Bumming not Blogging

No wi fi means no pix, but this blog ain't over yet. We have been bumming from one end of California to the other, from '49er mining towns to the glorious warm elegance of the Coronado Hotel in San Diego. Pictures to come!

El Comanchero heads East, finds more mountains.
Clementine heads for the coast
the Blogster finds old friends and wine tastings, forgets to take notes. She'll make them up later.

Totem at Stanford University

Stanford University is a beautiful place, but this huge totem standing in a grove of redwoods was simply haunting. Thunderbird on top, followed by Raven, A powerful man (shaman?) named Boo-quilla, who is Raven's most precious creation, standing on Killer Whale, who magically morphs into Wolf. 

Odd Shots

One more Bee . . . . . . 

End of the Race

We admit it, at the top of Alamo Hill we took a sharp right turn and finished the race, alone among the participants, at Ghiradelli Square instead of the Pacific Ocean.  

After recharging with Theobroma, we staggered out to Fisherman's Wharf and continued our winding route by Coit Tower, North Beach, the Financial District, and finally the Ferry.  Surely more than seven miles! And in only 8 hours!

We are the Champions, my friends!

More Elvii

You ain't nothin' but a houn'dog. ..

photo credits to Clementine

Bay to Breakers Race

Here at the Bay to Breakers race in downtown San Francisco, one can see and experience the unusual. Considering the 160,000+ racers, the equal number of tortillas thrown at the beginning of the race, the costumes - or lack of them - floats, kegs, champagne, sidewalk drinks, and people hanging out of apartment windows throwing  money at the crowds, is it any wonder? Here a host of Elvises encourages a racer in Hayes Valley. We saw at least a dozen Elvi at this site.  

Atop Alamo Park's hill, one bee in swarm takes a quiet moment to look out over her city. 

Taos

Sunday, I fed the multi-colored desert tortoise and the salamander, sat by the oasis pool while the robin-like phyloruxia and other birds had their baths and then roused myself and shopped at Albertson's. The diesel switch engine whooped on the grade above Arroyo Chamiso, which runs behind my friends' home, helping build the new Albuquerque-to-Santa Fe "Roadrunner" rapid transport line. After such a prosaic morning under bright azure NM skies, I drove up to Taos for a gallery opening. After that, I sat around under the cottonwoods behind the gallery with three Deneh, a genizaro and another comanchero. We talked of the Indi'ns' Buddhist faith, life on the road and a number of things that you, gentle reader, will just have to imagine for yourself. Today my friend and I are off to sell books to the Kit Carson House, Salman Ranch and maybe Las Vegas, N.M. La vida la continue buena. -- El Comanchero

Santa Fe

Rollin' into Santa Fe on the Old Pecos Trail with my buddy by my side was such a relief after all the hours on the cruel, hard truck-infested highway.
We sang from the Eagles "Desperado" and watched the snow-capped mountains loom ever closer as we inched our way home.

The friends on the arroyo on the street of the bear were hospitable as ever, wonderful people who just brighten up your day without even trying. After some altitude and attitude adjustment, we settled down for some catching up, then had a great dinner at Zia Diner.

After some kind of time passed (hard to say how much, here in the land of pocotiempo), the rest of our company repacked and set out for West, EverWest. I diverged and immediately began visiting old journalism friends and other professionals here whom I've known for decades.

I also visited Taos Plaza and sold a couple of books, then returned to SFe via the "High Road to Taos." The photo here is one of the aforementioned snow-capped mts., but these are hidden in interior valleys.

Yesterday, I listened to Western style bluegrass at Cowgirls and visited with a friend en el barrio de San Francisco. In the meantime, the mountains are waiting and I have an opening in Taos to attend and a general store at La Cueva to contact about a few books. I do love my life here.

Day 6: Sing it, Willie

On the Road again. . .maybe at our destination tomorrow. Lots of pictures to upload, stories to tell, including snow, bears, chiles, dinasours, japanese in unexpected places, sunsets, sunrises, and long, long twilights. please stay tuned. 

Here, no link

we are having trouble w/wifi so film at 11, folks.

made it to SF about 4 yesterday, snow still on mountains, fairly early spring, still.

more later. feel baaaaaaad. need hot tub. . aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh

Day 4: Route 66 and the End of the Road

Good Morning! Here's the state of the sun through the early morning haze in OK. We're staying along Rt. 66 and found a great restaurant and intriguing story. Stay tuned. 

Gotta pack the car now and head for Amarillo. Gotta smell that smell, see those upended Caddies

Pit Stops and Pigs

This art work was incredible. Note the headless fish.

These pigs, made out of steel drums, were great! The food in the Pig Palace was great, too. . .

Road Kill

What about rolling into a ball?

hell of such as armor, yo.

What's a girl got to do to sup an armadillo?

They're all over Arkansas all such as rollin' into balls and diggin' up the dirt to bury into holes. And then they cross the road and it is a bad scene.

But mostly they seem weird and nice and if I had one, I'd roll into a ball right next to it. and be like,

"sup."

Day 3: Rest Stop, Memorials, and a Variety of Lines

Nashville Skyline, Memphis Pyramid, Arkansas fields, Rest-stop creek, El Comanchero Ponders Life.

At the Country Store/kitch/cafe yesterday, where we watched the storms, I talked to the lady behind the counter in the "country store" part of the building. 

"This place has been here a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yep - been here 40 years or more. Jim's the owner. Well, he wasn't always the owner, 'cause Jim started it. Well, the first Jim started it, then he sold it to Jim, so it has only had two owners and they both's Jim." She laughed.

"Well, are there any others? Is there another one down the road? I'm not hungry now, but I want some beans & cornbread later." 

