Monday, December 4, 2017

Sunday, Nov 26, 2017

We are home. We left Paso Robles a little after 8am, ran into very little traffic, and made it home before 1pm. For the first time in ages, there was no slow-down in the Novato Narrows; truly a sign home was waiting for us.

Final mileage for the car was 5150 miles. Princess was 3-4000 miles. We were 30 days on the trip. Two weeks of sitting in a car erased any gains made on the boat with taking ALL THOSE STAIRS but my weight is exactly the same as when we left.

We went through 6 countries; Mexico, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Panama, Columbia, and Aruba;  and 19 states: FL, GA, SC, NC, VA, DC, MD, WV, KY, MO, TN, AR, OK, TX, NM, AZ, UT, NV, and finally CA.  

Temperatures ranged from 90-100 degrees with 90+% humidity in Nicaragua to 31 degrees and snow in KY. There was rain on board ship, usually at night, but no rain in the US until today, on the last drive home. 

All three cats were delighted to see us and sticky with their attentions. The house is a little damp (open window and rainy days) and in need of vacuuming (cats!) but all-in-all our caretakers did an excellent job – couldn’t have done it without them. We picked up some groceries, washed the sheets, unpacked and settled back in.

Like Dorothy said, “there’s no place like home”.



Saturday, Nov 25, 2017

Kanab UT through AZ, NV into CA to Paso Robles takes about 10 hours on the road. We left Kanab early, a little after 7am. Thought we’d have lunch in Las Vegas but arrived there by 9:30. We didn’t want to eat or wait so we continued on.

Stopped for lunch at Peggy Sue’s Diner, a big road-side attraction in Yermo CA. Tons of old-timey Hollywood memorabilia, tiny cramped seating 3 dining rooms deep, with old waitresses in pink and turquoise uniforms running about calling everyone “Hon”. Had a milkshake, burger and fries, explored the gift shop, found a martini-shaking bowling shirt for Jim and back on the road in under an hour. We skipped the visit to the Diner-sauraus out back – next time for sure.

We knew we were in CA by the poor conditions of the road surface, the dollar jump in gas prices and the stopped traffic on the highway. No were else in the country comes even close to our conditions here at home.   

As it was only 3pm by the time we hit Bakersfield, we drove on. Jim didn’t want to drive the final leg via Hwy 5 so we opted to cut over to connect with Hwy 101. Turned out to be a very good decision – as we crossed over Hwy 5, as far as we could see in either direction, was a barely moving, solid-packed ribbon of cars – holiday traffic going home, I guess. We continued on across through the brown fields and hills to the coast while a gorgeous sunset covered the sky.

We knew finding a hotel on a holiday weekend in Paso Robles would be tough so we stopped at the first place on the highway outside of town. La Quinta had one room left - $250 for a king-size suite. We figured this is as good as it’s gonna get. And it is a beautiful suite with 12 foot ceilings and massive 10 foot doors, fully equipped kitchen, electric fireplace with crystal glowing rocks, a balcony with patio seating, a huge walk-in tile shower and 2 sinks and an extremely comfortable bed. We had a cocktail on the balcony, breathed the evening air and reveled in the 80 degree evening. Called out for pizza, Jim picked up a bottle of red at the gift shop and we watched Ironman 3 for our evening’s entertainment. I think Jim wanted a nice dinner in town, but it was just perfect for me. 



Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday (Thanksgiving!) Nov 21-23, 2017



Right now, it’s all a blur. Long days spent in the car with no action to speak of. I do like Sirus radio – we’ve been singing along with the Beatles, Classic Vinyl and Willie’s Roadhouse for the entire trip. We’ve given up on staying at Best Westerns and are trying out Comfort Inns. So far, they’re much nicer, bigger rooms, better breakfast and about the same price.

There was a funky Italian dinner place in Shawnee, a small town outside of Oklahoma City. The Cesar salad was romaine lettuce, Pepperidge Farms croutons, and two full ramekins of some sort of bottled dressing. Jim’s chicken marsala and my veal piccata were both piled on spaghetti noodles and swimming in a watery liquid. The meal was ok but the flask of wine was good and the dinner rolls seemed to have cooked on the spot.

At one point, we left the freeway to drive the original Route 66 through Tucumcari. It’s a ghost town; abandoned buildings piled high with trash, looking burned or rotted, broken windows everywhere, sagging roofs and missing doors, no people or movement. Spooky. I think we’re too late for Route 66 anymore – it’s just a memory.

We drove from Shawnee to Albuquerque, and ended up eating at a Chili’s, of all things. We really hadn’t considered the Thanksgiving holiday – the Wednesday night before would be a busy night. We had a bad time finding anything that A: wasn’t fast food,B. wasn’t a biker bar tavern, and C. wasn’t hideously overpriced and more upscale than our jeans would allow. Therefore, Chili’s seemed the best choice. It wasn’t but it was hot and filled the void.

A word on driving through Kentucky, Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and Arizona, mostly on Hwy 40: The scenery is wildly varied but smooths out, loses all color and texture. Start with rolling blue-green hills, move into rolling pine covered trees, flattening out to miles and miles and miles of empty fields (it is November, but still), brown, black, grey, with a house here and there plunked down in the middle of nowhere. Then you get to Texas. From horizon to horizon, beige and grey, nothing growing, nothing moves but clouds. It’s ugly and empty, for hours on end.

But Arizona is different. After leaving Albuquerque, we headed north to Utah. The high dessert is colorful and filled with amazing buttes, mesas, canyons and cliffs of every imaginable shade of red, pink, orange, ocher, adobe, browns, whites and black. There are scrubby trees and bushes. The rocks fold on themselves and the faces of the cliffs are pocked with holes and caves. The road surface is perfect. It’s one long black ribbon fading off into the distance. There’s hardly anyone on the road so we went miles at a time being the only one there.

