Sit Here!"The Goldwell Open Air Museum is located just off State Highway 374, near the Rhyolite Ghost Town. The museum, which is open to the pubic 24 hours a day 7 days a week, has seven monumental outdoor sculptures that are colossal not only in their scale, but in their dramatic setting amongst mountains and the Mojave Desert.

It was this dramatic setting that led a group of prominent Belgian artists in the 1980s to choose this location as a place to create art freely. The museum was organized in 2000 after the death of Albert Szukalski, the Belgian artist who created the site’s first sculptures. His unusual technique involved molding shapes by draping plaster-soaked burlap over live models until the plaster dried enough to stand on its own. His largest work, “The Last Supper,” consists of 12 large white ghostly shapes arranged as in da Vinci’s painting of the same name. Another one of is pieces entitled “Ghost Rider” is a plaster figure getting ready to mount a bicycle.

Today artists continue to create in this spectacular and challenging landscape as part of an art residency and workshop program.
An on-site visitor center with exhibits is open from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm, Monday through Saturday. In summer it often closes by 2:00 pm because of the heat. Admission is free.

Rhyolite Ghost Town

Like many western towns, Rhyolite sprang up from nowhere when in 1904 Shorty Harris and E. L. Cross discovered quartz on a nearby hill. Soon thousands of gold-seekers flocked to the area, settling in a sheltered desert basin which was named Rhyolite because of the silica-rich volcanic rock in the area. By 1908, the population grew close to 5,000, and the town had hotels, stores, a school for 250 children, an opera house, a railroad depot, an ice plant, two electric plants, foundries and machine shops, and a hospital. Rhyolite even had a red light district which drew women from as far away as San Francisco. One enterprising miner named Tom T. Kelly built a Bottle House, made from 50,000 beer and liquor bottles. That house is one of the buildings that still remains today.

As with so many other boom towns, Rhyolite declined as quickly as it rose. The financial panic of 1907 made it more difficult to raise capital, and soon mines began to close and the banks to fail. By 1910, production had significantly slowed and there were only 611 residents left in town. In 1911, the mine and mill were closed down and by 1916 the light and power in the town were turned off.

After 1920, Rhyolite became a tourist attraction and a setting for motion pictures. Today visitors can see several remnants of the town’s glory days: the railway depot, the Bottle House, and the ruins of the three-story Cook Bank and an old jail.

Travelogue

San Francisco Botanical GardensSince we were booked on a red-eye flight that night, Herb and I had an entire day to spend in San Francisco before we had to get to the airport.

Since I had become quite familiar with the city – at least the part around Golden Gate Park – when I spent 3 days here at the beginning of this trip while Herb was motorcycling across the country, I took charge of the day and pretty much took Herb on a repeat tour of how I had spent my first day. It’s funny how much more fun things are when doing them with someone you love and seeing it through their eyes.

The following is a very brief summary of our day:

We started at the Cinderella Bakery, a block from Andrew’s apartment, where we both ordered coffee and spinach croissants and sat at an outdoor table watching people go by.

Then we continued on to Golden Gate Park, stopping first in the courtyard between the de Young Museum and the California Academy of Sciences to watch all the people doing their morning Tai Chi.

Lolo Ascending Arched Drum BridgeFrom there we went to the Japanese Tea Garden, where there was no one collecting money at the gate. Apparently, it is free every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before 10 am. As we wandered along its lovely stone paths, I excitedly showed him my favorite spots – the tall red pagoda, the peaceful zen rock garden, my koi friends, and the arched drum bridge, which this time I had the courage to walk over.

The next stop was the Botanical Gardens, which I had gotten in free last time because it was a Tuesday, but was $7 today because it wasn’t. Herb is much more skillful than I am with a map, so this time I really did get to see each of the gardens of the many world ecosystems that they are able to recreate so beautifully.

I probably should have been a little more original in my tour, but I admit to wanting to show off my new-found knowledge of this wonderful city, even if in reality I only knew a little piece of it.

Red-Eye Flight HomeSo, I marched Herb east through the park, passing through the National Aid Memorial Grove, out onto the panhandle, up the crazily steep Masonic Avenue, up to the top of Corona Heights where I allowed Herb a brief photo break, back down and up to the top of Buena Vista Park and another photo stop, then through the Haight and back to the park.