She laughed again. "Huh! Naw, Jim's here 24-7 and if he had another store, he'd have to be there 24-7 and he couldn't be at both 24-7 so this is the only one." 

"Oh."

"Cracker Barrel took this idea, but they have a chain 'cause they don't have to stay there 24-7. Jim can't do a chain 'cause he does."

The hills gave way to flatlands and past the Mississippi, geometry took over with plowed fields, lines of trees, lines of trucks, lines of cracks 

in the asphault and the sound of

our journey is ka Thump kaTHUMP

kaTHUMP kaTHUMP FWUMP 

(pothole) kaTHUMP kaTHUMP.

we stop at various dedicated rest stops-

Johnny Cash, Music Highway,

and in Oklahoma, one dedicated to

a devoted transportation employee.

If you can't make it to Grand Old Opry or Cash's home, visit the rest 

stop and play a song on your guitar.

Another rest stop sported a lovely 

creek gurgling over stones in a shady grove.  

It moved El Comanchero to meditation

and Miss. Clementine to collapse.

Day 2 retrospective and Day 3 Summary

An eventful day, but not as eventful as yesterday, when we stood in front of a kitschy knick-knack shop in the Arkansas hills and watched as dark mammaries formed and reformed, deadly killers on their way to take out towns and murder people in Arkansas, Missouri and Georgia. Just staying on the road in the attendant winds was a chore. We were glad to end the day at a decommissioned chain motel in Jackson, Tenn. , where we joined hundreds of African-Americans and their lively kids at a "home-cooked" all-you-can-eat buffet, celebrating Mother's Day with ham, collards, sweet potatoes and other Southern savories. Yum-yum.  We all three awoke at 4 a.m., because, "Clementine" told me, "You stopped snoring." 

Ah well, it was enough to get us on the road early and we hauled across the mighty Mississippi, dodging trucks and commuter traffic in Memphis. Then we streaked across Arkansas and didn't hit much more kamikaze craziness until Oklahoma City, where they again did their level best to murder us. West of O City, the winds picked up again and many of the four-combined-pickup-truck-sized American flags they seem to so favor around here stood straight out in the the dust-laden 50 mph gale. Good to finally stop, out here in a little dell in the plains. Tomorrow: The prairie and giant wind farms, the arroyos and canyons begin and we should see the Sangre de Cristos. Home sweet home!

Day 2: Rest Stop Scenes

This charming gentleman sat on the bench for some time, then slowly stood, focused his camera, and, slowly rotating where he stood, took a snapshot in every direction.

Pretty good idea. These pictures show what he saw, proved he was there, and established his place in the cosmos at a certain moment in his trip around the sun. 

Can any of us be this sure of where we are at any particular time? Or does our subjective bias filter our reality showing us only what we want to see, confirming only those aspects of perception that we conform to personal paradigms? 

Since I documented him documenting himself, does that confirm my personal paradigm? Do we confirm each other? 

Speaking of Personal paradigms, Ms. Clementine's paradigms includes a dedicated commitment to recycling, as shown by this requested shot of cans cans plastic bottles plastic bottles and clementine. Save the Earth! Recycle! Surely she is writing a song about this.

Day 2: Dripolator dark clouds, no rain

at 8 a.m., it was a cozy refuge out of the cold, damp wind. Clementine, obviously, was not impressed. She is not an "early" bird. 

The room inside had posts for postings. One hand-written sign read:

Free to good home sweet, loveable, cuddly.. ." an entire page devoted to the virtues of a stray dog somebody found. Only at the end did the dog-donor mention that said dog was a pit bull (but obviously people-trained).. 

On the other side of the post, an equally lengthy, typed notice begged someone to hire their former nanny who was "sweet, caring, devoted.. ." 

There they were, on opposite sides of the post, two creatures in need of meaning, family, love. If only the Pit Bull donor and the Nanny donor could read each other's ads, could find each other. The Nanny and the Pup could have a beautiful friendship.  And sounds like the folks in this town really care about those they have to leave behind.  We can dream.

Day 2: Riders on the Storm

If I knew how to add music to this blog, you'd be hearing Jim Morrison's "Riders on the Storm" as you read about our day. The huge cold front that spawned terrible tornados in Oklahoma and storms in Georgia was blowing rain and 50+mph wind gusts at us all day - 9 hours on the road. Went from tank tops to sweatshirts overnight . . . .

El Comanchero Remembers . . .

Ah remember the ol days, creakin up the canones with them ol wooden wheels so hot they'd lak to ketch far. And ah say, even then, with all thet trouble tryin to git to the rendezvous place through a mess of ornery, mad comanche, it war better than to try to drive one of these here modrun innerstaat highways. Ah jes doan know how these trukker git licenses anyhow. 

Byeeeeeeeeeee

Mission accomplished

Driveway Obstacles

We had to run fast, but we made it. They were chasing us for all they were worth. 

It was 2:30 in the afternoon, but we finally waved goodbye.  Warm winds, hot roads, crazy drivers; we flowed west with  flags and fields of flowers waving in the breeze. 

Day 1: Getting out of the driveway

Thanks to Kurt Vonnegut for this beautiful drawing. 

This blog chronicles a trip from the East to the West by a group of three: from time present to time past for some of the travellers and to time future for others.  Nostalgia will be a big part of it, but new horizons cast themselves over the memories. Deja vu all over again.

School is out, grades are in, the yard needs mowing, house needs cleaning, but the road calls and off we go. . .

As soon as the fridge is cleaned out,trash is taken out, cars loaded, notes written, cats settled. . .you get the idea. 

First stop: Grandma's 2 hours down the road. Then west. With the help of wi-fi and road jitters, we'll get this done. Film at 11.