This is Navaho country with lots of huts, yurts and teepee sitting next to shacks, trailers and manufactured homes. Almost every yard is covered in broken down cars and trucks, falling down buildings, piles of tires. And every yard contains a brand new truck and a satellite dish.
We arrived in Kanab 3pm on Thanksgiving and it was a very good thing Jim thought ahead for a reservation. Most everything is closed but any open hotel is booked solid. Unfortunately for us, dinner options were severely limited. As in: almost none. We found one place, booked to the rafters. The front desk pointed us to a place 5 miles back, having an all-you-can-eat thanksgiving buffet which appeared to be mostly vegan. We were headed that way when we discovered a lone Chinese restaurant, doing a booming business. Again, food wasn’t terrible and it was hot and filling. Not a bad T-day meal, all things considered J


Monday, Nov 20, 2017

Skipped the “free” breakfast at the hotel. Figured any place that had four overnight guests couldn’t be planning much of a spread.

After a few dead ends, we found Callie’s Homestyle Kitchen in Versailles KY. Cute, black and white storefront, with waitresses who call you “hon”. We had pint sized glasses of oj, thick white mugs of coffee and country ham, eggs and biscuits. Most excellent.


Drove to Lexington and started the Bourbon Trail. We decided to not hit them all (gads, couldn’t do it if we wanted to – who knew how many there would be). We went to the Wild Turkey Distillery but missed the tour. The next tour would be two hours away so we decided not to wait. We wandered through the visitor’s center, read all the stories – the guy who actually invented it didn’t get any credit for it – his name has been forgotten. He was a worker who thought he could make it better. He snuck in after hours, tinkered with the family formula, hid his barrels amongst the others and finally wrangled a place on a hunting trip with the owners of the distillery. The last night of the trip, he snuck his bottle into the campfire drinking, a big time distributor loved it – what is this great stuff?? – and the forgotten worker gave credit to the owners, so he could keep his job, and they gladly took it. As they were hunting turkeys, the distributor named the brew Wild Turkey. 

I cannot begin to adequately describe the hills of Kentucky. The grass goes on forever. Houses sit on knoll tops, alone, without trees or bushes or fences to pen them in. There’s just miles of grass with houses plopped down here and there. There are horses and sheep, a few cows and donkeys, but it’s so quiet. The two lane road is narrow, marked for 55 miles an hour, there are no sidewalks or curbs, just asphalt, ditch, and then more grass.


We followed the signs to Maker’s Mark Distillery – the Garmen couldn’t find it. Again, we drove over the rolling hills, across an ancient bridge down into a dell and found black and red buildings, sprawling over more green grass. It’s a huge campus, dotted with well-spaced buildings of corrugated black metal with red shutters, all build at the turn of the 20th century.
As we walked the grounds, we noted the trees and bushes seemed painted the same black as the buildings. We found out later that the steam and evaporation caused by the still encourages a benign black mold to grow everywhere on everything.
That’s why the buildings were originally painted black. It’s also how old time revenuers used to find still hidden the hills. They’d look for the sooty trees and know they were close. 


The visitors’ center is the original owner’s Victorian home, once an old barn. Beautiful mosaic tile walls, vivid wallpaper and lots of gilt mirrors grace the waiting rooms.

We toured the kettles, printing press – they cut the labels there on a 100+ year old machine, 60,000 a day, by hand – filling stations, wax dipping line and storage houses. Every bottle is hand dipped; a good dipper can do 23 a minute.
All Maker’s Mark in the world is produced right there. They have storage buildings in Loretto – we drove by them later, 7 story, flat, square buildings, no windows, all black, looking like prisons – but every drop is produced and packaged at this one location. We tasted 5 types of bourbon – the white dog, unaged “moonshine”, the regular stuff, and 3 premium varieties. Quite a tasty treat.


The tour was great. The grounds contained glass statuary by Chihuly, the same guy who created the ceilings at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. There was a river of red glass spears, standing straight up from the bushes; a boat of multi-colored glass kracken arms;
a swarming “sun” of glass curls,
a tower of blue and silver glass “waves”, to represent the pure limestone filtered water,
and a ceiling in a barrel warehouse – lots of glass flowers and angels floating overhead. Impressive!




Mrs. Samuel, wife of the original distiller, designed the buildings, grounds, label and bottles. Their son related the story of how mom and dad were “discussing” the design of the label at dinner one night. She finally ended the discussion with “my dear, we both graduated from (whatever) engineering college, but only one of us was valedictorian”.  Her design with the torn label, S IV makers mark (Samuel the fourth generation), waxed dipped top and cognac shaped bottle were ahead of their time. An ordinary bottle of bourbon sold in the 1900’s for $3 – Maker’s sold for $7. Big time.

We dipped a bottle and picked up a few goodies in the gift shop and headed southwest for Oklahoma.
A couple of hours of driving with the sun straight in our eyes wore us down so we called it an early day. The sun officially set at 4:47pm but it was setting for us all afternoon. Sundown found us in Calvert City KY, a wide spot in the road.

We stayed at a funky Day’s Inn. A very nice Southern lady checked us in and had to chase us down to sign the receipt she forgot to include. We picked this spot because it was handy off the freeway, there wasn’t a lot of choice, and there was a Mexican restaurant across the street. We had a really good meal, terrible margaritas, and back to the room to sack out by 7:30. Jim watched football and I caught up on my journal.