By this time, Herb was starving and begging for mercy, so we stopped at Velo Rouge Café for sandwiches and beer. Then I gave Herb free time on the lawn by the Conservatory of Flowers, where he immediately passed out under a tree. Okay, maybe my itinerary was a bit aggressive.

After lounging and reading our Kindles for a while, we walked back to Andrew’s apartment, showered, packed up, and called an Uber car to take us to the airport for our red-eye home.

I thought that if I made the day exhausting enough, we would sleep on the plane, but that never seems to happen for either of us on a red-eye. Exhausted but happy we were back home by 6:00 the next morning.

Description

Tai Chi in Golden Gate ParkThe following is in no way meant to be a comprehensive guide to San Francisco, as there are entire guide books devoted to just that. However, the following is a brief description of some of the sights in and nearby the city that Herb and I enjoyed during the last day of our vacation.

Golden Gate Park is to San Franciscans what Central Park is to New Yorkers. Its 1,017 acres make it 20% larger than Central Park. It is over three miles long (from east to west) and half a mile wide (north to south). The park design was the result of an 1870 competition, won by 24-year-old William Hammond Hall. Park highlights that I visited include:

• The Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park is the oldest public Japanese garden in the United States. Originally created as a one-acre Japanese Village for the 1894 California Midwinter International Exposition, the property was eventually left to the care of Makoto Hagiwara, a renowned Japanese landscape architect, who expanded the garden to its current size of 5 acres. For decades, Mr. Hagiwara poured his wealth, passion, and creative talents into creating the garden until he and his family, along with approximately 120,000 other Japanese Americans were placed in internment camps. He was never allowed to return. Today, the garden is one of San Francisco’s most popular attractions, featuring pagodas, an authentic teahouse, an arched drum bridge, stepping stone paths, plants from China and Japan, and a serene koi pond and zen garden. Admission is $8 for non-residents and $6 for residents. On Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays it if free if entered by 10:00 am.
• The San Francisco Botanical Gardens has 55 acres of both landscaped gardens and open spaces, showcasing over 8,000 different kinds of plants from around the world. The Bay Area's mild temperatures, wet winters and dry summers, coupled with that famous coastal fog, provide a range of climatic conditions that exist in few other botanical gardens in the world. As a result, the Botanical Gardens are able to recreate climatic conditions from round the world, such as those found in an Andean Cloud Forest, a Chilean Garden, Mesoamerica, Southeast Asia, etc.
• The National AIDS Memorial Grove, located in the eastern end of Park, is a 10-acre living memorial honoring all who have confronted this tragic pandemic can gather to heal, hope, and remember.

Corona Heights is a hill in the Castro neighborhood of San Francisco with one of the best views of San Francisco. Its prominent red outcrop is visible from many parts of the city. In the late 1800s, Corona Heights was quarried for brickmaking materials by the infamous Gray brothers who had a brick kiln on States Street. The steep, exposed rock faces and the “crown” we see today at Corona Heights are the result of this quarrying.

Buena Vista Park, in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco, is the oldest park in the city, established in 1867 as Hill Park. Its name was later changed to reflect the spectacular views from its 575-foot summit. The park features secluded winding trails and one of the city’s few remaining coast live oak groves.

Travelogue

Salt Point State Park Coastline WildflowersThe vacation had entered its final stages, and in four days we would be back home in New Jersey. The only remaining event was a dual birthday celebration in Sebastopol for Celeste’s dad and me.

We left Lee Vining and headed back to Petaluma via the South Lake Tahoe route rather than driving across Tioga Pass. The drive back and the following day of RV maintenance and packing were uneventful. We tried to get everything that needed to be done completed on Friday, so that we could leave the entire weekend open to celebration, family time, and fun.

On Friday night, we moved the motorhome up to Sebastopol to park in Celeste’s parent’s driveway so that we could be close to all the action. Andrew and Celeste would be arriving later that night after driving up from San Francisco.

Salt Point State Park Sand EyesSaturday was Paul’s big day – his 60th birthday, although his activity level puts most people half his age to shame. The big question was how to spend it. He had already decided that a hike with good food and friends was the way he wanted to celebrate, but the weather wasn’t exactly cooperating. Heavy fog and drizzle was forecast for the coast, which was Hilda’s first choice for a venue worthy of this important milestone.

We debated back and forth as to whether to play it safe and stay somewhere inland, or take a chance and head to Salt Point State Park along the northern Sonoma coast. The consensus, although not unanimous, was to” go big or go home.” Determined to have a good time, and to prove Celeste (the one dissenting vote) wrong, we headed out in two cars towards the Salt Point.

There were eight of us –Herb and me, Celeste and Andrew, Hilda and Paul, and their dear friends Leanne and Guy – the most enthusiastic and fun group any birthday boy could ask for.

Salt Point State Park SurfThe drive was typical for the northern California coast – steep, twisting, a bit foggy, but stunningly beautiful. For us New Jerseyites, battling carsickness on a casual weekend drive was part of the event – a rite of passage if we ever hoped to be accepted when we moved.

I am so glad we went to Salt Point rather than an inland hike, not just because the sun came out, but because it was so very amazing. The entire northern California coastline is stunningly beautiful, but this place was particularly unique.

After a delicious birthday celebratory picnic atop a bluff, we set off along a rocky promontory overlooking the crashing surf below. As beautiful as the sea was, the rocks stole the show. Weathering and the sea had outdone itself in creating fantastical formations, like the three heads and another large rock that looked exactly like a pig. However, the most unusual and beautiful feature along the sandstone cliffs is the intricate honeycomb-like network called tafoni, formed by the salt in the sea spray crystallizing and interacting with the sandstone. They reminded me of the huecos we had encountered when rock climbing in desert areas such as Smith Rock in Bend and again in Bishop.

Climbers Bouldering at Salt Point State ParkIt must have reminded Andrew and Celeste as well, because they had a great time clambering on the rocks as if they were at an outdoor climbing gym.

The day was perfect. The only thing that could have made it better is if we had been here at low tide, when a vast array of tide pools is exposed. That’s okay. That gave us an excuse to come back another time.

The next day was my birthday – not quite as traumatic as Paul’s hitting 60, but pretty darn close. We had a delicious brunch at Peter Lowells, an organic cuisine in Sebastopol – is there anything but?

Since our flight was tomorrow night, we decided to take Andrew and Celeste up on their offer to stay at their place in San Francisco tonight so that we didn’t have to deal with the logistics of getting to the airport from Petaluma tomorrow. Plus that way we could go rock climbing at Planet Granite for my birthday.

Description

Sebastopol

Salt Point State Park CoastlineSebastopol is a charming town in Sonoma County, 52 miles north of San Francisco and about a 20-minute drive to the coast. Sebastopol is known for its apples and hosts an annual Apple Blossom Festival in April and the Gravenstein Apple Fair in August. Today, however, the apple orchards are becoming vineyards as wine-making moves more and more into the region.

Every Sunday, from April to mid-December, there is a Farmers market in the downtown plaza, where people congregate to enjoy delicious fresh regional food, live music, and dancing.

Sebastopol is home to the artist, Patrick Amiot, known for his whimsical, cartoon-like, junk-art sculptures. There are over 200 of his wacky, found-object works scattered throughout Sebastopol, especially on Florence Street.

Side Trip from Sebastopol

Salt Point State Park

Salt Point State Park Coastline WildflowersSalt Point State Park is a 6,000-acre park along the rugged northern California coast, about 90 miles north of San Francisco on State Highway 1, named for the cliffs and crevices where salt spray from the sea has crystallized in sandstone depressions forming intricate honeycomb-like network called tafoni.

The park features 6 miles of rocky coastline, line with jagged rock and steep ocean cliffs, including Salt Point which juts out into the Pacific Ocean. During low tide, these rocks provide an array of tide pools to explore. The park also encompasses one of the first underwater parks in California: Gerstle Cove, where fishing is prohibited.

There are two campgrounds and more than 20 miles of hiking trails in the park. Activities in the park include hiking, camping, picnicking, tide pooling, fishing, scuba diving, and rock bouldering.